Bring Me a Higher Power - Dear Gloria

I was recently chatting to a friend about an acquaintance of hers who has just done some time in the big white castle of counselling. Well, we were talking about the AA's Twelve Steps, as you do in the more fragrant areas of Greater London and she asked if I believe in a Higher Power. And I've been pondering the matter ever since. 

I'd like a Higher Power in the same way I'd like to be bumped up the waiting list for "emergency counselling" that I've been on since March!  I'm too disorganised for any structured religion and shudder at the thought of making J sit through a church service. J did have a brief dalliance with Hari Krishna-ism at a local fair, when he was magnetically drawn to their marquee and had such a great time dancing and spinning with them that he had to be forcibly removed after an hour. 

I suppose the closest I've got in recent years to an HP is when J was having lots of seizures every day and was so pumped up on steroids that he looked as if he would just float away. I'd make paper boats every day with little pleading "please make my baby better" messages in them and send them down the river. It felt pretty useless but it felt ceremonial and that was nice at the time. 

I'd like to hand it all over to some holy big cheese type on a bad day and just ride the tidal wave of chaos that sometimes strikes our family. 

And then I remembered that we already have our very own HP. She's called Gloria and she sits on the highest of our bookshelves. She's a ceramic angel with large hips and pert appendages and a slightly holier-than-thou expression (quite a lot like some of the PTA mums at G's school when I think about it! ha ha). Well, me and G have an annual Christmas Gloria ceremony where we both write little messages to Gloria about our requirements for the coming year and then we post them into a small opening in a rather un-angelic part of her and make a wish. Last years messages went like this:

G: Dear Gloria, please can you make sure I get loads and loads of presents. I love you. Love G

K: Dear Gloria, please, please let J's diagnosis be wrong. I don't want him to be autistic. Love K

And this year:

G: Dear Gloria, please can you help make my life a bit happier. I cry a lot. Please stop Billy from bullying me. Love G

K: Dear Gloria, please turn my wine to water (maybe with a slight essence of Pinot Grigio); please help me swap my Marlboro Light habit to something involving lycra and sweat; please give me patience on the days when I have to make play doh numbers all day to entertain J; please help me find some uninterrupted time for G (but give me the in-built knowledge of the ins and outs of Lego Indiana Jones so he doesn't have to explain it all to me all the time); please take away my eyebags (anusol just isn't working any more); please give me the sense of humour (but not the hair or physiques) of Bill Bailey and Justin Lee Collins to see the funny side of J tipping yoghurt all over the kitchen floor and then lying down and making angel shapes in it. But above all, please make my family happy, healthy and together.  Love K

I think we all need a Gloria in our lives..... and then there are only the other eleven steps to deal with!

Happy Christmas!