Hello to my two, three readers,
How are you?
I’m feeling all the fall feels with the onset of cooler weather. 70-something feels so good. To make it even more perfect, rain would be amazing. When our previous church pastor, who is now retired, prayed for rain, it would rain that week out of the blue. This happened at least twice. He doesn’t live in California anymore, so maybe it’s time we pray for rain. Rain feels like such a distant memory and I long for the day it will wash away all that’s burnt, because fires and ashes have been our summer weather. The Lord has confined us into our homes not only because of covid but because the outdoor air itself has been deadly. Whatever His purpose, He has made it clear that we had to be indoors and secluded this year.
I’ve been off chemo for the past month, and that also feels so so good. In a way, being off chemo has been my rain. I am flushing out the chemicals and my body feels recovery, if not, restoration.
My real skin is coming back and I forgot what my actual skin felt like. It’s been a year and a half of what I would call my battle of epidermis hydration. I’ve written about it far too many times. Was my skin always supposed to be this soft and not bumpy/flakey? There was a point right before I stopped chemo when my whole torso and bottom was covered in a rash and my scalp was oozing out yellow puss because I had been scratching it too much. It really looked and felt like I had a severe skin disease and I felt so disgusting and sick. The mental and physical agony was unbearable. The chemo wasn’t working and my body had had enough. I had had enough. Everyone has a breaking point and my body was telling me it had reached its limit and the medicine was doing more harm than good.
Currently I am waiting to start my new treatment regime. I have one more week to enjoy a little bit of normal life.
Normal feels amazing. Being able to breathe, eat, rest, work, read, walk, all without physical pain.
Is this what it feels like to live.
Let me tell you, not being ill… is a wonderful gift.
Being ill is also a gift, but you know what I mean.
I was watching Stranger Than Fiction this past week, one of my favorite films, and when Dustin Hoffman’s character (Professor Hilbert) concludes that Will Ferrell’s character (Harold Crick) is not in control of his own life, Professor Hilbert tells Harold, “…You could just eat nothing but pancakes if you wanted.” Harold Crick angrily responds, “What is wrong with you? Hey, I don’t want to eat nothing but pancakes, I want to live!” And then Professor Hilbert replies, “Harold, if you pause to think, you’d realize that that answer is inextricably contingent upon the type of life being led… and, of course, the quality of the pancakes.”
That was it.
The life I want to live is not about worrying how long I will live.
What I do today for His glory is all that matters and at the end of it all,
I will have lived a life well-lived.