Stars Everywhere, Everywhere

Like she knew

the heavens

Everywhere, everywhere

like

the flickering of dust

On a story yet to be told.

Like, Battle wounds

scattered across my body

and / shattered inside my heart

AND of all the millions of things

to shift my focus

I choose glory

His Glory

because

without my scars

I am a broken story

Her notes

of stars, everywhere everywhere

reminds me of the divine,

echoes my soul

and it’s like God knew

to put this child in my arms

under the stars

Everywhere, Everywhere

Amen.

Glory Be to our Broken Parts...

For this is where God finds us… in our brokenness, and it is where we find ourselves in HIM, the divine… and when I receive the light (currently the most beautiful shade of blue that you have never seen) -

AND I REMEMBER

All the little treasures I’ve collected in my prayers -

the messages, the signs, the connections, the answers….

AND I THINK

What if I just leap,

                               not a leap of faith but a leap of (know)…. 

                                                                                                        I’ve lingered in faith…

I am a guest in the spiritual world, 

but if ever 

understood

in this little soul of mine

something was revealed to me 

in all those years ago 

at nine —-

when I knew nothing 

but understood everything -

was given a gift 

but I buried it—- hoping it wouldn’t go away until I understood it

And understand, 

 I do not…. not. 

but I do KNOW

prayer as an experience

I do KNOW a glimpse of the other side,  on a short visit. 

And so its time to stop practicing doubt 

It’s time to leap into the divine masterpiece of life, understood as mysterious by design.

There is something I am to teach, or show, or share… 

In God’s timing so …. till then, we meet in this soliloquy  of poetic prose

drawing us nearer to its destination…

AMEN

Sacred Prayer

It was in this room

Except not like any room

This belly of a whale, this sacrifice of a trial

And not knowing of it

Not speaking of it

And beyond its shadows

It wasn’t unlike this room

This belly of the whale

Sitting and waiting

Paralyzed in fear - is that a thing

Finding my breath

And my cage just opened

Was I to go, or - write

or both

With little light touching

bare fingertips, like sand etched

in the crevices of my mind -

How I breathe

And how I hope for

life, gratified in authenticity

graced in this breath

beyond the belly

to obedience and purpose

AMEN

3 AM

Some spiritual wake up calls are 

         louder than others 

And 

a snooze button is disobedient 

         to the call 

Yes 

I am here 

Yes 

What can I do 

Yesterday, I felt such a presence 

Still do 

And in my very vivid 

(Dreams) 

I see my prayers, mine and 

Those said 

And 

I felt healed

I imagined 

Water pouring through 

But no 

Not even 

The prayers revealed mud 

Thick healing 

Mud 

And He woke me up at 3 

Which means I am to write 

So here we are 

We were born from rib 

So is it a stretch that I feel reborn? 

I’m asking God...

We are born every moment I suppose 

And this moment 

You are here. 

And

I am here 

And 

Maybe that is my practice 

Because in all things

You have to be here

To begin 

I am here 

Bare bones 

Subtlety exposing the layers of prayer 

AMEN

Day 1... Again

Like watching. and thinking… and here we are, and I didn’t think I’d be ready…

but I am… and some of it’s strength -

But.

A lot of it is peace….

And it came at me this morning at 7:17

not so much like a strike but as a warmth

that

(I know this sounds super obvious but….)

peace comes from within

I have been struggling

almost my whole life… to balance… to be

and at 7:17

I felt peace, but within…

Is it crazy, or stupid, or over simplified?

I don’t know.

But it made me think….

of everyone praying for me today

and of how happy I am today

and I thought I think this is peace

I think I feel peace

And the day keeps getting better

AMEN.

Waking the Story...

In the gray mist shuffling across the sky…

expanding it’s human undertones

… the song

eh eh echoes

Being and rising

blinding…

borrowing inspiration -

flowing

knowing and not -

knowing

Painted in glory…

Are you there?

I can’t sleep anymore

10:01, 11:01, 12:01

Wake up this story

- you call me and I am here

Wake up this story

- I am listening

Wake up this story…

- what shall I say?

