Fiorella Wants Her Card Case Back!

Fiorella is very upset, screaming upset, crying upset, cursing upset, throwing things upset, questioning God upset. Her card case, the one she got at the New York RWA conference in 2015, the one that has her two credit cards in it as well as her business cards, is gone, gone, gone. She and Husband had bought a few groceries at H-E-B yesterday evening, and apparently when they took them to the car, she put her precious card case in the tray of the small cart they had used, then did not retrieve the case when she parked the cart back at the store. She realized what had happened fifteen minutes later and drove back to the store, but no one had turned in her card case. She is now offering a $100 reward for its return.

Why is this happening to Fiorella? She is a good person, a nice person, someone who works hard, who gives and gives an gives, who pushes herself to do better every day in every way, a person who prays for others, who tries to help others, who puts up with a lot of crap, who has the patience of Job. But every now and then she cracks, and this is one of those times.

And she asks again--why, God?  Doesn't Fio have enough on her back right now?

Empowerment

Fiorella is moving into another stage of grief--anger. She's angry at what happened, angry at people who derided her sorrow, and angry at her own helplessness. But, as friend Shiloh Walker pointed out, Fio is NOT helpless--she can write. So this afternoon Fio finished the third revision of her work-in-progress, decided to self-publish a book that's been sitting in her documents pages for way too long because it was considered too "daring," and plotted out a book about a woman who is flaming angry--like she is.

Clifford Kite, RIP

Sharon Kite called yesterday to tell me that her husband had died.  I searched for soothing words, but all I could say was that I loved her and that I was weeping with her, which was pretty much evident by the fact that I couldn't get a distinguishable word out.

I first met Sharon in church choir where we were bad girls who talked in the balcony during the sermon. But we were also strong leaders who were elected PTA  presidents. and we were career women with important responsibilities, and we are still the good friends who support each other in times of sorrow.

Bless you, my friend.  Again, all I can say is that I love you, and that I am weeping with you.