Circles, Part 2

"Is someone you love dying?" I heard her ask and I looked up, startled by her voice, startled by her words and saw her eyes, beautiful dark eyes, filled with compassion. She looked quickly away, uncomfortable at meeting my gaze. Her native face, also dark, was deeply etched, shaped no doubt by her own story. She laid a small frail hand on my back. "No" I mumbled, confused "I mean...not that I'm aware of anyway." "Well then, has someone passed on recently?" she persisted in her quiet halting, upward-inflecting native voice. I shook my head, "No". I was sitting in the pew of the little mission church having come there to be quiet and to soak in the peaceful, healing atmosphere. The evening light was pouring through the stained glass windows, everything was bathed in deep gold. To be honest, I had come seeking solitude and escape too. MaeMae was a little over two years old. As a stay-at-home mom I was desperate for some alone time, away from the constant demands of a four year old and a two year old. The woman had startled me, both by the pointedness of her questions and that she was in fact talking to me at all. Although I sat in church with native people every sunday, that division between the white and the native was always palpable. "Are you struggling with a relationship, is there someone you need to let go of?" she asked again. "No" I said lamely, "I can't think of anything, anyone... I don't know." "Oh", she said simply and turned as if to walk away. "Why do you ask?" I said, not ready to let her go. "I was sitting over there" she said, pointing to the back of the tiny Church, "when I saw you struggling and I knew that I needed to pray for you." Her words came faster now, tumbling out of her mouth, I had to strain to catch them and make sense of them, I leaned in to her. "I saw you, I saw you struggling. I saw a large shadow hanging over you and then moving around you. You need to let go of something or someone, whatever it is....It is making you very sick. You are not well. I can see it. It's hurting you" And she turned and walked away.

I sat not quite believing what I had heard. It was late, I needed to get home but the woman had scared me. I saw Father by the door. "Who is she?" I asked. "He followed my gaze. "Ah" he said simply. "A very wise woman. She doesn't say much but when she speaks you need to sit up and listen. Go directly home and call me when you get in so I know you got home safely. I will be praying for you." That was the end of January 2003. The following August I received my diagnosis.

Bear with me. I'm taking this somewhere, honest, but I'm tired right now so, guess what, there'll have to be a part 3!

It was another long driving day. I think Hubby and I miscalculated our driving times and forgot to factor in potty breaks and snack times. After over twelve years of kiddos you'd think we'd have this figured out by now! We made it Charlottesville, Virginia by nightfall, had a lovely dinner with Hubby's nephew, a local TV news anchor and enjoyed grilling him on all the behind the scenes stuff at the station. Kiddos are sleeping soundly, exhausted. We're all exhausted. We promised them they could sleep in tomorrow, we only have a three hour drive planned, a big change from the eight plus hours of the last four days. "Can I seriously sleep in?" MaeMae asked. "Breakfast is over by 10am, what if I miss it?" "Don't worry, I'll get some and bring it up for when you wake." "Seriously Mom?" "Seriously MaeMae!" She lies beside me, seriously sleeping.