Can I say I don’t want this cross, can I tell you it’s too much? Can I tell you that?

Still, I am obedient to the call.

You are ever Present, You deliver me from all evil, and You protect me from all illness.

I need only to dip into the the sea of Your graciousness….

I know I will fall, but only to rise stronger, in my experience of Your Grace…

I am always enough.

You continue to remind me that the only real truth is Yours and that I am not bound by anything that is not from You.

I have been reminded… that I have done this before.

This is not new, and yet you give it to be to bear once more. Why?

If I listen… will I know? Am I to know?

Is it part of my purpose…

Amen.

I AM

Thirsting for a Cleanse 

   like - bathing in holy water…

like - singing in a hail storm…

like - being drenched in strength…

hmm, yes.

like feeling the signs I experience as -

God Himself 

  like realizing the miracle

life is not accidental but purposeful 

And this purpose all ready is - it already knows 

that which is

                           …it follows a divine river -

bends itself within 

           finds itself spoken 

knows itself true

         minds itself 

              bares itself

inscribes itself in every word I ever spoke -

and sinks itself in.

I AM

Amen.

Absolutely, Jesus

Wish I could be distracted, lose focus, think of something besides life -

tonight, I don’t want to scream in silence, tonight I want to be heard…

tick tock goes the clock

Still, I want to take care of things myself -

even healing from surgery…. it’s so hard to get help, so hard not to get your own water -

the absolute surrender, the absolute faith

the absolute honest whisper to yourself - I don’t like this

And here is the other thing….

I don’t know any of this beyond the assuredness of my own soul, but -

some of my experiences of cancer have been a walk with the Holy Spirit…

others have been a walk with God…

And this is a walk with Jesus….

The Holy Spirt fills me with divine fire, gives me the courage to feel my warrior self -

God gives me the wisdom to feel whole, to trust myself, and to breathe…

This experience is new, this is Jesus, I don’t want to surrender,… anything but that… I need to research, deep dive into the bible, there has to be a way to surrender and fight simultaneously…

leave me verses, quotes, or thoughts -

(the television show in the background just said “look like you are looking up to Jesus”… I kid you not)

so I am going to go ahead and trust my soul on this one… Jesus is here

Verses for the grace to fight - and to surrender, but not to the battle, never surrender to the battle….

AMEN.

Follow the Cry

I wake up

wanting everything that I know that I cannot have…

the assurance that everything will be okay -

the promise of tomorrow.

And I just scream in silence, and -

I just want the battle to begin…

Let the rain pour in cascades,

wear me down, wash everything away -

let holy oils melt the shadows

And then let the rain break, completely shatter me -

don’t let the dust settle -

I am running through the fence -

catching my breath only in the distance - raising another crescendo of a cry

I will never give up -

take any piece of me…

We are in quiet time

It’s here

And I’m going to keep calling out…

AMEN.

The Prayer Circle

I know.

I know for sure the infinity of prayers I am receiving is the very reason - the very reason I can

Breathe ….

Still, you can’t really properly prepare for this type of pain or anticipate the recovery.

You have to trust every moment. You have to be present every moment. You have to live every moment.

The Grace comes from the prayers. Not from within… though sometimes I think the overflow of prayers makes it feel that way.

This divinity simply wavers in and out of the the wrinkles of my story… the wrinkles of my -

being…

Much like the blanket that I continually adjust… this Grace… that is -

God’s grace wraps me in patterns I cannot imagine… heals me in ways I do now know… and holds me in silence I cannot hear -

It’s the here I rise again, and again and however many more times…

because it is 100% grace that will see me through -

as it pitters and it patters it’s way, learning to adapt; learning how to move, to breathe… to be still, to be -

I’m learning to share my spirit, learning to ride the spiritual wave that fills me on the daily… learning how to share this miracle -

I’m understanding this story, I’m trusting, because if I have the faith to do so… I can be obedient to this call - the one I am stepping into, from a world not so long ago….

Amen

The Call...

I looked and thought I saw a ghost…

I thought maybe it was myself just checking in with me

You know like how shock can hit so hard it’s almost out of body.

