The other day, I listened to an episode of one of my favorite podcasts, The Moth, which is a collection of people telling stories live and on stage, with no notes. Great stuff. Sometimes funny, sometimes heart wrenching, always human. The one I was listening to this week, by a woman named Lizz Winstead, started off as a humorous travelogue. It wasn't until the end of her story, The 25 Cent Spa, that I was stopped still and humbled, as was she by her experience. She visited Morocco with two friends, and they found themselves trying to do something both genuine to the location but also comfortable to their Western psyches. Thus, a 25 cent spa. You should really listen to it if you get a chance, but if you don't, what she came to at the end that while she and her friends were there to pay to have someone else scrub them down, the other women, the local women, were there to share intimate, caring time with each other. They were bathing each other, washing each other's hair, sharing. Lizz's closing line was that after this experience, she promised herself that she would only have female friends who would be willing to wash her hair.
Yes. I'm on board for that. Really, why would I share any more of my life with those that don't care about me enough to connect on that level? Thank you, Jesus, for the gift of the women who I'm inviting to write with me on this blog, any one of whom I'd be glad to lather, rinse, and repeat.
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