Lady in Waiting

I’m not in much of a writing mood today. I want rest. I want answers. I want a diagnosis. I want to run screaming until this “thing” leaves my body. Except that I can’t run. Have you ever seen anyone run with a cane? Didn’t think so! :)

I have an appointment tomorrow with a new neurologist.

This is like some weird “dating game”. “Bachelor, er, Neurologist #3, if you were an ice cream flavor…” Hey, I don’t want some kind of nutty one, you know!

So tomorrow, I’ll just have to rehash twenty-some-odd years of on-again-off-again neurological symptoms and explain my life-on-hold-since-February whale of a time. He’ll prick the bottoms of my feet and make me touch my finger to my nose. He’ll look over old blood work and MRIs. And maybe, just maybe, Lord-willing-and-the-creek-don’t-rise, he’ll have something different to say. He’ll see something that he wants to investigate. Maybe he’ll have just come back from a conference and has just learned about something new. Hey, that happened to me just last week! I just gotta wait until tomorrow. (cue song from Annie…)

I have this fascinating job. It’s called Lady in Waiting.

According to Wikipedia, Ladies in Waiting were ladies “of a royal court appointed to serve or attend a Queen, Princess, or high ranking noblewoman. A Lady in Waiting was not quite a servant. Ladies in Waiting were considered 'noble companions' who, by their status and nobility, could better advise a woman of high station.” OK, so I need to write a new job description.

Lady in Waiting: A servant of the royal court, anointed for the King's service and appointed by the King to encourage other women.

It goes with the dream I had Saturday night: a man resembling a cross between Ed Begley, Jr. and my Uncle Larry was leading our Sunday School class and told me I was being commissioned to teach other women about who they are in Christ. OK. So then I got to Sunday School for real the next day and the lesson was about finding one’s life purpose. I opened my Bible to find a paper I’d stuck there months ago. It was about who we are in Christ. The teacher (not our usual teacher) wrote several words on the board. Among them: Consecrated. That’s what my name means. I looked at the teacher and suddenly recognized him as the man in my dream.

God’s pretty cool, huh?

I’ve gotta go. It’s time for the Lady to take her nap. I’ll let you know what the new neurologist says. Until then, sweet dreams! May God speak to you in yours!