But then I remembered something. From a not so distant past.

A walk of sorts. With Christ that is.

Like a meandering walk. Like an I don’t know where I’m going walk…..

As a child I just kept pace.

And now. I feel it again. The invite. The presence. It’s all here again.

It’s going to get so quiet. I can feel it.

It’s already here.

And I know it’s going to be okay. And I know I’m going to be okay. And that road.

I guess I will be paving it.

This time I will share it. This time you will know the story…. I don’t know why, I just know that it’s part of the call.

It’s going to get really quiet and that’s part of my being obedient…

And then it’s going to get really loud… that’s going to be the miracle.

Set your heart…. it’s go time….

Amen.

The Rewrite

I’ve been training for this my whole life. Being obedient to the call.

I remember it so vividly as a child…. before I questioned it with doubt…

Before, it’s always before. Like life trying to circle back upon itself, but it’s not even a circling or a remembering….

It’s the sketch of my soul surfacing, with the scratches and erase marks, maybe crumpled, maybe torn -

Not because the original was not divine, just because I danced in the rain, forgot the way home, and maybe even hid within for awhile…

Maybe lingered, maybe shouted, maybe threw a storm into my heart -

Maybe wore it as a hat, maybe used it as a sword,

Maybe fell asleep too early, maybe fell asleep too late

Maybe….now, maybe right now - its time to hold the sketch to the light, and let it be

Cause I’ve been training for this my whole life, its time to go to that place - gloves off, and FIGHT

MY SOUL KNOWS THE WAY

AND GOD HAS THIS - WHICH MEANS I DO TOO…

I just need all the prayers to light the night… let’s do this

The soul doesn’t need reminding, it doesn’t need awakening…

its always rising to the call -

I have been training for this my whole life….

Amen.

Coffee with God....

In truth, I wrote this yesterday… before my results. I always write in real-time but I could not bring myself to post this before I knew. I mean I know I knew but only in my heart.

It’s like this feeling that comes and goes, like a breath that comes and goes but maybe not in the exhale that you expect, maybe in a softer pause, like a light that glows for just a moment, flickering as it does — as no one else sees or feels.

cause it’s just there… but for you it’s something else….

For you it’s something much different and this pause isn’t really a pause

Everyone is still moving, you are the pause, the pause is you —

but even you are moving, so really the pause is just the breath, and really you aren’t breathing because you took this moment…

Its hours before I will have the results from the four months of testing and waiting and… pretending?

I don’t know if I am pretending as much as surviving…..

but in some other manner that is more like leaning into normal —

because everything may be the same or everything may be entirely different and never the same.

I’ve had so many of these moments… the ones where reality shifts in a blink. We all have them all the time—

only sometimes the shifts are more extreme than others. This shift could be big or it could be nothing at all…

and so I sit and let myself experience the shifting….

I let myself fall and I let myself rise.

Because whatever it is…

I am here.

Amen

The Plan...

I used to think I knew,

I know.

I used to have a plan,

I know.

Still.

I thought I knew.

Found myself envisioning a family….

Praying for love,

Moving towards a dream - —

moving towards something that never

existed.

Something that never was.

Except

a baby girl

for which I could never imagine such a miracle.

And then that prayer that was my life went

SILENT

And

We didn’t know where we belonged - we were quite literally shifted.

A home we thought we would be ours forever, would be no more…

But even more so, it would be taken sooner than promised.

We found ourselves homeless -

Literally and figuratively.

I couldn’t figure out how to take that loss for her nor I….

And

I didn’t know where we belonged.

Moving in with my parents - an embarrassing feat as a parent….

And finding out that I had cancer.

And

I didn’t know where I belonged.

Was I in crisis mode or survival mode?

I knew the cancer, I understood it.

I didn’t know the loss of betrayal -

in being homeless

in fighting cancer with a child….

I only had cancer as a youth and as a young adult. This felt different.

Where did we belong?

All this with the first year of her starting school, my first year as a school parent….

We weren’t sure if we belonged.

We only saw whole families. We only felt loss.

