Mother's Helper

I'm going up to Sacramento today to sing at my mother's installation or institution ceremony (forgot the precise term). She's become the rector for a small Episcopal parish there. It's a cinderblock building on a large green plot of land. Apparently, the church began meeting in a bar about 30 years ago. She's thrilled to have gotten this position, and the people are very nice.

Lately, as I've been having my meltdowns about the stressors in my life, she's heard a lot of my ranting. I think she's very good at assisting people in need, but I have to laugh at some of her helpful comments to me: "What if you were in a prison camp? Think about that!" "What if you were being booed off the stage?" "What if the audience started throwing things at you? Now that would be something to complain about, right?"

True to her calling, she also urges me to pray to Jesus. My grandma was telling me yesterday to pray to the Holy Spirit. "It doesn't matter what you call it or if you believe in Jesus or God, you have to feel there's a spirit out there, doing great works. If you let it it will do great things for you too!"