I had a halo this morning:
I wrote a short post about it.
And received wonderful, wonderful comments.
Then logic set in.
At first I thought a bug flew around my head really fast before I took the photo of me with my I-Phone.
A couple of hours later, after some reflection, I got the keen idea to go take some photos without me in the bathroom.
Would the pink light still be there?
It has to do with the way my bathroom light bulbs reflect in the room.
Sigh. No halo.
So panic set in.
I couldn’t be presenting myself as having a halo or little pink angels, when in actuality they were light bulb filaments reflecting in my bathroom.
I had to delete the post ASAP.
That’s how my mind works…and body responds. Any form of dishonesty, even unintentional or accidental, or not really even dishonesty to begin with but a mistake, and I FREAK and go into repair/fix mode.
So I deleted the original post for 235 of my tiny pink angels.
Shaking off unneeded guilt and fret.
Then I had more time to think.
I may not have a halo that I can visibly catch on camera.
But it doesn’t mean I don’t have one.
And it doesn’t mean those little lights weren’t a message of sorts.
For a couple of hours, I was a believer again.
For a couple of hours, I thought I was protected and loved.
For a couple of hours, I thought I was special.
And then I realized…..
It wasn’t for a couple of hours
It’s been a lifetime
With or without proof
My mother used to work for Virginia Satir. This old plaque hangs in my kitchen.
(My husband says: “Maybe that halo is yours. It just stays there in that spot!”—hopeful soul.)