Our whole life was building him. His career, his life.

Where did we belong?

We just couldn’t see it yet.

God moving us into the Light…. from a darkness we couldn’t yet see.

The Plan was gone long before I knew anything had changed.

Sometimes…. I still don’t know where I belong….

Sometimes… I still wish I had the plan….

But then I remember two things….

For I know the plans I have for you…

Jeremiah 29:11

and

When the time is right, I, the Lord, will make it happen…

Isaiah 60:22

So I take a deep breath… and remind myself.

We already belong.

Amen

It Keeps Ringing...

In my mind… it just keeps ringing like a friendly reminder to do something.

I keep telling myself that I will look it up, and I will remind myself - but then there is homeschool, and laundry and fear, and well… everything.

I mean, I feel pretty safe, it’s just fear of what’s next. Still I just don’t find the time to go and remember… because - I have things to do, right?

But today, it just kept ringing in my mind, and -

Well, then a note from a dear friend reminded me that - it was important…

and then, a phone call with a dear friend did the same thing.

So I just stopped.

I navigated in a honing manner, trying to remember where my one physical copy of the book I wrote was located. And fortunately, I found this book rather quickly.

Then I just had to find the one sentence that continued to ring in my ear.

Most of the book is a spiritual and physical journey of isolation, when I was 11 - for my bone-marrow transplant. It was 3 months of strict isolation, with masks, and gloves and constant sanitizing, There was life and death and physical distancing. I could only see my brother and sister behind a glass window. My parents were allowed in the room but only with masks for awhile.

So then I wondered, how long would it take to find this sentence? And I worried, was I wasting my time, could I even find this sentence?

But there it was, on page 11, nonetheless.

maybe I needed to believe

that the walls which held me in

would one day let me go…

In some ways I feel primed for isolation… I missed 56 days of school in the 4th grade, 78 days in the 5th grade and I missed all of 6th grade. I didn’t have a tutor because I was too sick. I was an avid student but still I joined my class in the 7th grade. It all happened. So I feel like there is hope for all of us homeschooling.

This time feels surreal and also familiar.

the isolation of the bone-marrow transplant room provided the space for me to appreciate the depth of a single moment. The room was white and spacious, with a heavy wooden door. I looked through two windows to a sanitation wash room. In front of my bed was a large, white shelf unit with a television. To the right of the bed was a nightstand as well as a window with a window seat, where my mom slept for three months. The room was a paradox of simple complexity as its purpose gave the room another dimension. Doctors can save lives in ordinary rooms.

In some ways , I am always leaving this room. But now, being back in isolation… I am remembering. I’m not exactly sure what it is - its spiritual, yes.

I was right at that threshold, and I left it, I just need to remember why. What was I sent back to do? What is my purpose? I feel like we are all considering these clarities.

What are our values, what is our mission, what is our purpose?

And also, I had no fear. At the edge of life there is no fear. I remember that. I do remember that. And while it shows up now… I am remembering that those walls did let me go. We will be let go… so remember these moments… your soul will.

Remember what your soul is calling you to do. And enter that deep prayer. Take that step.

AMEN.

Sacred Calls...

There is always space, always pause. 

It doesn’t have to be dramatic or life changing. Sometimes it is. 

It’s human nature to survive. 

But sometimes I forget to stop running from the lion, to come out of hiding, to just move,

or to stop fighting my own shadow. 

Still, I keep growing. It’s an edge, and I keep growing.

Not happily ever after, but happily ever now. 

Today was my 4 month post breast cancer checkup. 

In some ways it feels like a lifetime ago. In someways it feels like yesterday. 

I feel like that is the experience of time with God. Time doesn’t really exist. 

Anyway… I noticed a little shift in that quiet inner voice of mine today. 

It wasn’t really my voice. At least not in the way that I know it.
I’ve been praying so hard for what I want - what I feel like I need. 

I want financial freedom. I want to pay for my responsibilities… and for that to happen - I need a job. And though I feel like I have applied for every possible position… nothing.

And my inner voice says - failure. 

