Blessed and Messed

Yesterday morning, I had coffee with some friends. Laughter and conversation were abundant, and as these ladies were talking at the same time, one ended her sentence with "I am blessed" - the other "I am a mess" (referring to the flake of the delicious pastry we may or may not have been consuming).
   You know how I love rhyming words....Blessed and messed. Those words have swirled around in my poor stroke addled brain ever since.
   They really describe my week.
On Monday I took my beautiful Gypsy Rose car to the body shop, for the repair of the damage from the accident which shall not be named. Then, I waved off a beloved group of people heading to serve on the mission field...in Zambia.....where they will be spending time with my Peace Corps Boy/Man...able to hug him, assess his degree of health and happiness, and did I mention hug him?   Messed.
On Tuesday, John and I marked our 30th wedding anniversary. Impossible to believe. Blessed.

On Friday, we woke early, to get a jump start on the fun. John had the day off, and we were going to celebrate Tuesday's anniversary. First stop, my nail place. Kudos to John for suggesting it. (Full disclosure - my feet were in rough shape - I was ruining the new sheets with my cracked heels, and I may or may not have scratched his legs once or twice lately.) After my pedicure, I decided to get my eyebrows done - seeing as how I was already there, and they were approaching giant caterpillar shape and size.
   The lovely young woman stirred the wax and applied the strips. Before she yanked, she took my face in her delicate hands and murmured. "You need chin waxed", and rip - off came the wayward bits of eyebrow. After I caught my breath I stammered, "Beg pardon"? (As any good southern women would). "Chin. Need wax"...after further examination, she amended her statement - "Face. Face need waxed". (Full disclosure - I hate the fine hair that has sprouted on my face as I have gotten older, and nothing sends me running from a room faster than one of my daughters giving me the high sign. You know, the one where they discreetly point to their chin. That is code for - EEWWWW, you have a long white hair sprouting from your chin). "I.....well....ummm." I managed to get out - equal parts insulted and intrigued. "You can DO that? Won't it hurt?!"  "For you, worth the pain" she responded. So, that is how I found myself slathered in hot wax - looking for all the world like Emmet Kelly with a clown beard. Riiiiiip...rip, rip, rip. I rose a good two inches off of the chair, and to quote Wanda Sykes - "Everything went white". It is not an exaggeration to say that when I finally made it to a mirror, I was astonished and mightily relieved to see that I still had a couple of layers of skin remaining. (Full disclosure - I love the hair free look, and I will be subjecting myself to this monthly torture from now on!) Blessed AND Messed.

   The week was bookended with Two post stroke victories that I long felt would not be gained. Last Sunday, I had my first audition since the strokes, and am proud and astonished to announce that I will once again be treading the boards in an upcoming production of Steel Magnolias. Today, after 17 months and 2 weeks of having completely lost my singing voice, I sang in Church - 3 weeks after regaining the ability to sing. I mangled the last 2 measures, because I couldn't sing through my tears of joy.
It was a voice not quite as strong, agile and reliable as in days gone by. But I will take it. It's loss was so grievous to me, that I didn't speak of it to many. It was the thing I mourned the most - hands down the worst thing that the strokes took from me.  I am so grateful that it has been restored to me.     Blessed.

Each day this week, I have struggled with my anger at the state of our world - our country. Appalled by the mistreatment of the Stranger, the child, the other....Disgusted by the twisting of scripture to support things that are the very antithesis of the Bible I read. Flummoxed as to how we came to be so polarized and lost as a nation.....as people....as Children of God.  Messed.....So Messed.

   Messed and Blessed.   Blessed and Messed.      Rhyming words that not only describe my week, but life as a whole. In the immortal words of the poet Stephen Sondheim "Good times and bum times, I've seen them all and my dear - I'm still here. Plush velvet sometimes, sometimes just pretzels and beer, but I'm here. I've run the gamut A-Z, three cheers and dammit, C'est La Vie, I got through all of last year, and I'm here....look who's here....I'm still here".  Blessed and Messed.   I'll take it.