Remembrance - Day 17 of 40

So I had 4 babies I wanted to remember - 2 little girls and 2 little boys (daddy's big brother 

and my sister's sweet little one). I really loved the idea of putting them together.

And So loving that these special angel boys are paired with Dr Periman, my cancer dr.

I wasn't too sure about the word "consume" and almost put it back but I thought, no, it's the
word that chose me.  Just sit with it and see what comes.

Then I saw them all grinning at me... I felt AWFUL Monday night and all day yesterday,
throwing up twice, 8 hours apart. Yuck. I'm pretty sure it was the very acidic spaghetti
sauce I'd made with wine in it.

So between them and Archangel Ariel, I saw them wisely reminding me to use care in
what I watch, read, eat, and take in.

Yes.

As an aside, Tadd said "you can't hold your liquor, can you?" 😉 It's not the first time I've
gotten that sick after eating something with wine in it. The last time was after we ate out
to celebrate our 25th wedding anniversary in FL.

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Shutter Happy ~ Day 7 ~ [Pale] Yellow

🌻  . 💛

#shutterhappy

.          *           .

Courage, Dear Heart . . .

. . . and let it be Enough. 

💕

.          *           .

Wonder Woman

A very good way to spend an afternoon.

.          *             .

Breathe September :: Celebrate

Finished this brutiful (<- her word for those beautiful and brutal moments in our lives) 

memoir earlier this evening and was so deeply touched by her story. There aren't many pages 

that don't have something underlined on them!

Tonight I honor and celebrate Glennon's vulnerability, honesty, and most of all her courage as 

she shares her raw and valiant journey home to herself and those she loves. ❤️

And looking forward to "The Wisdom of Story" starting next week taught by Brene Brown 

and Glennon. 

#breatheseptember2016 

#lovewarrior 

#glennondoylemelton (<- thank you! ❤️)

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April Love :: Day 16 :: Dear Legs

Dear Legs,

There've been a few times in my almost 54 years when there was talk of letting the left one 

of you go. 

The first time was when cancer was discovered in my 15-year old body and my "NO" was 

adamant. Smiling softly as my actual words to the orthopedist were "If I'm dying in 6 months, 

I'm taking my leg with me!" 

My new-to-me oncologist had said "the bone cancer you have is one that grows very fast and 

if we don't start you on chemo right away, you won't make it 6 months." While I know he 

never would have gone against my wishes, something I still deeply appreciate about him to 

this day, in hindsight, I don't believe he would've agreed to my NO "as easily" if he didn't 

think it wise.  Instead, I believe he knew that my fierce tenacity would be an important key 

in helping me to survive. ❤️

And the last time, 28 years ago, the raging infection was *so* bad, that third round of infection

since my cancer as a teen. I was 26, had been in the hospital for 3 months starting just 3 weeks 

after we got married, all a short 8 months after I had moved 21 hours away from my entire 

family and the only life I had known.  I was feeling so discouraged and depressed that I 

seriously considered letting go for a very short while. 

Hands down, the hardest time in my life. 

Thank God for the loving angels gathered around me, in particular my sweet husband and a few 

dear ministers. Their kind & willing presence, patient empathy, & wise words helped me know 

that, while things were certainly dire, they weren't life threatening and, at that point, it would 

have been a sacrifice I would deeply regret. . . forever. 

And sure enough, being home with my darlin' hubby and taking lots of soul soothing baths 

(I am a water baby for sure), in time the big, bad infection subsided. 

The only remnants are my left leg is about 8" shorter than my right and I have some pretty big 

battle scars on the outside of my left thigh. But then it was a pretty big battle. 

And between you and a little help from my crutch friends, Bert and Ernie? I get along just fine. 

I am so grateful to still have both of you, dear legs. 

So, *so* deeply grateful. 

Blessed be. 

❤️

#aprillove2016

Edited on 4/25/16 to add:

As I read back over my words this evening I wanted to clarify something that feels really important.

