Listening Angel

Yesterday I went to my first water aerobics class ever.  The warm water of the indoor pool did feel fantastic, and the floating belts that made it possible to do the deep water movements were great.  I feel good this morning, in comparison to recent mornings anyway.  The difficulty in the day for me was the transit to the Y location.  The bus was more than 20 minutes late.  I got on at 11:45am.  I had already eaten lunch early, which was good thinking on my part.  Then, I proceeded to ride around Dallas until 1:25pm when I was finally dropped off at the Y.  (A bus ride for me is maybe similar to a regular person getting on a medium roller coaster.  I am very shaken up when I arrive at my destination.  To say I wasn't in good shape when I got there is the understatement this summer. ) The class started at 1pm, and I was supposed to have been picked up in an 11-11:20 window and dropped off at 12:45.  So, I rushed in and changed and hopped in the pool, a bit after 1:30.  Very much enjoyed the experience of it.  The return bus ride was due to arrive in a 2-2:20 window.  I gave myself exactly 5 minutes to strip off my suit, dry, dress, and make it back up to the lobby by 2pm.  The bus arrived 3 minutes later.  It was quite a frenzy.  Here is where I met the listening angel.  On the ride home, the driver Ron, and the other passenger, Sam, and I laughed so hard and had such fun talking about how the rides go wrong and how dispatch "gets things done" for us.  And my fibro fog was in full swing by this time.  I could only speak quite slowly.  Sam was sitting directly behind my wheelchair, which was fastened to the front passenger area of the van.  He is blind.  We'd all only been chatting for a few minutes when Sam asked what kind of accent I had.  I told him that what he was hearing was my effort to speak through the fibromyalgia fog, that my brain takes longer to think of words and pronounce them.  I don't have any real accent to my natural voice to speak of.  (For you who have never heard me during a time like this, or haven't heard anyone try to speak through fog, I pronounce every syllable distinctly, almost as if each syllable were a separate word.  I still give inflection, but it is more muted.  But ev rey thing is ve ry clear ly spo ken, with all con so nants giv en their sound.  This is something I have had to overcome feeling self-conscious about, and I have.  And then Sam said "it is so pretty.  It is one of the prettiest accents I've ever heard."  To me, that is such a high compliment.  Here is a man who gets through the world with highly tuned hearing and listening skills.  And he heard my speech not as completely difficult and effortful, which it is, but as beautiful and distinctly clear.  He said so.  It was a more lovely comment than any I've ever had about how I look to a sighted man.  It was finding the beautiful diamond in the coal mine.  My bus ride angel, reminding me that God dwells in my body.

Grateful for yesterday's adventure, although I have promised my husband not to return to that particular Y location after describing it to him.  He did not like the description AT ALL.  Grateful that I have another, hopefully cleaner and safer location to try tomorrow.  Grateful for this day and all the love I have to give and receive in it.