Candy and Crying

I started a new book today. Mind candy, I like to call it. It's fiction writing that I totally cannot do, but wholeheartedly love to enjoy. Mind candy is also my attempt to trick myself into riding my exercise bike. I love to read so much that I'll get on the bike for it, if I tell myself I can only pick up the story on the bike. So this morning, there I sat on my bike, pedaling away with a chick-lit book I picked up for the pure fun of it. I can never seem to escape from picking up something of value, though, even from the most light hearted mind candy.

The story I'm reading is about two older ladies in a small town, their friendship, and their well meaning antics. Sort of a Steel Magnolias crossed with Fried Green Tomatoes with a bit of Sunday School tossed in. (the little ol ladies are retired ministers' wives, ya see.) The book is written mostly as a conversation between the two friends, full of humor. Yet, at one point, I simply burst out into tears. Here it is:

"You see, Maxine and me, we weren't always Queen Mamas." "No, we were not." "Or queen bees." "Worker bees, more like it." "Regular drones." "Which isn't a bad thing now, but..." "But the time comes when even a drone has to stop and look around herself and say, 'I'ts time to create a buzz.'" "And Oh, what a buzz Odessa made!" "I did. Though I didn't do it just for myself. I did it for all of us." "The drones." "The meek." "The women who are strangers in their own communities." "Who are all fearfully and wonderfully made. There's the meat of the story, Maxine, right there."

I pedaled and read and wept. No kidding. This is supposed to be a humorous book. But the words "women who are strangers in their own communities" caught in my heart and in my throat. I can identify with that. I AM that sometimes, or at least I feel that way. Caught between who I really am and who I think I'm supposed to be to please everyone else. Desperately wanting to be known and loved just as I am, yet knowing and trying to live with the fear and possible fact that "just as I am" might not be satisfactory to those I hope will do the knowing and loving. Furthermore, I wept because I don't know a woman who hasn't felt this way.

Here's the other place I broke down:

"Oh--and don't forget to mention--" "The tiaras. This story is just jam-packed with tiaras." "Hey, a woman wears a lot of hats in her lifetime. Why shouldn't one of them be a crown?"

Why not indeed. Tonight I wish I had a crown of my own, and a crown to place on the head of every woman who feels like a stranger in her own community. For every child-bearing, vaccuum running, dish washing, tear wiping, diaper changing, hard working, creative thinking, deeply exhausted, seemingly unnoticed woman out there who is playing the part of drone as her inner queen bee wastes away.

So maybe it's just me (this could be true since I also broke down in the van as I listened to Alabama's song "If You're Gonna Play in Texas You gotta have a fiddle in the band." Don't ask me why.) But for some reason, those words got right to my heart today. Good thing mind candy isn't counted in calories!!