Do You Fit In?

Steve and I became Christians sometime in the mid 80's. Don't ask for a date; it was a gradual, stumbling process. Thank God (and I mean that personally) belief came to both of us around the same time, because it would have a been a difficult marriage otherwise. Today we're both committed to Him. If you know us, you already know that.

Today is not the time for the story of why we left our church last year, other than to say we didn't "fit in." You know, we're not Republicans, we do drink wine or beer, we see movies, we didn't home school or send our kids to religious schools, and other sundry things that are not important to us, but are to some "Christians." We've never tried to alter who we are to fit in anywhere. If I'd lived with Christ, I'm pretty sure He'd have loved me as I am, even though I don't fit the current "Christian" mold.

So, some 24 years after accepting Christ, we have not yet found a new church home. Oh, we go to a local one and the pastor is great. Really great. But it's not yet our home. The place is casual, the sermons are great, the people are friendly. Yet because my children and I were wounded so deeply at the other place for not being who they thought we should be, I am "gun shy" so to speak. I'm not ready to open my heart to others, not even Believers, so we'll just visit for awhile.

And that's not a bad thing. I'm realizing I don't need to belong, as long as I believe. Where does it say that someone who loves the Lord has to go to church every week? All I'm called to do is to love Him, and I do, passionately. For now we'll continue to disdain most conservative news media, we'll watch R rated movies if they look good and not offensive, and if you must know, we'll continue to watch Glee, starring two gay actors whom I absolutely adore.

And by adore, I mean if the young man was my son, I'd love him completely and if the woman was my sister, I'd be happy she was. This story is amazingly honest and insightful and I wish Christians were forced to watch it in Sunday School. I have no energy or room in my sinful life to hate anyone who is not just like me. Do you?

Looking Up

She's alive! Well, I only crashed for 8 days, more or less. The chemo knocked me down completely this time. I was on the couch, or the floor, or the bed for days. Ugh. Seems we have a nice clean ceiling, by the way. I looked up.

It finally occurred to me that I needed a blood transfusion, so that happened on Thursday. Vampire delight. If they hadn't agreed to that, I'd have been in trouble, or a bad movie. Takes a few days to build up, but near normal now. I can walk and talk and even cook a little. And eat. Hadn't done that for days.

I'm going to be telling you some interesting and new things in the coming days. New ideas and beliefs are swirling through my head. Still Christian, but not what you'd expect to hear from me. I need to get them settled in my brain before talking about them. There is new life in me, and it's good.

Morgan is with us for a short time, and it's nice to have her here, for the simple joy of being with her, but also for the blessing of having someone who understands how I work, who is so intelligent and interesting and provocative in thought. She makes me better. I wonder if I ever made my Mom better, if I ever pushed her to become more than she thought she was.

Yes, things are looking up around here. I feel better and I feel smarter and I feel like living for awhile longer. There's not a lot of time left, (compared to yesterday) but it will be good.

Crash

Well, I was wrong; I didn't crash Thursday morning. It was Friday afternoon. And today (Tuesday) I'm still down. As in I can barely move and haven't eaten in three days. Sort of feels like it did ten years ago at the beginning of all this. I see Dr. Boice today (Steve is taking me) and I think he might switch drugs. The current one is not working, as in, I'm getting worse, not better.

After two days of the initial "drug-induced" energy, it's now that much more depressing to be a slug. But I did read an entire Grisham novel in one day. I did it to keep myself from doing anything that required moving, and the only problem at day's end was a sore butt. And Sam brought drinks, rubbed my back and sort of checked on me all day yesterday. And I took two baths to ease the body pain, promptly falling asleep in my towel.

I find it easier to sleep and dream than to feel positive about my future, so I sleep. Of course, I'm not worried, just oh so tired. Each time this happens, I say, "Oh my gosh, I've had it!" Then I remember that I've lived through it before and will again.