And my inner voice says - FAILURE

And my inner voice says - uh hello FAILURE

HMM. 

BUT SOMETHING SHIFTED. 

I still sort of feel this way. 

But having this checkup also gave me that pause and space that I mentioned. 

I had 40 minutes while waiting to see my doctor - and I couldn’t apply for another job. 

So I listened. Then I got a little restless. So I prayed. Then I got a little restless.

I pulled out a book and started reading about obedience and the very word almost made me put it down. 

But then I realized it was more about being obedient to our spiritual calling and less to the “should” of our daily life. 

I said the included prayer - of how I could be more obedient to this spiritual calling, to God. And quite honestly I had no idea what would come, if anything, but I did in fact completely surrender. 

I am in that place, where I am hopeful but I have no idea what to do. I keep going, but I am not sure where. 

Like most of us starting over, I didn’t see it coming. 

All day I kept hearing. 

YOU NEED TO WRITE. 

All day, I ignored it. 

Finally I was like God, why can’t you just tell me how to be obedient? 

To which I heard… 

YOU NEED TO WRITE… 

It was a little louder in my mind this time. 

Well. It’s scary to write. It’s my absolute passion, but it doesn’t mean the risk is any less. 

Usually when I mention this, someone will tell me - then just write for yourself… 

For me, writing is sacred - and the sacred part is in the sharing… like sharing a meal. The call is a communal one.

I think we are all called to be vulnerable at times. 

I am not going to write this and pretend that I don’t care about earthly blessings.

But my pause today, helped me to realize that I have some very major changes to make in my life if I want a long, quality life. 

I have survived 4 battles with cancer, but I have some battle wounds. A weaker heart for one….

The warrior in me is listening…  

Amen.

27 Years...

Yesterday was my own New Year… December 30, 1992 is when my body began to rebuild itself - as if for the first time.

No one knew. No one could know - if I would live or die. It wasn’t the only waiting game in my life, but it was the most extreme.

We were 18 little buds… waiting to survive the winter -

and for as grateful as I am… this is for the 16 who didn’t leave that floor with me. I know you get this…

It’s in the way we breathe, it’s in the fold of our face, it’s in the pores of our skin and it shouts in silence. 

It’s in our movement and in our still-ness; it’s in our essence and in our non essence. It’s in our life... 

and in our loss. 

Our soul.

I’ve been silent. And not because I don’t have thoughts. The opposite really. And it wasn’t that I didn’t know how to compose them. 

It was an intentional silence. A breath… an attempt to reach for something. I’m not really sure what. I was just listening. 

It was a very methodical act.

I keep circling around this question of whether this writing means anything, and if it does...

What?

I find it so much easier to appease the spirit than the flesh. 

I trust my spirit more than I do my body. And it’s not like I don’t understand why.

Bodies can and do fail us, but the soul never does. 

And yet, 

We have to find a balance - a way to coexist. 

Eating. 

That’s the first thing I had to learn how to do again. Back then. With my bone marrow transplant. 

I couldn’t even leave the hospital till that was accomplished. 

I didn’t have any tastebuds. They hadn’t come back yet. 

So it was like what kind of texture can I tolerate and which will feel the worst if my body rejects it. 

And it started just like that... the poetry. 

A way to speak to my body. I had to find the language of my soul to reconnect. 

They say a picture is worth a thousand words. 

I am always creating... thinking in pictures. 

What does that have to do with now. Like right now. Not sure I can tell you - but let me paint a picture.  

I get anxious with my reflection. 

It’s uncomfortable. I never know what I will see. 

And maybe part of that is treatment. I’ve had so much treatment in my life. Even in between cancer I have a plethora of medication. And it changes you. 

That’s okay - but it’s disillusioning. 

Last year, at this same time, I’d received just two months of chemo. This Christmas, I’ve been off chemo for two months. 

We ‘re always reconciling with change. 

Remember those pictures in Highlight magazine. The ones where you had to spot ten differences. I could do it in a heartbeat. It’s as if I knew without looking. 

Why?

I was trained to look for what was wrong with this picture. 

That’s survival. At least a big, huge part of it. 

