Those of you from my generation are quite familiar with lava lamps. I have no idea how they work other than the heat melts something and it gets lighter than the fluid surrounding it and it slowly releases a blob and sends it skyward. Grief is like that. This gunk stays solid down beneath the surface till the heat gets cranked up and pretty soon there’s an eruption. Of emotion…energy…tears….fears. It bubbles up and gets dealt with until the next blob of gunk comes up.

It sounds all gooey and yucky and it is when you’re smack dab in the middle of the lamp. It’s hot and decidedly uncomfortable sitting in that mess all the time. But when you step back, you see the light. You see the infinite patterns forming and reforming. You see the beauty of the vessel, doing its thing, ad infinitum. And every once in awhile you have to unplug. You have to just let yourself be cool. It’s the only way to recharge so you can face the next batch of lava, hot from the source, threatening to burn you if you’re not careful. That’s what was happening last week…I was in the hot seat dealing with the lava.

Yesterday was an unplug the lamp kinda day. Mr. Fixit came to do some honey-dos since there’s no honey to do them and I am sorely lacking tools since the great storage unit debacle. I spent a few hours trying to figure out what my furniture is worth. I wrote my rebuttal to the Inspection Objections. I talked to many friends. And I spent a delightful couple of hours walking down memory lane going through a plastic tub I had stored in the crawl space. (I found treasures!!!) I went for an ice cream. And I thanked God for another beautiful day to recharge.

Today would have been my beautiful mother’s 89th birthday. Happy Birthday, Mama! <3