true story

I feel how this paper looks… in a good way.

We spent yesterday at the hospital clinics — more followup for Said Child. Sister was with us; sore throat and cough. Rain coming down sideways. Me, a headache. At least the car started.

As we waited for the docs, the timer I’d set to remind me to take more meds for my headache rang. I looked around the exam room for a cup. No cups.

No problem, I said. I learned how to make a cup out of paper when I was Girl Scout.

Why did they teach you that? asked Said Child.

I paused. I wanted to think about my answer. I had a feeling my answer would be important.

Because, I said, they knew that someday you might be waiting in an exam room with your children and need to take some medicine, and there might not be any cups.


The paper you see in the photo is the paper I folded into a cup and drank from. It also happens to be the first scribblings of my thoughts on the fellowship application I’ve been working on (which, yes, I’ve been carrying back and forth to the hospital and working on in 3 minute spurts for weeks). There’s a pleasing full-circle-ness (new word) to that, isn’t there?

The fellowship application is finished and submitted. My favorite moment: the message at the very end of the process: “Successful Logout!” Really? That’s the best they can do? Successful logout!? Anyhoo, the victory is not in whether I will win it (probably not); the victory is having applied. I’m so grateful to the friends who kicked me in the pants, lovingly, so I’d finish it. And for all the support from you, Reader. Feeling supported makes a difference, no?


This morning I had a vague memory of something called make up. I had a feeling I might even own some, so I poked around. Yep. Put a little on, and wow, I can see why someone invented this stuff.

I threw on my favorite wardrobe item, old broken-in jeans, and my most comfortable Danskos (why do I find the phrase “most comfortable Danskos” inherently depressing?).

I spied the fellowship thoughts/paper cup paper on my desk and thought, “That paper looks how I feel, but in a good way.”

Sometimes life folds and creases us, uses us in ways we didn’t expect, and scribbles in sloppy handwriting across our foreheads. Sometimes the ink runs, and we don’t know what the writing says anymore, or what the notation “K” was supposed to mean. But we know somehow the experience was important, so we file it away in a folder called Persistence, or maybe Small Victories. We give thanks for being wrinkled and worn out, but in a good way.


7 thoughts on “true story

  1. Congratulations on getting that in!! And, more importantly, nearly surviving another week with your very full plate. I think the K stands for “kick-ass” and you do.

  2. I don’t really know what to say here…except, you, Molly, are a fine Girl Scout, whose blog entries often, with good reason, make me cry. And, also, you know, you go girl–way to LOG OUT! Your writing always reminds me of the strength that’s possible in the face of Too Much Stuff. I’m so glad you got the application done, and I hope that headache has LOGGED OUT SUCCESSFULLY by now. Sending you all matter of virtual comfy Danskos and Emily D t-shirts, and wishing you and your whole family a contented, healing, sweet sweet well-earned weekend (with a some gentle library time for you if it can be managed)!

    • Thank you Sally! Yes, I think I will try to fit in some gentle library time — it feels like just thing I need. The same to you, and a few nice, hot cups of tea, too!

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