We laugh, we cry and playfully bend stories to better suit the shoes we fill. We walk, we run, chase, dodge and when we least expect it the feet that have carried us into the unwritten chapters kept trip, stumble then fall. Quickly reaching to grab hold of any object to pull, lift or shove aside the body begins to speak, “Not today. Please not today.”
A bathroom mirror is trained to lie. It’s almost too easy to convince a reflection that it is what it isn’t. Slowly each eye scans the surface of your skin wondering while fearing the depths of what’s happening. The assumed trembles in the tips of your fingers so often ignored, the unexplained tiredness the same, bedtime at 8:40 the norm; an agreement with the system of self asking for nothing more than the opportunity to rest.
The journey becomes a challenge in places high school never taught.
Shared are the commands to pick your self up and dust off the butt of a one time slick pair of now faded and weathered jeans.
The voices in your heart have now taken over, “Get up! Get back in the game! Play like you mean it! Give it everything you’ve got!”
Held in the corners of the smiles that paste positive reactions together outside the shell carried are the softly spoken whispers, “Not today. Please not today. Dear God, tell me what I’m feeling.”
Life plays mystery like a master. Each time you’re forced to guess gives life new reasons to change.
Bank accounts can be low, favorite football teams can have losing seasons; grocery prices can reach new car levels but nothing compares to the value of air when it escapes your body the moment the doctor says, “You have breast cancer.”
As a writer I’m not being truthful to you if I continue to ignore the stories, the empowerment of personal survival that’s met the face of the beast and continues to find purpose in battles that nearly steal your name. Through encouragement and trust the creative side of this daily dedication of pouring ink on the continuation of a living tree I’ve tried to convince so many to place their journey into journals to help teach.
Then God whispered to me, “I asked you to do it not them…”
And so I heard the word…
I introduce to you Elder Zondra; one of the most optimistic, highly spirited, deeply devoted to her school and community human creations I’ve met in thirty two years of radio broadcast. A champion, a physically visible master of sharing, caring and selfless leader; the missing lyric to everybody’s favorite song becomes whole the moment she walks through the door.
Before a writer sets out to words in motion we’re taught to build a beginning, middle and end. Know the path before emotion sets in. Become the character hidden within the parenthesis. Feel not what your reader cannot therefore you must speak in a language taken directly from the street.
I do not know the outcome of Zondra’s story. It makes me extremely angry to think the artist I am with giant canvas’s on walls of so many could deliver a portrait of incredible peace, one that she hasn’t begged for but holds on the other side of the fence keeping her from touching a horizon we’re all destined to chase.
In the days, weeks, months and I pray years from this page forward it’s within the purposes I keep to share with you the willingness of her gentle, “Yes…” A single word shared when asked, “In the name of saving lives can I please share your journey?”
“Yes…”
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