Oasis

I had a good time last night.  Did you hear that?  I had a really. good. time.

Mother's Day was sad and hard.  Unbloggably so.  If I were still posting in my Desert Year blog, the one I started in which to chronicle the year, and then the next year, after Josh's death, I would probably have written about a blinding sandstorm.

And then a couple of days later, the air began to clear, in a way that it hasn't for two full years and another fall and winter and spring.  I don't think I can write about it yet; suffice it to say that I suddenly understood who and where I want to be, and that perhaps I can ~ can become that person.

Last night I went to the annual fundraising event for the local Jesuit Retreat House.  The woman who runs the spiritual direction program in which I studied was being honored and had invited me as a guest at her table, and my wonderful first spiritual director was the main speaker.  He offered what may have been the most eloquent presentation I've ever heard him make, which is saying something ~ you could have heard the proverbial pin drop.   The tent was packed with people whom I've met through my spiritual direction life over the past several years, many of whom have become very dear to me, and the evening was filled with mini-reunions and lovely conversation and great good humor. (I knocked over only one glass of wine, thanks to my vision issues, and it was my own!) When I got home, much later than anticipated, I realized that I had been having fun, real fun, for hours.  Even a difficult few moments, in which I ran into lawyer friends whom I have not seen  in years and realized that they probably did not know about Josh, passed without incident.

I couldn't help but contrast the evening to the last Big Event I attempted and sorely regretted attending ~ my seminary graduation a year ago.  What a difference twelve months, or a few days, can make.

Image: Tortilla Flat, Arizona by Tom Lussier, here.