I'd like to think I'm always graceful. But then I pull open the knife drawer and find confectioner's sugar from a few months ago when I made cookies. Then I trip over the dog, get tangled in my sports bra, and almost have a high-speed collision.
Taking John to work the other day, I was more tired than I realized, which resulted in John warbling Carrie Underwood's "Jesus Take the Wheel." On the other hand, the other day I heard myself saying, "stop playing the air guitar and drive!"
Today I had wonderful plans for time stretching out free and clear. I felt empowered. I went to the gym - on a Saturday. Well that's partly because a pint of ice cream disappeared a lot faster than I meant it to last night. But gosh darn it, Haagen Dazs chocolate and peanut butter while watching "Rocky" for the first time is a sublime experience. Oh yeah, and I watched "Rocky" for the first time. And LOVED it. I think I've put it off so long because I got it confused with Rambo. I know. I know.
So my plans stretched out in front of me like the wide open prairie to early settlers. Then the headache started. Then the fatigue set in. Then the nausea began. For the last time, no, I am not pregnant.
This happens like once every three months. I get a migraine-like experience, feel like the world is ending, my heart races, sound, light, and smells are abhorrent, and I ready myself to meet my maker. Then I throw up violently, rest, and emerge a few hours later a pale, wan version of myself. I mean more pale, and more wan. I know, that means almost transparent with my fair skin. If I take migraine prescription medicine at the beginning of the experience, then sometimes that helps avoid it. But I don't know where my samples are. I think it has something to do with moving like three times since Christmas.
And it was annoying, because my brother had come over for the day and I was ready for frivolity and fun and catching up on some housework. I had just called my brother to take my pulse when It Happened.
Insert all kinds of epic battle music here, or simply a blank screen with "technical difficulties" on it. All I know is, my sweet brother held my hair while my sweet husband took care of other gruesome details. And few things in life make you feel more loved than someone turning towards you in the uncomfortable, un-graceful moments of life rather than away from you. They shield your shame, a la Noah's good son, and bless you through presence instead of backing away.
So today, or this weekend, or next week, move toward someone who's not at their best. Hold hair. Mop up a mess. Be grace with a bucket.