Friday, February 05, 2010

A Smooth Stone

It's been pretty quiet here at The Midnight Cafe. It's been a week of quiet contemplation. One year ago today Vespera & Mango walked into the U.S. Consulate together while I and my parents waited in the car in a dusty parking lot...the car that was just totaled a month ago, by the way. Some goodbyes are hard to say.

And yesterday I walked into an oncology clinic with Mango while Vespera and Niteo made food at home.

The colliding of last year's memories with this year's reality created some kind of emotional quietude for me...a pensive waiting...well, that and a really massive headache. Some things don't come easy.

Today I'm waiting for the results of a blood test. Last year we were waiting for a return appointment to the Consulate. Our capacity for waiting has been stretched.

Sometimes I'm resentful that there have been so many crisis, one crowding after another, with no room to really soak up the turns of events or even the answers to prayer. We just keep careening along. I want to stop. I want to really feel the relief of returning from Mexico, the joy of graduations, the steady rhythm of a new school year, and the sweet delight of a Christmas wedding. I feel as though I might forget these things entirely if I didn't write about them.

Writing here is where I stretch out the space and stop to soak things in for a minute.

My mind turns over this smooth stone of time...this year...last year...one side is the trip to Juarez...the other side is the trip to the oncology clinic. Both sides carry the marks of anxiety. And relief. For, at this point, my new doctor has declared me healthy. She is running tests for my peace of mind but is convinced that there are no current worries. And, friends, she is an expert. I have been blessed beyond belief with a doctor who is both caring and wise.

I roll the smooth stone in my hands and think of last year's expert...the Christian woman who conducted Vespera's interview at the Consulate, who prays over her job every morning, and who cried real tears with Mango while approving all of Vespera's paperwork.

...on one side a crisis...on the other side a miracle...rolling along the smooth stone of time...

I hold it warm in my hands, close my eyes, and breath space for myself to think.

3 comments:

  1. Praying for you, I hope that you have a particularly cleansing Lenten season.

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  2. what a beautiful post, amy. you are truly a gifted writer. thank you for sharing your stories with us- for trusting us to hold the stone, and turn it over in our own hands. i am so glad and relieved to hear of the reassurances you've received from your doctor. my thoughts and prayers continue to be with you...

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  3. I feel the same way about writing. It truly is a way to hold onto memories and moments. And, as shown by your blog, a wonderful way to share your life with those who love you.

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