Damaged Goods

Surgery over.  I am damaged goods now.  I was thinking that I would go into this parish dinner/dance/fundraiser tomorrow night amidst all these people who are so elegantly dressed up.  Will I see myself as "damaged goods?" No.  On the outside, yes, I am the duckling among swans.  But in some ways we are all damaged goods just from growing up and living life.  The outside elegant and beautiful look does not change history.  Some of the people at this event were ridiculed in school, or bullied, or thought they did not fit in.  Some may have had a parent or other relative who was too critical and unkind.  Some had their hearts broken in love, or got badly treated in a job, or married a disaster.  Stuff happens.  We all share some good inside of ourselves.  We have Godness from our Creator.  So I will live out the evening sharing from my insides and not spend time thinking about me.  Now I might tell everyone that I am dying from cancer, and that they should bid for a dinner with "Father" because it will be a Last Supper for me.  Now that would be a fib, I hope, but the money is for a good cause.  Were my sister Maureen here she would simply say I am a monster who is just now showing monster on the outside, plus I will burn for lying.   I won't think about her at the party.