A Point of Clarification

Heh, this stock photo actually features a deck I used.

So last Sunday I shared some changes in my life for which I am quite grateful. What I forgot to point out is that I am also grateful for the things that were there before.

Without my weekly (& sometimes more frequent) slogs to Saint Thomas, I may never have had the appropriate historical & liturgical background to recognize the worth & beauty of Saint Nicholas. I also would not have made amazing friends like Arthur. I am contractually obligated to mention Arthur in every third blog post now.

Without 7 years at The Psychic Eye, I would never have decompressed from 20 years in medicine, nor unwound after my fibromyalgia diagnosis. I would not have met the phenomenal clients I met. I would not have had some of the very moving conversations I have had. I would not have managed to connect some people to Christ.

I hadn’t actually been looking specifically for a new job. It just came, as every job I’ve ever had that’s worth a damn did. Like The Psychic Eye did. Like GVA did, my last & best medical employer.

What I’m saying is that God has gently led me like a very slow & stupid & somewhat obstinate cat to each new place to eat. And it is very good. Nothing I’m doing is “better” than what I did before in & of itself. It’s just better now.

As we always say in the psychic advising business: does that make sense?

Everything Has Changed

Stained glass at St. Nick’s OF St. Nick.

It’s been a long time since I’ve posted here.

There are many reasons. The most important one is that nearly every aspect of my life has changed, and I dare suspect for the better.

Also I’ve been working on a short new book that will be out soonish, so watch this space!

The first thing that changed is that my boyfriend of the past three years moved in, which is actually not something that I wanted, but made sense. It has been a blessing despite my many objections. If you’ve known me long enough, you know that things I object to frequently turn out to be blessings whether I like it or not.

The second thing that’s changed is where I attend mass. I now go to Saint Nicholas—not because there is anything particularly wrong with Saint Thomas, aside from its location.

As you know, Saint Thomas has been my spiritual home for more than four years now. I have made some of the best friends I’ve had in my life there, and I love Canon Davies. I was confirmed there & I know I am genuinely loved there. But I also have fibromyalgia, which is a fact I kept forgetting, hurling myself into projects, volunteering for every damn thing, and generally making myself physically miserable.

The discovery of another AngloCatholic parish not three minutes from my house was nothing short of a miracle. I had heard about St. Nick’s before, from not only my friend Robert, but also St. Thomas itself. Father Michael used to be assistant priest at St. Thomas, so the transition has been fairly seamless.

There are some distinct differences. St. Thomas has Dr. Jeffrey Parola as Master of Music, a 100 year old organ, and acoustics. The music is en pointe. St. Nicholas’ musical choices are both simpler and much more diverse, taking cues less from classics and more from what will resonate with the largest number of parishioners, who speak both Spanish and English.

I have found this to be as equally moving as, say, Durufle’s requiem mass. During Holy Week, St. Nicholas had a lovely singer who was mixing English, Spanish, Latin & opera (which I think was in Italian; I don’t know because I was sobbing). And there was a violinist as well as a pianist. If you want to immediately tap into someone’s heart, you play a violin!

The simplicity of some of the music at St. Nick’s makes for some rather magical spontaneous musical moments from the parishioners. During Maundy Thursday, we had a couple of chants that inspired improvised harmony from a few, including Father Michael. I can’t begin to describe how moving that was.

There are a lot of families attending St. Nick’s, too. Encino is more suburban than Hollywood, so it is delightfully common to hear little boys whisper in Spanish or English during mass, or see little girls burst into tears because they want to be crucifer this week, or hear kids running around the playground outside. 

My first visit was Ash Wednesday, and a precocious little boy who normally attends the Spanish mass said to me “You have a dark cross on your forehead!”

I replied, “Do I? Yours is very light. It’s probably because you’re young and haven’t sinned as much.” He smiled. His mother laughed.

Unsurprisingly I have already been recruited to do things. I started attending at the beginning of Lent, and by the very end, the Easter Vigil, I was already lectering. The beauty of this arrangement is that St. Nick’s is so close that attending & volunteering are no problem at all. I haven’t missed any work since attending St. Nick’s because I have not once gone into a full fibro flare.

Which brings me to change number three: my job. Quite by the grace of God, a writing gig dropped in my lap, and I now work from home following and writing up news stories. This is pretty much exactly the perfect thing for me at this time in my life. The salary, benefits, and people are amazing. Plus the clients I’ve served over the last seven years can now be my friends. It’s a win/win!

And when I’m in pain, I can still work because I don’t have to worry about driving or sitting in one position all day. And I learn something new every day. Ask me anything about the special election in Kansas’ 4th district. Go on! Ask me!

God is good, He is risen, & life doesn’t suck. I pray the same contentment for you all.

My Own Private I Dunno

At the close of the London Olympics, I find myself contemplating the giant inflatable octopus, NBC’s decision to air Animal AYFKM Hospital over The Who, & how far I’ve come since the last Olympics.

During Beijing I was living with & engaged to someone who was not engaged in my life, & that’s ok. I was chronically ill with one properly diagnosed disease (fibromyalgia) & one as yet undiscovered one (celiac disease). It’s hard to live with & be in love with someone who is always in pain, & he was 4 years younger than me, & he had places to be & things to do. I understand.

Not long after Beijing & the 2008 election, I took the advice of a friend who had made one last ditch attempt himself to see an endocrinologist over his GPs objections. It improved his life greatly, so I figured what the hell? My neurologist thought it was a fine idea, & I went. That’s where I was diagnosed with celiac disease & low thyroid. Both were treated immediately, & I saw improvements soon after.

It was then, when my eyes were opened & my pain significantly deceased, that I wanted to leave Reno for Los Angeles. And I wanted to go without the fiancé. And he was fine with that.

And then everything got surreal. And better.

But I also stopped taking thyroid. Whoops.

I’ve now remedied that this week. Those of you familiar with my unintentional comic timing might note that it’s been 102 or more every day in the Valley this week. How fitting that I should no longer be freezing cold all the time now. I actually sweat, like a human person. I had been previously panting like a dog. No. I was always cold. Constantly, achingly cold.

I lie here in bed right now with the covers off & a fan blowing on me & smiling, thinking “I’m miserable & this is awesome because it means I have a metabolism. I AM BURNING CALORIES FOR LIKE THE FIRST TIME IN OVER A YEAR & I AM MAKING HEAT. I make heat!!! HEAT!!! My body is doing its goddamned jorb! YAY!!!”

So what will come of all this heat & sweat by opening ceremonies in Brazil, August 5, 2016? Will I have reached my goal weight? Will I have surpassed it? Will I be married, & pregnant & actually trying to gain weight again? My God, will I be in Brazil for those ceremonies?! Maybe I won’t be able to be in Brazil because I’ll be in London, or Australia, or Paris, or Vienna. Maybe I’ll be in China picking up an adopted daughter. I may even just be in Sherman Oaks picking up a lamp.

But I’ll bet whatever God’s plan is for me, it’ll be awesome. He’s been fairly generous so far, in some strange, not easily measured ways, that of course cannot be disclosed. My life is…well, maybe like 2 of you would understand.

I’m grateful to everyone who got me through these last 4 years. You know who you are, even though you may not fully know the scope of what you’ve helped accomplish.

And despite all of y’all, I will finish my damned book by then. Three, if I have any say in it. Sometimes I don’t.