I got a testimony.

Okay. I know, I know. This is getting nauseating. But alas, there is more.

I was talking on the phone to my dear friend Tracey H. today and she reminded me of something special that I had forgotten from my wedding day. Though I'm sure you are still dry heaving from the ridiculously effusive love fest I've been having on this blog this week, I couldn't let this day escape me without adding this.

And before I forget to say this, let me tell you what has run through my head. I tell myself that it is quite indulgent and a bit kooky to go all into my thoughts and feelings about Harry on this blog. Because seriously, a bunch of people come here because they heard it was a medical blog. Then they arrive and are all like, Huh? As well they should.

But the thing is. . . .the Harry part of my life is very much intertwined with the doctoring part. My peace of mind on this front helps me with the work front and honestly-to-goodnessly, a substantial part of my reflections involve things that are not happening at Grady Hospital.

So this is what that's all about and I would apologize but I would just be disingenuous. So. . uhh. . .yeah.

Anywho.

Tracey and I trained together in Cleveland and have remained close friends since that time. When the time came for Harry and me to get married, I knew I wanted her to play a formal part in some way. I asked her to do a special reading and lucky me she readily agreed. I searched high and low for the right poem or words; I even tried to pen a few things myself.

No dice.

And then. . .and THEN! Yes. I remembered this super-rare Stevie Wonder song that I used to listen to way back in the day before I met Harry. The lyrics and the melody never failed to make me super-ugly-cry because back then I really, truly, honestly-to-goodnessly believed that it wasn't possible for me to ever achieve the kind of love that Stevie was singing about in that song.

No exaggeration.

Anyways. I would listen to this song over and over again and just weep and weep. (Feel free to gag again here.) Then I'd pray for the remote possibility that I might actually sing those words about someone and. . . .and mean them. Really, really mean them.

Yeah, right.

So I asked Tracey to read an excerpt of those song lyrics as a part of my wedding ceremony. No. Not sing them. Read them. Which reminds me -- if you are planning a wedding, consider having someone read meaningful lyrics to one of your favorite songs because it goes over quite well. Anyways,  I wanted to hear those words and relive those moments before our family was officially "born" because back then? Man. I was feeling real, real discouraged and disappointed. Hearing those words reminded me of exactly what I'd told Isaiah last Friday:

"Without disappointments we wouldn't appreciate the good times as much."

No, we would not.

So, yes, Tracey reminded me of that reading and those lyrics and sure as I am typing this, I can see the big smile on her face and that twinkle in her eye as she read them. And at the end, for emphasis, she added a little extra umph to that smile and you know? I could have sworn it had a sound effect that sounded something like this:

*ting*

What's the rare Stevie song, you ask? Man. It's one that's so rare that I couldn't even find it on YouTube to embed for your listening pleasure. And that's rare since you can find just about anything and its mama on YouTube. But that's okay because just like on my wedding day, instead of hearing them sung I want you to read them and let them marinate. Then I want you to picture me weeping and wishing and praying for a love for my soul.

A pretty pathetic visual, right? But that Stevie Wonder ministered to my sorrowful little heart back then. And if you read those lyrics, you better believe that he will minister to your heart, too, whether it's sorrowful like mine was or something else altogether.

I love this song because it's hopeful. And it has a testimony in it that can uplift you.

Especially if you've felt discouraged because you've convinced yourself that you don't have a chance at a real true love. Or if you've sat around with a group talking about how every single person that you could possibly be with is either already taken or a scumbag or immature or batting for the other team (regardless of your team of choice) or only likes the race that you aren't or doesn't have a job or isn't the same religion or is the same religion but is like on a way different page or is a cheater or . . or . . or. . .

Yeah. That.

Look. I talk about Harry and me and how we met and how we love because, dammit, I have a testimony. Just like that song, I have a real, true testimony. Like many single women who've been disheartened at some point, I could not see myself with someone that loved me like this unconditionally. No way, no how. Nor could I get my head around being with a mate that allowed me to feel so safe and alright with being my most authentic and flawed version of me.

