I managed to park myself on the couch today, some of it even asleep, and play with yarn all day. I just needed a day without chores, errands, or shoulds. Tomorrow I'll work more on writing.
October 23--Jean Baptiste Greuze, Morning Prayer. "Now I lay me..." No, that wasn't right. As far as she could remember there wasn't a prayer formula for praying in the morning, only at night. It had been so long since Grade had prayed at all, much less gotten down on her knees and focused on praying, that she was certain she was doing it wrong. There probably wasn't a right or a wrong way to pray but if anyone could get it all wrong it was Grace. She wasn't even sure who to aim her prayers at. She knew that the Catholics had a long list of the patron saint of this and that, but she figured that those saints who were assigned an official area would be snowed under with requests. She decided that if she just sent her prayer up there, kind of a "Dear To-whom-it-may-concern" thing that the intercepting saint might be so glad to be asked that she could be nearly certain to have her prayer answered. Grace hitched her shawl back over her shoulders, shifted her knees on the picky wool rug, and interlaced her fingers. Two tiny creases appeared between her brows as she marshaled all her charm and piety to give her prayer all the help she could. She wasn't sure how to begin but she was confident that "Amen" was how it should end.
My train of thought just derailed. Gah! Guess I'm done for tonight.
--Barbara
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