It's rare to find me, of all people, at a loss for words. I've been trying to surrender my fear for days now. I was able to keep it below the surface for the past few days, but today...not so much.
The rites of passage for women, for adults have changed so greatly over the past few decades. I remember in the late 80's, the rite of passage was the dreaded HIV test. Today, for women, it is the unexpected lump.
Today as I sat in the mammography suite, laughing at the soap opera featuring a transvestite attempting to woo a lesbian, I found myself confused, angry, and feeling sorry for the women who came and left by themselves. The lady who was waiting next to me struck me the hardest because her fear was palpable. I do not know her, and probably will never see her again, but her face will stick with me for a long time.
I've never had really good, tried and true friends. It's only in the past few years that I've actually learned what a friend is, and how to be a friend. (I'm still learning the how part, FYI.) So today while I was waiting for my friend to have her test, I couldn't help but question God. I know that He's sovereign. I know that He has her best interest at heart. I know that whatever this thing is will, in the long run, glorify Him. But the thought of my friend going through this thing, that breaks my heart. And it scares the snot out of me.
I suppose it appears that I'm not at a loss for words. The only way to aptly express what I'm experiencing right now is a guttural groan that is loud and deep.
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