Today, September 11, is a day that will always live in infamy. And for me, personally, September 11 took on even more meaning when I had to go for a needle biopsy, five years ago. I probably already wrote about how we had a monarch caterpillar in a cocoon, in our kitchen. About how I had taken the bucket, which held the branch, which had the cocoon, and put it in a bathroom to keep it out of harm's way during a party...several days prior. For some reason, on September 11, I remembered that silly cocoon was in that bathroom, in the dark, and I had forgotten it. When I went in to get it, the cocoon was BLACK, like death. I was devastated.
I was rushing to leave for the biopsy appointment, which my kids weren't aware of. I do remember that they thought it was odd that I had another doctor appointment, because I never have doctor appointments. I was really upset that I had killed our butterfly by forgetting it in the dark bathroom. I rushed it outside into the sunshine as I was leaving. In my mind, just one more thing that I didn't follow through on, ugh.
You can look back through the blog and read the details of the appointment, but the important thing for this post is that when I came home, my girls were delighting in the hatching of our monarch butterfly. We got pictures, and somehow it gave me great hope, that I too, would make it through the dark, "forgotten" days and would survive.
And, I did! Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, I did! And now, five years later, I did; I am; I actually ran across pictures on an Ipod last night, that were all taken that fall, and some the next spring, after wig season had ended. I looked at the faces of my children and was thankful, all over again, that I didn't leave them back then.
I asked the Lord to let me live to raise my children, and He saw fit to give me that, and the oodles and oodles more that I call "gravy", every day. Five years now, I have loved and lived and laughed and sought to encourage and be grateful. I have focused on living the life I want to have. I wish so much that I "had it all together", but I don't know that I ever will.
But I can tell you this, I relish each day, each hour, each sunrise, each laugh, each pile of laundry and maybe even the dirty dishes. I get to raise my children, love my husband, and muck my own stalls.
Don't just accept the conventional wisdom. Research, educate yourself, make wise choices, but don't dwell on your disease and don't paste a label on your chest. None of us knows how long we get. LIVE IT WELL!