A Home Run

I am trying to get out of the rut this addiction has put me in. The thinking and believing rut is what I worked on this weekend.  My daughter, as I've said before, is very clinically minded.  I think she is out of balance.  The spiritual side of her she has debated ad nausium to the point that, though I do think she believes, rather than just relax and let go, she feels the need to argue and recite the 'what ifs' of God and the teachings of the Bible.  That's why I was so pleased that she listened to Dr. Dyer that Sunday morning with me.  In fact, she remembered more specifics than I did.  I think a lot of that can be attributed to the fact that I was focusing on being so happy she was listening, I didn't listen as intently as I should have.  Anyway, after that in-service day at work, I did make an appointment with the reflexologist.  It was last Saturday.  I was a little afraid that my daughter would want to cancel, but she didn't.  The appointment was at 11:00.  From my house it is about a 30 minute drive. We left at 10:15.  We had to drive into the city because of the construction on the highway (that never ends, I might add).  Of course, I took some wrong turns and though I wasn't officially 'lost' I was behind schedule.  We finally found the right road to take us back in the right direction. It was 10:35ish, and we still had most of the distance to go. I was pretty sure we would be late, but we weren't.  We landed at her door step at exactly 11:00.

Her house was simple and clean.  Sparsely furnished, but comfortable.  White walls, white floors, white cushions on the couch and chair.  The walls were decorated with pictures of labyrinths she'd painted, along with butterflies, and some photographs.  It was very welcoming and calm.  There was a tall bed in the middle of the room. Enough for one person to stretch out on.  Comfortable blankets covered what looked like a small down mattress type of cover.  Somewhere, there was very peaceful, soothing music playing softly.  My daughter and I sat down while she asked us some questions. She gave each  of us a glass of water.  After the questions, she said there would be a meditation and then she would be working on my daughter's feet.  So, she instructed her to lie on the bed.  She did, and the meditation started.  I sat on the couch and closed my eyes.  A half an hour later I remember opening my eyes.  I can't say I fell asleep, I kind of was aware of what was going on, and heard her voice during the meditation, but it was all so comforting, I think I must have been in a half sleep/ awake state.  She had stopped the mediation and was only working on my daughter's feet.  I could tell by the heavy, steady breathing, my daughter was out.  I closed my eyes, again, and just sat.  Near the end of the session, she woke my daughter up, and gave some suggestions as well as another glass of water.   In the car, I asked her how she felt.  She said that she didn't remember falling asleep--it was like being under anaesthesia--but she felt refreshed.  The rest of the day was spent working in the yard. It was so pleasant. And I have to say that I didn't have any of my usual aches and my daughter looked refreshed.  So, not really understanding the process the end result was good and put us in a different 'place'; a better place. 

That night, I remembered that two weeks before at church, my daughter had mentioned that she wanted to get baptised.  (Our church has a huge foyer and at certain times of the year, they have a water baptism in there).  It's out of my comfort zone, putting myself in front of a group of people doing something I'm not comfortable with, but I wanted to support her, so I said I would if she wanted to. That was supposed to be at 6:30 in the evening on that same Saturday.  Well, I remembered at 9 that night.  (oops)

Sunday morning came and I asked her if she wanted to go to church.  She shrugged her shoulders and said, "If you do".  I have to admit, I really didn't but that inner voice started nagging, so I said that maybe we should go.  We dragged our feet but somehow made it on time, again.  There was the pool they had set up.  And as we walked in, a women who knows us and is in a position of getting things done at the church, came over to us, hugged us and reminded us we weren't there last night and, "didn't we sign up to be baptised?  You know you could do it this morning!" (said with a big encouraging smile).  My daughter: "I will."  Both looking at me now.  My stomach starting to churn, I can feel my heart beginning to beat faster.  "OK"  not really wanting to say that, it just popped out.   We sat through church, my palms sweating. Occasionally, my daughter whispered to me that we didn't have to do this.  I assured her it was okay (thank goodness I shaved my legs that morning).  The church was supplying the shorts and t-shirt if you forgot to bring one of your own.  I was praying for a black set.  When church was over those who had made this choice were ushered out to separate rooms to get changed.  I was handed a bag of clothes and thank you God, black shorts and a top.  (I'm somewhat conscience about what I look like, not being the weight I desire...but I'm working on it, just not in public).  Anyway,  we are given name tags. We line up. The woman in charge (the one who greeted us) instructs my daughter and I to wait until the last--we're going together. Long story short, I really don't remember what was said. I remember getting into the water, holding her hand (my choice not her's) and then being dunked.  Hearing cheers and climbing out of the pool, someone handing me a towel.  I heard so many, "God bless you's"  and 'Congratulations' as we made our way back to get changed.  My daughter commented to me, "I feel like we just came back into the dugout after hitting a home run."  I laughed but that's just what it seemed like.  Getting changed, I couldn't find my name tag. I put the wet clothes with the others and my daughter and I walked out, hair wet but spirits high. 

In the car there was a different feeling. We talked about how this seemed as though it was meant to be, and it wasn't one person's actions. It was a team effort.  She didn't really want to go to church, but I said we should go so we did.  The woman who greeted us suggested the baptizing.  My daughter made that decision and as a result we were all better off for it.  Sometimes, a decision gets made with help.  Sometimes, even if it doesn't feel comfortable or good, it is the right decision.  We stopped at the store and picked up some groceries.  When we got home, my son was there doing some work for me.  Another plus getting to see him.  Walking into the house, my daughter asked, "What's that on your butt?"  "What?"  I have no idea how it got there, but my name tag was sticking to the back of my pants.  Out through the church, into the car, into the store, and home, "SIGNE" was loud and clear from behind.  Who said God doesn't have a sense of humor? :)