On Saturday morning I ran into my first grade Sunday school teacher. She is a special lady and I’ve always felt connected with her. She must be 91 by now. When I think of people who practice what they preach religion-wise she is at the top of the list. For as long as I’ve known her she has worn her long white hair in a braid and coiled at the base of her skull. My mother washed and braided her hair for years in her basement beauty shop. When I she died my sister took over for her. Sis had been doing it whenever my mom was out of town and then when mom was sick, so it was natural.
All that exposition to explain that I don’t see Fran often, but my sister sees her every Saturday morning. It was great to see her. She has always seen only the best in me. She told me how happy she was for me, how good I look and how proud of me she is. She said she asks about me every week and has been thrilled to hear that I’ve been happy. My sister told her I’ve been happy.
About six months into my abstinence I asked my sister if she had noticed how much I’ve changed. She told me she hadn’t noticed any changes except in my diet. This pissed me off. I’d made so many changes inside that I couldn’t believe she did not feel it too. This forced me to take an honest look at myself. I had to admit that none of my actions had changed, only my food plan.
Now I know that she has noticed real change in me. She noticed I am happier and told Fran about it. The only book she’s ever given me is “You Can Be Happy No Matter What” she saw it in a store and thought of me. It pissed me off. I love getting books as gifts, but self-help books are double-edged. Loving Friend says, “I thought of you when I saw this book for fucked up people, just like you. Hope it fixes your problem.”
It’s nice to know that my happiness is not just an internal change.