It’s nothing you learn consciously. Or even accept. It’s just there. It just shows up. 

And that’s the reconciliation. 

It’s the I’m okay, you’re okay, but what if I’m not okay scenario. 

And I’m not talking relapse. 

I never think of getting cancer again. Check. 

It’s just the unknown becomes a much larger force.  And that’s not always a bad thing. 

I can sense the miraculous at my fingertips, but as a survivor, I also wonder when I will ever be good enough - whole enough. 

Because if there is one truth (at least for me) ...

You will never be the same. 

And not just in who you are within, but you will never see yourself again. Not “that” you. 

I haven’t spoken with enough survivors of any type of trauma to know if this is universal. I do know I’m not completely alone. 

I used to fear this reconciliation. I didn’t understand it. 

But. 

I do feel like my greatest knowing... was hearing - always hearing the story. That’s what an image is. It’s not something we look at. It’s a story being told.

Maybe it’s because of my poetry classes. And maybe it’s from reading so many poems in so many voices - from Santa Clause to princesses etc. (a class requirement).

And in this reading - we were counting syllables - how they fell from our lips like songs, and 

....knowing whether the rhythm matched the story - or whether another layer... existed. 

How to stretch A word so it’s tone fell

             upon itself 

                          with.... in    itself

                                       so that the breath 

it      self... became the story. 

and as the breath is the soul -

I guess we have come...          full circle. 

AMEN. 

Lights... And... Life...

WellI, I think Stella is even more excited than I am… 

I smile.

She says now “she can hug me on both sides…”

This was in response to - are you excited to have your port removed?

I was staring at the bright white lights of the surgery room - in and out of time. 

Well, she laughed - in a few days anyway. You’ll be sore for a bit.

Oh yeah.. hahaha. 

I came back to the conversation. Well, a few more days after a year isn’t too long to wait. 

We’ll have you ready to go soon, my nurse explained. Let’s just go over a few things. 

I confirmed my name, date of birth and allergies for maybe the 100th time. That’s okay - better safe than sorry. 

Okay she said, now we are just going to get you wrapped up and put these cold stickers on you - 

Un hun. Sounds good, I chirped. 

Only in my mind, I was wondering… as they wrapped my arms up, strapped my body to the table, and began to create a mountain tent of blue surgery towels… is it strange how comfortable I am? 

I felt at home. Like it was norm. 

Send me to a school event, or anything social, and I am totally out of my element. 

How much “me” do they want, how much can they tolerate? What is an acceptable amount of “me-ness”?

And not that I have had a ton of operations, just, enough - 

Enough to feel like I get it. I know what’s expected, and I’m good at it. 

Except I was awake for this surgery.

Anyway.

I had a nurse at my feet - I could feel her moving about, but I could not see anything due to the massive tent. 

My doctor was at my left shoulder - I could smell what I think was some cauterization of my skin. She also had a nurse assistant handing her whatever she called out for… 

I also had a nurse at my head, narrating the surgery, as my doctor pulled on the port to move it through - without it snapping. 

She had my neck prepped for another incision just in case - but she didn’t need it. I have a scar on my neck from my childhood central line - which did snap. 

I had yet another nurse on my right, looking at vitals - I’m thinking. She also rubbed my arm once in a while and just checked in with me.

It was actually one lovely conversation - but somehow those white walls and white lights make the boundaries much clearer - I didn’t have any social anxiety. 

Though I did wonder, after the fact, if you are supposed to talk during surgery???? Oh well. 

It also doesn’t turn mom brain off. 

At one point I was hoping Stella got 100 on her spelling pre-test so she could get  the challenge words that she wants.

I was also praying she would be kind to my sister who was picking her up from school.

And I was feeling anxious about her ballet test the following day- for which she missed the review due to a family visit…

But then I looked at the white lights again…

And I so appreciated the reverence of surgery.

Because really, at that moment, it was just my surgeon, my team, myself and God.

And yes, it’s a surgery you could laugh at, you could scoff at it - just a port removal.

But that’s not the point. 

