A Thank You for Mimi

I had been thinking a lot about writing, writing anything, this winter. Wondering about blogging. When I was in school, our diaries had little hasps and padlocks on, with tiny keys we’d wear on chains around our necks, so no-one would read them. Now we blog. Life’s progress is mysterious. Then there were the huge questions: What would I write? Who’d care? Would anyone read it? I had a question about a blog that vanished (and it had really GOOD stuff on it too) – I didn’t know how one made a blog vanish completely. So I asked the Mad Priest (MP – that means I think you know lots), who asked if I had a blog. No, I didn’t. A week or so later, though, we all got snowed in again – and I just went ahead and started the Morningstar Chronicles.

I’d lived too much of my life waiting for other people or events to make my decisions, and letting them. Being afraid. I’ve prayed a lot for God to remove my fear, because it gets in the way of God and Life. Starting to do this was a way to act deliberately out of faith instead, a commitment to writing, and a deepening of the relationships I’d started to develop with some of you. Thank you, Jonathan, for helping me move forward.

Yesterday, I wrote to Grandmère Mimi, about her new photo. She said she was tired of Jane Austen, and getting used to having her picture on the internet. I said, I’d be shy about having mine up.

Well, shyness is fear. My Dad’s very ill, terminally ill. There’s been a lot of family loss in the last 16 months or so – I’m not afraid about Dad, but I’m tired, sad and lonely. One of the things that frightens me is that I’ll go back to a way of living that was killing me. I can’t do anything for Dad except pray, show up, and love him. I CAN take some action to ward off fear. This is it.

I’m vain enough to post my best picture, for my first picture. I had gone to a concert with David P. (we’ve been friends since we were 11 years old) and his mother. One day I’ll say something about that “newly thin” thing in my profile, but not tonight. I took a rare opportunity to dress up. It was very cold, and when we got indoors and I took my coat off, David said, “Do I have to have you home before midnight? Because you look like Cinderella.” This is my Cinderella picture. Thank you, Mimi, for prayers, friendship, and helping me move forward.