here i am

Once, a couple years ago, in a fit of good-granddaughter-ness, I went to church. With my grandmother, who was very, very happy to have me there. See, for her, church is all those good things it is supposed to be: full of people who love you and songs about god. She was excited to introduce me to all her people there, and I was equally excited to hear how much they all love her. So, it was good to go.

And? No hell-fire when I walked in the building. Neither did the earth open up and swallow me. Nor did the hand of god reach down and smite me. Whew.

This is proof positive in my mind of the non-existence of any sort of deity: godless lesbian enters “holy” building; nothing happens. Ok, so my logic isn’t flawless. But! It happened again. When my grandfather (0ther side of the family) died recently, I not only attended the service – in a church, mind you – I *read* there. At the alter. From the bible (the least offensive of the readings from which I was told I could choose, which pissed off my best cousin, because she got left with crappy, sexist ones). And, again, the (non) miracle occurred – no fire nor brimstone rained down on me, the church still stood after my reading – with my atheist father in the building, too, so you know it *could* have been bad. Since there were two of us among the faithful, right? Possible double smiting.

Anyway. That was all a roundabout way to say that when I went to church with my grandmother that once, there were many readings from – gasp – the bible. And you know? When god speaks to you, as he spoke to all those guys in the Old Testament – Moses and them – he will say, for example, “Moses?” or for another example, “Starrhill Girl?” And the correct response, as I learned that day with my grandmother, is “here I am.” Because clearly, god’s Old Testament omniscience didn’t extend to actually *seeing* where his people were.

So here I am. Not blogging much because I am going to be writing conference reports for my parent-teacher conferences next week.

Here are the bird questions:

  1. Why would a collection (collective?) of birds hang out around a nest from last spring?
  2. Should I leave said nest where is it so that said birds can do whatever it is they might be needing to do there?
  3. Or, should I take prune down the butterfly bush which holds said nest as planned? That motherfucker is big, yo. The bush, not the nest.

CD 19, 4dpo. Hang tight, y’all, the crazy last week of the 2ww wait is about to start.

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5 Comments on “here i am”

  1. Heather says:

    Some birds are builders, others, not so much. The latter counts on the former for housing, so what you might be seeing is a few of them staking out some real estate in your butterfly bush. I’m a bird nut, so I would probably leave it. Of course, you’re talking to a person whose first butterfly bush, which I planted at my first apartment in 1996, is now a towering presence, WAY taller than the house and almost as tall as a maple tree nearby. Apparently they NEED to be pruned.

    That was a lot for me to say and still not be very helpful, no?

  2. hd says:

    By the way, it’s HD from One Small Corner. For some odd reason, blogger calls me by my real name now that I’ve moved to wordpress, and also refuses to show my profile, which still exists even though I don’t update the old blogger blog. Hunh.

  3. hd says:

    Ahem. And now that I posted that last comment, it both reverted to my display name AND allowed access to my profile. And I am a comment stalker. Lord.

  4. vee says:

    You have a big bush? hee! (Feeling childish this morning!)

  5. starrhillgirl says:

    It seems I do have a big bush. But hd claims to have an even bigger one. And she is comment stalking me – yikes! Maybe it is to form a “big bush” club?

    Ok, I’ve now beaten that into the ground.


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