Gratitude, every day

1.  my sweet husband, who lets me camp out on the sofa to work on my dissertation and brings me food and tea and lets me sleep with two pillows and always tells me to take every audition

2.  my family, even though they drive me crazy

3.  my job, because I have one and others don't

4.  my house, because we finally have a place to call our own

5.  my church community, who is always sad to see me go and happy when I return

Yesterday was a roller-coaster day.  We got up early and ran a 5K in some pretty cold weather and had a blast.  If I can figure out how to get the pictures off my phone, I'll be sure to post a few here, it was hilarious.  Showered and grabbed a quick bite before I had to go up to church to sing a funeral.  This is pretty typical for my church job - weddings and funerals and memorials and such.  I've been doing it for a while so usually I'm able to keep my cool and do my job, but yesterday was the hardest I've ever had to fight to keep my head above water.  There was a memorial service for a young man, only 20 years old, who had died of leukemia.  His younger sister helps out with the chorister program and takes voice lessons with me.  Everyone who read was young.  Most of the people in the congregation were young.  So many young, grieving people, trying to support this family in what must be an incredible tragedy for them, and the clergy and choir are gathered to help make this service beautiful and uplifting, comforting even, for them.  Because we're supposed to celebrate, to rejoice in the life that was led and that the suffering of this child is over and that he is with his King.  But even now, a whole day later, I still can't get the choked feeling out of my throat.  I can't stop hearing his father's voice, cracking and shaking as he delivered a eulogy for his own son, hearing the sniffles of the congregants, feeling my own face flush and feeling my breath skip when I'm trying to keep it together (come on now, keep it together, you're a professional, you're here to help them celebrate and grieve but it's about THEM).  It's just so hard sometimes.  I don't know how the clergy do it.  How do you suspend your own reaction to such sadness, how do you not cry with someone when they're hurting?  I just don't know.

So I called my mom to talk to her.  I'll probably call my brother later today - he's twenty and I can't imagine my life without his three-word text messages and his silly sweet disposition.  

Go hug someone you love.  Hell, hug anyone who's near.  Because there's a family grieving for the loss of their son and no doubt many more people grieving in silence without a church family to hold them up.  That's my two cents for the day.