First, I want to praise our Almighty Lord for giving me enough strength in my damaged legs to attend my weekly gathering with friends from church Wednesday night! (I still require MUCH REST for them both to heal.)
. . .
So at yesterday’s “art therapy” class, an art class at U of M Hospital’s Cancer Clinic designed for past or present cancer patients who are allowed to bring 1 family member, several of us sat around a light wooden table. The intention of the class is to provide a friendly & comfortable environment for people affected by cancer to talk as freely or not, as they want. We were instructed to introduce ourselves. It was like those AA meetings you see portrayed on TV shows, where everyone sits in a circle & tells their name & something about them.
The soft spoken teacher went first, then a lady whose name I can’t bring to mind, then 2 sisters, the younger of which was the patient. Next came the reason for my attendance at the monthly art sessions in the first place, my creatively talented mother.
I was the last to go. Whenever an art class rolls around, I start feeling a little goofy & don’t take life so seriously because I know without a shadow of a doubt that a wedge of vast proportions lies between me & any sort of artistic talent. So I decided to give an introductory statement that’d surely break the ice.
The quiet class desperately needed some flavor, & there’s no better feeling than causing comedy. Drawing on my experience just 12 days prior on October 7 – that you can see more in depth on my October 10 blog – the chuckles that erupted confirmed that I’d made the right decision in choosing my opening words.
“My name is Amy, & I fell in the toilet.”