Mi mi me me me….

Sorry so quiet – had a very strange day over here, which included a minor but important “emergency” issue for a family member.

Please allow me to say Thank You – a huge, Thank you with a grateful heart. The tons of incredibly lovely responses and emails I have been reading have been a very instructive and extremely humbling event. And when I say humbling, I really mean it. I can’t tell you how many times I blushed from your praise, or got misty-eyed for your trusting me with your own stories, or simply found myself muttering, “Lord, I am not worthy…these people are making way too much of me, and you know I am no holy woman!”

To which God said, “yeah, it’s amazing. If they knew you like I know you…”

Yeah, I know, Lord, I know.

My son Buster, who claims the Italian half, read the piece and sent this my way, from Braveheart:

ahh the Irish audacity to think they can really talk to God.
Stephen: Alright, Father, I’ll ask him.
[to William]
Stephen: If I risk my neck for you, will I get a chance to kill Englishmen?
Hamish: Is your father a ghost, or do you converse with the Almighty?
Stephen: In order to find his equal, an Irishman is forced to talk to God.
[to the sky]
Stephen: Yes, Father!
[to Hamish]
Stephen: The Almighty says, “Don’t change the subject, just answer the f*ckin’ question.”
Hamish: Mind your tongue.
Campbell: Insane Irish.

Do you know what I have discovered is the most difficult (and yes, again, humbling) thing? To stand still and allow someone to compliment you; to give someone the chance to say what they want to say, when it makes you very uncomfortable to hear it. It is the strangest paradoxical thing. On one hand, you want to say, “oh, stop it, please” and on the other you realize…you have no right to dictate to people what they may feel…so you just have to stand there, listen, and accept it, and shift from foot to foot and then (the hardest part) show enough respect (and have enough dignity) to not go running from the room with your hands over your ears, but to simply say “thank you.” To honor that person’s feelings, over one’s own discomfort.

It actually takes more courage to do that than to listen to someone spout hate. Maybe that’s not true for everyone, but I find it true for me. You want to get my Irish up, or amuse me, go ahead and hate me. You want to disarm me…the bouquets do it. Pathetic.

It’s a strange lesson – unsettles all one’s notions. And I think it can be applied to other matters, too. Sheesh. I’m 50 and I’m finally learning how to be a little human.

Anyway…thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

And please stop it.

Honestly, I don’t know how Obama can stand around letting people gush over him, but it’s making me antsy and embarrassed, because I know I can be an utter disgrace of a human being, all too often.

Way too often.

Also, I was quiet because the chest cold from the last two days is settling in and bringing a fever to keep it company. And, as I said, a family member had an issue that needed attention.

So, I’m sorry to miss all the news today, and for the quiet. And I thank you for reading this blog and allowing me to rant, pontificate and generally amuse myself or think aloud, and for putting up with me. I learn so much from all of you and once again you’ve proven to me that I have the best, classiest and most thoughtful readers on the ‘nets.

And I’m going to close comments on this, because I want to thank you without you guys throwing your way-too-generous roses back at me.

Yes, that’s right…now you have to stand there and just take it while I thank YOU and tell you YOU’RE great. ;-)