Green Fuzzies

The previously dormant trees on the island we see across the river from our house is now covered with fuzzy, green buds. The storms of the past few days were dark and dreary, but they brought the moisture the fuzzy green trees had been hoping for. Hope is believing...believing there will be rainbows after the rain, dawn after the darkest nights, fuzzy green leaves after spring storms, and life after cancer.

I am still in the midst of this cancer storm, but there is a rainbow of hope in my heart and soul. I feel like some people misread or didn’t read ALL of my “Enough” post. That was actually a great day and turning point emotionally for me. Having cancer feels like being labeled with a scarlet letter, or...being Pig-Pen from the Peanuts comic strip, always having this cloud of darkness constantly encircling me. People on the outside may still look at me with pity, but I don’t. Cancer is a fabulous teacher. Not the soft, mushy, kind of teacher like you had for Kindergarten, but rather a tough, hard-nosed, storm of a teacher. Like the late John Bock, Tom’s notoriously tough high school basketball coach. Or like me, not as a teacher, but when I was a student. I had a teacher that looked and acted just like the Wicked Witch of the West, complete with a wart on the end of her nose. About mid-year, when my brain must have been a frozen tundra, I finally mustered up enough courage to ask her for help understanding my math assignment. She curled her upper lip and snarled, “You should have listened more carefully when I explained that the first time.” Oh, the good old days when students were actually held accountable for their part in learning. Eleven years ago Tom and I were in the hospital for 17 days where a ruptured appendix (and mis-diagnosis) almost killed my husband. By the second week, I became the gatekeeper as I watched my husband age about 20 years in 10 days. One morning, the hospital room’s phone rang and the voice on the other end growled, “Put Tommy on the line!” “Ah, excuse me, to whom am I speaking?” “He’ll know who it is. Put Tommy on the line.” “He’s too weak and too sick to talk right now.” “Put Tommy on the line.” Apparently when Coach Bock speaks, everyone listens. When cancer’s speaks...everyone should listen. Cancer doesn’t just happen. What environment am I creating physically, mentally, and emotionally to host this formidable guest? This is where I could write a book, but in the end...

This cancer storm keeps teaching me lesson after lesson, day after day. In the midst of the downpour, I keep trying to listen and learn. Meanwhile, hoping my houseguest will leave. Hoping the storm will pass...soon! Until then, I keep looking for the rainbows after each storm. Keep striving to replace undesirable habits for life-giving ones. Keep running the race set out before me. Keep counting my many blessings...like fuzzy green trees.