Saving grace.
I find it incredibly ironic that today is Friday the 13th, because absolutely nothing about it has been unlucky. In fact, I’ve felt more blessings wash over me today than I can logically comprehend.
It is quite normal for tension and strain to set up shop in my shoulder/neck region under stressful circumstances. And for approximately the last two weeks, I’ve been carrying around a heavy weight on my upper back. I couldn’t even sit comfortably on my very comfortable couch.
For my 30th birthday in July, a very thoughtful friend gave me a gift certificate for a massage. Although I’ve thought about cashing it in lately to decompress, I just couldn’t justify coughing up the tip money considering food and gas are the only worthwhile commodities in my life. But, it just so happens that the healing hands vendor is owned by a mutual friend.
Yesterday I received a mass text from said masseuse asking if anyone has a dress she could borrow for an upcoming cocktail event. Within seconds, my business wheels were in motion. I offered up my closet of frocks if she’d consider it gratuity toward my massage. Then and there, my first barter was born.
In less exciting news, when I woke up this morning, there were two financial transactions to deal with. One was with my nemesis, the cable company. They double charged me a month’s worth of service, and without even having to raise my voice, the kind customer service gentleman credited my account. That single accomplishment which should have raised my blood pressure was eerily easy.
Then, before I could even make the next dreadful call, my bank beat me to the punch. You see, I owe them [a lot] of money. Hello, I’m MaryB, and I have an addiction for fashion. I don’t deny it. And the shiny plastic gold card that fits so perfectly in my Coach wallet has been a contributing enabler to my chronic neurobiologic disorder. Although I’ve always been able to make their demanding monthly payments, being sans job now poses a cash problem.
This was the first phone call I’ve ever received from any for-profit organization asking for money. I couldn’t believe that I was actually playing the role of that frantic character you see in corny debt management commercials. But my script’s ending was written differently. Twenty minutes later, my now fixed payments were reduced significantly and the previously downright evil interest rate plunged 15 precious percentage points. After we hung up, I couldn’t believe how a desperate and debilitating situation had turned around in my favor. Hope sprouted before my eyes. Looking toward the sky, I thanked Him profusely.
My money woes, that are self-inflicted, have been the single greatest worrisome in my life for countless years. The insatiable desire for a good wardrobe has made me a deficit masochist. Not to mention my inability to not show up @ Christmas with a gift for all 18 members of my immediate family. After already scraping by with minimum contributions to my dent of debt — to then losing my guaranteed source of income in the blink of an eye, to realizing the state’s unemployment commission will only supplement a small fraction of my former revenue, to quickly recognizing that the competition for jobs is ridiculously high and that hearing the words “you’re hired” will be nothing short of a miracle — the collective equation is devastating.
The mobile muscle manipulator arrives; my excitement broke skin.
First things first — we played dress up. She picked out a fabulous frock and heels to match. It made me feel so good to know that, not only was I shaving down the residual implications from buying a warehouse worth of knee-length one pieces, but was also filled with joy letting someone else have an evening of glamour on my tab.
Next, while I relaxed on top of her makeshift table in the comfort of my own living room, she went to work… so deep into the crevices of my tissues… I’m certain she changed the scope of my DNA. At one point I laid there facing up, and a tear streamed out of each eye, in slow motion. By the time these translucent depictions of my own regeneration reached the base of my neck, they had both dried up. I can count on two hands the number of times I’ve had a professional angel conduct therapy through my pores, and every single time it has been a very spiritual, emotionally cathartic experience. Not to mention a priceless physical release.
But this time, this time I actually felt the grace of God touching me.
