Today I skittered out of church after the duet sermon given by Bo & Mary-Kate Myers. They're members of our church and on the mountain for Thanksgiving - a break from seminary in Ohio.

I loved, loved, loved being in a pew this Sunday to hear them. The only reason I skittered out early was because I'd made a strategic error and my oxygen was running low and I needed to monitor the flow in order to stop at The Pig on the way home.

Bo & Mary-Kate came home with me. Naw, not really, but their words did.

*****

I paraphrase here, but Bo asked us to absorb a word into our lives. My word is Patience, and Boy-Howdy-Dowdy that's a challenge. Just a few hours ago as I was leaving The Pig, I saw an able-bodied man sitting in his tired looking truck parked in a handicap slot. And thus began the inner dialog that went something like this: "Handicapped, my foot!" (Though I didn't use the word *foot*.)

As I muttered and lumbered along, I noticed a huge stick attached to the back of my car. Good heavens! My car had grown a tail!

It was then that the man jumped from his truck and said, "Ma'am, is that your car?"

As I nodded, he commenced to yank the stick free and then crawled underneath to make sure there was no damage.

*GULP*

Patience isn't my strong suit. I've put more practice into contrition than most folk.

Before my first hip replacement I had no visible injury, but the pain was often unbearable. I once had a man yell at me as I emerged from my car that was parked in a handicap slot. Perhaps the man who was so kind to me and my car this morning had invisible pain? I choose to believe that.

While the man was fussing with my car, a woman hollered across the parking lot, "Ma'am, would you like some help with those groceries?" A week ago I would've smiled and declined the offer. Today I accepted it with great gratitude.

After my car was fussed over and the groceries loaded, I smiled and said, "What would I do without the kindness of this town." It was an A+ moment for everyone.

But back to Patience... Bo, I'm working on it. Dare I say - with patience.

*****

Mary-Kate delighted me to no end with the word everydayness.

Everydayness is different for writers and artists. We see the world differently and often feel the responsibility of sharing those insights.

Take for example the different perceptions of looking at a grouping of trees:

Some people would make this everydayness observation: The trees were leafy and shiny.

My everydayness would observe: The sun sparked off the leaves as if touched by flint... or, The light poured through the sky to touch the leaves with glitter.

How long did it take me to combine those words? This long: ><. It's how I see the world. It's how I do my everydayness thinking and observing. I have everydayness in spades. It's an odd way to see life - so different than others, but it's how I'm wired. So much that is ordinary to others, is extraordinary for me - and quite honestly, it can be a pain in the foot sometimes... exhausting... the road to crazy. That's why some people cut off their ears.

*****

So, it's such a delight when I encounter someone else who sees everydayness the way I do.

This past week a friend visited. She moseyed around my home. She spent a few minutes in my office and commented, "Everyone should have a space like this." I so adored that she saw the specialness of my space - the absolute chaotic specialness of it. As she was looking about, her eyes spotted two hankies lying on top of one of my book stacks. She gently fingered them and made comments of appreciation. OMG! She noticed the two hankies!

*****

I don't know how to end this post except to post a photo of my two hankies (can you spot them?) and to thank you, once again, for stopping by.