Wedding Day

It was a lovely day, sunny, cool, full of expectancy and activity. Beautiful girls in their finery, my girls, giggling out the door to have hair done and pick up bouquets, down to the venue while we made sure my dear friend was ready for her marathon day doing flowers for the reception with masses of sunflowers, wildflowers,  thistle, ribbon, shells glass beads, poised to turn a large table filled room into something magical. People from all over the country ignored that the wedding was on a work day, and took the opportunity to spend the weekend together before the big event on Monday. There were games and hula hoops, glow sticks and dancing into the late evening. The bride and groom were both radiant, bursting with love for each other. When they entered the room, whether together at the corner of the Krohn Conservatory reserved for the ceremony, or again front and center for the first dance, that love, combined with our mutual love for them seemed to light the place with a different light. A light that emanated from them, to them, toward each other. Unspeakable good will, the ultimate of joie de vivre that was tangible. It was a pinnacle day, fought for and won by the simple acts and words of love that permeated every conversation, blessed every spirit, ignited every memory of every heartfelt kiss. Oh, wedding day!

In the hands of a gracious God

Yesterday was a good day. I actually ate some real food. I got some little projects done for the wedding. I have been making friends with my new oxygen concentrator, which helps. The cat doesn't like it, because it is loud, but it helps me rest better when I lie down. I stayed up way past my usual bedtime and talked to the girls. Our pastor brought our story before the congregation last Sunday, and the prayer that rose up from our faithful people is part of the yesterday's gift of a day. The presence of concentrated oxygen is part of the gift, the new steroid medication starting to work is part of the gift. Secular or sacred, the combined power of science and prayer brought us into the center of a good day, which is the center of God's gracious hands. We cannot hold on to it as if is were our own for all time, it is simply a touch that reminds us that we are not alone in this big world. We sail a sea of troubles, and see calm days and storms. We should never forget that that is God's grace too, because each rolling wave brings us closer to understanding each other and Him, if we pay attention. Thanks to all who pray for us, it is felt and it is appreciated. Thanks to those whose serve us medically, as well. It is all God's work, playing out in our days, caring for us in the ways we need it most.

A Perfect Marriage

My daughter is getting married in a few weeks. In discussion with friends, I told them I thought we had a perfect marriage. I have done a lot of thinking about this, since I have time to do that and I wanted to write something thoughtful in her wedding book. I think of a marriage as a framework for two very imperfect people to use to interact with each other on a daily basis. Kind of like a freeway, or a go kart track, if you will. There are rules to follow, lights to be obeyed, give and take, tight turns and breezy straightaways. This framework, when properly and carefully applied, allows both people to grow into the people they were meant to be, allows for successful child rearing, career growing, personal and spiritual growth. If the rules are applied equally, then each partner will take their turn with the responsibilities specific to them, and neither will be doing all the driving. This framework takes years to build and master, but as it it mastered it becomes more and more important. For each challenge that comes, both imperfect people remember what worked and what didn't and will remember that tight turn and that curve and do what is necessary to successfully complete it. A marriage's goal is to get two people, and their little ones, from the beginning of a life together to the end. It is possible to do it well, evenly perfectly.

In the middle of the night

It is hard to sleep at night when you spend most of the day resting in bed or on the couch. The body is not really tired, muscles are not needing repair, mind is not overwhelmed with the day's events to sort and file. In the middle of the night I find myself most at peace. Usually nothing hurts, the room temperature is comfortable, the bed is soft. My husband is peacefully asleep next to me. I think about my children, comfy in their own beds with their own male companions dozing peacefully beside them. I think about the little grandchildren, dreaming little dreams far away. I feel overwhelming calm and gratitude for the path that I continue to trod, that brings such peace. All is right with the world in the middle of the night. I have kept the faith. I have followed my Lord into the cool of the valley and He comforts me. All of us. He has given me the ability to lie down in green pastures. I can review the chapters of my life story and feel His presence in each one. In the middle of night, I may lie awake, but 100% relaxed, knowing that there is not one place that He is not, and only the light of the morning will tell if I have really gone to Him, or will spend another day in His presence here. It doesn't matter to me.

Towels

I guess because I have cancer I seem to be keenly aware of others around me who have it. One of my nurse friends was just diagnosed last week with leukemia, and the treatment for it is a brutal one. I ache for her and her family. My pastor's mother is struggling with recurrent cancer, as is another pastor we met during Richard's treatment. In their web posts about their struggles, both the newly diagnosed and the chronic, they all mention words of battle, fighting, not giving up, not "throwing in the towel".  I didn't know that life was a picnic until something Job-like happens to you and then suddenly it is a boxing ring. I prefer to think of it like the Olympics commercials pictured it. You start as a child, learning from the loving adults that are placed in your life to encourage, teach and motivate you. You begin to understand the world, yourself, what gifts lie within you. You begin to lean into those gifts, lean into the world, surround yourself with more people who inspire and believe in you until you are able to stand on your own, supported and loved by family, friends and God. Oh, yes, there are towels handed to you to wipe the sweat off your brow, or wipe up the messes that are sometimes made, but there are not yours. They are offered to you. And when life here is done, we all get to the podium together, hand in hand, raised toward heaven in victory. I have no towel to throw in, only one to hand you if you need it. Thanks for sharing yours with me today, I feel better already.

When all is well

It is a peaceful day when everything around you, and everyone you love, is in sync with the best part of themselves. There are no urgent teary phone calls, no odd bills in the mail, no new scrapes on the car. You can feel the peace of the day unfolding like a soft blanket, and you know that today all is well with the world that you know. Those of us in first world countries get lots of these days. We complain about being "broke" but we have more money than most people in the world can even imagine. We complain about our political system, but we live under more freedoms than most citizens of the world. We berate our health care system, but, for the most part, I don't know anyone that can't walk into any emergency room today and get adequate care without paying one cent for it up front. We really complain about everything, from the speed of our phones, to the quality of our burgers, to the price of gas. Yet we have the best phones in the world, we eat more than we should and we continue to buy cars with 40 gallon gas tanks and somehow can afford to fill them up whenever the tank is empty. As I live now, stripped of almost everything I used to hold in such high esteem, I am more than ever appreciating the peaceful days, without complaining. Would that we could see how beautiful they are.

Waves

I have been feeling desperate to see and feel waves all summer. My little construct of a fauxcation to the beach didn't work without them, without the sounds of crashing surf and spray. The only place I knew was close was Soak City, at Kings Island. Even that seemed out of reach, as each day becomes harder to navigate with the limited energy I have. Plus, I am cheap, and didn't want to spend so much money on what would be a short day at the park. For whatever reason, however, I had it in my mind that yesterday would be the day we would go. I had had enough excuses, enough wistful looks at the sights of beach vollyball at the Olympics and the commercials of people at the ocean. So we packed our towels and sunscreen and a book or two and headed off to the park, even with the chance of rain in the forecast. It was everything I hoped, the first look at the curling waves in the Tidalwave pool brought so much joy to my heart that I didn't mind the chilly water, and swam like a little kid. The steel band played, children laughed, the waves tossed us to and fro, we took rides down Splash River. It was a wonderful day. Sunlit waves, gentle against my feet, thank you for filling this heart of mine.