The Silence of Cancer

     I have three friends battling cancer.
     One ovarian. One colon. One leukemia.
     One is married. One has a life partner. One is single. Otherwise they are the same woman, the same personality type, living the same life journey right now, which brings to mind: common denominators.
     Each woman has been a powerhouse, vivaciously active in her church...deeply engaged in causes...passionate about her own life, deeply invested in her family and friends. Each is known for her caring heart...compassionate about those she loves. And those that love her back, love her deeply.
     Each never met a stranger and has often been known to take a few in. Each loves doing for others. Each is the first to recruit, spearhead, launch a cause, and each is known to see any such causes through to the end. Each is a servant at heart.
     Each of these women is known for her giving (and giving, and giving).
     Each is charismatic...a magnet of loving energy; not afraid to speak up, speak out ...speak her mind, especially when it comes to justice and right and all things "fairness" ...especially when it comes to those less fortunate.
     Each has a reputation for reliability and tenacity, professionally, personally....most of all spiritually. Each has a vast network of spiritually-minded friends who have not stopped praying from the time we got the news.

     But oddly, there's another common denominator I'm noticing here of late.
     These once vibrant women, known for giving everything they've got to most anyone who asks, they've had to learn boundaries. They've had to learn "No." Time once given freely is now a precious commodity second only to their energy, which they're likewise learning to preserve.
     While those of us helplessly watching may want an update, a visit, or direction on how we might help, we too must learn patience. In their silence, we grow. We seek answers from their care-givers (who likewise must conserve energy) but now is not necessarily the time...Something as simple as a phone call is costly; energy once easily shared, now must be spared.

     Odd thing about cancer: it packs a silent punch.
   
     Each of my friends is a leader. Their magnetism for recruiting others... their passion for causes, it's contagious. Yet as vocal and visible as these women have been in the past, today each lives a silent existence, encircled by caregivers faced with the uncomfortable task of keeping others at bay as they circle the wagons to help them conserve precious fuel, for their energy once freely given, today must be paced. Their very lives depend on it.
     God bless their caregivers and significant others, no doubt zapped to the max physically, emotionally, spiritually for what they're living each day. These precious jewels that share their homes, their beds, their day to day lives, are now jewels buried deeply within the sands of their own private lives. The energy it took to shine for us, they now need turn inward for themselves.
     I came to know these women through serving. A homeless board here, a charitable trust there. I go to church with a third. They are servants at heart...Glowing gifts to this planet...Angels, sorely needed on earth.
     I can only pray earth hasn't used them up. I pray that for all they have given to others, they are able to give themselves.  My prayer is yes, for them, but selfishly for us. May the silence heal you...for in these moments, you teach and touch us still.
   
   

Tethered to the Temps: The Countdown Begins

   

     Tis the season for heat bulbs and blowers as I watch my broad brood of nannies waddle their way between walls and stalls in attempts to get comfortable for the night. Nothing cuter than jumping baby goats, though awaiting the the arrival of said kids is a tethering sport to say the least...
     The social life I once knew now dwindles to zilch, as leaving the premises on single digit nights can mean life or death to innocent newborns. For me personally,  I don't mind the solitude. (Trust me. No one can feel lonely in a place so teeming with life.) The barn itself exudes this warm orangey glow, partly from the lamps, yes, but more it feels, as if God herself sent a delivery blanket in advance to wrap the babies soon to enter this cold, cold world.
     In the quiet of these midnight hours I marvel ...
     Four big-hearted dogs to aid in my watch, I think back on their own arrival one year ago today, where once again I was hunkered down, same anxious energy, same freezing temps as if Rosey herself was whispering,  "Thankyouverymuch Mom, but I'LL be the one to decide just where I'll do my birth thing."  Birthing her babies in the throes of Al Roker's polar vortex, all 11 within a three-foot crawl space beneath my front porch (as opposed to inside where a warm and toasty bedspread-lined refrigerator crate could've graced a Martha Stewart make-over magazine)...well... it was my lesson to learn about love and life and releasing control in exchange for fully present.
     Minds of their own, each arriving pre-wired, these critters show up to make you smile...Today I watched a flat-footed Cupid suddenly topple straight over when the baby inside of her did a back flip without warning. Tonight it was Hix, head cocked in patient perplexity, waiting for his best bud Charlie to finish his cud full of hay (something Hix has yet to comprehend as a food substance, given its lack of flavor and proper texture). My little family of 20 (on the outside) is soon to expand, and with it, my heart.
     I bless each by name as my vigil begins...My weekend plans are booked and very simple to follow: pray without ceasing  --  my only charge...From here going forward, the only thing to consume my waking thoughts will be the safety of these mothers, the health of their babies and my new year's wish for more meaningful moments such as these that I live for, for they all serve to remind once again how very precious, how very sacred, how very fragile this thing called life.
     May we never take it for granted.
     Given the Christmas I've had, the losses I've grieved and the lessons I've learned in the year that was, I can honestly say I have never found such simple farm moments more meaningful. (For those seeking the same, I recommend it highly.)
     I welcome your prayers as well.
   

