Sunday Morning Coming Down

Then I headed down the streets
And somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringing
And it echoed through the canyons
Like the disappearing dreams of yesterday

On a Sunday morning sidewalk
Oh, I'm wishing, Lord, that I was stoned
'Cause there's something in a Sunday
That'll make a body feel alone

And there ain't nothin' short of dyin'
Thats half as lonesome as the sound
Of a sleepin' city sidewalk
And Sunday mornin' comin' down

I was listening to some Kris Kristofferson this morning while making coffee.  It's on vinyl that my Grandmother gave to me.  There is something so wistful in a lazy Sunday morning.  

And 2015 is on its' way...coming with a force.  The changes of the past year in my own life have been so vast, so crazy in some ways I almost don't know what to think.  

I used to feel lonesome on Sunday mornings, but not anymore. 

 Warm warm bodies loving touch, fresh coffee, pancakes, purring cats, lazy pants and bathrobe, watching Breaking Bad(yeah I'm a newbie to it), hum of a dishwasher, cuddles, writing,Sunday supper of lentil soup later on.

I'm new to this relationship thing.  I feel like I don't always know what I'm doing, because I've made so many mistakes in the past.  This time is different though.

My heart is so full of so many things these days.  Dreams, hopes, love, joy...

I've learned so much about myself this year though, how I can survive emotional abuse, how I can manage to make ends meet with barely a dime, how to try to be comfortable in my own skin.   There are so many things in my life that haven't made sense in a long time.  

When you're in love with someone wonderful, you just want to tell everybody how great it is all the time.  And for me right now, it's great.  I didn't know what was missing, these emotions. (I'm an emotional creature) and I'm sitting here writing this watching as my cat is cuddled next to Jamie.  Now this cat is a Mama's girl.  She cuddles with me and pretty much only me.  Now she seeks him out to snuggle.  It makes me so happy to know that my precious little kitty-girl loves my man as much as I do.

And for all those out there who've experience bad past relationships, when you finally meet someone who is real and wants to be with you, who makes time for you, doesn't play games, and is man enough to take you on with all your own insecurities...well then you know you've hit the jackpot.  

Age means nothing.  There are 50 year olds less mature than some 24 year olds.  These are the things you learn in life.  

2015 is going to bring some incredible events and I can't wait...because there's just something in a Sunday.

Again

"Tell Pam she's got a good screamer there."
I hear this voice in my head, my Mother's voice and I tell Pam, laughing because I don't know if it's me or some ghost of my Mom talking to me.  Or maybe it has finally happened.
I've lost all sense of sanity.
We were trying to get my niece to sleep, she has this habit of waking up at 11:30PM and not going back to sleep until oh you know 3:45AM!!!

So maybe I hear her voice due to my lack of sleep...who knows.  It's no the first time it has happened, nor will it be the last...I hope.

As I write this I am watching Beatrix crawl around on the living room rug, playing with her new teapot toy.  In moments when I speak to Bebe or buy her things, I think about what Kate would've done.  The dresses and cute toys she would have gotten for this little lady.  I try to see if there is anything I recognize of Kate in Beatrix and there are flashes of her stubborn nature, but mostly I see a baby Erik.

I am trying to go easy on myself these days.  To not be saddened by the past events of this year, some who read this know the extra sadness...some don't.

Palm Sunday
Pam, Beatrix and I found ourselves in church Sunday night.  I could not remember Easter from 2013, I believe that I was at Morristown Hospital with my Mom, but I cannot recall huge chunks of time.

We sat in the beautiful church, listening to the singing(Bebe sings along now).  There is something peaceful in religious services, a calm, a certain sense of what will come next.  And this is strange for me because for someone who was once so connected to a God, a Christ I no longer feel that connection in the same way.

This is the week of celebration of death. We celebrate a death on Friday. We are supposed to embrace the suffering of the Christ, hope in His risen self.

I've read that they believe Jesus began his ministry at age thirty and died at thirty-three.  I am thirty-three, this past year has been one of my own death, I am only beginning to understand this now.
How or what it means to be resurrected.
I watch as Bebe has been pulling herself up to my coffee table, she can almost stand, but is not steady on her feet yet.
She takes a tumble, maybe bumps her head but within minutes she is up again.  Anastasis is the Greek word meaning resurrection Ana means again, or anew and Stasis means to stand.  To stand again.

I am learning to stand again.  My niece and I are learning the same things.

In 2013, I witnessed a death and a birth.  Perhaps I could say two births, because I too am climbing out of my own egg shell, learning Anastasis--to stand again.

My own life, or I should say, my hopes of what my life would be, have been put to death within.  I have been trying to learn how to accept this new life.  I am a baby, or a wee chick emerging from that egg.
At thirty-three, I do understand a bit of the suffering of Christ or how the mystery of holy things pervades my thoughts.