Okay, okay - I'm a terrible blogger. I'm trying to reform. Again. Maybe this time it will shhtick.
Anyhoo.
40 Days for Life is happening. Churches like to sponsor time at the end of 40 Days, so they have more time to get people signed up. And this is the beginning of 40 Days. So...been spending a lot of time on the sidewalk. Monday was about six hours on the sidewalk. Wednesday I was there from 7AM-2:30PM.
I wouldn't say I look forward to those kinds of days, but I appreciate them. They're really a profound experience: an entire day to pray. Exhausting, but definitely profound. One of my friends suggested I say Rosaries while meditating on different Scriptures instead of doing the original 20 Mysteries over and over (been there, done that), so I was trying the suggestion out. On Monday I ended up saying two entire Rosaries on Philippians 4:19. It was one of the most incredible prayer experiences of my life. Major spiritual high Monday evening.
But Wednesday night, I was Cranky. With a capital C.
Even after CrossFit.
Cranky that CrossFit can't fix is oh, So Cranky.
And the cranky was pointed at, unfortunately, my dear sweetheart.
I have mentioned him once or twice in the past. I'm not a big "mention"-er. I'm not what you'd call, *ahem*, sentimental.
I hear my family chuckling as they read this.
I'm so Not Sentimental, I'm one of those people who gets irritated with girls listening to sad break-up songs after a sad break-up. I get like this:
Not sentimental, that is, until I met Alex.
*sigh*...Alex.
Here, look:
One of my friends calls this: "The Ronald & Nancy Reagan picture."
I kind of flipped over that.
Alex is...Alex. Everybody just loves him. If you don't love him, there's somethin' wrong wit yo head. I mean, I was kinda determined not to love him Ever EVER but...yeah. That did not work. I mean, how do you not fall in love with a guy who informs you at the beginning of a road trip that you will be praying 20 decades and then wants to sing the Salve Regina at the end. And then introduces you to Jeeves & Wooster.
So, as I was saying way up there, on Wednesday night I was cranky and stuff. He very cheerily chatted away on the phone (he's working in a different city) and after a while he says, "So, you have that tone..."
He listened to the snippy gripe with which I (am embarrassed to admit) I replied, apologized for the world in general and tried to cheer me up.
I didn't cooperate.
So, he went to Mass the next morning before work and prayed for me. And then sent me cutesy texts about how he loves me. In Norwegian. And Italian.
(Disclaimer, I don't speak Norwegian. Or Italian. But he does. Norwegian and Italian. And I speak Alex, which means I can piece together a cutesy-loves-me text even if it is partially Norwegian and kind of Italian.)
So, I defrosted a little bit and texted him that I was sorry for being cranky. I mean, really, how can you stay cranky with someone who goes to Mass for you at 6AM and then texts: "I love you...Jeg elsker deg...Te amo!"
I mean, really. Y'all.
SO I said sorry. And then he says he barely noticed, (riiiight) and went on to say he'd be offering all the day's annoyances so that Mary would send me a special spiritual grace.
Uhm...Did you hear that? Total defrost. My heart pretty much turned into a puddle.
(You too? I know, right?)
So then I headed to Planned Parenthood for today's 2 1/2 hour stint.
I was running late to replace the Lutheran church that was leaving at noon. I was worried about the sidewalk being empty, but when I arrived there was a couple - praying the Rosary - already standing there. They had arrived right when the Lutherans were leaving, and stayed until just after I came. They didn't even know they were coming, they said, but they dropped their son off nearby for an event and then decided at the last minute to come.
Well, I thought, I guess that was my special grace.
Not hardly.
Just after they left, another lady came, Rosary in hand. She hadn't planned on coming either, and then suddenly, there she was.
Wow. That was some prayer he said, I thought.
THEN, another car pulled up. Two men got out. Two young men. Two well-dressed young men.
Huh, that's funny. They sure look like they must be seminarians. But seminarians don't exactly "drop by" abortion facilities to pray around here.
They don't, y'all. Getting seminarians is practically like finding the gold at the end of a rainbow.
They walked up and introduced themselves. The taller of the two had a little pouch in his hand and started out with, "I don't want to disrupt your prayers..."
Funny again, they even talk like seminarians.
Guess what?
Seminarians.
And, big surprise but, they hadn't planned on coming until the last minute.
They came to say the Rosary.
And at the end, they sang the Salve Regina.
At that moment, I felt like someone was standing behind them holding a sign over their heads that said: "TODAY'S SPECIAL MARIAN GRACE, BROUGHT TO YOU BYYYYY: ALEX. "
No. Kidding.
Why am I telling you this?
(No, really, my family might be all like, uhh, why is she telling everybody this? Who is this person and where is not-sentimental Dorothy?)
First of all: we could use some help with 40 Days. No, seriously.
Secondly, because, if you're feeling cranky about something, call Alex.
Seriously: because he's wonderful, and I'm grateful for him, and I thought hey, what better way to get back into blogging than to talk about Alex? Mostly I don't blog anymore because of him anyway - I spend my former blogging time on the phone with him.
I'm kidding.
Sort of.
Finally, I know it's a privilege to be out on the sidewalk. I know people who wish they could go and can't. And I want you to know that even if you can't go, your prayers are invaluable. Come if you can. Please. But if you can't, then don't just do nothing. Pray for us. Pray hard.
And, all my single ladies - hold out for one of these (Irish ballad singing, Jeeves & Wooster reading, pipe-smoking, Norwegian-Italian-Spanish-Latin speaking) guys. Or one that seems equally epic to your own unique personality:
Because I really do not think that God meant for people to have less fun together than this.
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