The horrible unexpected
And just like that it happens . . .
In the span of one week, two car crashes: one friend in trauma ICU who might not make it, two others relatively unscathed but lucky to be alive. In the midst of it, me fighting all my irritating little battles, opening a show in which I spend 75% of it in drag. I’m having that mid-life event I used to witness and not understand, when a grown-up would go: what’s it all mean? I have never identified more with the Chekhovian anti-heros: Vanya, Ivanov, Chebutykin. I feel as though I work hard, struggle even, barely getting by financially with no job security; I have to fight petty wars to convince other wounded people there is no other way for me; and then I am reminded – all of it can be taken with one ill-timed cell phone call behind the wheel, one drunk driver, one weird twist of fate.
So as I hold my friends the light, and reach for the call of the advent season – that life and new beginnings, miracles even, are born in moments of darkness – I try to feel God’s hand in it all, even in the shattered glass and weeping, even in the arguments and defects of character, even in the dreary December rain.
My job for the next month is to make people laugh. Perhaps more exactly: to make them feel. I am collaborating in this work with one of those in the near-miss car crash. I pray for the assurance that this is vital and important work, especially when times are tough. I pray of their recovery. I pray to be of use to all my wounded friends, and a source of light in this dark December world. The horrible unexpected Thursday, December 4, 2008