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.
