A day of rest.

I woke up warm.

Just a little bit of planning was all it took. Well, and the extra time to change into the night time garb (my low temp skydive under-suit,) and I was able to sleep comfortably adding and removing blankets through the night.

To say I was excited to put two thousand and twenty-two behind me couldn’t be more of an understatement. There are a few things from the year that I’ll take with me, some lessons learned, some relationships grown.

After I woke warm I crawled out (with a little bit of grace even) in my tent quickly to get the tea on. Excited to be starting January first in my current condition. Tea and radio to start the morning. The reception is just amazing down here. Usually each morning I scroll the dial and listen to two or three conversations, sometimes trying to get my voice in too. Here though, with the low noise floor, the bands are full of activity. Too much for me to scroll through and listen all to in the time I had.

In fact, I spent a bit too much time. When I looked at my phone for the time, it was already nine thirty am. Mass would begin at ten. I rushed as much as I could, praying the way that I would not be late. As at my best pace, I gathered my change of clothes (and a button up for the occasion) shower bag and towel and ran to the bathroom. Ha! I limp walked as fast as I could. Showering is no joke though, rush a bit much and it would be easy for me to slip and fall.

As I began to get frustrated that I would be late, well I didn’t care that I might be late, I’m late all the time. However, if you miss the gospel, you aren’t supposed to receive communion, and since I know it, I can’t do it. And with the schedule I’ve had – my mad rush to exit Jackson – it had been since early December since I had received communion.

And the would be the first year that I can recall in a very long time that I missed Christmas mass. Also, that I didn’t go to mass the day after confession. Having absolution from mortal sin is a great way to enjoy mass (pretty sure this is how we’re always supposed to do it.) That was fifteen days ago, and to the best of my knowledge (which is the limit of mortal sin,) I held my shit together. The venials fought me more than I know, but I tried. The new church was great, very south Texas.

Speaking of that, let me just at that Mathis, Texas is apparently the exact image I have had if Texas, all of it. Quiet, a bit dusty. Oil derricks in the background, amazing bbq, more Mexican than white people, more politeness than you can imagine. This church fit the bill nicely too. Exactly what I expected, simple interior, mostly brick, with gorgeous wooded accents.

Rushing all the way, I walked in the front doors and heard the deacon announce the gospel. Just barely in the nick of time. I genuflected and quickly entered the back pew. I’d relay the homily, but I’d rather keep it to myself, you had to be there. The songs though: exact same same songbook as St. John’s. Ha!

And in a room full of strangers, wow can I project my voice when I know the words, and the played all the verses too! I was a really great mass.

Afterwards? A tremendous desire to rest. In my rush, I had forgotten my morning pills. Which is fine.. other than the Vyvanse. That stuff is a serious upper with a twelve hour window, so I skipped it and took the rest.

And I rested, played radio, walked a lap (half mile,) and rested some more as I planned my feast.. and made myself wait just enough to make sure I was good and hungry.

Slow day, yeah, quiet day, yeah, good day, oh yeah.

Time to rest.

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