Stephenson Family Ties The Barn Burnt Down
And Now I See The Moon
I started the day with some nothin' tea.
Nothin' tea is easy to make.  First get
some hot water, and add nothin'.
From: The Martian
By: Andy Weir

I dont know if I can do this.
(I know, I know...Im already whining, and Im  not the one with cancer. ...its not a good sign)
But I am dreading tomorrow... I'm thinking I'll barely be able to  muster the fortitude, courage, faith, and the patience I need  walk in that building , that has already become way to familiar, and try to listen to Dr S. tell me all the reasons why giving My Builder poison is a good thing.
These last few weeks have left me plenty of time to stew on things. For  Ive often gone though the many scenerios on how and what I would do if I was diagnosised with cancer...but I NEVER played out what I would do if the man I love were to get cancer.
Im scared, and Im mad.  ( My Builder seems to not experience either of these emotions.) Plus, I lack a full sense of confidence in the medical community right now...after last weeks' incidents with the radiology department. So how do I do this a pillar of strength and confidence for the man I love?
I suppose I'll just have to lean on all the love and prayers that I know are being sent heavenward in behalf of Bob.
Notes of  encouragement and love keep streaming in to us...and they help greatly...
Like this one from my dear, dear cousin from Mississippi:

We've had a rainy, blustery day. In fact, we spent a good half hour trapped in the hallway under a mattress, fearing a tornado...again. Alas, we are safe. 
Those are nice words: We. Are. Safe. 
They're not mine, though. They're everyone's, at some time in life or other. 
I didn't realize you'd stopped blogging. I didn't realize where life had taken you and your family since I moved away. I didn't realize Bob had cancer. Until today. In the safety of my home, flooded with 5 inches of rain outside, and electricity and conveniences inside, my dad received a call from yours. Lots was said. I didn't hear it. It wasn't my phone call. 
But afterwards, Dad found me and Mom: safe, sitting in comfort, watching radars and storms swirling around our state. He broke the news about Bob. We stared at him. It wasn't real. Just like the storms wreaking havoc, ELSEWHERE. 
I don't know what to say. I don't know what to pray for in your behalf. 
But please know, y'all are safe. You're in gentle and loving hands that know clearly what's happening, more clearly than you or any scan or anyone else can. Know, too, that temple prayer rolls are sacred and strengthening to those who humble themselves to use their power. I've felt it and seen it in my life and the lives of my friends. 
Y'all are loved more than you can possibly imagine. Please know that. Please trust me when I say that. 
I hate you're suffering. I hate Bob is suffering. I hate that you're still enduring winter when you dislike it so much. 
But I know: Y'all. Are. Safe. 

I'm planting  a mustard seed in my heart.
Today's miracles: A cousin eloquent beyond description. Plus sunshine and bees making love to my apricot tree.


Anna said...

Well that made me cry. Sheesh. Thanks Lynley!

PC Ehlert Family News said...

Wise counsel from Lynley. So true, if we can have the faith to keep moving with that in mind. There's not a lot of being "fair" or not with cancer. Certainly I could use the refining and gut-wrenching growth more than Bob. Do they get better than him? Not much. He and all of you are so loved and are being prayed for daily. I'm also praying that the side effects stay far away, but that the medicine is working a complete cure.