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Healing sensation in back of head, swelling down. Waiting at doctor’s office. Nurse Aretha poking her head in to let me know the doctor is finishing his rounds.

Reading Streams in the Desert–during trials, sing as a bird in a cage, more loudly, not less.
Putting away phone,
Feeling ready to face doctor.

Walking a straight line, touching my chin with right hand, then left, standing, feet together with eyes closed, telling Dr. B, “I can’t ordinarily do this,” remembering how I hold on to the chair in front of me while praying, standing up at church.

Studying the CT scan, rubbing his chin, Dr. B saying, “You have a thick skull.”
Telling him my father would say, ‘Can’t you get it through your thick skull?’ Wondering how my father knew.
Asking Dr. B, “Are you teasing me?”

“No, you have a really thick skull,” he says again. “I’m very pleased with your healing.”

Hearing loud singing in my heart.

Telling T in the car, ‘It must be all the vitamins I take.’ T saying,
‘That’s ridiculous. Vitamins can’t make your skull thick.’
Supposing he’s right,
Wondering how one gets a hard head,

Remembering Psalm 139…God
Knowing when we sit and when we rise, perceiving our thoughts from afar, knowing our words before we speak, discerning our going out and lying down, being familiar with all our ways—not some of them, all of them—and God

Knowing beforehand I would need a thick skull for March 6, 2021…

Remembering bike wreck, 2008, hearing doctor saying, ‘Now you can consider your head a Faberge egg. If you ever hit it again, it will all be over.’ And yet, it’s not. It’s a new day and another beautiful new beginning.

Realizing God must have a work that He wants me in somewhere,

Recognizing, He makes everything beautiful in its time,

Wondering, what can be better than a heart that’s learned to sing.

Feature photo: from Las Saladitas, Mexico, March 2020.

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