It’s been 8 months since cancer showed up in my father’s body and all our lives changed forever.
We thought we would only have 4 months and have been given the gift of twice that and are hopeful for much, much more. When first diagnosed, my no-nonsense, take no prisoners friend Rebecca, told me to get over my Mommy guilt. She said living with and learning to care for ‘Pappy’ would be a gift to my sons’ character and lives. She was right.
I spent my 39’ish-sorta-again birthday, not at a fancy dinner or party. I didn’t open gifts and left cards on the kitchen table unopened. I spent it in the hospital with my Dad.
The night before he whispered, “Happy birthday!” as I quietly tucked him in for the night. I reminded him my birthday wasn’t for another day. Without missing a beat he looked up at me and said, “I know. I just wanted to be the first to tell you.”
Marriages can shred under economic pressures, new jobs, and caring for an ill parent. We are experiencing all of the above mixed with the general mayhem of raising two curious, energetic and old soul boys. While my husband and I have a few bruises and cuts from these sharp-edged realities, we are finding a new way. We are realizing what a gift we are to each other. I couldn’t get through some days without him. I believe he would say the same about me.
He sent me flowers to my office for my birthday. I’ve spent the last 25 birthdays asking for him to do that very thing. This year, he did.
47 people wrote birthday greetings on my wall from Facebook. 47. I didn’t know I knew that many people. They ranged from, “What are you, like 60?” (from a high school friend who still retains his lovable snarkiness); to “Happiest of happies to KimRo on this, the day of her birth. May the words pour forth and Snow White sing you a merry tune while doing the “back it up” dance. Humor and good will for you and your coming year.” (from a writing sister who I swear is Snow White undercover). Others shared heartfelt sentiments on how I was a gift.
In the all-consuming tyranny of the moment I forget these threads both thin and thick which tie me to people. The gifts of simply worded wishes on a cyber screen were so powerful I couldn’t read them until the next day. The gift of a text or a quick call to say, “How are you?” which really means, “I know it’s tough and you are hurting and overwhelmed and alone. I can’t make it better. What I can do is to help you remember you are not alone.”
I saw a picture on Facebook and the saying was a gift to me. I share it as my birthday gift to you.
The best kind of people are the ones that come into your life,
and make you see the sun where you once saw clouds.
The people who believe in you so much,
you start to believe in you too.
The people who love you, simply for being you.
The once in a lifetime kind of people.
Thank you for being my once in a lifetime people.
You are the few, the proud, the readers joining me as I step into another year eating less, praying more and loving abundantly.
In my last entry I wrote about the movie, “Desert Runners”, which followed a group of ultra-marathoners who were running 100+ miles across four of the earth’s deserts. Jaime, one of the runners, knew his limits so well he was able to recover from seeming devastation of dehydration and finish his race.
“The only way to truly know yourself is to know your limits. You never know your limits if you never test them.” (Thanks KJC for the inspirational comment.)
Testing your limits means reaching the ends of them. When was the last I reached the ends of mine? When was the last time I even came close? Never. Honestly never.
Oh, I’ve been pushed to my emotional limits, more than once. Buried those I’ve only begun to forgive. Seen more dream opportunities evaporate in the heat of politics. Watched helplessly as friendships withered on the vine devoid of attention or honesty. Emotional and relational limits which reduced me to tears in a corner, weren’t of my choosing. Those come and go and will certainly come again. The morning always comes and the sun always rises.
I’m talking about choosing to test your limits with only two possible results-a glorious finish or a colossal failure. I haven’t done that…yet.
I know someone who did. A woman I am proud to call my friend, LaDonna Cole.
She wrote a young adult novel in three weeks. Seriously, she wrote 80,000+ words in 21 days. How is that for a glorious finish?
Her book, The Torn, launches today.
It deals with young people who are testing their limits, spiritually, emotionally and physically. Quite frankly, it’s a righteously cool spiritual allegory. Good fun, gasp-worthy adventure and butterflies in your heart romance. I was lost in the sphere of the well-written prose, the pitch perfect pacing and vivid characters.
It makes me want to test my own limits. Not sure where or when.
Just sure it will be soon.
The sphere has landed! Welcome to the next jump in the adventure. Leave a comment on this page and collect the item for your survival pack.
Take this “item” with you, (write it down or copy/paste into a doc):
How many weeks did it take LaDonna Cole to write “The Torn”?
(Hint: The answer is in this blog.)
Screeeeech! The sphere is coming! Your next stop is:
If this was your first and now is your last stop, go to www.facebook.com/LaDonnaColeAuthor where The Torn release party is going on! Enter all of your answers into a comment under the pinned post, Falling Spheres, for a chance to win the Grand Prize package.