Breath

When I found out the date for my son’s dedication, I decided that I should sing for it. I did for my other two, so I owe it to him as well. The only problem being that I have not been able to sing since January when I suffered multiple, bilateral pulmonary emboli, followed by a pulmonary infarction. I had clots in my lungs which later caused tissue death. I lost most function in my left lung. That coupled with living in the mountains made what seemed so simple seem like such an accomplishment. I decided to sing “Breath of Heaven” by Amy Grant. That song helped me endure all of my ailments while I was pregnant. I thought of Mary and her struggle while traveling for the census. I thought of the fact that she was chosen to be the mother of God and had to deliver our Savior in a smelly, unsanitary manger. She had to completely trust the Lord and she made it through, just as I. I sang that song as a testimony to surviving the most difficult pregnancy imaginable. For six months every day was a constant struggle to keep my baby and me alive. I found out later, that a dear friend heard the song in Wal-Mart while getting the flowers for the dedication. It was meant to happen. I found my purpose. That is how I learned how to live. You do what it is that you were meant to do. You do not let a setback, no matter the size conquer you. I got on that pulpit and sang to the full capacity of my 1.2 lungs. Yes, it made me lightheaded, yes I was huffy for ten minutes afterward as if I had run three miles. Had I known would I have still done it? Yes. You cannot let life kill you. Death on the inside will lead to your demise. That is what happens when you stop living. You will not get out alive anyway, so do, don’t just be. 

Different

I have always heard that people like to be with people who are like them; however, I am the exception to the rule. Most of my closest friends come from completely different walks of life. I embrace that., I like to hear about how they came to be who they are. Even small anecdotes that may seem as a simple conversation to them is a window for me. I like to learn about people. I know that I cannot accomplish that goal without diversity in the people I see regularly. Maybe it is because I am a minority in so many ways. I know that I am a rarity, so I try to see how others differ fro the norm. I wonder if the norm really exists. If I were a priest and could hear the confessions of all of the average congregants at my parish, what would I think? We all have something about us that separates us from the norm whether we can help it or not. Perhaps it is because of the type of people I attract, but I have not found a normal person yet. That is just fine with me.

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