Last night. Last night I met her. Her. I am still weepy over it all this morning.
It was spring break my first year of seminary when I was introduced to her. I was on a train headed to see a friend in Boston and brought along "Traveling Mercies" for the journey. As I sat by myself on that train of strangers I laughed out loud and cried without restraint. Her words did that for me. It was her honesty--she said things that were so true that I had no choice but to respond in kind. How did she do that? She just said the truth and it was both refreshing and foreign to me. I loved it and couldn't comprehend it and wanted it--craved it. And who knows if this incident on the train was the chicken or the egg--but it is a good enough place to call a beginning (or at least a significant marker) on my own personal road of revelation and truth telling. Anne Lamott's words were a beacon telling me that I could go there--I could make my way to the shadows and still survive. Every book of hers that I have since read has reaffirmed this message and provided inspiration to continue on my way. Her words have become part of my inner chatter and so often I borrow her insight to make my way through the muck.
A couple of weeks ago I walked out a different door after church and happened to pass by a table. Even though the lights had already been turned off her printed face on a postcard jumped out to me. She was coming to lecture in two weeks! I flew from the sanctuary to Bill shoving the postcard in his face saying "my birthday! my birthday!". And then I stared at her picture the whole way home and proceeded to daydream about the event everyday afterward.
She did not disappoint. She speaks exactly as she writes--humorously, honestly, passionately. The room was so crowded that even though I had come w/ friends I had to sit by myself. And just like on the train--surrounded by strangers--I laughed out loud and cried without restraint. She spoke from the pulpit (of course she did!) and it was holy. It was church.



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