I mean it. I couldn't.

I believed that eventually I'd settle for end up with some person that I could tolerate or that we'd eventually grow into some smoldering love match even if there weren't too many flames to fan at the beginning. I figured that before that happened, though, my eggs would get too old, shrivel up, and do all of the other things that women sit in dark rooms worrying that they'll do.

Yes. I did all of that.

So what was the secret? Uhhh. . . .hello? There wasn't one. The only thing I can say I did (besides fervently praying) before meeting the BHE was that I stopped hanging out with, talking to, or dealing with anyone who made me feel like I had to try too hard. If I had to pretend like I didn't really like them or like I could care less about marriage or monogamy or commitment or motherhood then I decided to K.I.M. --which is short for KEEP. IT. MOVING.

Sure did.

So at the time that we met, I had NOTHING else going on. Nada. No random straggler calling my phone or popping by my house to confuse the situation. And not one single encounter with any throwback dude in the spirit of black history.

Nope.

Oh what do I mean by black history? Well, in the context of dating, that's when sisters unearth ghosts of boyfriends past. And let me tell you--nothing can sabotage a woman (or man) more than a throwback ghost. And for the record--I call it "black history" because I think that's funny, but not because that kind of stupid decision is limited to black folks.

If you want, you can call yours American History Ex.

(Thank ya very maaaach! I'll be here all week!)

Wait! I just realized in my late night flight of ideas and ramble-ific testifying that I never told you the name of the rare Stevie Wonder song. Whoops. (See? This is what Harry has to live through every single day.)

The song is simply called "I'm new."  And no, I am not saying that I was some old and wretched mess when I met Harry but really? I had longed for a love that would make a part of my soul feel new.

And that is exactly what came to me on the day we met.

Yes. I got a testimony!

I sure do. And whether you are full on retching now or not, this is my sho' nuff testimony. And if I have this testimony, then there is no reason in the world that it can't be yours, too. Not one single reason. Now that's something to shout hallelujah about!

Yes, people. The doors of the church are now open!

***

"I'm New" by Stevie Wonder

Try to envision you as the oldest living someone

Being every night and day all alone

Going through ages and ages, places and spaces

With never finding that someone to call your own

Like a treasure chest of dreams long forgotten

Hidden for good in a stolen lost and found

But just when fate was calling quits

Love appeared in the midst 

of despair, came and turned your life around

I'm new, new like the first day of spring

New like a nightingale that's just learned to sing

I'm new, new like the very start of dawn

Like a child that's first born with your love, I'm new

You're standing amongst a crowd of six billion people

Crying out for help, but no one understands

Cause much to your dismay, you've been taken far away

To a land where joy is pain and sorrow's a happy man

Where an aching heart's the sign of the mighty

And a love-filled heart looks down with fault and shame

But at the very instant all was through, 
lady luck appears, says "love can do"

And changed you like a Christian who's been born again

I'm new, new like the fresh morning dew

New like a work of art that's finally through

I'm new, new like a first flight of a dove

So safe and secure with your love, I'm new

Love took a long time coming to me

But I've gotta say

I owe my thanks to Him for sending you my way, hey

Cause I'm new, new like the first winter snow

Like the start of forever, with infinity to go

I'm new, new like the birth of the sun

Forever young I will be

Cause with your love, I'm new

New like from a restful night of sleep

New like a starving man that's had food to eat

I'm new, nothing compares nor can compete

Sharing with you the sweetness of your love. . . 

I'm new

Yaaaass!! You betta preach, Stevie! (I added that part.Heh.)

***

Now playing on my mental iPod. . . . since the doors of the church are now open. . .

(Now pardon me while I shake my tambourine and do the "happy dance.")

P.S. You can find "I'm new" on iTunes.