I’ll Do My Crying In The Rain
Sunday, January 28th, 2018The universe is apt to send me messages when I need them most, and it’s to these message that I listen.
About my son – yesterday while practicing with the Amazons for our inaugural parade, a woman approached me the NOMA cafe and said, “I know you. I have read your writing. And we were at an event together when my son fell through the bleachers and your son was the first one there to help him.”
About my blog – Katie approached me in Trader Joe’s today to tell me that she knows me. “I used to read your blog. I had moved to Mississippi but I used to live on Moss and I think I wrote you once, and you said you could hear the Cabrini bells ringing. I sent you that anonymous painting.” See painting below whose title is the title of this post.
About my look – A stock person in Trader Joe’s brought me a dozen roses and said, “I know you are going through a lot right now.” Why, yes I am, I thought, but said, “I actually have an auto-immune condition, which is why I don’t have hair.” She said, “Still you deserve these.”
About my faith – I dropped Tin off at Sunday school and went to a shul meeting about becoming a sanctuary for illegal immigrants. The church two blocks down from me, First Grace, is the only place of worship that has become a sanctuary in a city that is a declared sanctuary. First Grace is housing José (#JoséIsMyNeighbor signs are everywhere in my neighborhood). At every turn I’m confronted with those people and places who actively counter the Trump administration narrative.
