A Good Reason to Talk to Your Maker

James has had a tough week. And it's just begun Monday.

It takes a lot of courage to pick yourself up after your College Department gives your hard-worked BA Thesis Proposal the cold, heavy boot into oblivion and neverwhere.

I'm just thankful that Someone up there still loves him, and the whole lot of us. James has somehow found the strength/courage/confidence/foolhardiness to pick himself up again, dust himself off, and start again. Just last night, I recieved word from him that his "options have been narrowed, but the way has been revealed. Time to grind is come now. Stay with me, please?" And so I do.

And so I will.
(He's very sweet, in his own way.)

Right now as I encode, he will propably be well into half of whatever decent student fodder he's found in the cafeteria of Pisai (Philippine Science High School), waiting for the verdict of permission from the school's director. My inner abbess is fervently thumbing her prayer beads as we speak. Right now I wish I'd slipped him a rosary card to bring around. (And just in case this may elicit a disheartened huff ["You want me to talk to a God I don't belive in anymore?"], when the son and you don't exactly see eye-to-eye on something, it nver hurts to ask Mom to slip Him a good word for you. I don't know, but she's never failed give me just what I need, when I do need it.)

Lola Mommy left me this trite piece of wisdom before she passed away: the best gift or the best help you can ever give you loved ones is to pray for them. Two prayers are always stronger that just one.

and so do.
and so I will.