I made my way up the skyway ramp home. The hour was late. The day long. My arms laden with groceries. The security door awaited my opening.
To my rescue, my neighbor came. Seeing my need, she opened the door. Poised to say, "Thank you," she stopped me.
"I am praying for you."
"Thank you," I said with little thought.
Wait a minute. When did I bare my soul to you? What did I say? What is your intent?
Prayer--seeking or receiving prayer were new--foreign--to me.
"Is it getting any better?"
No.
Well, nasty or not, it was true. I didn't think I had a degenerative disability.
"Is it getting any better?
I don't know. Better than what? I have cerebral palsy. I have had it all of my life, so, is it getting better than what?
Patty, very beautifully and succinctly said. What an awkward moment with that ambiguous "it." Could the reference have been to wheelchair navigation rather than cerebral palsy? Regardless, how awkward.
ReplyDeleteI confess that the original experience from which this post was drafted, happened awhile back. The original piece, and understanding of the entire situation ended with prayer being new and foreign to me. I am struggling to get back to writing meaningfully. So, I am returning to old drafts that I could not even look at during the past few years to test their integrity, and determine whether they are still relevant, with new insights to be infused.
ReplyDeletePatty, the original experiences may have happened earlier, but the writing is fresh and the integrity (with insights!) is there in spades. Thanks for sharing so openly. There is much to ponder here.
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