It can seem like we're alone as we battle seen and unseen forces, but we're not alone. Loved ones are with us, always...even if we can't see them.
For as long as I can remember, I've loved stormy weather. Thunder, lightning, wind (within reason), blizzards, and fog—as long as no one has to travel in such conditions, of course. It's most fun to me when I'm inside our home, sheltered from harm.
Of course for some of us, high winds mean that trees fall on our roofs, or if lightning hits we may blow some electrical appliances and that's when the scary stuff comes inside where we thought we were safe.
I guess that means we often acquire a false sense of security. We think that because we're tucked inside with the doors locked, then no one can get to us. And I've found out that type of thinking is a metaphor for something else.
For too many years I thought that diseases like cancer only happened to others, meaning it hit those I didn't know or would likely never meet. I felt safe (and blessed) that none of my family or friends had cancer, so I became complacent. Then things changed.
A dear friend of mine discovered a lump in her breast last April, and I became mildly concerned. My own experience has been with benign fibroid tumors and I thought that this was probably what my friend was dealing with, so I went on with my life and she pretty much did the same. Well, until the diagnosis came back that she did indeed have breast cancer.
Another friend told me she had a feeling this was going to turn out just fine. She apparently had a vision of some sort that nothing bad was going to happen, but I didn't feel as certain. I got a bit nervous, and began praying.
As the months flew by and things got progressively worse I prayed harder. I woke in the wee hours of the morning and usually the first thing on my mind was my friend and her husband. More prayers flew up as I went back to sleep hoping to hear good news that day. Facebook and CaringBridge.org provided a place where we could gather to get information, and we've all been checking those sites several times a day.
We've kept up with doctor visits and other updates over the last 17 months and that makes me more thankful than ever for the Internet.
My friend and her husband are intimately familiar with what the cancer has done to their daily lives. They wisely took a couple of "bucket list" trips across the country and caught up with family and friends they hadn't seen in a long while. They took thousands of pictures and visited places where natural and man-made beauty has made for some precious memories my friend can bring to mind as her sight fails her. She did this on purpose because she knew what was coming, even if some of us thought(and prayed) otherwise.
There is physical stormy weather, and then there is this kind, the kind you can't see. I don't care at all for storms that blow through our lives and leave us stunned, walking around in a fog as we search for clear-cut answers to questions that keep us wide-awake at night.
I now know that the warm, cozy feeling we get as storms rage can suddenly change and leave us chilled, frightened and feeling helpless. Strength, warmth and hope come from family, friends and even strangers who take your storm and ride it out with you—all the way.
May God be with you, Patti and 'Mas.
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