I was still on antibiotics when I went home and closely monitored because my infection was very, very serious. To give you an idea, my doctor at Emory (a big, well-known teaching hospital here in Atlanta), who traveled the world teaching doctors how to treat big time infections, said that mine was the second worst he'd ever seen.

So when they sent me home, I knew the deal was that if things took a turn for the worst, I would need to come right back into the hospital. I was just so deeply grateful and profoundly relieved for the doctors willingness to let me try to just be at *home* for a while.

Still, she says with a soft smile. . . there's not a doubt in my mind that the love of my dear hubby, being home, and the baths in my own tub helped to soothe and heal my broken spirit for sure. I believe *in my bones* that this is what helped me (finally) to turn the corner.

❤️

.             *            .

April Love :: Day 14 :: Dear Courage

Dear Courage,

Today was about trying something new in a difficult situation, a practice in courage and 

discernment as well. 

After I'd written (and rewritten) my email, I took some time to be with it and ponder. 

Was I sharing too much, being too vulnerable?

While an old, painful pattern to be sure, I didn't think so.

Would it be received in the spirit I intended?

There was no way to know. 

Would I regret sending it?  Would it be used against me at a later time?

.

Perhaps. 

Would I regret it more if I didn't give this a go?

In my heart of hearts I knew the answer for today was "yes."

So I took a deep breath, whispered a little prayer, and practiced being Brave by clicking 

"send."

'tis in Grace's care now. 

Blessed be

❤️

#aprillove2016

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April Love :: Day 3 :: Dear Feet

I'm a 38-year bone cancer survivor 

and, because of the difference in length of my femurs, 

my dear feet haven't met the ground in the same way for 30+ years.

This photo captures and honors my unique standing position. 

Resting my left foot just so on my right foot, for balance

 I depend on my crutches and Grace.

Always Grace 

❤️

#aprillove2016

.           *            .

January Abiding

Even on cold, gray, and wet January days 

the stark beauty 

of quietly Abiding in your life just as it is 

(and just as you are) 

all while trusting that in this moment?

It is Enough. 

❤️

.            *             .

Blessing Basking :: Day 5

Today I am *deeply* grateful 

for my sweet Fall companion,

a very wise and gentle teacher indeed.

.              *             .

Gratitude for Bridges and Honoring Crossings

I drew this picture featuring a poem I wrote two years ago, not long after a painful (and very right) decision.  The imagery of a bridge had just come to me and was an especially powerful and so incredibly helpful metaphor (a lifeline, really) for me at the time.

As I thought about them and what they might mean, bridges spoke to me of Hope, which I was in desperate need of.  Right as I was leaving something behind that was no longer working for me, I deeply resonated with the idea of leaving where I had been to cross over a bridge into a new place in my life.  While circled in grief and fear, and feeling very alone, the other side was calling out to me with promises of refreshment and new growth.  Alls I had to do was to step onto the bridge.  At first my steps were heavy and awkward and slow.  But, with practice, patience, and persistence, they became more steady and sure.

With time, as happens in life, it felt right to turn the page in my art journal and continue on in other areas of my life, too.

A few days ago the timing felt right to take a moment to turn back to my picture and sit with it, basking in and honoring my journey of the past two years.  I took this photo including my feet and crutches on Friday morning as a way to acknowledge Grace and Peace, and the few kind angels (human and spirit) lighting the way ... my way .... across the bridge.

Smiling softly because as I take the time to remember and honor my pilgrimage today, I am also intentionally and ever-so-gently reaching back to that battle-weary, grief-stricken, and fear-soaked woman I was.  As I do so, I am tenderly whispering in her ear, "yes, dear-heart, leaving was exactly the next right thing and I'm here to let you know that you will survive what felt so unfathomable and very brave (because it was) at the time.  Promise."  

(hmmmm.... tears)

Yes.

  

After taking a few pictures like this one, I wondered if it wouldn't speak to me more if I was standing on the other side of the bridge so I turned my art journal around and snapped a few more photos.  In the end, it just didn't feel right.

