As a fluke last night, I was tired and bored and looking for mindless distraction so I plopped myself down and turned on the television. It has been several seasons since I have watched Grey’s Anatomy and I had to stop because I was planning my life around the show. Total fixation. I was happy to see the familiar faces, though.
What I was unprepared for was the content of last night’s show, called Lay Your Hands on Me. It was about faith in healing, about a woman who healed through her hands, about the strength of love and belief in healing, about how healing comes from within not from medicine or surgery or being cut open. It was about my art. I was so moved to see what I do there, right before my eyes on prime time television. I was moved to big tears, worrying my daughter who thought there was something drastically wrong with me. She hasn’t quite come to understand the difference, yet, between tears of sadness, tears of anger, tears of joy or tears that come as a result of simply feeling moved.
I was so moved by this show. I couldn’t stop thinking about and I wondered when it will be that I open the doors and step fully into who I am.
