Mother Connie Sez: Take Your Own Advice?

After all the ranting and raving Mother Connie offered about not being stressed over the Thanksgiving holiday she is pretty red in the face. Oh, she made her own way, all right.

Stress does funny things to people. Even normal people. SIDEBAR: Who in their right mind thinks Mother Connie is normal? END SIDEBAR.

Here's the thing: There are two characters in the family who live in group homes in two different towns. It is a day long event to collect these guys, now 38 and 43, and all their STUFF to bring them home for a visit. While they are in our home they eat like football players and by the way, these guys will eat anything if it does not eat them first. For that, I am eternally grateful. Oh, and by the way, their return trip involves another daylong event.

Between the coming and going we have 2 extra faces to shave or see so the whiskers vanish; we have 2 more baths to supervise and there are a LOT more games of UNO to be played! It's a change in our routine, it's a change in theirs. And change is not anyone's strong suit.

So, in order to facilitate all the changes, Mother Connie immersed herself in cooking, cleanup and laundry. She made lists so everyone would remember where to be and what to bring. On Saturday, Mother Connie and The Normanator had a serious discussion about all the details of Sunday morning church. The plans were laid for an orderly Sunday morning whereby there would be a simple breakfast. The guys would have help getting ready in their Sunday-go-to-meetin' best and we would arrive in time to set up the communion elements and prepare our part for the following Fellowship time. The Normanator even baked one of his specialty cakes in honor of the day's activities.

Everything went like clock work. Some of us were up before the alarm sounded. Faces were scrubbed, teeth were cleaned, whiskers buzzed away and tummies filled with toast. We stopped to collect the boys' aunt from her home in the assisted living facility and off we drove.

We were the first to arrive at the little country church. It was not until Mother Connie turned on the kitchen light and noticed the calendar that it dawned on her: THIS is not communion Sunday! IT IS NEXT WEEK! So, of course, there would be no Fellowship Hour.

The picnic basket housing the cake was whisked away to the trunk of the car for safekeeping! After we finished laughing we sat, looking at one another; marveling that we had arrived so early, so well prepared and so erroneously.

The poor Normanator-it would have been useless to question this plan before it was executed. The stress level registered off the charts, so it was easier for him to just go along with this cockamamie, ill timed plan of Mother Connie's. Besides, he also thought the First Sunday in Advent meant communion would be served.

Mother Connie is living proof that stress addles the brain. With Christmas looming within the month, she would be wise to settle down and take her own advice about not stressing over the details of the holiday.

At least the family saw the humor in this comedy of errors!

She'll be doing The Healing Codes a little more often now, thank you very much.


Connie Baum
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