I wrote this in 2007- I was diagnosed with a disease called
Antiphospholipid Antibody Syndrome- Here is a link with some more info about this disease-

The paper crinkles as I get off the exam table. I walk to the red exit sign, turn the knob and head down the hall. My mind is playing a constant loop of thoughts, none of which I pay much attention to.

A man, white haired and bent over pushes his wife's wheel chair. Our eyes meet, we smile. But we both know the truth that our eyes speak.

I see a mother carrying her newborn baby. She sees no one- Mother and child surrounded by people yet completely alone. Wrapped in a cocoon. A cocoon of love, of life, of complete euphoria.

I see a little girl with tears in her eyes, gripping her mommy's hand. "Everything will be all right." She looks into her Mommy's eyes and mimics "Everything will be all right." Her Mommy picks her up and holds her close whispering into her ear words I cannot hear. The girl relaxes melting into her mothers embrace.

A doctor, blue scrubs, mask pulled down around his neck. Briskly walking towards a family waiting for news. He speaks- they listen, hanging onto every word. Deep furrows soften. Tense shoulders settle. Slowly the anxiety in their eyes begins to ease.

I see a man, big shoulders, and strong jaw. Looks like he's worked his whole life. His eyes are tortured and unsure. He is trying to figure out a way HE can fix this. He knows no such plan exists. He wishes God's car was broken- maybe they could barter, I'll fix your car; you fix my wife.

I see a sweet old lady, a scarf wrapped around her head. She is pale and weak. I can tell she doesn't have much time left here. She smiles at me, her eyes are weary but they have a distinct twinkle. She is not afraid; she is excited, bubbling with anticipation. Ready to reunite with her one true love.

A lady with a limp. She's big and sweaty and bitter. She complains loudly though she is walking all alone. Our eyes meet, she sneers at me.

I see the innocent face of a teenage girl. She has long bouncy hair the color of honey. She rubs her swollen belly. Our eyes meet, but only for a moment before she hangs her head in shame. I want to lift her chin, to sweep her hair out of her eyes and tell her to never hang her head in shame again. But I don't, we both keep walking.

I see many faces, many eyes that look like they too have received life-changing news today. Their eyes are vacant; they are functioning on autopilot. Maybe this is all a dream; maybe I will soon wake up.

I get out to the parking lot where my husband is waiting for me. I open the car door and get in but I do not look into his eyes, I am not ready.

"How was the appointment?"

"It was fine."

"That's good, any new news?"

I remain quite; I remain looking straight ahead. He doesn't pry. He turns the radio on, I am thankful. The music distracts my mind and fills the space between us. He reaches over and holds my hand. The air is thick; it is hard to breathe. I roll down the window even though the heater is on. The cold air hits my face reminding me I am still alive.

We come to a stop light, I look out the window and into the eyes of a woman. She looks like she could be my friend. I smile, she smiles. As she pulls ahead I see the twinkling eyes of a little boy. Chubby checks; spiky blond hair. I smile at him; he smiles a mischievous grin then sticks out his tongue out at me. I stick my tongue out at him, my husband chuckles.

I look at the clock 15 minutes have passed. Time is not standing still. How can I avoid looking into the eyes of my love? The sun is setting on this cold clear day. We pull into our driveway, my husband stops; I can feel him looking at me. I reluctantly turn my face to him. Our eyes meet- they say much more that words ever could. I thank God for giving me such a wonderful partner.

I head into the house to hide in the bathroom. I lock the door behind me, take a deep breath and try to settle my spirit. I splash cool water on my face and look up at the mirror into my own eyes. I see the reflection of a woman. A woman I do not know yet. I trust God that he will gently introduce us.

My eyes begin to well up with tears. I stare at them in the mirror and watch the little streams of salty liquid run down my cheeks and splash on the counter.

I sit down on the bathroom floor. Bow my head, and close my eyes, I see Jesus. I look into his eyes and see his pain, his suffering; He understands. I see his love, his compassion; He adores me.

I breathe him in; he wraps me in a quilt of his presence, his essences. I am calm, settled, and ready to leave the solitude of my bathroom, as long as I can keep the quilt. Jesus tells me I can have it for as long as I need it.

I thank him. Wrapped in the quilt Jesus gave to me. A quilt that only my eyes can see.

By: Ginger- March 2007