You From Joy

No secret, no matter how nasty, can poison your voice

or keep you from  joy.

I'm praying my novena and taking what I see as signs from God. God gives me all the puzzle pieces, but it's up to me to figure it out.

So today I met an odd lady with bad teeth wearing scrubs in Starbucks. She talked loud and was friendly. She had two kids-- a daughter whose birthday was today and wore a shirt to prove it, and a baby who was born 16 days ago. She told me she liked my dress and that she was savoring that moment with her baby.

I also met Running Man. He believes in the power of God. I'd like to ask him his story. I curse my shyness everyday. 

I met Rose, who lost her dogs, CoCo and Cutie, and is travelling to California with her boy. Her feet look horrible and she smoked some Pall Malls. She listened to Andrea when she prayed over her. 

I met "Angel" who told me she was raped and didn't know anybody. I tried to get her to go to the truck so we could take her away, but the police came and I had to leave. I think she's got something wrong in her head or in her bloodstream. 

I met Alex (Ross?) who paid attention to me and asked if I knew him and who wanted to see me again. But I don't trust anybody.

I have to sleep in an hour if I want to get 8 hours of sleep. Tomorrow starts another week of work. I can't help feel that I'm never good enough or worthy enough to be doing what I'm doing. It would be easy to sit in my pity and hate myself for a while, but I have to get up, sing for a bit, then go out there with people and trust that I can be good if I be me. Too hard, too hard. If I could stop trying so hard, I'd be better.