Fool in the rain

(I'll be away from the computer for 2 weeks and won't be able to answer y'all, but here's a little lesson that hit me last Sunday.)
I picked a fight with someone.
This devout charitable friend describes herself as a worthless sinner. After a couple of years of hearing this I said "YOU ARE NOT WORTHLESS. I AFFIRM THAT YOU ARE A GREAT PERSON. Isn't that what you want?" She said "No!" and let me know that my perception was, well, a few cents short.
(Soon after, I left her a note to apologize for practicing patent medicine without a license, and promised not to interfere with her self-assessment any more; she was very grateful.)
But at that moment I bolted out of her way to avoid answering back. Alone in my room I was gagging on hurt and anger: memories of all the people who've said "You love me? Then you must be a fool."
I wondered what you Curezonettes would do with that emotional overload. So I gargled with cayenne water (substituting throat burn for heart ache), drank lemon tea, ran up stairs, scrubbed laundry, ironed, took a hot cold shower, then ran outside.
The rain was a wall of wind and water, the spray from the cars was 20 feet high. I ran up the steps to the river bridge saying "I am not a fool for loving anybody. I deserve people who welcome my support with open arms!"
Waiting for me at the top, a big biker woman (in a Hawaiian hula skirt) threw her arms around me, shouting "Welcome! I am so grateful for YOU!"
She was, wouldn't you know, a greeter for the AIDS Walk.
All along the shore, wet people were fighting the wind, struggling toward the bridge steps. Little kids. Old people. People on crutches. People so sick they could hardly walk any more. All shouting encouragement and jokes.
As they reached the top, Hula Lady caught each one in her arms.
And not a single one said to us "You're hugging somebody with AIDS? Then you must be a fool."
They said "My God, it's wonderful to be here with you!"
It was, too.
Blessings,
Autumn


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