Saturday, January 14, 2017

Jesus and My Effing Socks

So on Wednesday I went off to do my usual job of data entry at Bristol Faith in Action, for the first time since getting thwacked on the head a month ago. It didn't go well. Apparently shifting between several computer windows and scrollboxes and handwritten interview forms, is not something my brain is up for at this time. I left FIA after an hour with a headache, and slept all afternoon.

The next day I had a small work crisis when I discovered that the proposals for next year's NCTE were due at 8 AM P.S.T., not PM as I'd thought. Fortunately I am on E.S.T., so I had 35 minutes to write up my kick-ass proposal, once again needing to pull together information from several open computer windows and my handwritten notes, and once again I slept all afternoon, and I was cranky at my exhaustion and felt sorry for myself.

I am blessed with so many good friends. I may have sent one of them a sad little text. This was a friend I ride with, and it happened that yesterday was the day she was moving her horses down to Florida for a few months. I will not be taking my horse down to ride with her this year, because it doesn't look like I'll be in any way cleared to ride until spring, if then, and of course this is a minor problem on the grand scale of my very privileged life, yep, I recognize that, and I am still allowed to be sad.

So yesterday morning I started out feeling sad. I recognized that it was a fine day for my new socks, the ones my editor gave me for Christmas. Intarsia knit, with bright flowers in bold colors, and the caption, "I'm A Delicate Effing Flower" in big letters on the side. Only they don't say Effing.

They are the best socks in the world. The only thing I love more than these socks is that MY EDITOR understands me well enough that she sent them to me. They were perfect for yesterday, and I put them on my feet.

I didn't get a text back from the friend who was driving her rig from Kentucky to Florida, and I understood, of course. It wasn't until about 10 o'clock at night that I noticed I actually had a voice message from her, sent very early in the morning, encouraging me to phone her anytime. My friend said, "This is just what the Lord has in store for you right now."

Somehow it was exactly the right thing to say. This particular friend has a rare gift for saying the right thing. I took a deep breath, and I let myself understand that I can not in any way control my recovery, and that I am not the sole author of my own story, and that it was all actually okay. I've got amazing friends, a fair bit of faith, and fantastic effing socks.