The Garden

I worked in my garden today. And by worked in my garden, I mean I pulled weeds, including some huge ones that rival my own arms, and appeared two years ago. Last Spring wasn't such a good one for my garden. It wasn't such a good one for our entire family, having just said "goodbye" to our dear Ian, who died of cancer at 13. Today we celebrate knowing him, a year after his passing.

I'm actually encouraged that I was able to work for so long, nearly an hour! That's @ 50 minutes longer than when I began this year's work in early March. I'm pooped, and fine, if you're going to get technical about it, yes, I took one break. Okay, so I had a thought and came in to write and got a bit carried away, but I did go back! And the entire front looks like someone loves it again.

Steve is mowing (as I write) the back yard, the one full of small green trees that used to be called grass. A few years ago moss began to creep in - remember we live in "the wetlands." Last year we decided that 'earth knows best,' so I pulled any grass remaining in those areas and the moss is growing into a lovely carpet - one that needs no mowing!! For someone supposedly so smart, it sure takes me a long time to catch onto things.

I'd tell you about how I had to spend seven hours in the hospital emergency room yesterday and get two units of blood due to my total collapse and growing cancer, but right now I'm more interested in my garden. I'll be okay.

Oh, but my back is killing me from leaning over to pull those darn weeds. Leaning over to touch the earth used to be so much easier. At least I have my flowers, that grow up to touch me.

Get Real

This will be short. We attended an evangelical church for about 15 years. Good teaching, but the membership... well, it changed. We left last summer because we weren't considered conservative enough, didn't fit in, were looked at askance a bit too often, and found ourselves simply being quiet to avoid confrontation one too many times. That said, I think God is pretty darn radical. He sent His son to be birthed and raised by an unmarried Jewish girl, had him hang out with the dregs of society, then let him be murdered just as He was getting started. Yeah, that made sense. And thus He gave us a way to salvation. Real conservative. So who is it that doesn't fit in here?

Criminy, God is totally radical, and if you don't get that, then you have no idea who God is. Jesus, too, was a radical and didn't follow the rules. He made so many people mad, yet they were fools who really didn't know God. He is SO NOT what ignorant people think he is. I like Bill Maher, and I believe even HE is smart enough to get it. Someday.

Just Deal With It

I just got back from Bible study, and though it was good, with women I really like, one thing set me off. (I do have a reputation for going "off" at times.) The study book gave one example of a woman who was able to overcome disaster in her life, that disaster being a son with, yep, Autism. EXCUSE ME!? I was livid. Let me tell you how disastrous it is to have an autistic son.

At 21, he still enjoys going out to dinner with his Dad and me, where we eat, laugh and enjoy our time together. He does yard work for me (no, he doesn't like it and I pay him, but he does it) when I'm too weary to do it myself. Sam's wonderful sense of humor brings us laughter nearly every day, and sometimes his witticisms amaze us. He painted his sister's former room since I'm redecorating it as a guest room, and I couldn't handle that much labor. He always lets us know where he is, unlike most 21 yr. olds. He stays up practically till it's time to get up, but he never goes out late, leaving us worried. He uses bad language at times, but he has faith in God. Okay... to the boring point.

When asked, he said he wouldn't be "normal" even if given the magical chance to be so. He likes who he is. And so do Steve and I. Would we like some things to be different in his life? Of course. Do we have hopes for him that are unlikely to transpire? Yes. What parent wouldn't answer the same way? A lying one, that's who.

Sam has a Mom with cancer and says, "Just give me the facts and I'll deal with it." And he does. I have a son with Autism and I just deal with that. Life leaves no time for regrets. We're pretty happy in this house, cancer, autism and all.

WHAT MATTERS?

1st thought: Glenn Beck is a jerk. Ben Roethlisberger is a jerk. And I know I can be a jerk too. It's so easy to sit here and read stories on HufPo about them and think, "Gee, who are these idiots? I'm so glad I'm not in their lives." But someone somewhere loves them, right? - maybe even God? Someone probably thinks I'm a jerk too. Better for me to focus on my own shortcomings, and straighten out me. Let God handle it.