They still treated the surgery, and myself, with a reverence - the operating room is still sacred - regardless of its purpose.

I still had to wear the garments, the lovely surgery cap, they still ran all the procedures.

The rituals and the values are what were highlighted for me. 

I was enough, the surgery was enough, 

Oh she said, as she began to close up, tell your daughter I said she can hug you “on both sides” in just a few days. 

I smiled. You know, like that REAL smile. 

Thank you, I said, and all the other mom worries went away. 

Amen. 

Love is Enough....

As a writer I’m always diving into perception and looking at all facets -

using language as art, and feasting on tones and syllables.

Because a voice is precious... 

And as Stella is discovering her own passion for writing - I found a journal for her to experiment. 

And though this was last night - I just can’t stop thinking about her entry. 

In response to “what is your favorite phrase?”

love you. 

My heart. And also my assumptions. This beautiful little girl gets life. I expected some sassy remark or funny joke. Not that those would have been wrong or any less - it’s just...

Sometimes, love you - is all we need. 

And in all the things I tell her... in all the things I feel bad about or can’t change - she hears me 

And it’s not just that... 

If that’s her favorite phrase then that’s also her lens - it’s her, room with a view,

It’s her soul. 

This was a challenging year for us, but this tells me everything. 

I feel like I keep being reminded to embrace the child-like mind. 

Sometimes we, or rather I, complicate... worry or feel not quite good enough....

But then I hear it... 

Love you

Amen.

Post Workout....

Well it’s not really even a workout.

Last year I couldn’t do anything.

Actually, I take that back. Considering the amount of energy I had - I moved mountains. And by mountains - I mean my daughter.

She didn’t miss a thing and either did I. Of course, we had a lot of help. Even so. I didn’t miss a smile, a hug or a pitter patter of running feet, flying into a cartwheel.

I stayed present. It took everything I had, but I did it. I was present.

And now.

WELL NOW…

I have a tiny bit more strength. It is coming, I can feel it.

So much so that I -

1. I had the brain power to use sign up genius, signed up in a timely manner, and thus was able to volunteer for the first grade donuts with grandparents.

2. I was able to follow up with volunteer duties by folding and rolling tables, setting up chairs, serving donuts and participated in clean up crew etc.

Why is that such a big deal?

I passed out when I got home. I mean I literally passed out. I was just going to rest for a second.

And then, delayed muscle soreness. I was hurting so bad. Actually I still am.

My body now considers serving donuts a workout.

I felt pretty pathetic at first. And then it clicked.

I felt better so I did more - and this exhaustion and soreness is just a sign from my body - no different than any workout. So it was a plus.

And rest is okay.

But, just as easily, this could have gone wrong - and it almost did.

The signs of exhaustion and soreness weren’t bad messages, but they were important.

I need a little time to recover (still) and I will be going to sleep early. By listening to my body, I am growing stronger.

If I had followed my original feeling - of being pathetic, I couldn’t have heard my inner wisdom, or the Holy Spirit.

The truth is that there is still chemo in my body. AND I did have major surgery a little over a year ago. My nerves are both numb and painful everyday. They never stop trying to create new pathways from the broken ones.

I still have a lot of lymphedema from the surgery as well. That has made summer really fun, trying to cover it up. And with lymphedema comes inflammation, and with inflammation comes pain.

Also, bending over makes me want to pass out. That’s because of the postural orthostatic tachycardia…it makes exercise challenging.

Point being, I am not pathetic. But what if I told myself that?

And I have, like, for years.

So then what does my body do in return?

It stops communicating - and I stop trying, because we are no longer connected.

Only that’s not what happened. Not this time.

I loved my donut workout. I love that my brain could handle it.

Last year was surviving, this year is healing.

I’ve only just started listening to my body. I wonder how much more I will learn?

All the stories to tell, all the wisdom to learn.

I am a beginner.

Amen!

p.s. My next post will be about what to expect with a double mastectomy… I did so much searching before mine, I just didn’t find what I needed. I’m not sure the women who need it will find me, but just in case, I have to share. One story ignites another… so it’s not for me to decide or determine… just to share.