Oy the guilt!


I was very bad today. Well, not as bad as I would like to be, but pretty bad. My co-worker covered the one case I had this afternoon (I’ll do hers tomorrow morning) and I went home on this beeeyoooteeefull day:) And what am I doing? typing on this thing. what a weirdo:) Well, at least I have my trusty knitting nearby and a lovely view out of an open window.

But I still feel guilty because poor John, who has been suffering with rotten leg disease (we don’t know what’s wrong – he cannot stand for any real period of time without being in bad pain, so he’s off work), is cleaning the bathrooms. Shhhhh. If this secret got out, I’d have women from miles around pounding on my door – asking for him!

OY.

Tonight is choir practice. My idea of heaven. What can I say? I’m a weirdo and who knows why John puts up with me, but bless his heart, he does.

I’ve got so many things to do for work but for right now, I’m going to sit and knit and ponder what to do to be more productive (obviously the wash comes under one of those headings – and maybe getting some of my paperwork done!

On a lighter note, can you imagine sitting in a courtroom, waiting for your cases to be heard, and reading this? It occurred to me somewhat after the fact, that I might tend to give people the wrong impression – story of my life:) It’s actually not a bad little book. I can crochet, but mostly it’s been limited to doilies, afghans and filet work. It would be nice to try a pullover or bib for the baby or something — you know, in my other spare time:)

I think what I’m really doing is trying not to think about that client of ours who died at the hands of his mother, the mother whose sentencing was today. I was listening to Dar Williams song – the title of which I don’t recall – but the words are about a little child lying in a grave (I don’t know if it was dedicated to Matt Shephard or not, but it wouldn’t surprise me). I thought about it being addressed to God: “Let Your Love cover me. Like a pair of angel’s wings. You are my family. You are my family.” couldn’t stop crying – had to take an extra 15 minutes to get home so my own family wouldn’t see the mascara doing a Tammy Faye down my face.
Was talking with colleagues at lunch – wondering what I/we could have done differently. Strangely, I take solace when one says, “probably nothing.” But I am still very very pissed off. VERY pissed off. At the neighbors who said nothing. At the mother’s father who molested her from the time she was a little girl, at the man who beat him probably. Mostly at the source of evil in our universe. I thought of the many angels who came to my rescue as a child, an adolescent, a young adult, an old fart, and want to scream at God asking Her WHY? Not, why did this happen – I’m not so naive as to think that free will doesn’t mean what it means, but why was I so blessed? Did I fail at the quest I must be on in this life? Is there time to make things better in this world? Obviously not for little R. But for others.

So maybe I have been bad. I have failed. Failed to see what was hidden. Failed to see a clue, failed to pay attention to something. What? I don’t know. But he was close to his Daddy. He didn’t want to leave home. He was hyper, always getting bumps and bruises. But I didn’t hear the screaming during the day when Daddy wasn’t home. I didn’t see the throat that didn’t get treated. Others did and I’m mad they didn’t tell about it. Because if they had I would have fought this head on. But they didn’t….. and I didn’t. Two lights went out R. and his brother. and the world is a little darker now.

Maybe that’s why Heaven looks just a little bit lighter and better and more worth trying to attain, with God’s help only.

And maybe that’s why I knit on bright sunny afternoons and read books about happy hookers. Maybe that’s why I refuse to let the dark side win.

Maybe that’s why being one piece of the larger tapestry of a musical piece giving glory to God brings me solace and communion. I’m singing with R and his baby brother and all the others here today and gone yesterday. The Communion of the Saints they call it and some are definitely more saintly than others:)

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Author: fuguestateknits

Wife of one, mother of six, gram of five (so far) and lawyer for many young persons, I love to sing, read, knit and walk. My politics are somewhat left of Marx and I want to hear what you think, too!

2 thoughts on “Oy the guilt!”

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