And now I know why.

With my photo framed the way it is here, I see (and feel!) very clearly the me of today standing firmly behind and supporting the struggling me of then.  This picture speaks to me on so many levels of my taking my place among the angels and wise souls that were there for me during An. Excruciatingly. Difficult. time.

(I love that about faith and mystery .... 

it isn't tied to chronological time at all!)

Smiling softly because it also reminds me of how, more and more, the little girl who still lives inside my heart is able to lean back on the me of today in complete trust.

Yes. 

This is exactly the way my photo is meant to be.

It's such a gift to take some time today to bask in gratitude 
for how far I've come and honor where I am now.  
 I am thankful for your witness. 
(and kind words are always welcome)

❤️

Before closing I'd like to add that, once again, I am so, So, *SO* very grateful for the encouragement and role modeling to practice seeing and loving myself thru selfies!!!  Gracious, who *knew* what a difference that could make!!

 .              *              .

Soothing

This afternoon I closed my office door 

so I could work in Peace and quiet 

(Dorothy, we aren't on vacation anymore). 

So grateful that as I did so, 

I remembered I could stop 

(just for a minute!), 

place my hand over my heart, 

close my eyes, 

and take in 5 Deep Breaths.  

Smiling softly because 

this is why we practice, yes?

Yes. ❤️

Note to self:  it was also helpful to listen to soft, soothing music that I have on my phone.

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5 Deep Breaths with Mary

Five Deep Breaths 

with Mother Mary 

watching over me this morning.  

(As she has so often in my life)

Growing up and helplessly watching my beloved parents' marriage fall apart into divorce while I was struggling with bone cancer in my left hip, there were So. Many. Times. that I felt so alone in all of the craziness.  

While I couldn't have verbalized much less explained it then (which I've since learned doesn't mean it isn't real), I came to take great comfort in seeing Mary (and Joseph) at mass each week. I understand now that seeing her calm face and kind eyes reassured me that she could see what I couldn't speak and that she fully intended to stay put and present when so many others were running away.

This Grace was such a deep reassurance for me that maybe, just maybe, I wasn't as alone as I felt. 

I will always treasure her loving witness. 

.            *             .

Watering My Soul and Basking in Enough

I said what I needed to say 

and set a boundary 

with the intention of choosing Love 

this morning. 

It wasn't perfect by any means 

but I did it!! 

Basking in Enoughness, 

I took this photo afterwards. 

(And look! No more churning belly! )

Then, 

after running a couple of errands,

I took the scenic route on my way home 

just so I could pause by this small, nearby pond. 

Ahhhhh . . . rest (and water) for my soul. 

 ❤

Everyday Beauty :: My Anchor, Sebastian

Sebastian – my treasured friend and ever-faithful companion. He was given to me by Moma on my sweet 16th birthday in the midst of my fight with bone cancer in my left hip. From that day on he slept with me every night, went with me on every hospital visit for chemo and surgery, every trip out of town to see doctors, and on fun trips with family, too. He has seen it all, catching both my tears and fears and comforting me with his ever present hug. He was my anchor and my rock and is as real as the Velveteen Rabbit.

Sebastian was a gift in another deeply comforting way. My relationship with my Moma was particularly rocky when she gave him to me. In time, I found that I could love him when I couldn't love her and I could let her love me thru him, too.

Several years back, when I noticed he was getting torn, I worried he might fall apart so I tucked him up on a special shelf in my closet in our bedroom. Smiling softly because when the closet door is open, I can see him, still watching over me (and loving me) from his perch of honor.

Interesting side note:  as is par for May for me, I'm feeling pretty tender right now. As soon as I got him down to take a photo of him with me this afternoon, the tears started to prick (as they are now). Yes, he is a very good friend, my safe anchor in the storms indeed. 

....................

When I shared my photo and words above in a group, someone made the comment, "He is a holy container for dreams, prayer, hopes and fears." Love that so much!  Yes.

.           *           .