2nd thought: Why am I so depressed on cloudy days? The sun is always shining; we just can't see it when the clouds float in between it and us on earth. But I don't hate clouds; they can fascinate, and do change constantly. I know it's physical, more than emotional, but it still bugs me. And the darkness after sunset never bothers me, just the darkness of clouds. Weird.

3rd thought: Vanity is so shallow. Two days ago I went to the garden center to buy flowers. When I arrived, I looked down to see I was still wearing black socks, silver tennis shoes and short khaki pants. Ugh. What an idiot. What a dork. And I forgot my hat. I've lost half my thick hair to cancer drugs, and it's 80% white. Could I look older or dorkier? Memory dysfunction can be so embarrassing. Oh well, I wandered around and picked out my plants, hoping to see no one I know. As I was leaving, a young blond haired woman (30-ish) who works there walked by and said, "Weren't you here a few days ago?" I was. "Oh, well I noticed you have the most beautiful hair I've ever seen." She smiled and walked away. I sobbed most of the way home.

DON'T HATE THE HATER

Sorry about that last dreary posting. It was a bad day, much better now. Yesterday I had the chemo, went to bed by 9, couldn't sleep, came down to write on my latest book for two hours, went back to bed @ 3:30, finally slept, woke up at 6:30 anyway. Should be an interesting day. At least the sun is shining!

Our next door neighbor hates me. It's a long, weird, complicated story. The last communication was when I cut a massive bouquet of my blooming Hydrangeas and placed them on her porch as a gift. She didn't answer my knock. Next morning Steve found them splayed on our porch. I cried for a long time. Years later now, she despises me beyond sanity. We don't know why, only a guess. It helps little that she now speaks to only one neighbor, and that includes horrid comments about the rest of the newer neighbors. But I'm her prime target. And we live in such a friendly place!

I resist hating her back, and attempt to pray for her when I think of it. (Yes, I admit that some days I wish she'd just move.) I try to not think of the one who hates me, but what good is that? I see little things all the time I wish I could do for her, but no. How sad to have such hatred, especially when the hated one feels nothing like that. I've come to see her hatred as a gift, I suppose. It makes me realize how precious are our days, and that to not forgive slights is so bitter and wasteful. I find it easier to forgive others because of her, so I suppose I should be thankful for that ability she gave me.

We have a nice tree that is too close to her fence, with branches leaning over her yard. Nice tree, but I've decided it has to go. It might lead to problems, might damage her fence (which came after the tree by the way). But she might get angry at losing the shade. Sigh. I've decided to cut it down and plant a smaller flowering one further from our border. It will grow, and I hope that someday she likes it, and maybe me again too.

Oh Bother!

I hit the wall hard and knocked myself out. Not sure how long it will take to recover. By that, I mean the book I'm writing about my autistic son. Somehow, the entire thing disappeared from my files, (what the heck key did I hit!?!) and I went into near cardiac arrest with choked-up-hard-to-breathe sobbing for two days. 25000 words and 13 months of writing - kaput.

By now, Steve has managed to recover bits and pieces (maybe whole parts?) and I'm patching up what is there. However, it's only letters, as in no entire words, no punctuation, no nothing that makes sense. 25000 words is now over 300000 units of...something. Yes, it is decipherable, but it will take weeks. And with the drug induced brain damage and memory issues... huh? So, I guess it's time to slow down. I know I can do this, and edit as as I go, but I feel so bloody and bruised. It's not like I wasn't rereading and editing anyway. Criminy.

What a rotten week. I couldn't have chemo last Wed. because my counts were too low, so by now my bad numbers have risen even more. See, it works like this: You get cancer. Then you take poison to kill the cancer, and the poison makes you feel worse. Then the growing cancer makes things so bad that you can't risk taking poison or it kills you. So the cancer gets worse until you're well enough to take poison again. Make sense? OF COURSE NOT!

Oh, bother, where is Winnie the Pooh when I really need him?