And the theme of March will be grace. Grace upon grace.
grace [ greys ]
verb.
To favor or honor.
I loved having little teeny babies. Man that was a fun time. And I loved their cute little selves when they were toddling around and yes, even when they learned “no.” And although it was a challenging time, preschool was wonderful. I’ve loved being a mom in all the stages and I’ve loved my kids fiercely in each of them, too…but cancer caused a total recalibration of HOW I loved them.
It’s because of that that I can say that I am LOVING the ‘grow-up.’ Coming home tonight to all my girls, having real conversations and laughing with them, having relationship and enjoying each other’s presence is such a joy. And truly, I believe deep in my heart, that cancer changed the trajectory of my relationships with my girls. It changed each of us from the deepest parts of our beings…something probably not really able to be articulated into words.
What a paradoxical reality that the devastating trauma of cancer can be held in the same hands as the most intricately beautiful transformation… and the catalyzing force: grace.
*Post 1081
Miles Upon Miles :: 3/18/18 :: Post 194
Ugh. Snow is unwelcome…. I do love snow but I gotta drive from home to Rose to SkyRidge to work tomorrow morning. *eye roll
I get to do that drive twice this week in addition to my home – Rose – work routine on the other days.
The amount of appointments is insane….and it won’t stop anytime soon….
And driving isn’t so fun anymore since my terrible car accident…
Miles upon miles upon miles have been logged. Both literally and figuratively…..
On that note, bedtime.
Just Okay. But Grateful :: 3/18/19 :: Post 552
“I’m okay. Just okay”…… I still cannot get myself to say “I’m good” or “I’m great” but I also don’t always have to say “I’m bad”…
What I can say is “I’m grateful”…
Even though I hurt, even though I’m exhausted and my resilience is waning, I continue to recognize what I am grateful for….
No Post for 3/18/20
Grace in the For :: 3/16/21
REPOSTED because it didn’t save
And the theme of March will be grace. Grace upon grace.
grace [ greys ]
noun.
A pleasing or attractive quality; beauty of manner.
Well, my kiddo’s junior volleyball season started tonight…all backwards and inside out seeing as it normally happens in August through November. Nonetheless (and despite covid) we still get a season. It’ll be wacky and who knows how the season will end because as it is we’re already having to adjust the schedule due to another team’s positive covid exposure, but hey, game one is in the books. And we won. In three sets. (PS for those non-volleyballers, that’s called a “hatchet” and it’s not entirely that easy no matter who your opponent is).
But what I really want to write about is that this team has an identity that I haven’t really seen in any other team that I’ve coached. I’ve seen a glimpse of it before…I’ve seen a high-ish percentage of it on some teams prior…but this team owns it outright — they are truly FOR each other. The selflessness and the heart for each other’s success is so obvious, so tangible, so gracious that not only are they fun to coach because they are good, they are a joy to coach because they aren’t selfish. They are individuals contributing to a whole…but what makes them different is they see the whole before they see the parts. They prioritize the success of the collective and then the bonus is the success of the one.
Sadly so many teams have that backwards. And I’ve coached plenty of teams like that. But not this one.
There is so much grace in the for. And I’m so proud of these teenagers for getting it. AND I get to learn and live alongside them.
*Post 1079
Crazy :: 3/16/18 :: Post 192
I said a crazy sentence today….
I was telling my coworkers today that I love my radiation oncology team, how I have grown to love starting my day with them, how I’ll be kinda bummed when my day won’t start with them, how I wish I could be friends with them.
That in and of itself is interesting…
But then I said, “At least I’ll get to go back and see them and it won’t be goodbye.”
It may not seem all that strange to hear that sentence…but break it down for a sec….
“At least”
“I’ll GET to go back”
“it won’t be goodbye”
Wild that I’ve gotten to a place in this storm where 1. I am glad to get to see those, 2. who have provided treatment (life-saving but death-causing poison) to me in the, 3. mindset of the long term (because goodbye would be too hard and I’ve accepted the big picture of cancer). *eyes wide open
It stopped me in my tracks as I was saying it. I didn’t even actually finish the sentence. It was too wild to even say out loud.
Crazy.
Harder :: 3/16/19 :: Post 550
So tired. Cancer makes everything harder.
The Oddity of [the] Time[s] :: 3/16/20 :: Post 853
What a strange time we are in…Coronavirus is global. Cities are essentially shutting down. Toilet paper is gold. People are mean. The panic is high. The uncertainty, real.
For me, I am wondering what I’m missing because, well, I have the normal amount of toilet paper in my house…and I’m not clamoring to go get apocalypse-preparedness-punch-strangers-in-the-face amounts to fill my closets.
I am not intending to shame anyone who is scared or fearful and there is the very real possibility that the joke could be on me in a week’s time, but I am simply not even the least bit unnerved. Certainly, the implications on the economy are a reality no matter how I feel about the virus itself so I’ll just have to wait and see how that all plays out, but the playing field is level…no one else *really* knows, either. And I know better than to play the predicting game.
I don’t measure time traditionally anymore. I don’t think of seconds to minutes to hours to days to weeks to months to years… similar to how I feel “progress” redefined. It’s not one foot in front of the other, it’s not ‘further away’ from something and ‘getting closer’ to another. I am not counting down to some “I just know what’s coming” predicted next thing. Instead, I’m watching everything around me move on the traditional track while I sit in my own ambiguous, formless, trackless time.
I have been oddly reminiscent lately of diagnosis, of those first days where I was suffocating with news that sat heavy on my soul. Today, the tears come easily; the memories, sharp. I see myself on the operating table, tubes and wires and doctors working hard to keep me alive and trying to buy me more time on this earth. I close my eyes and the feeling of the razor shaving off my hair is as real as it was on October 24 of 2017. I feel the intense nausea of chemotherapy. And at the same time of those *memories*, I can literally feel my scars twinge. My nerve endings a mess. My implants, painful. My abdomen, hollow. My arthritic joints throb and zing. My skin itching with no relief because I can’t actually feel the scratch intended to relieve it. My past and my present colliding in an odd synchrony as I sit here with a very unknown future. Just like everyone else.
But no longer does fear sit with me.