She never travels alone. She always makes certain to come along with a deluge of pain (all species.) She literally makes me weep. She sure does know how to make me moan and not move. Oh, and not only that. She sends miss cranky days before her arrival. She physically and mentally saps me, but even so, I sit through the pain. I am a hostess with no choice each time she comes knocking. In my state of groaning, I attempt to understand the pain, but I end up finding nothing as the translations echo in my mind. I hold myself to the bank of questions: why can’t she be a little considerate? Why does she come with so much pain to give? Can’t she just play nice for once? What, really, does she get in making me feel this sore? I am sure she is mild with a handful, why can’t she add me to the list? As these questions roll, my judgment tells me to counter attack her with medications, but my body rejects. She isn’t a thing I can hide away using a wig or a dainty scarf to cover up. She is the pretty-reddish-private-lady, the decision maker who decides how long she sticks around and who’s next by her calendar.
She is a healthy flush no doubt, but I do not desire to be abashed by miss uninvited guest who always dress in ruby, so I buckle up and I outlive my belt all the time because I know she makes some experience it worse than I fare as she makes me experience worse than some others. I do not look forward to her five day visit, but whether I like her or not, I prepare for her deliberately and intentionally. She is quite the boss lady.
She distinctly differentiates me from being male, it’s so clear-cut. She calls me a woman and a mother to be not necessarily because I desire, desire having a child, but because according to the all-knowing Creator, this makes it biologically complete in the lofty scheme of my build. She says to me, pain isn’t always bad, meaningless and useless, simply bend it into something that won’t control you, and carry on to the big picture.
‘’She has become ‘My Purposeful Pain’ (MPP).’’
Do I always like travelling this road with her every month? No way, but apparently, it’s a must. I know we all desire for less pain in our lives, no question. Only sometimes, beyond the pain, there invariably will be a reward, or lesson to carry home. There’s hope as I anticipate that season later in my life’s journey, when she’ll give up tapping on my threshold.
On a lighter note: My wages for being a hostess is always ‘’the cleanest house’’, she leaves behind until her next visit. She hands me the beautiful gift of knowing that: ‘’I can stick through anything; layers of pain, stress and soreness as I dust off the odds perceived or real.’’
She is not my pal, but she is amazing. Smiles. *Wink.
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