Thankfulness, and forgiveness

Today is Great and Holy Friday, and I feel so blessed, so loved. It is a sorrowful day, but––today I am given the greatest gift ever given. I cannot help but feel overwhelmed with gratitude and joy.

I keep a small book in my bag at all times. It is about one-and-a-half inches by one-and-a-half inches, a half-inch thick, and it is covered in a beautiful Guatamalan fabric with soft handmade paper inside. I got it in Wisconsin, I believe as a gift from my godmother, and since November of 2006 I have been keeping a list inside. I forget often, and then I pick it up again and am reminded of how blessed I am. The book is a list of things I am thankful for.

The things I list most often are variations on
friendship
paper, writing, books
beauty in nature
not getting exactly what I want (and the opposite, of course)
love, smiles
challenges, good and bad
forgiveness

The things that stand out to me now are
unreasonable happiness 
orchids
sunshine
loss, letting go, moving on
hope
prayer
looking forward
forgiveness

I am so thankful for forgiveness. It relieves guilt, it soothes hurt feelings, it makes it easier to survive in this crazy world. Forgiveness is love to your enemies. It is asking God to forgive those who have wronged you, including your own self. It is hard, and it is as necessary as air. When I forget to forgive myself or others, my muscles tense up. I hurt inside and out. I am unhappy, blameful, and bitter. I end up in physical pain after a few weeks of this severity. My neck and back begin to bother me, and my heart aches. Then I go to Confession, and I forgive myself. I remember how much I love the people around me. I feel alive again.

There is a Forgiveness Sunday in the Church, and there is a prayer of forgiveness my mother and I try to say every night we are together.
“O holy brothers and sisters in Christ, please forgive me if I have offended you in thought, word, or deed and pray for me a sinner.”
The response is, “I forgive you, may God forgive you.”
And then the whole world feels as light as air. 

Please say a prayer for me, and have a blessed Paschal weekend. And please forgive me if I have offended you in thought, word, or deed, and pray for me a sinner.
-Brigid 
P.S. If you’re curious about what I’ve been spending my time doing, I write more regularly for blog.shimer.edu (as I get paid there).

 

Contradiction Meme

Five contradictions about me:

1. I’m known as the “evil overlord” among my friends. I’m also the mom. (Wait, is that a contradiction?) Well in any case, I’m also kind of known for being “cute” and a sweetheart––alas.

2. I’m bold and blunt and daring, but I don’t like to offend, I’m extremely diplomatic (dreamed of working in international relations, in fact), and when it comes to speaking up about my needs I “need to grow a spine.”

3. I get annoyed when people expect me to fix their problems, but I love helping people. When people complain to me, it’s hard for me to be sympathetic without giving suggestions and ideas. I am empathetic; I just have to try and find an answer, too.

4. I love to read. I love to write. And yet, I have difficulty finishing my reading and my papers. (Surprise, surprise!)

5. I’m persistent, but I’m lazy.

I tag…YOU!

 

I am, indeed, procrastinating

But also, I’ve been meaning to blog since DECEMBER. Yeesh. I need to get back into the habit!

My news, starting with winter break: I broke up with Scott, I worked at the nursing home throughout break (including New Calendar Christmas day!), I came back to school, I made better friends with Sara and Chris, I made new friends from IIT-the-landlord-school, I became utterly addicted to Doctor Who, I’ve been working waaay too much at the pool, I’ve been trying to do work-study sometimes and not getting there nearly as often as I mean to, I’ve gotten a third job babysitting two days a week, I’ve developed an obsession with cardigan sweaters, I’m having roommate issues in the sense that I’m too nonconfrontational and I spent so much time in Sara’s room because of minor awkwardness that it turned into major awkwardness, I got to be a guest cohost on a campus radio show, I’m playing Helena in our abridged Midsummer Night’s Dream, and I made the friendly campus coffeeshop man an effigy doll with pink yarn innards so he could stab it and scare away the customers he doesn’t like.

Whoo-ey.

 

This will only make sense to Dylan

And maybe not even to him.

 

Because it’s a three AM conversation, that’s why.

Me: Why the hell are we awake?

Friend: I’m making myself write my paper.

Me: Me too.

Her: I’m really tired and don’t want to write my paper.

Me: Me too.

Her: I slept with So-and-So.

*cricket*

Her: …me too?

- – -

Going back to my paper now. Just thought I’d share what’s about the second-strangest part of my day.

 

Say a Prayer

My boyfriend’s mother is in the hospital with alcohol poisoning.

Oh, Lord bless.

 

I miss him so much it hurts, physically. Three more weeks? It’s worth it. I could see him the day before forever, but so long as I knew I’d get to see him eventually I could survive the millenia in between.

 

Cheer Journal: Etsy

In order to have a creative outlet and earn a little to help with my tuition, I started an Etsy shop–Philologia.etsy.com. I have one item listed so far, a “cheer journal”. 

 

Front cover

And here’s why it’s a CHEER journal:

 

Inside cover

In case you can’t read it, the inscription reads, “Tribulations will come your way but be of GOOD CHEER: I have overcome the world. Jn. 16:33.”

That is the verse I live by. The reason I made the journal was that I’d had a terrible week, I’m having difficulty remembering to live by John 16:33, and my favorite necklace broke–you know, the one I’d worn every day for the last third of my life, the one given to me by my childhood best friend, the one I used to hang a pendant of the Theotokos…yeah, that’s what I mean by favorite. I thought I would cry.

But in a way I’m glad. I got to create something beautiful, something healing, and someone lucky will get a beautiful journal. 

 

 

If this seems like the right journal for you or someone you love, it’s $12 plus shipping at Philologia.etsy.com. Someday I’ll make these just to give away, but for now I have to pay for college somehow!

 

1989 Buick Reatta For Sale

1989 Buick Reatta for sale, more details available at http://forums.aaca.org/ubbthreads.php/topics/551209/89_Black_Coupe_will_take_best_#Post551209.

Here’s another view:

Here’s a third view:

Here’s the rear of the car:

And the front:

Here’s a close-up of the scratch from a poorly-done towing job:

Here’s the antenna; the longer piece can easily be re-attached:

Here’s a picture showing a little bit of rust on the car:

And here’s a picture of the trunk, which has a problem with the lock but opens easily when you press the “trunk open” button inside:

 

Thanks, and as always email me at veggie1 (at) gmail.com if you’re interested.

 

Need a car?

Lord have mercy. I have to sell my car.

I want to stay at Shimer College next semester, and we don’t have enough money for tuition for the next couple of months. So, my darling Reatta has to go.

It’s a black ‘89 Buick Reatta with grey leather interior and only 144,000 miles–those things can go forever, and it rides like a dream. There’s some cosmetic issues, like the scratch from a lousy tow job, but everything functions.

This car is a dream. It makes my boyfriend’s dad’s Mitsubishi Spyder seem lazy. The leather seats are so comfortable I’d rather sit in them than a La-Z-Boy recliner! It has an LCD touch screen that controls everything, and it even diagnoses itself if there’s ever a problem! The gas mileage’s pretty decent, averaging 24 mpg. And the acceleration…I’m going to miss this car, let’s just put it that way. It’s the smoothest ride ever.

And it kills me to say “it” all the time. I never do. I say “he,” because he’s my first car, my baby, and his name is Frank. My beloved Reatta’s name is Frank, and I absolutely love him, and I don’t know how I’m going to be okay with this but I just have to be.

Shimer is home. Shimer is home. Please, Lord, let me stay. As much as it kills, let Frank sell. Shimer is home.