But I'm a little worse for the wear right now. I started this glorious week with what appears to be an ulcer. I'm going to take a wild guess and say my tummy troubles are most likely caused by taking Motrin over a period of two years. And I took a lot of it, lovies. My bottles of Motrin are the 500 tablet kind. I have matching ginormous bottles of Tylenol.
But the tummy trouble was actually a gift of sorts. One does not eat whatever one wants whenever one wants to when it feels like there is--and it very well could be--a hole in one's stomach. So, I've taken to eating small meals that are much healthier. Mind you, I've eaten healthier since I've been here, but I still had my awful moments. My body has said, "No more!" And I'm trying my best to listen. In fact, I'm gathering my medical records and going to a naturopath soon. Traditional medicine hasn't helped me much. By God's grace and the generosity present in this beloved community, I'm going to try another way.
I had a dream shortly after I arrived in Lexington, that I lost a lot of "weight". I put the word in quotes because I think the dream had a layers of meaning. I don't think I'm going to just lose pounds, but rather, habits that have held me down.
One habit I hope to lose is worrying. What's the point of it. It's like Peter walking on water. He was walking on water! And then he started worrying about wind, as if the elements could actually interfere with his gravity defying miracle.
It's a miracle that I'm here in Lexington. Love brought me here, but three weeks into this journey my gut (literally) ached and I wondered how in the world I was going to make it. I had heartbreaking nightmares that went straight to the core of my concerns. And then the ulcer thing, or whatever is wrong with my stomach. And then wicked migraines and sinunitis, and vertigo. Even before I got sick I prayed some desperate prayers. I told God: You bought me here to do this work for you. You have to help me. I'm trying, but I need You to provide for us. I just don't make money fast enough.
It's a humbling lesson to learn, again and again, it's not me providing, but God. I resist this notion. I want to pull myself up by bootstraps, when I don't even have boots, let alone the kind with straps so sturdy I can pull myself up by them.
And you know what? I got a miracle. God provided. Love is keeping me here, too.
Yesterday, some of the books I ordered--and don't get me started on that drama--finally arrived and soon I can actually begin work applying for 501 c 3 for The Living Room. We have more exciting projects, too! Involving the arts, the under-served and minorities. We were just sitting there talking, and someone brought up the lack of minorities in the thriving arts community here in Lexington. Another great idea and opportunity to serve was born.
For now, edits on the St. Teresa of Avila books are due. A novel is due. I have a headache, lovies, but I'm weary of having been waylaid for four days by pain, fatigue, and vertigo. I've gotten out of the rhythm of prayer that much of this work hangs on. It's time to be a writer, and urban abbess again.
And Lord, have mercy. I'm an urban abbess! Pray for our community, and heaven help us!