Setting My Intention for May

I've always loved that my birthday is in May (I'll be 53 on the 18th). Alongside the joy, pockets of tenderness also tend to be tucked in this month. I know this is simply the sweet little girl who lives inside my heart longing for a little bit more of the reassurance, healing, and love that she didn't get enough of when she was small. I want to be present, as best I can in each moment, to both her and the adult me as we continue to find our special way of partnering in this dance of life together. ♥

I intend to gift myself with good self-care this month by staying close to the photo prompts. Not only do I enjoy how this exercise helps me to connect with myself and my world in a gently curious way, I *love* the focus of looking for beauty in the everyday! Plus shared photo "treasure hunts" are such a delightful way to connect with others, too. :)

I'll also continue to practice, she adds with a soft smile, being just fine if there are a lot of selfies sprinkled in. Perhaps I'll stretch a bit by nudging myself to find beauty in the aching grief that may arise. Over the years I've come to really appreciate how photographing myself is a powerful way for me to truly see myself *and!* a very nourishing way to water my soul. (Hmmm... noticing, joining, and participating in my own life feeds me, imagine that! ;) )

(A warm hug and a big thank you to Liz Lamoreux for her affirming example. She is one of my very favorite pioneers!)

.            *             .

Thankful Tuesday

Today I'm thankful for:

1.  Two sweet cards from two dear friends arriving on the very same day.

2.  One from a kind friend with a big heart and is a very gifted snail mail fairy.

3.  The other from a lovely woman who took me into her home one summer, 37 years ago

     during my radiation treatments so far away from home, that I haven't heard from in years.  

4.  Making a point to bask in their love again and feeling so cared for by both.

5.  Beautiful, sunny morning and birdsong.

6.  Warm memories of time spent with favorite little ones.

7.  Work is easing and so am I.

8.  Wonderful anticipation of starting a new writing class next week.

9.  Some quiet time to just be this morning.

10.  Voicing a "not this, but maybe this" and asking for the time I need to be sure.

11.  Glorious spring blossoms everywhere.

12.  No pollen ill-effects (yet).

13.  Making time for writing that heals my heart.

14.  Finding wisdom in new book, Better Than Before by Gretchen Rubin

15.  Our dryer works again!

16.  Yesterday's butterfly is my new favorite:

.           *           .

One Self care Move ~ Standing in My Light

So, as you may already know, I've been having a difficult time at work for a long while now. Thursday night, hoping I might find some insightful wisdom to hold on to, I picked up a book that has been helpful in the past and started flipping thru dog-eared pages. I stopped when I happened to find (or did they find me?) some starred and underlined words (ah, so they've spoken to me before).

This quote is one of those "lighthouse in the storm" types for me, gently providing a guiding light for a way to "be" with it all, including my deep disappointment at some uninstigated-by-me distance in a relationship I have long cherished. I typed it out yesterday morning and have been reading thru it over and over (and over), and each time I do, I get a little stronger in my sense of self (and worthiness) (and Enough-ness).

It brought a soft smile to realize this quote is all about practicing "Standing in My Light" for me .... it's a gentle example of *how* to stand right where I am (as best I can in each moment) rather than, as Brene Brown says, hustling for someone else's approval.

The words are from "Don't Sweat the Small Stuff at Work" by Richard Carlson and the title of this particular essay is "Accept the Fact that There's Almost Always Going to be Somebody Mad at You."

"And when you know it's inevitable, 

your gut reaction to the disappointment 

is going to be much more peaceful. 

…you'll maintain your bearings and remain 

compassionate. You'll understand that there's 

simply nothing you can do -- other than your best. 

You didn't intend for it to happen, and you did 

everything you knew …, yet it happened. 

And it will happen again. It's time to let it go. 

And in letting go, you will find peace.

(My word for this year is Peace and what a lovely new way to practice)

♥

I hesitate to say this too loudly so this is me whispering....

