Thursday, I found my long-tucked-away gratitude journal. Last entry? May 8, 1999. My 20 yr old cousin Jenny's funeral. My gosh, I have lived a lifetime since I last journaled there.
Friday, I found my vacuum and vacuumed & dusted. I love my Kirby.
Saturday and Sunday, I found work. Not a bad thing to find.
Monday, I found The Bible, at least History Channel's version of it, recorded from Sunday night.
I am starting to find myself, although I am not sure if it's the old me or a new me.
I call myself a Christian, but my real Bible is pretty dusty. It lives in the same drawer by my bed as the gratitude journal. My prayers thus far have been flailing efforts at best. What, exactly, do you pray for when you are in my bra? I'm still figuring it out. There isn't as much anger, tears or frustration by now, 7 weeks after diagnosis. There is a pattern to treatment and side effects that makes it easier to cope with and plan for. I pray for strength for the long haul. For good decisions on my part about use of leave time at work and planning for two surgeries in less than a year. For the cancer to not be anywhere else but the known lymph node, and to only do this cancer dance once in a lifetime. The lymph node is shrinking with just the 2 rounds of chemo so far, Amen! For the 3! other ladies at church all walking this walk. For the hands and feet carrying us through this with dinners, rides, hugs, hair bows & hats. But mostly, I pray for God's will, and the courage to take what is given to me. And a continued sense of humor through it all, cause crying just gives me a headache.