Today I am thankful for a reminder that living in faith can be beautiful.
I used to live my life as a bohemian.
I used to dress like one, too.
I probably still could. I have many lace dresses and leather boots. I think in my fantasy world, I look like Stevie Nicks.
In reality, I'm told I look like Susan Sarandon (think old school Rocky Horror Picture Show). This is probably part of the reason I got the modeling gig when I was younger. The other reason was that my sister was making fun of my appearance in front of a model scout. He handed me his card, a pen and an application for a modeling contest. I came in tenth and scored a couple of gigs before I decided a hated it.
Not bad for someone who just wanted to grow up to be a music teacher, eh?
In actuality, I probably look like Ms. Piggy now. I'm a size 12. I've got to stop drinking soda.
Anyway....
I used to live and dress like a bohemian. By that I mean that nothing stressed me out. The doctors told me I had a brain tumor in '89. I wasn't worried. It turned out to be a mix-up with a MRI.
I had no money. Money had a way of coming to me.
As long as I didn't fret, I got what I needed.
It could be my attitude. It could be the djinn I allegedly own.
I don't know.
I always managed to find what I needed. I just had to have faith.
I found friends among people who were supposed to be enemies. I found work. I found like minded people.
I found fun and love and friendship.
Life was good.
That changed with the stalking. It didn't matter what I did. I was pursued. My money was stolen. My things were broken. My loved ones were threatened.
It was a mess.
I felt the need to isolate myself to keep others safe.
When a good woman doesn't have any more to lose and she thinks fighting will save others,
a good woman goes to war.
I did.
Nothing scares me anymore.
As long as I don't have friends or family who can be hurt, I fear nothing.
I'm still isolating myself.
I probably shouldn't be doing that.
******
Last month, I was rear ended by a Hummer H2. The man that hit me was apologetic and shaken. He handed me his insurance card, made sure I was okay and promised to cut me a check.
I didn't want his money.
He wanted me to take the car to a body shop to repair it. It just needed two new lights. I told him that wasn't necessary.
He seemed a little shaken at first. I gently touched his shoulder and told him all that mattered was that we were all okay. He calmed down and waited for me to leave before he drove off.
I wasn't worried about it. I figured I could get around to fixing the car on my own eventually.
This man taught me a few things.
First, he taught me that I'm far too easy to find. The very next day, I arrived home to find a note taped to my front door asking to repair the damage to my car. He said he'd do it himself if I wouldn't take the car to a body shop.
The next day, he called my office. I don't know how he found me. All he had was my name. My first is Australian slang for girl. I have one of the most common last names in the country. I wore no political buttons. There was no signage on my car denoting my occupation.
All he had was my name. I chose my name because it is incredibly common!!! I'm supposed to be hard to find.
You've got to be kidding me. He FOUND me. In my state, it is impossible to track me through the DMV, unless you're in law enforcement.
How did he find me? My ex-husband's name was still on the policy because that was the only card I had with me....the one with the policy I paid for Michael. I figured the insurer could cross reference the accounts in a pinch. I still pay for Mike's policy as they won't let me cancel it.
This guy found me.
He called again the next day and the next.
I don't know how he found me. I must make it too easy.
I finally called him back on a Saturday morning, thinking he wasn't working. Turns out, he was setting up a PA system for a gig later that night. It turns out he hosts weekend shows at a local pub.
I guess I should go sometime.
He set up a date to fix my car.
And he did. He arrived a little early, in front of my house and called my name.
All of my efforts at changing my appearance failed. He KNEW who I was.
I'm so disappointed.
This gentleman cleaned my car, spoke about the care he took in finding the parts and put the thing together in half an hour. We stood around talking about his birthday (he's a couple of years older than I), rap music, 80's music, wanna be singers and their managers, the death of his parents and hypnotism.
He sounded lonely.
He sounded a lot like me.
I should have invited him in for dinner.
I wasn't thinking.
He left. I told him I'd go to a show.
Maybe the Gods bring people to you who are a lot like you are. He told me where to find him. He fantasizes about winning the lottery. He lives just a few blocks away.
Maybe I'll have to go to a show one of these weekends and bring him a lottery ticket or two.
I've got a lot to think about.
I'm going to have to make it much, much harder to find me.
The greatest part of this lesson is that faith in the human race is a very freeing thing. It's nice to know that people, for the most part, are honest and good. It was nice having someone be so thoughtful in relation to another person.
Maybe I have a teeny, tiny crush.
It'll pass.
I look like Ms. Piggy. I'm not going to date until I drop 20 pounds. If I love someone, I won't squish them.
By the time I lose the weight, maybe I'll work through whatever it is that scares me.
While I'm waiting I can make a conscious effort to pay the goodness forward.
May your faith in your brethren grow, too.
Life is so much brighter when we don't worry so much.
Love ya lots,
S.