Pollen

I can see clearly, just as soon as I catch my breath and wipe the pollen off my rose-colored glasses - My Sunday Best #12

Pollen. You know, it’s that beautiful golden manna from heaven that makes the world go round. It also adds a lovely yellow tint to everything it touches, including trees, cars, patio furniture, and guitars—Mother Nature’s own version of a color filter.

I’ve always been one to see the good in every situation (I got that from my mother.) If I can’t find the good, I start turning over rocks until I do. But this week, my rose-colored glasses were covered with pollen and I’ve been wallowing in my own little world of suffering for days. Through violent raspy coughing fits, headaches, and a throat that felt like it was on fire I haven’t been able to muster up one nice sentence that includes the word pollen. I can hear that little voice in my head telling me “If you can’t find something nice to say then don’t say anything.” Actually, I couldn’t say anything even if I wanted to because I ended up losing my voice.

In my day-to-day life, losing my voice isn’t a big deal. Most times, my husband does a great job of handling both sides of the conversation. He always has plenty to say, and I usually don’t, so it works. Sometimes if we’re in a group of people and Mickey is in the heat of a story, I will raise my hand, as a joke, and say I’d like to make a comment. This always brings a laugh or two, mostly from me. All joking aside, I would much rather observe and listen anyway.

We all have gifts to give the world and Mother Nature is no exception. She is the epitome of a generous unwavering gift-giver, constantly pouring out sunrises, sunsets, flowers, and life-sustaining gifts, like rain, sunshine, and pollen. And I’m the last person to refuse a genuine gift. But then again, up until now, I’ve never had too much trouble with allergies with the exception of the leaf mold in Oregon and the seasonal hay fever in the Colorado Rockies. Even living in Nashville, when others were suffering from a multitude of allergies, I never did. I’ve read that some indigenous tribes described what is now Nashville as the Valley of the Sick. Apparently, this was due to the fact that the surrounding terrain is shaped much like a bowl, resulting in a melting pot of tiny airborne substances, a sort of alchemy I suppose. For those who suffer from allergies, this environment can make identifying the culprit allergen somewhat like rocket science.

But things change, and I now live in Missouri, where my body has suddenly decided that it has something to say about these tiny particles innocently passing by on their way to bestowing beauty and abundance on the earth. This past week a concerned friend called to check on me. I still didn’t have a voice, but I heard her ask Mickey if I was the type of person to go to urgent care. He said no, and she replied, “I thought that about her. Y’all just seem like those kinds of people.”  Her tenderness and acceptance made me smile and filled my heart with a warm fuzzy feeling. She’s right, my medicine cabinet consists of echinacea, dried elderberries, hawthorn berries, colloidal silver, dozens of essential oils, and when all else fails, ibuprofen. Before she hung up, she said, “I’ll pray for Trish,” and that was enough.

Last night we had a private party to play. Fortunately, Mickey and I have performed together for over twenty years and can make adjustments if one of us is feeling under the weather. Yesterday was our anniversary and it was fitting that we celebrated it the same way we met, by playing music together. I thought I could sing. However, when I went to the microphone to sing out the familiar first verse of Tennessee Flattop Box, a squeaky wimpy voice is all that came out, I looked over at Mickey and he instantly came in on vocals without missing a beat. At the end of the night, a sudden wind came up and I could see the pollen cascading down on us like a fine mist of rain. I’m sure my immune system immediately started to panic, but for a moment, this incredible display of nature caught me by surprise. In the multicolored stage lights, the sparkling pollen dust looked magical.

Today, I’m grateful for my body, especially my lungs, and my sinuses which have both been working overtime. I’m grateful for the gift of sleep when my body does its best work in healing. And, I’m especially grateful for each and every sentiment of concern and well-being…oh, and for Mickey’s arsenal of allergy medications. Yes, I finally gave in and said, “Whatever you’ve got. I’ll take it.” And yes, I do feel much better.