So, it's day 7, and I honestly feel like I've got nothing to say.
Today the rain comes down in straight arrows, straight down rain is amazing and beautiful. It makes me think the air must be still, for it to come so level. The rain comes in straight floods, clears up, and out comes the sun. We sit on the front porch learning alphabets, we shoo away the wasps, eat fishy crackers, and enjoy our mostly rain proof rain cover and shelter. The air is just cool enough to be be comfortable and fresh, but not cold, and not humid. It's perfect. The kids are doing school, and watching movies, the baby is napping, and I managed to get in my 5 k run (treadmill is a life saver). Tonight dinner is being graciously delivered, and hubby goes to be a Juniour Youth group leader with our eldest. Perfect. The house is 'clean' (clean means I did many hours of work, and it's as good as it's gonna get. Perfect. The week has no major hospital visits planned, and no major chemo planned. Perfect.
Nothing is perfect. The boy is on steroids and screams that he hates me. Not perfect. The run I did was great, and full of prayers and beggings to God to heal my friends kids who suffer, and the parents who suffer along side. Not perfect. The schooling is jumbled, the children are jumbled, the tv on makes me ...uncomfortable...Not perfect.
We can still enjoy the perfectly imperfect. I still get little cuddles and my sweet four year old running up randomly to tell me 'I love you mama!' I am blessed to have my home cozy, mine, and full of my kids, safe and sound under one roof. I see the worlds hurts that at this moment are by passing me slightly to the left and right, and I crouch down, hiding my head, hoping to avoid a few more slung arrows of chaos, of life's burdens. Phew, got a day of no major crap!
I thank the Lord, that this pulse of steroids is done, and wait for my boy to 'come down.' I plan out my Stella and Dot order, in great anticipation, and try and figure out exactly what will make me shiny and happy...it's nice to be able to have something new, that doesn't cost us our groceries....I sit still as a nervous woman can, waiting for God to tell me his great wisdom...but the more still I sit, the more anxious I become..I drink the cold coffee, and race around, being anything but still..anything to avoid my thinking-fears that run through my brain--hamsters gone mad on a wheel.....
I ate some chocolate cake, put on some perfume, and nice clothes. I count down the days to the end of cancer-daily..I wonder if it will feel more like a relief, or a second burden of fears and loneliness. Will our family lose our identity that we've had no choice but to adopt for over three years? Will we be relieved, scared, tired, worried, happy, resentful? I guess, yes, we will.
Today is not that day. Today we are cozy at home, and that in itself, is perfect.