I was talking with this woman late this afternoon when she suddenly grabbed my arm and flipped my wrist over. After crying out in dismay, she started berating me for allowing myself to be assaulted again. The bruise from the second abortive IV try has now spread from the top of my wrist to the underside and moved about three inches up my arm. Even I am surprised, despite the amount of pain I felt at the time, at how bruised I am...especially since the bruise on the underside of my wrist is not near where the needle was inserted and has been slow in appearing.

I must admit that her words hurt because I have felt accused since I was hit and wish greatly that I had found comfort rather than condemnation and judgment and chastisement. That is part of why I still feel ashamed and have a hard time looking in the mirror, part of the turmoil I battle. When I managed to get a word in edgewise to tell her why my right hand and wrist are bruised, she abruptly changed topics and asked how I was doing.

I broke the social contract and answered her.

The funny thing was is that I learned something while talking. I learned how much I have gained by having Pastor D listen to me. There I was, explaining about the conversation sermon and Monday and having JM be my "responsible party" instead of his wife and how all that I had talked about with him, all that I had not kept hidden, was really just sinking in and about being chastised about vocation and about what vocation was and about the doctrine I have been studying and about this blog I just read about the Liturgy and even how having my godparents giving me the Treasury of Daily Prayer has changed how I start my days...that I still start them in pain, but I start them also in the Word.

In the back of my mind, I kept thinking that it really is remarkable that I had a man from church there with me while going through something that is so difficult because of my past. More so, it is near miraculous that we talked.

Of course, another part of my mind was wishing she were Lutheran so I could ask her the list of questions that have been piling up over the past two weeks.

She was curious about the Liturgy, why someone such as I could speak so excitedly about staid structure. I do not believe she understood my answer about it being bathed in Gospel and actually being another example of God's mercy and grace to us in that He desires us to be fed on Sundays, not have us fawn over Him. She did listen to the whole explanation, even when I stumbled over the parts of the Liturgy.

In any case, on the way home, I tried to call my godmother to see if she had successfully dodged the social worker today. You see, a short while ago, she couldn't find her two-year-old and out of fear for him called the police. He ended up safely sound asleep beneath a futon, but the police report triggered a social worker who has taken a distinct dislike to her family. Oh, my, her boys were actually running around outside without shoes! [They live on a small farm.] Perish the thought! My godmother's desire for her children to have a Huck Finn life has caused her great problems with this woman. The social worker even managed to rile up my very sanguine, quite affable godfather with her aggression towards his wife and their care of the children.

JW was not home, but I took the opportunity to talk a while with my godfather. We have only really spoken once, the evening I was at their house and I mentioned that I wanted to try and become more comfortable around him because he said yes to being my godfather.

Since my godmother is fond of reminding me of her godmother duties, I asked what were those of a godfather. When he finished listing them, I dared ask if they might also include reading scripture. I think he was surprised, so to fill in the awkward moment, I quickly told him how Pastor had read to me in the past (even sung hymns) and how I actually was put to sleep on Monday listening to JM reading the Psalms. Then, because that would raise topics I cared not to discuss, reeling at this point by realizing earlier just how much I had revealed to my "responsible party," I told my godfather about how I told JM about Pastor's mini-lesson on how God creates things. Of course, that mini-lesson was followed by the one on why East-West is better than North-South when describing how far away from us God removes our sins in our forgiveness. My godfather really liked that lesson, but it made me think again about confession/absolution, so I changed the topic again by telling him that should he wish to add scripture reading to his list of duties, I would have no objections.

After pausing a bit, he said he could do something like that for me. While we were talking, he had prepared dinner and had paused our conversation so that I could say the blessing with them. Hearing his small sons reciting words I have yet to learn thrilled me. They had inhaled their ramen noodles so quickly that my godfather, after hearing my rather wistful tone, decided I could do the Close of the Day liturgy with them! Listening to him read the scripture part made me chuckle because he was "translating" the story of David and Bathsheba for his little boys. Oh how I enjoyed saying the Lord's Prayer and bits of the evening prayer with my godfamily! Cell phones are a beautiful invention.

You know, I have been reading aloud all my studies...the bible, the Treasury of Daily Prayer, the Psalms, the Book of Concord, Bonhoeffer's treatise, prayers, sermons, etc. I read aloud because I do believe there is power in reading God's Word aloud. The rest I read aloud so that I might hear the words, as well as see them. While I find value in the act and believe it is good for me to do so, I stumble over simple words, something that worsens the longer I read. Hearing myself falter saddens me greatly. In my old life, I used to read aloud at schools and libraries and such. I rather enjoyed vocally animating stories in my quest to share the marvel of books with children. I would be hard pressed to do so these days. Even when I was assessing my godparent's child for his home school letter, I stumbled over reading aloud Frannie and Pickles. I covered my fumbled words by asking silly questions about the silly illustrations, all the while working to hide my failing even as I was gathering the information I needed for the assessment.

So, when I read the bible aloud, a part of me can become distracted by the struggles I have, at times, decoding the words or forming the sounds. I enjoy hearing the words and being bathed in the power of the Living Word. I just prefer someone else do the reading so that I am not reminded of what I am losing. Would that there were a 1-800 Read-Scripture-Aloud service!

SIGH.

Writing of speaking aloud the Word of God, I am reminded of that very topic in the Book of Concord, Smalcald Articles, Confession:

Therefore, we must constantly maintain this point: God does not want to deal with us in any other way than through the spoken Word and the Sacraments. Whatever is praised as from the Spirit--without the Word and Sacraments--is the devil himself. God wanted to appear even to Moses through the burning bush and spoken Word (Exodus 3:2-15). No prophet, neither Elijah or Elisha, received the Spirit without the Ten Commandments or the spoken Word. John the Baptist was not conceived without the word of Gabriel coming first, nor did he leap in his mother's womb without Mary's voice (Luke 1:11-20, 41). Peter says, "For no prophecy was ever produced by the will of man, but men spoke from God as they were carried along by the Holy Spirit" (II Peter 1:21). Without the outward Word, however, they were not holy. Much less would the Holy Spirit have moved them to speak when they were still unholy. They were holy, says he, since the Holy Spirit spoke through them. (SA, Article VII, 10-13)