Songs of Wailing and Thanksgiving

Last night I heard from a doctor who knows Taylor and whom I really trust.  He does not like the idea of Taylor having a full fusion.   As he and I were talking (on a Friday evening; his office had long since closed, he had family he needed to be with and yet he was talking to me...), I was thrown into a sort of despair.  

WHAT ARE WE TO DO HERE???

  I woke up this morning wailing.  I mean it.  Crying out for help.

I could have written the book of Lamentations: 

It is called in the Hebrew canon 'Eikhah, meaning "How,"

 being the formula for the commencement of a song of wailing.

I felt lost, abandoned, without guidance.

That still, strong voice inside of me spoke, "Do not even put on your bra.  DO comb your hair. Go in your pajamas.  Maybe wear a thicker shirt.   But go to your neighbors, Jane and Jim.   There you will find what you seek."

So I did.  With my coffee cup, wearing Taylor's Crocs, and looking like a pitiful homeless woman, I crossed the yards to Jane and Jim's back door.  I could see them through their bay window, sitting at the table.  They were having their morning devotional.

In I walked..taking my puddle-of-a-self with me. 

Jane was reading from Psalms Now.

She read one Psalm after another out loud.

Cell-by-cell, pore-by-pore, tissue-by-tissue, muscle-by-muscle, every part of me began to relax.

We held hands and talked/prayed in ways that were meaningful to each of us---each having our own concerns and confusions. 

We laughed loudly a lot! 

I was irreverent and sacrilegious---profane and holy.

It was really neat. 

I sang a song of Thanksgiving.  That's pretty darn cool, let me tell you.

I have my bra on now.  

Uplifted in every way.  (Oh Lord....how corny can I get????)

Another day on this journey .....towards wholeness.  

So hard.  So interesting.  

So full of wailing AND thanksgiving.