I think right now I'm supposed to be living in today, and nowhere else. So that's what I'll do. Steve just gave me strawberries, and they are delicious.

What Matters

Silly me. I went to bed at 9:00P.M., but I'd had chemo at 9:00A.M. So, that's not gonna work. Got up at 10 and came downstairs. Writing, thinking, drinking grape juice, speeding, NOT cleaning, though before I left, Steve asked if I thought I might. Ha. He's so funny. Smack.

No pain, and I feel pretty good, actually. Thank God it was raining all day, or I'd have gardened myself to death. God was watching out for me with the wetness and chill. Instead I made three great fruit & vegetable dishes for dinner and Steve came home, looked at them, and made himself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Oh right, he eats meat (of which none was thawed) which has started to repulse me. I hope our marriage can handle this dietary shift. Well, chemo and my food repulsion is only every 4 weeks.

I'll crash tomorrow when the sun comes out. When neighbors drive by and see me lying face down in the grass, I hope they assume I'm napping, on purpose.

I've thought a lot about whether or not, if given the choice, I'd trade in having cancer for living the life I used to have - the healthy one where I ate well, felt well, worked hard, and had few concerns. Remember? The life without clear direction or true faith or purpose. I guess there's my answer.

Part of it is having grown up - a little late at now 60, but at least I finally did it. Part of it is simply giving up, and giving the wreck of who I was to God. I think (I know) I like me better now. So does Steve, I think. Life is no longer all about me. I like it this way. Dana and I have discussed it. Thanks God for the cancer...we hate it, but thanks for showing us what matters.

test

Hi, This is only a test, and no 1950's TV's are involved. I'm not explaining, either. Over.

It's A Life

I'm hot and tired and have no energy. The garden is lush, the sun is shining, and we went sailing this week. The kitchen is a mess, I have too much to iron and clean and no energy to do it. We ate out last night and Sam made me laugh, and Steve has been happily home with me all week. I have two friends whom I rarely see and often miss, but they live across the Atlantic. I have two good friends who live on this peninsula, a short walk away.

Am I happy or sad? Both, I suppose. I love my back yard, uneven lawn surface notwithstanding. I love my front yard with it myriad of flowers and lush foliage, even though the weeds outnumber the actual grass. It's all lush, full of color, and growing.

Real life is the good with the bad. I remember that I began to work at age 18, and ran through life doing the same until age 58. Now, I write, spend time with family, read, lie in my hammock, garden, occasionally cook, and just last night we all laughed so hard our sides hurt. For over 20 minutes! Why do I somehow think I'm not doing anything? What about America makes me feel like a slug in that I'm not "employed?"

I'm still creative, producing, caring for family, loving God and being alive. Isn't that enough? Isn't that what God has me here to do? I demand that the lie we're all fed, the lie that we have to produce something of value for others, that we have to earn income, is the reason why we live. I'm alive because I have life, because I bring God pleasure, because I bring my family pleasure. Isn't that enough?

Welcome to Holland

My friend Leura sent me a piece by Emily Perl Kingsley called "Welcome to Holland." (Look it up; it's worth the read.) She thought I could relate to it in parenting my own son. Although the conditions are not the same, it is indeed something which touched me deeply. Asperger's and Down Syndrome are very different, especially in IQ's. But a parent's dreams for a child are the same.

Lately I've been working hard to stay tuned in to Sam's wisdom. Sometimes it's hard to hear, but that's because the noise of "normal" life gets in the way. When I really listen, I can hear and see it, and those days are my richest. I've stopped trying to always protect him, and started watching him protect himself. He's very good at it. I'm trying to see the world through his eyes, from his vantage point. It looks quite different than it does from here.

I used to feel the weight of my son's disability. Now I am lifted up by his uniqueness, his abilities, his wisdom, his humor... I'm lifted up by him. I'm saying goodbye to the old dreams that will never happen, and looking forward to the rest of my journey with this fascinating young man. I've grown to love my life in Holland with him.