i saw a woman, twisted with rheumatoid.
Her hands like flippers, she turned the pages of the newspaper laboriously.
Creasing each one slowly with her palm, Painful to watch.
Her serenity was palpable.
Hannah saw her too, as we waited for her bagel.
“Mama, do you see that lady?”
“Yes Hannah. She has rheumatoid like me.” Hannah was quiet.
“Yes, but she doesnt have as much love and help around her as you do.”
Love and help.
Love around, encircling.
Swirling like a fog, permeating the very air.
That is healing.
Rheumatoid marches on, relentlessly taking ground.
Twisting joints as easily as pipe cleaners.
Fatigue blankets, like swimming through mud.
Pain flares with red light, cutting through everything.
And then comes the love, all around.
It shatters the lie “you are alone.”
Courage returns, indomitable, Just enough for today.
Perhaps that is Easter. When all seems dark, love wins.