Thoughts on Endings and Reunions

Now that the “Three Weeks to the Suit” mission has ended, I have renamed my blog “Happy to be at Home.” That’s because, I am. I have had several months to ponder the reasons that I left teaching, a career that I loved. I know I did the right thing in doing so. One’s priorities and dignity must come first. I left my students abruptly, and it was certainly one of the hardest things I have ever done. I let them down. They are too young to understand adult issues, and I understand that. But we must prioritize. God first, then family, and finally, career. This time family trumped career. I’m at peace with my decision, and that’s what matters. Thank you for indulging me for a moment. Now I shall move on.

It seems as though we are celebrating our 40th high school reunion next week. I have not committed to going, but probably will attend. One of my best friends is coming from Virginia and has managed to shame me into making an appearance. I think her words were something like, “I never used to HAVE to talk you into playing and laughing.”

The reunion has possibilities. I was in a class of about one thousand students. I was only average, and I don’t think I will be remembered. But, as it turns out, I remember many faces and too much of what happened in those days. I don’t know why I have this silly gift (or curse), but I do. It will be fun to see who else is able to remember the class of 1972!

Top picture, my sophomore year. Bottom picture, my fifth grade class. I am first row first student. 

The Aftermath!

My goddaughter's wedding was as beautiful as I knew it would be. Jenny sparkled like a fairy tale princess and her smile lit the world on fire. God smiled too and made sure it was a perfect evening on the Gulf Coast Beach.

Jenny's wedding was held at St. Thomas Catholic Church in Long Beach, Mississippi. The beautiful church is new, as Katrina, in her fury, took the original structure, but the love and memories are still there. It is a place that will always be treasured by the families of the coast, and our family, as well. Not only, was Jenny baptized at St. Thomas, so were our four children. Our two oldest children also made their First Communion there. I was so excited to be part of this parish and to return and share it with Callie, my last to be baptized there. She was too young to remember much of Long Beach, but was amazed at how God has His hand in this place!

"What about the "suit?", you ask. I am sorry to say that the "suit" didn't make the cut. I thought that it was the epitome of my style, my flair if you will. It wasn't at all. Let's talk tacky. It was too shiny, too tight at the top, too long and baggy at the bottom (how the hell did that happen?), and what about those buttons? Thank goodness for Anne Taylor. The problem was resolved with a truly flattering navy shift and a pair of wedge, ankle strapped sandals. I fit right in. It turns out we have all aged. It is not a terrible thing. The twenty years I missed in Mississippi not only changed me, it had changed my friends. And I'd like to add, though we are now twenty years older, we are twenty years better. Ah, the gift of time!

So all of my days of running and dieting were good for my health, but not necessary for lasting friendships. What I learned from "Three Weeks to the Suit" is in the immortal words of Dr. Seuss, "Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind." And these lovely friends from long ago don't mind, they matter!
This isn't the end of the "Suit." Keep following.