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.

❤️

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April Love :: Day 15 :: Dear Shadow

Dear Shadow,

We're dancing a lot these days, you and I, aren't we?

When reaching for my hand and pulling me to my feet, I can't help but notice that rather than the welcomed waltzes of my childhood with the soothing 1-2-3, 1-2-3 melodies, inviting whirls and twirls across the polished hardwood floor, and sweeping elegance, this music is foreign to me.

I'm not nearly as sure of myself or comfortable with the push/pull rhythm and staccato movements this new genre seems to require. 

While deeply painful at times, and sometimes I fear it's merely a hustle in disguise, when I get quiet and listen, I know in my heart of hearts that these dance lessons are important, too.

And so, as best I can, I stay with it.... I stay with you, a very real part of me with something crucial to teach me, both about myself and about life.

Some days the reality is that I'm just not up to your invitations to tango, preferring familiarity and comfort and I know that's ok. 

You are a wise, and fair teacher, willing to sit with me on the side for a while, offering me a cup of refreshing strawberry punch in a clear, crystal-cut glass while I catch my breath, patiently waiting until I am ready and willing to try 'er again, knowing that in truth? 

This is part of the dance of life as well.

While not always easy to be sure, I am grateful for your faithful partnering.

Blessed be.

❤️

#aprillove2016

#timetotellit

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Writing Letters as a "Be Here" Practice

My grandmother lived on a farm in the 30's, 40's, 50's and 60's.  Not only did she love to
write letters, it was the only realistic way of keeping in touch with her two children that
had moved far away along with other relatives and friends. I still fondly remember how
she would gather her extended family in her front room on a Sunday afternoon and
encourage us younger ones to sit still and listen while she read the latest letter she
received to all of us.

Through her, I grew to love to write letters and have always loved receiving snail mail as
well.  As an aside, I so loved it when email arrived because it seemed to revive the practice
of letter writing. While it's not the same as receiving a hand written letter, I've so enjoyed
hearing from those that I wouldn't have otherwise that I'll take it .... in a heartbeat!

I've always known it was the little daily details that I loved the most, both hearing from my
family and friends, but also what I most enjoyed sharing. In the last few years, I've come to
realize that starting a letter with what it looks like outside my window is really a practice in
being right here - aka practicing paying attention and/or mindfulness. It pulls me into the
present moment because I have to stop, notice, and think about how to phrase what I'm
seeing and sensing. It's a gift to me and, from the letters I receive, I know it's a gift to my
reader as well. When I journal (which a lot of times is simply a love letter to myself), I'll start
with the small ordinary details around me to help ground me .  At the minimum I note the
date, time, and temperature outside.

So a small snapshot of what it looks like here in my little corner of the world right now is:

It's dusk as I type this and the chilly, all-day belated March winds of yesterday have finally
settled into a welcomed calm. Two candles have been quietly burning all afternoon, one on
the small end table right here next to me and the other a short distance away with 4 of my
favorite angels gathered around the flame. I find myself grateful for the light as I haven't
gotten up yet to turn on the lights and, she says with a warm grin, aside from the glow of
my computer screen, it's getting pretty dark around here . . .

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