Dad goes back into the hospital first week in May. He's three days out and drives down here to the Beach, then two days later, leaves for Spokane. Mom and I leave and take the scenic route (ugh) so we get to Yakima, stay the night, get to Davenport, stay the night, "play" with life-long friends on Friday in Davenport and prepare for the Memorial to take place on Saturday.

Dad goes to the hospital on Friday night. The family friends are all concerned and worried. Mom is all concerned and worried. The Young Prince is all concerned and worried. And I'm concerned that I feel cold and empty in regard to him.

Huh, that's odd� Here you people are, worried and talking in hushed tones, and I don't find even the tiniest scrap of empathy. Can't even scrape up an ash of pity. Odd.

So, the Memorial service arrives. I sing for a woman I had no emotional attachment to� at any time in my life, in front of a bunch of people I don't know, most of whom I'd never seen before, in pictures or person, and the buzz at the Memorial was about Dad being in the hospital and how terrible that was and what a shame and all that�

Again� I couldn't find even the faintest shred of feeling for him. I didn't hate him, I didn't love him, I didn't despise him, I didn't adore him. There was nothing there.

So, I talked very briefly with the Young Prince about it. Am I broken? Am I so bitter that nothing comes out anymore? Is this what hate feels like?

But, after seeing my mother so heart broken for her husband, and after seeing the Young Prince so concerned about his father, I just shut up. It would have been the ultimate in selfishness to go on about my lack of feeling.

I was pissed off that he had the nerve to require my attendance and then he didn't even bother to show�But I knew that was simply an irrational reaction to being out of my comfort zone (it was WAY to effing hot. I missed my 60 degree weather� instead I got 85 to 90 degree weather. Yuck!), when it came to his actually being in the hospital� to his actual sickness� nuthin. I didn't feel sad, scared, upset, angry, confused or anything else.

So, that made me wonder if I was actually broken� if I'd spent too many years being in isolation� if I'd spent too much time pretending I didn't care about anyone or anything, that I finally didn't. I did a lot of soul searching, so to speak.

I figured that something in me had to change, mostly because I didn't want to be 65, dying and confused about why.

I prayed about it a bit� not too intently, mind you� wouldn't want to actually open up and let God see His creation now� *rolls her eyes* Hey, when I do stupid, I do it well.

Anyway, I told God that I didn't want to be my father� that I didn't want to be so screwed up, so confused and scared and lost in the hell of my own creation� that I didn't want to find myself 65 years old and in the same damned rut I'd been running all my life. I told God something had to change. I also said that I wanted Him to be gentle in His corrections of me.

Hey, I learned a whole lot from the KenWorth experience� You do NOT ask God for a kick start� you'll get it.

So, with a month or so of debate with God� mostly consisting of my saying "No, I dun wanna" and His waiting patiently for me to capitulate, I realized that part of my creation included order. I am a person who doesn't function well in chaos. However, my room is chaos in its most chaotic form.

I spent three days cleaning the front portion of my room� Made a big improvement� then quit.

God's still waiting patiently for me to get started on that again.

So, around the middle of June, still immersed in that debate with God, I realized that I needed to be singing� and not just once every six or seven months for the church my Mother attends� I needed to be singing often. So, I complained at God about how that was supposed to happen. My being a pop singer was out of the question� so not my gig.

I realized I needed to go to a church in the area. Scary thought. 34 years of Saturday Sabbath conditioning made going to a Sunday church a very, very big step. So I debated it with God. I talked with Mom. Then at breakfast one Sunday, Mom gave me the newspaper that had a listing of the local churches and what times they started. If I made a decision, she'd go with me. (she's good like that)

I looked at the listings, cause what I wanted was a worship service� I didn't want sermons and fellowship and communication with people� I wanted to connect with the Holy Spirit through the music. I decided on one then told Mom� "I don't know if I'm going to go today� I just don't know."

As we left the restaurant, I told Mom. "I don't know where I'm going. I'm just going to get in the van and where it stops� that's where I'm going." She smiled in her loving way and we got in our separate vehicles. I wound up at the New Life church.

I didn't want to go in.

I got inside and they'd already started the worship service. I sat down in the back intending to cut out as soon as the music was over. The song ended and this good looking guy got up and said it was time to meet and greet people� say hello to anyone you don't know.

