Patron Saint of Chicken Noodle Soup

Driving my car to Rochester, talking to myself between songs. Fear is a feeling I haven’t felt in a while and I need to deconstruct it’s presence. I allow my faith to fill the gaps fear leaves in my heart. I remind fear it’s only a guest and that love and trust are the perminant residents.
My car bumps along down the highway and I appreciate this time to think and process. To get lost in the music. To take in the beauty of the landscape and trees and the little towns scattered on highway 52.
I notice a familiar feeling spread over me.
Hands on my shoulders but nobody I can see.
My heart speaks to me in words I can’t express.
I know it’s my godmother by the love I feel
I am reminded of the gifts we have in this family that cross logic and certainty
Even when it makes me scared
“It’s going to be okay. It’s going to be okay. It’s going to be okay.”
I hear her laugh. I feel her smile.
A car beeps behind me. I am back in reality And I am at peace.
I can be fearful and faithful at the same time.
I can get through this, by the grace of Aunt Donna, patron Saint of the hospital
Of chicken noodle soup
Of being afraid and choosing to laugh anyway.
She promised to take care of my dad when they were kids and she kept that promise her whole life— and then some.
The cars beep more and I search for my exit.
Intervention comes at the strangest of times. I give thanks.

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