I’m a catalytic converter.

This morning, as a drank my tea, my mind wandered to the possible end of our nation as we’ve known it and the brutal death of Jamal Khashoggi. I don’t intend to be morose, this is just what’s happened lately, and allowing myself to be over a morning’s cup of tea reveals the tapestry just as it is. I thought of other things: Christmas gifts I need to secure. I made myself spend a few minutes envisioning the world I wish to see, as it’s the only cure. But this time, I fought less hard to keep at bay the darkness of the world. It is what it is.

I’ve got a cold-y flu-ey kind of thing, small fever. The ability to function during the day remains intact. I do so with a kinder, gentler approach, though. I’ve tried whipping the sick horse and things do not go well after that. I almost died once trying to force myself to go running, cursing my weakness…for weeks, only to learn I’d had Type 1 diabetes for months and that my potassium was so low I could have gone into cardiac arrest at any moment. I spent three days in the ICU, then almost two full weeks in the hospital getting stabilized and trained in how to manage my new condition. I was 22.

I’m sorry I don’t feel good, sweetie. Sorry it’s getting to be a deep dark winter. Strangely, being sick has helped me somehow. It’s taken the edge of both my expectations and my depression. It’s reminded me to stay present and kind with myself in the moment. There really isn’t anything else. I must send my perfectionism packing in order to breathe.

I think of the Tibetan monks, who reportedly stayed in compassion even as they were tortured and ridiculed by the Chinese soldiers.

Those monks are my idols. Also Jesus. Yet, while I’m willing to serve the highest good, I keep really hoping my soul contract doesn’t include being tortured. And, that if it does, I can miraculously stay unfractured and with God throughout. Even Jesus doubted, though. I split open with tenderness for this whole social experiment called humanity, for the beasts we abuse and those whose habitat we’ve destroyed. I imagine a world where all life lives in peaceful balance and coexistence on a healthy Earth, one we’ve restored by partnership between humans and Nature intelligence. North star.

Typing. More tea. A moment that loves the painful skin I’m in. A God who has so much love for me it overflows. Humor too. A God that laughs with us, not at our expense. I imagine that God is Santa Claus in Macy’s. I sit down in his big soft red-velvet lap. His white beard touches my forehead. Other people wait in line with hopeful smiles.

What do you want for Christmas, Sara Nicole? When he speaks my name his voice goes deep through all of me though all time. To be held in your light, to be an instrument of your truth and love, to serve. I play with his beard. You already are. Why don’t you trust yourself? He asks me. I don’t know. I’d do anything to bridge this divide. Fear is a big thick fence on the cold Wyoming plains. It keeps me separate from everything that’s truest. I want your love to replace all this fear, I say, quaking and sobbing now. But I can’t seem to get it to just happen. He turns me so I’m looking at him.

One day, you will. But until then you just have to do your best like everyone else. Each and everyone else is a person also worthy, also yearning, also trying to find the peace that only truth-love can bring. Your struggle makes you available. Your you-ness, including all the darkness, will be the bread crumb trail you’ve always longed to leave. There aren’t any shortcuts. It’s all God, he says. He hands me a toy river. My best gift. Free and undammed, wild and moving. I thank him and wander off through the shiny department store, my river in my hand.