It has been a long time and I haven't been able to maintain the pace of my life or, at least, not my blogging life. And there hasn't been much to say, anyway. Though I am almost done with Nolan's scarf, it is the only knitting that I have been able to do.

My Sally sweater remains with only 1/4 of one taunting sleeve left. It sits on my desk, unmoved until sweet Raeah shivers a lament and jiggles the sweater: "I am cold, Momma, I am cold. When .... when ???" I can only recoil in shame.

And there is so much shame in motherhood and a troubled marriage. Who can knit? Or even write about it?

But, listen. I have found new strategies for marginal coping. And, I am okay. Really.

First, I read a book. How amazing is that?

And second, I have been paying medical bills and submitting receipts. It is highly therapeutic. I have gathered their chaos and sorted. I have learned to throw away all of the payment envelopes (even the ones crying to me with tyvek), in effect lightening the load. I have labored through glorious multitudes of stacks and, finally, I have enjoyed the bliss of competent folder labelling. Is there anything better?

Emboldened - even on fire, I would say - I have been calling, paying, requesting the proper receipts, faxing reimbursements, and filing with such a vengeance that I am compelled to remember, with only a smidge of nostalgia, how it felt to slam an empty shot glass down on the high gloss butcherblock top at The Orange Monkey and gasp another impudent, "again."

Ah, the false bravado that only tequila and last week's paid medical bills can bring.

But, truly, I am encouraged.

Dale has met my Lord and I can only imagine her joy.

My Linda Ann maintains her steady hand on me, always. I am so thankful. Barbie forces me to craft communally, lest I forget how to be social. And Patt and Joe - well, just last Sunday, they fed me the best veggie loaf I have had in a coon's age. It felt good even if it was sprinkled with my own pocketed jar of broken promise.

And, I talked with Rebecca yesterday. Oh my, that was nice. She's growing up baby seedlings in Guatemala. What a blessing. She reminded me of my Jericho. It was helpful. It is hard to imagine how I could grow lazy to the assault even as the bullets pulse by, but there it is.

And, you. To all of you, my companion warriors. You know who you are. I thank you. I could not do this without you and I am so grateful. You surround me and I can feel you lift my arms while I sit, flat and tired, on stone. And, with your help, and God's amazing grace, my hands will be steady until the going of the sun.