These Things We Pray

     I long ago gave up praying for patience, as the lessons that accompanied that little request always showed up in the darndest moments and in the most frustrating of ways.
     I used to pray for happiness, though with time I have come to realize that happiness is a fleeting emotional state...one you can't stay in forever even if you tried. The thing I believe we are really shooting for when offering up any request involving emotions or moods (usually offered to get out of one we don't like) is peace or peace of mind. A peaceful mental state does not run from the sadder emotions; instead, it treats emotions like house guests. They come. They go. They alert you to something you need to know and then, they are supposed to pass. Some we like better than others. Some stay too long and we wish they'd leave. In asking for peace of mind, I freed up a lot of energy I'd been wasting trying to avoid the emotions I liked least. I came to recognize is not wrong to be sad when someone dies or you lose a cherished pet... To the contrary, "sad" is the proper emotion and it would be sadder yet (and not too peaceful in your head, btw) if you didn't feel anything at all in these moments.
     But here of late a new word has crept into my prayer vocabulary...a recurring word...and that word is "meaning".  If I could have but one prayer word... one wish granted...one Christmas gift from God, here lately the word I keep coming back to is "meaning"~
     Whether I've stumbled onto this one as a matter of concern for how much of material, worldly life comes across as meaningless to me these days from senseless murders to horrific wars to crappy television shows to Black Friday Christmas sales, I have come to recognize that my own little peaceful moments are those of meaning...and not necessarily huge meaning. The smallest moments are usually my best (like looking out the window just as Charlie-goat shows Hix how to head butt or jump on a spool).
    Having numbed out the news, having muted the commercials, having blocked out the things I used to worry about and for which I have absolutely no control, I find myself turning to the things that I might actually affect, be it friends going through things, be it ME going through things...When I can say "God, point me toward the meaning here..." a sense of hope is born. For that reason I now weigh shows to watch, which events to attend or which conversations to engage in, prefacing these decisions with a quick assessment of "Will there be meaning or will this wind up a shallow exchange of my precious energy?" (in which case, I'd rather pass, even if just to stay home and hug big dogs).

     Whether "Will there be meaning?" or "Help me find meaning..." or "Let me bring some facet of meaning to this situation or equation..." the gist of the request is to find and focus on whatever worthwhile there might be in what I'm choosing to participate in...and whoever I'm choosing to participate with (be it group, friend, pup or goat).
     Whether laughing or crying, alone or with another, to me it feels a lack of meaning is in large part to blame for a world in so much pain.
   

The (Literal) Dog Days of Summer

     With Rosey now on the mend, we turn to Hiccapup, whose tumor we went ahead and removed while pulling blood and tissue samples. With a 10-day wait on the lab results, we spent a good deal of this one praying. Music and his mama were there to greet him as he came around. The photos pretty much say it all.