Out of the Darkness

I wear a bracelet that says "out of the darkness."

It's a reminder.
A reminder of a pain I hope I never have to bear.
A friend of mine lost her middle son to suicide.
He was lost in a darkness he thought he couldn't bear.

And as I pondered this pain of losing a cherished son
And fought with God over my own
I finally came to the place where I let go.

Abba - Your will be done.
Whatever may come.
Would I take that pain so my dear friend didn't have to?
Father, Your will be done.
Whatever may come.

Then came that oh-so-obvious realization.
My Abba felt that pain.
My Abba lost His cherished only son to the darkness.
But only for a moment,
A horrible three day long moment.
Then He rose from the dead
To lead us all
Out of the darkness.

I'm doing very well...

It’s been a while since I’ve last written. Not because I haven’t had anything to say, but merely because I haven’t had the time to sit down and say it.  Taking three classes, working full time, and buying a house can apparently take up a lot of your time.

But today I took a moment to slow down. To ponder. And to share.

The day started off with a beautiful text from a friend:

            I’m going to name today “glad you’re my friend day”

 I can think of no better way to start off my 8^th ‘Diagnosis Day’… and I can think of no better way to spend it then the way I did. First, I swung out to the Cancer Care Center for a chit-chat with my radiation oncologist. We chatted about road trips, living in Charlton, buying houses, and visiting with my primary care a tad bit more often than I currently do. We also talked about improvements in technology, and he wrote a prescription for a new glove and sleeve with a serpentine healing band of copper. He told me that he enjoyed reading my book and kept it on his desk. Then he approved my next tattoo with the order to call him if I have any complications, told me I was doing very well, and sent me on my way.

And I drove away from the Cancer Care center…

… and to the house that will soon be mine.

Dad and I started painting it today.

I scrubbed down some of the dirtier walls, did some brush painting around the windows and baseboards and up the corners, and used the roller on two of the living room walls. There was music blaring from downstairs where they were working, but I could also hear the birds in the wetlands nearby. At one point, when I took a break from painting, I looked out the kitchen door and saw a redwing blackbird taking a break in the trees.

Before she went Home, Grammy gave me a wall hanging she had made. It says, “The kiss of the sun for pardon, The Song of the birds for mirth, One is nearer God’s heart in a garden, Than anywhere else on earth.” I am going to love sitting on my patio listening to those birds.

It’s going to be a beautiful house.

Unfortunately, unless I pay it off early, I’ll be paying for it until 2045. But you know, that really doesn’t scare me anymore. Because, as my oncologist said, I’m doing very well. Very well, indeed.