Tag Archives: love

when the fun runs out the books step in

On Sunday morning. long before the sun had awoken, the Foeges (including Baby), Mr. White, and I piled into the car and headed south of I-80 toward Missouri (pronounced Miss-OR-e, not miz-ER-e).  Karen had unexpectedly flown home from Ecuador for the week (there was a funeral to attend) and Sunday was an ideal opportunity to make the escapade in her direction.

Arriving at lunchtime, we were greeted with hugs and a table set for 12.  A lunch of homemade bread, vegetables from the garden, and cobbler commensed.  The afternoon gave time for tea and chatting and a long walk in the cold.

Despite the grief of the family, I felt so welcome.  And so very content.  So very content.

We left by 9am on Monday, returning to Chicago and all that was put on hold while we were gone.  I told Karen that it was better we couldn’t stay longer, because there was a very good chance I wouldn’t have left.  “There isn’t much to do in this town,” she told me.  But we both agreed that’s where books take over.

Thanks to you all.  It was a blessing to share such a difficult and happy time.

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living in the moment/the not quite yet

This street is full of people who had a passion and decided to do something about it.  It is full of small business started by people who love what they sell–shoes, their personally designed clothing, coffee, pizza, stylists, bulk tea, cooking classes, custom framing, art work, obscure books, wine, “designer” flowers, an Irish pint, and–best of all–high quality food.  With the exception a Starbucks, there are no chain-businesses–at least nothing that extends beyond an additional store or two.  This says to me that people are still out there opening up shops because they have great ideas and long to share their passion with like-minded individuals.  And towns like this one allow them to thrive.

On the weekends when I know I’m in for the long haul I like to put our dining room table up against the northernly window so I can look down to the street as I take mental breaks from studying.  I thrive upon the idea of doing something you love to do: open a business to help others, letting money be a secondary motivation.  With all the Walmarts and Starbucks and Olive Gardens in the country, it brings my heart such warmth to know that it doesn’t have to be that way.

Sometimes I think about my business being on this street.  I can picture myself, coffee in hand, scarf around my neck, opening up shop early in the morning.

No, wait, that is Kathleen Kelly.
But it might also be me.

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on the road again

I’m going to be honest: I had only run once since the half-marathon.  I can feel it in my legs…and moreso, I can feel it in my waist-line.  I can give you a thousand excuses why I hadn’t made an effort to get out before the sun, but this week I couldn’t take it anymore.  It has only been a few miles at a time…but it is something.  And its good.

On this sleepy Saturday morning I was just finishing up my run (admittedly, I was tired) and was distracted by the sound of light-hearted guitar cords from across the street.  The business with the red awnings always had music, even at that hour.  I was stopped short as the bass began.  I recognized the song–U2.  “Where The Streets Have No Name.”

Yeah.  Please add this moment to the movie you make of my life.

I want to run – I want to hide
I want to tear down the walls that hold me inside
I want to reach out and touch the flame
Where the streets have no name

How perfect.  How sacramental.  How very TOB.

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“I have both those things!”

I had a miserable day yesterday due to an error (that was wholly mine) that I made at work.  I was frustrated and embarrassed and knowing that Jake and I had plans for the evening, I sent him a message: “Bad day.  I need you and tiny cakes.”

At 5pm the city was lively and warm and we talked some three miles for cupcakes and ice cold skim milk.  There was also a beer stop somewhere in the walk too.  Amid the joy of it all the knot in my stomach untangled and things were back to good.  We’re so city.

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Something so small is so very big

He never really wanted to be a dad.  Especially not now, after he’d worked so hard to get his life in order and things, though difficult, were finally going right.  He’d been more vocal about this lately–to the point that it had ended a relationship he’d deeply given himself in.  And feeling even more empty now, he was continually affirmed that it was the right thing.  They wanted different things, and parenthood was one he wasn’t willing to compromise upon.

He rode the train alone, thinking about how meaningful his life was in this city; this place that he finally felt like he could call his home.  It was late and there was little sound aside from the rumbling car, cutting its way through the city.  At the other end of car a man stood up as the train approached a stop and progressivly slowed.  He took his son’s hand and the little boy, backpack tightly strapped to his back, jumped to his feet.  He craned his neck, looking up at his father lovingly with complete trust and the hint of a smile.  His dad looked back and returned the smile.  They both seemed to glow a little.

And in that moment, the man at the other end of the car changed his mind and his heart melted a little.  He wanted to be a father after all.

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losing one’s hair on the wedding day

I wish I could express to you how beautiful such moments are.

My my uncle, Fr. Dan, does it justice. Take a moment to listen.

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because you speak to my very being

Can’t afford it.

Can’t help it.

We‘re going.

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