This Town…


I know I’m pissing my poor husband off…he hates it when I’m on the computer whilst he is in the room.  If I wanted him to pay attention to me, all I have to do is sit down, relax and get down with my pc-he will appear out of nowhere.  In 1995, he time travelled while hunting in Idaho…

Are you on the fucking computer????!!!!,”  he said to me, during a five minute conversation, from his chalet in Island Park.

Anyhooser, I digress.   I want to personally and publicly thank those of you who have reached out to me after yesterday’s blog, in which I pretty much fell apart in front of my beloved audience, as small as it may be.  I believe it to have been a small cry for help, and your love and support means everything, everything to me.

My facial expression, 99% of the time. Mildly alarmed…

There are many aspects to Lyme disease, involving many different issues, symptoms and manifestations.  I find it challenging to take the mood swings in addition to my anxiety and depression.  And with each new round of antibiotics-the doxycycline, a gift  from God-the game is different than the time before; stages intermix, and I am once again baffled at the incredible ways in which Abba brings us close to Him-reigns us in like the loving, all knowing father that he is:  now and for eternity.  I have it on pretty good authority that if Jesus wants to get your attention?  Well, he will move mountains to do so.  In an obsessive-compulsive drive to keep my house clean, hike and garden, care for my animals, volunteer and attend an exercise class twice a week-I was not shocked when the Holy Spirit spoke to me this morn, telling me it wouldn’t have to be this way if I took better care of myself.

See-I am in denial when it comes to my disabilities, or any limitations whatsoever.  I just push through each day until I can push no longer.  So, I know He will not waste our time together-I hope to truly learn to care for myself this time.  Eat breakfast, slow down, treat yourself as you would a loved one.   Eat the ice cream.  Wear the new shoes.  Sleep in until the dog can’t take another minute…make it a daily practice.  Rinse and repeat.

So, this morning?  I couldn’t take missing one more exercise class-it had been two weeks and I could hear what little muscle I have gained-I could hear it turning to flab.  I wasn’t feeling well enough to attend, and the longer I missed, the harder it was to go back.


As I grabbed my bag to head out the door, I asked Dwain to please feed the dog.  He works from home in the morning, and said he had “things to do.”  I gave him the sweet mother Mary and all of the angels and saints, I haven’t done a thing for myself in months and I am going to this class so help me Mother Theresa look.

Delores, our fearless leader and sweetest woman alive, was pulling in just as I parked.  I teased her about her parking skills, and we shared easy laughter.  I explained why I hadn’t been around, and she soothed my soul by her words of comfort and care.  Twenty of the best women I know filed in to the church.

Amidst the greetings, I hear Delores announcing to the class that I had a new Lyme diagnoses.

“She needs hugs.”

And then it began-the tremendous outpouring of love and concern.  These women know the girl code.  They are older, wiser and not prone to vanity or snarky competition.  They have seen a thing or two that left their heart in shambles.  They know what matters in life.

And as I tripped over the volley ball, and slid across the newly waxed gym floor?  I laughed out loud.

I laughed until I cried.




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