Full

I am so full, God.

Full, like hands carrying elusive water,
cupping, holding, tickling
wetness, leaking through fingers.

Full, like an expanding balloon,
stretched taunt, holding…
holding, yet longing for explosion.

Full, like a sky filled with stars,
crystal glitter against lush darkness,
seeing can’t take it all in.

Full of depth, emotion, wonder,
embracing, resisting, inviting,
a soul longing for full expression.

I am so full, God.


~~
I'm ready for chemo tomorrow. Always a thread of fear exists that the day for chemo will come and my body and mind will not be ready. There is always a brief moment of panic at the start of the good days, will I get the house tidied and cleaned, the soups made and frozen, the dogs walked enough? Will I have time for laughter and fun? Then I settle in, let go, lean into trust. The good days are as full and rich as the not-so-good days. Love and trust blossom both times. I thank my body and soul for doing all this healing work. I thank the nurses and doctors, my family, my friends for also helping me heal. Mostly I thank God for my life, what is and what remains.

I’m grateful to be alive. The wind rips the rugs into my face as I struggle pinning them to the line, knocking my glasses off my face. Laughing, I delight in the power of the wind! The sun shines amazingly brilliant. I want to feel the intensity of the sun! My chia tea smells exotic. I brew it darker just to experience the aroma. I pet our old dachshund, Annie, and send loving-kindness to her through my fingers. I marvel at her soft coat, her marble eyes shining even through cataracts. I lay on the floor arms spread out; I can’t do this in the muddy grass yet, but I still feel the deep, wide earth awakening into spring. I want to be connected to the earth. I cherish the earth, and everything in it. I cherish my life. I am so full. Full of gratitude and of wanting more too. I want God more; I want more grace, more wisdom, more love and loving, more living fully.

I am ready for chemotherapy tomorrow. I’m taking Sophia with me, the mystery bear, Bob’s gift to me. I named her Sophia, God’s name for wisdom. I took off the hospital gown Sophia arrived wearing, and placed an earth stone necklace around her neck. I pinned an angel pin on her fur. The pin is another gift, from Jeanette, given so long ago she probably doesn’t remember. Sophia will hang on the IV pole to remind me of the earth I love, the provision of God, and that R-CHOP is my partner in healing. I go to chemo tomorrow, ready to thank Dr DeGreen, the delightful staff, all the wonderful nurses in the Gama Lab and in the Chemo room at the Lancaster Cancer Center for helping me heal.

I intend to take a break from blogging for awhile. I’m not sure how long, but I desire to be outdoors as much as possible to be more intentional about exercising, to boost my morale and aid in my healing. During my break from blogging, please feel free to call, email, and/or ask to stop in for a visit. In my experience, chemotherapy is isolating and lonely, surprising since I have always liked solitude and quiet.

Be well, and hug someone for me today! (even a tree :) Live fully alive!
Joyfully,
Sharon

"I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?" Mary Oliver

“God is voluptuous and delicious.” Meister Eckhart