 As I shared a couple of days ago, the husband is in his glory. He has started work on his cabin on the hill. As you can see by the picture, it would better be described as a grainry, rather than a cabin, because well...that's what it is. But he sees it's potential, and it enjoying it to no end.  He has talked for years about building a retreat for himself up there. We've watched papers, and auctions, and online selling sites for buildings that might be appropriate and could be purchased for a reasonable price. Anything we found either was more money that we're willing to spend, or the good deals were missed by minutes. He's been patient, this isn't a new dream, but it's a dream This summer when the diagnosis came our lives were sidetracked, he made himself a promise that when he felt better he'd go ahead and act on it. He's said for years that that little building would work, or he'd make it work and decided that he wouldn't put it off any longer. So here we are, at some of the coldest days so far this year (a balmy -32 this morning) and where is he? He's up on the hill in his man cave. Fitting chimney pipe together, tacking plastic on the walls to keep it warm, dragging an old wood stove up there, so when all of this is done, he'll hopefully have heat. He is literally freezing his butt of...but is having so much fun and his so happy. Following through on a dream will do that. So as we've been frightened into taking a good look at the dreams we hold and realizing we need to take action, I hope that you too can do the same in your life. It shouldn't take a cancer diagnosis or a life threatening injury to move us into action, but so often that is what we need. Otherwise we don't give ourselves permission to take those steps. So I ask you now then, is there a dream you keep holding at arms length thinking there is still so much time to pursue it? And is there really? Enjoy the day!
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 A new dawn, a new day, a new chance to begin again. Today, we are waiting for results from Cecil's follow up CT scan. Fingers are crossed that the news will be good, and that we can continue our dreams of Celyn Away and enjoying life, but anyone who's ever walked through the world of cancer knows, the waiting can be the worst. We are hopeful of course, and things looked good after the initial surgery and healing, but there are still those funny little things that the body continues to do that makes you just stop and take notice and to wonder. The little things that cause the big worries to keep raising their nasty heads. I decided to share my writing from the Portage General Hospital waiting room in July when Cecil was undergoing his initial surgery. Its a good reminder to me at this moment, of continuing to look for the gift, as we wait for the results. July 2014: Its been a long time since I've spent time in one of these rooms...and I can't say that I missed it at all. We've managed four years without major health risks or the loss of someone close to our hearts...but ten days ago that changed once again on us. The results of the colonoscopy came back with the biopsy test showing the growth that was found was malignant. Now the questions continue to circle, as we sit waiting for the completion of the surgery that will tell us whether the growth is contained, whether their will be life changing adjustments because of the surgery and of course the big question...whether we are in for a bigger battle than we are aware of at this moment. Cecil is in surgery as I write this. He was scared going in, we all are. The morning has been slow, the weeks ahead will be as well I fear, with the healing and the waiting to learn where things are at and what is next on our agenda. I keep trying to ask myself that if everything happens for me, not to me...what is the gift in this...for me...for us? My heart tells me that there is one, maybe many...but it has taken much deep thinking and quietly asking my heart. Here are some answers that have come to me:
My dear friend Bert LeSage once told me "It's hard to hear, but the truth is cancer gives us a gift...the gift of time, to say all that is in our hearts." I keep hearing his voice and seeing his kind, brown eyes, knowing that he knew more than I did at that time. It was the day after Greg, my first husband, had died of the same disease. In the 13 years since his passing, I've had time to get to know that Bert was right. Living through my own Mom's brief battle with pancreatic cancer in 2010 I held that thought and embraced every moment, shared every thought that needed to be shared, said every word of love that need to be spoken. In the end, with both of them, there was nothing left unsaid or undone...there was loss, but there was peace as well. That peace of heart and mind means so much. I will work towards that same sense of peace now, regardless of whether we are up against a long, hard battle...or whether this has just been a reminder to practice all that I preach and try to teach...to live in the moment, to appreciate everything that we have right now...to love with all my heart. Lesson learned, reminder acknowledged, gift accepted. |
Living our Dreams while Health allowsCancer came knocking on our door again in July of 2014. It's visited before, through different times and people, myself included. This time it dropped by to remind us that life is short and precious. It came to remind us that in our 50s, things can and likely will change quickly, so start doing what you've been promising yourself you would do! Archives
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