This week found me in places I wouldn't have chosen. In that ideal world, anyway. A week ago I was at Great Clips, asking for a trim of hair barely long enough to cut, just to even out this strange, but welcome, crop of hair slowly sprouting. Then I moved on to some time at United Hospital, where my room with a view gave me a front row seat for the nurses' strike. (Local news I hadn't followed closely, until, hey, this might impact me!) While, of course, the OR and hospitals in general are great places to get fixed up or get rid of pesky things like cancer, I just didn't want to be there again; very appealing events kept cropping up this week and I would have preferred to be at any of them. Then when nurses' supporters honked all day long as they drove by the picketing nurses, well, my room wasn't exactly a relaxing place to heal. Woodbury folks, Woodwinds has spoiled me. This morning, Jon drove me to an event I'd signed up for with the Firefly Sisterhood, and I just didn't really feel up to it, or more so, being part of that club. This pilgrimage through 2016 has been filled with grace and blessings, and gifted encouragers at each turn, but this week it was just hard for me to remember any of that.
Yet, like always, perspective shifts. I had been drawn to the topic of this morning's speaker, an author and storytelling coach–The Power of Your Breast Cancer Story. As much as I didn't want to be part of any 'sisterhood' (not my thing, not my lingo), I fairly quickly caught the vision of the organization, where survivors are trained to be available as guides or supporters or mentors to newly diagnosed women. The speaker was excellent, the company lovely, I won a copy of his book in a raffle, and the event site was at the end of a short path through nature center woods. A forest trail is always a good place to be.
I know so many people in flooded areas, wishing, I am certain, that they or the waters could be somewhere else. Last night, Jon and I watched Eye In the Sky, perhaps not the best movie choice when our daughter's in Africa and it's been an intense week. But when Netflix movies show up, that's what we watch. The family in the movie represented so many who live or work or struggle in places they'd never choose to be. Or places they desperately wish were different. How fortunate I am to be, most of the time, in places I choose or enjoy or treasure. And for each person who serves in the midst of strife or illness or challenge, wow, and thank you.
From Genesis 8 ~ as the waters continued to go down, other mountain peaks became visible . . .
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writing along the way 