I'm here alone on this blog. And that's okay. Someday someone will come upon it. But, for now it's a retreat. It's late and I should be sleeping. But, I so enjoy this time alone in a quiet house. I hear the steady and soft breathing of two loves. One next to me in the bed and the other by way of the monitor on the night table.
Baby monitors. We've had one in the house now for twelve years. I listen for the steady inhale and exhale. And I cherish the quietness of his breathing. I try not to allow my mind to wonder into unknown tomorrows. I am so thankful for what I haven't known these past three years. The tales my mind would have spun had we had his diagnosis from the beginning. The Lord's timing is perfect.
So, I ponder the differences between those who define themselves by a thing and those who are insistent on their person-hood first and then just add the thing to themselves. My gut is that it's a small bit of denial but I'm not settled on that theory just yet. "Hi, I'm Susie-so-and-so. I am fifty-two. I am married with two grown children. I love fried chicken. I only wear sweats. And, oh yeah, I have cancer." This may work for a bit. But, what happens when each day and almost every moment revolves around cancer? My mother had cancer. She was treated and recovered. Case closed. Many years have passed. But, what about those who's stories don't play out that way? Is cancer or CF or autism or downs really just an afterthought to life? I wonder how much this pushing back of a label is an effort to disagree and lodge a complaint against the Creator? Don't get me wrong. I'm not suggesting people lay down and die. I'm not suggesting a defeatist attitude. But, does an honest fight require denial? Might there be beauty in those who embrace all that is uniquely their person-hood? Warts and all? It's like being comfortable in your own shoes.
Yesterday I saw a woman entering the dentist office as I was leaving with our daughter. The slender woman stepped out of her youngish vehicle. Her long hair was sporting some bleach and a clip piling it askew on her head. Her skin had the glow of a tanning booth. Large hoop earrings dangled in the sunshine. Her fingers sported large, clunky costume jewelery. The white , v-necked sundress she wore was anchored by spaghetti straps and fell to mid thigh. Lugging her large, gold and silver lame' handbag she walked briskly towards the door on silver lame', ankle-strapped sandals. This woman was not comfortable in her own shoes. Of course, I am speculating. Her age gave her away. The one thing she so desperately was trying to avoid. She was a least fifty-five. If not sixty. She was running from the reality of her age. And, instead of being graceful and embracing who she was, warts and all...........well, she was in denial. She garnered for herself pity instead of admiration. There was a beautiful spark of a woman hidden under all that stuff. I am suggesting that those who look upon her and think, "Wow, that's how I want to be when I'm sixty!" are women just like herself. Running and hiding women who refuse to embrace who and where they are in life. I'm not suggesting this woman run home and put on a polyester pantsuit. Dignity and beauty can be derived from an honest acknowledgment of the facts.
While I don't propose wallering in CF, I don't plan denying it either. I've just put my little toe into the ocean that is CF. But, I think I would be in a strange under -acknowledgment to say that it's not well onto it's way to defining our family. It changes more than it leaves untouched. Will I lay down and play the victim? Absolutely not. But neither will I parade around on a denial cloud to the pity of those around me. I pray that I will, we will, gracefully embrace all that God has for us. For He is not shocked or dismayed. His Word doesn't speak of denying our trials but turning to Him WHEN they come. Am I embracing the enemy? No, just trusting the King.
Now, off to sleep with the lullaby of each breath in my ears.
Baby monitors. We've had one in the house now for twelve years. I listen for the steady inhale and exhale. And I cherish the quietness of his breathing. I try not to allow my mind to wonder into unknown tomorrows. I am so thankful for what I haven't known these past three years. The tales my mind would have spun had we had his diagnosis from the beginning. The Lord's timing is perfect.
So, I ponder the differences between those who define themselves by a thing and those who are insistent on their person-hood first and then just add the thing to themselves. My gut is that it's a small bit of denial but I'm not settled on that theory just yet. "Hi, I'm Susie-so-and-so. I am fifty-two. I am married with two grown children. I love fried chicken. I only wear sweats. And, oh yeah, I have cancer." This may work for a bit. But, what happens when each day and almost every moment revolves around cancer? My mother had cancer. She was treated and recovered. Case closed. Many years have passed. But, what about those who's stories don't play out that way? Is cancer or CF or autism or downs really just an afterthought to life? I wonder how much this pushing back of a label is an effort to disagree and lodge a complaint against the Creator? Don't get me wrong. I'm not suggesting people lay down and die. I'm not suggesting a defeatist attitude. But, does an honest fight require denial? Might there be beauty in those who embrace all that is uniquely their person-hood? Warts and all? It's like being comfortable in your own shoes.
Yesterday I saw a woman entering the dentist office as I was leaving with our daughter. The slender woman stepped out of her youngish vehicle. Her long hair was sporting some bleach and a clip piling it askew on her head. Her skin had the glow of a tanning booth. Large hoop earrings dangled in the sunshine. Her fingers sported large, clunky costume jewelery. The white , v-necked sundress she wore was anchored by spaghetti straps and fell to mid thigh. Lugging her large, gold and silver lame' handbag she walked briskly towards the door on silver lame', ankle-strapped sandals. This woman was not comfortable in her own shoes. Of course, I am speculating. Her age gave her away. The one thing she so desperately was trying to avoid. She was a least fifty-five. If not sixty. She was running from the reality of her age. And, instead of being graceful and embracing who she was, warts and all...........well, she was in denial. She garnered for herself pity instead of admiration. There was a beautiful spark of a woman hidden under all that stuff. I am suggesting that those who look upon her and think, "Wow, that's how I want to be when I'm sixty!" are women just like herself. Running and hiding women who refuse to embrace who and where they are in life. I'm not suggesting this woman run home and put on a polyester pantsuit. Dignity and beauty can be derived from an honest acknowledgment of the facts.
While I don't propose wallering in CF, I don't plan denying it either. I've just put my little toe into the ocean that is CF. But, I think I would be in a strange under -acknowledgment to say that it's not well onto it's way to defining our family. It changes more than it leaves untouched. Will I lay down and play the victim? Absolutely not. But neither will I parade around on a denial cloud to the pity of those around me. I pray that I will, we will, gracefully embrace all that God has for us. For He is not shocked or dismayed. His Word doesn't speak of denying our trials but turning to Him WHEN they come. Am I embracing the enemy? No, just trusting the King.
Now, off to sleep with the lullaby of each breath in my ears.
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