EVERYONE AND THEIR EFFING DOG CAME UP TO ME!!!

I panicked. There was nothing I could do. About a million and a half people walked up to me and there was loud talking and � I was so completely confused. I couldn't much hear and people were touching me and one woman walked past saying, "Don't ignore me."

I got to my feet and went for the door. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think, I couldn't talk. I was absolutely terrified.

Clown Lady (a woman I've known for quite a while) gently walked up to me at the door. I hadn't been able to walk out. I wanted to, but something (God) stopped me. I leaned against the wall and Clown Lady (it's not derogatory� she used to dress up as a clown), in her ever-patient and loving way talked me down.

The music started again and I went back inside, slowly, and sat down. I stayed for the entire service. The good-looking guy turned out to be the minister (Pastor).

The next week, I told God I wasn't going back. I had no intention of ever setting foot in that place again. I didn't feel the power of the Spirit there, I didn't like the music and there were too many nosy people. I told God, in no uncertain terms, that if He wanted me to go back, He was going to have to get me up on time.

I stayed up till about 4 am Saturday night/Sunday morning to make sure I wouldn't get up on time.

At 10, I woke up. I found myself dressed and in the van on my way to church by 10:30. I found myself waiting to speak to the minister after services (which I'd stayed for). I told him that I was supposed to sing and I wanted to know who to speak to about Special Music. He said they'd like to get to know me a little better before I actually did Special Music, but they were always open for that kind of thing.

For a month I told God every Saturday night that I wasn't going the next morning unless He got me up on time. I was there every Sunday morning.

As of last weekend, I've sung there twice. As of yesterday, I am the chick in charge of editing the church bulletin. I've had three great, and long, conversations with David, the pastor. I really like it there. I know some of the people now. I have a social group. That's so completely weird.

I consider David my friend. The thing is� he's exactly what I asked for. No lie.

I told God, before I started going to that church, that what I wanted was a friend. I preferred a man, because I like men better than I like women� women irritate me. I said I needed him to be healthy, because I was enough of a head case. I told God that if he wasn't healthy, I would focus my attention on fixing him and ignore my own garbage� or baggage.

I told God that I'd like him to be intelligent and funny and quick and that I'd really like a friend who understood me� who was similar to me (only healthy). Most importantly, though, I told God that he had to be of high moral character� that he had to be of similar Spiritual beliefs� cause I needed someone strong in that area. I also told God that he had to be okay with a girl crying, cause I knew that crying was going to come up in conversations� or maybe come down???...

David fits all of that. What's more, he's also Chaplain at the youth camp down the river a bit. That was really cool, since I've been toying with the idea of pursuing Chaplain-ism. *chuckles*

David doesn't listen to me and then tell me how wrong I am� like so many ministers have before. He lets me be weird and verbose and rambling. He doesn't get scared or nervous when I cry. He's a sarcastic smart aleck. He's funny. And he's healing me.

I don't mean to say that he is the only one, but the fact that I have a friend after so many, many years of not having one I wasn't related to� He's not a friend in pixels and instant messages. He's a real, live human. He prays for me (I would daresay his prayer time has been expanded to put up with me), he talks to me, he jokes around with me�

Even his wife is cool. She doesn't irritate me. Of course, I haven't spent much time with her� she might be one of those girly girls� ya know, into shoes and shopping and make up and spa treatments� heh.

She's cool though.

Thank you, God, for not pushing me� for waiting for me to discover the miracles You have already given me. Please, I ask You to richly bless David and Mrs. David and their children. May each one of them be a blessing as incredible as he has been to me.

And please, Father, keep me from looking like a total dork! The intensity of my emotion may well seem very foolish and over-reaction-ary to "normal" healthy people. It's been so long since I've felt any sense of normal. Thank You for the Young Prince and thank You so very, very much for David. He is a tremendous blessing to me.

Well, uh, um� so�

That's been life lately. Dad's still a pain. He's got the C-dif for the third or fourth time this year� don't remember how often he's had it. He's still growly and grouchy. But, the Feast is coming and I have a social group and a friend. A real, honest-to-goodness friend.

Life is getting better.

tootles.