I dropped a few balls this week. Fortunately they were not like superballs, that keep bouncing over and over in my face. They mercifully boinged through the door and out of sight. John covered a few of my obligations and others were postponed by the grace of friends. Some tasks I completed, though not with full strength, and others went undone. 

 

I drove Benjamin to the cathedral for his twice-weekly volunteer job. I took my time walking from the parking lot, and plunked on a pew while he worked. He takes down the number boards, the ones that let the congregation know what page to turn to. He is tall, and is facile with numbers. Plus the cathedral is mostly empty on a Tuesday, and no one expects him to hurry. The pew looked inviting to my still fragile back. A hard wood surface with a two inch cushion seemed about right. I don't think we are supposed to lie down in church, with exceptions made for the homeless in a snowstorm and sleepy toddlers. 

 

Ben worked with purpose. He appreciates numbers, and how reliable they are. I did not quite catch his sequence for removing digits from the slides that held them. Maybe he did the primes first. They are his favorite. I felt deep affection for him at this moment, when he was able and willing to do a task that he understood. We will go back on Friday, after his father has picked the hymns for Sunday, and Benjamin will set them in order. 

 

It did not feel like I was waiting for him, since my agenda for the past few days has slimmed down. I watched with no eagerness to be anywhere else. That is not always true. I looked across the nave to a man giving a tour to eight or so people. The guide was dressed in his Sunday best, complete with a tie, and his back looked like mine felt. A sapling in the wind. 

 

Being with elderly folks recently has made me loosen my grip on efficiency. Maybe there are other worthwhile attributes to color a July afternoon.