healing

I had a Quaker weekend.   It was our Spring Gathering.  I tend to be pretty heavily involved in youth programming - I serve on regional committee for teens, developing community building activities.  But since I am the oldest, I tend to stay out of their actual programs much of the time.  Instead, this weekend, I was with the younger kids.  In the course of playing, I fell backwards, caught myself on one wrist - and broke it.  It was an excruciating weekend...not because of the pain in my wrist, which was noticeable, but because I had to be seen, because I had to be helped.  I had to accept help.

I am the posterboard for this country.  I work 38 hours a week - part-time - so I don't have benefits.  That is frightening when something happens.  A Friend, someone I have known for years is a family doc.  He took over.  He talked to urgent care, took me there, sat with me, offered immediate second opinions.  He was calm and warm and gentle and accepting and I had no option but to accept it. He paid the upfront fees, knowing meeting would reimburse him.  (I am crying as I write this, awkwardly with one hand.)

Friends sat with me, mothered me, one dear Friend kissed my boo-boo.  Someone offered to help me dress.  I went to our healers and asked for help and two Friends did some energy work. 

I was partly cringing - this isn't for me, and partly basking - I'm truly present, people know I am here.

My daughter woke up from her nap and interrupted my tears...more later.  Until then, I heal.

Love you,  Clare