It seems my friend at work made a small movement back towards me yesterday. While a bit stunned (I just found the lighthouse-for-me quote above 2 days ago and was starting to settle in with it!), it was very nice to have the unexpected surprise of a couple of light-hearted moments with him again. And, for the first time in months, he actually met my gaze with a teensy bit of a genuine smile.

One *very* important self-care move for me is, as best I can, to stay in today (and under my skin) and try not get too caught up in what might or might not happen on Monday (and forever after).

Another act of self-care is to name it here.... to help me remember.

Blessed be.

.              *             .

Where I Stand

"Where I stand. Admiring my new shoes before sitting down to lunch."
(These are the words I paired with my photo when sharing it on Instagram a week ago.)

This is actually a much bigger deal than it looks. Because of complications from bone cancer in my left hip 37 years ago, my left leg is 8" shorter than my right and my crutches are permanent. So when I stand, while my right foot sits flat on the floor, my left foot is up on my tippy toe. "The way I come" makes buying shoes tricky and something I *really* struggle with... My first thought at the prospect is "I *hate* buying shoes" and it's probably been 5 years since I last found some I liked and therefore kept. 

So. To find a new pair of shoes that I actually like and think they're going to work out because they aren't bending uncomfortably over my left toes (yay!), is a *very* big deal for me.

And this is the part where I say thru tears that it's not just about the shoes and trying to get some that fit right. It's also about the big grief in how my body is so different now . . . from what she used to be (and from what I would want). Having had 30+ surgeries on my left leg alone and with most of my femur removed, it's not the prettiest of legs ever. 

I became aware several years back that, feeling my body had betrayed me, I had basically moved out of "her," taking up residence in my head and heart. Coming back down into the full part of me has been something I've played with.... not an easy prospect to consider when you've been "gone" for more than 30 years and one that needs to be taken slowly, care-filled-ly and ever-so-tenderly. 

Tears well again as I add, my body could've given up on me a long time ago, having had several opportunities (she and I have been thru a lot together) but "she" never did, even when I moved out.

There was a time, she adds quietly, when, very briefly, I considered amputation. But in the end, just as I couldn't do it when my cancer was discovered ("If I'm dying in 6 months, I'm taking my leg with me!" I defiantly said at 15), I couldn't do it when I was fighting such a big infection 10 years later. (This was 3 weeks after we were married (almost) 27 years ago and I had been in the hospital for 3 months with another *huge* infection). 

I have loved Liz Lamoreux's mirror meditation so much.  I first learned about it in her original Water Your Soul e-course and it's been good to come back home to that practice thru selfies.  (Fyi - she isn't currently running that e-course right now but she also talks about mirror meditation in her book, Inner Excavation.)

While I did abandon my body, she has never abandoned me. Instead she has simply, quietly, faithfully been waiting for me to come "home" to her. It's moments like these that bring home for me that fact that I believe she continues to patiently wait for (and with) me.  And, as they usually are, not far away are Mama Grace and Auntie Mercy, Enough, Hope, and now Peace blessing, tending and loving this reunion back into to being as well.

Perhaps I'm ready to go a little deeper by "looking (back) with love" at my sweet leg who has been thru so much? 

Ah, yes. 

Perhaps indeed.... 

♥

(grateful for your witness)

.             *             .

Angel Sunday :: Sweetheart Angel

Practicing Peace this morning

as I welcome my angels.

I am so enjoying my newest one,

Willow Tree's "Sweetheart Angel,"

a delightful Valentine's surprise 

from darlin' hubby last night.

(She's one I hadn't met yet!)

As I sit with her, I love how she 

so grace-filled-ly and peace-filled-ly

stands in her place.

She's not over-reaching

nor does she cower.

She just quietly, 

steadily,

simply

stands in her truth

and in her life.

I gratefully, tearfully 

welcome 

her gently touching example 

of how I, too, can stand

in my own life

... right now ... 

in this very moment.

And it is Enough.

(It is possible, Debbie Grace)

Help me, Mama?

Always, Baby.

Blessed Be.

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