Bob said, "I'm really glad she didn't ask us that." I had to laugh. We planned our Saturday date night because, for all we know, it will be one of the last times I'll feel like going out to a nice dinner for quite a while. So we were "celebrating" the fact that I still feel good, still have an appetite, I love a juicy filet, and I love going to dinner with my best friend, my honey, and the one who still laughs at all my jokes (all the same guy).
It was like the perfect night, starting with Mass at 4 pm. The homily was about 3 minutes long, which could be a new record for brevity, even for our parish priest. He encouraged us to look for the Lazaruses in our lives, reminding us that in 2016 Lazarus doesn't only live under bridges or in shelters, he could be much closer to us than we think. A great, great reminder.
We got to the restaurant a little early, even for "early bird special" people like us. So we went down the way and did a little shopping to kill some time. I didn't really need anything, but he told me to try on a cute old-school-prep baseball cap, and said, "you need that hat, I like you in that hat." We know why and for when. "How is this going to work?" I asked Bob. I mean I come home from work now, take out my contact lens and then change into comfy clothes. "Will I now take out my contact, and take off my wig? And then what, put on a hat?" Probably so, he said. So we bought the cap.
I've tried the hat on no less than a dozen times since we bought it last night. I'm saving it for the exact right day. Probably after I buzz my hair all off, and while I still have eyebrows. After that, with a wig. And I smile knowing Bob picked it out, and likes the way I look in it.
It was a perfect celebration, and I'm grateful for it. Better than the wine, the yummy appetizer and the perfectly-cooked steak, was feeling comfortable, and comforted, and nearly normal. For a second I forgot that I have a scar where a breast used to be. For a few minutes I felt like the woman Bob married. The funny, quirky, silly, smart, creative person he married.
Something keeps coming to mind these past few days. About there being less of me. How God is chiseling away at me, removing things that do not define me. Having a breast did not make me funny, silly, quirky, smart, creative. Neither does having hair, eyebrows, or eyelashes. None of that makes me, me. I get it. I do. But, the why of it nags at me.
Earlier this week one of the daily readings was Ecclesiastes 3: 1-11. You know it -- there's an appointed time for everything -- weep/laugh, kill/heal, plant/uproot, etc. I usually hear-it-don't-hear-it because the passage is so familiar. But this time I stopped short on verse 11. I think I actually gasped. Here it is: "God has made everything appropriate to its time, but has put the timeless into their hearts so they cannot find out, from beginning to end, the work which God has done." We have eternity in our hearts so we can know Him. But it's God alone who can see the entire story, beginning to end. And that's the way it's set up.
So, I'll just let God keep chiseling away, he knows what he's doing. Meanwhile, I'll put in the stuffing boob, put on the hat, and keep finding stuff to celebrate.
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