Bird Song and Sunrise

I’m well on the road to recovery, feeling good, growing hair, loving life. I love sitting outside in the early morning, feeling grateful the winter is over and so is the time of sitting inside looking out, recovering from chemo. The spring seemed so far away back then! In honor of spring and hope, I wrote this earlier today:

“This morning is soft and silky, with the sun muted behind kitten gray clouds. My red-feathered friend primps on the wire above me; his whit-whit-whit call competes with the chatter of sparrows, the whir of dove wings, and the cheery song of father finch perched on the edge of his nest before stuffing ‘bird milk’ down the outstretched throats of his babies. Spring is deliciously heavy, so full and ripe it must soon give way to summer. Voluptuous lettuce in my garden, misted with the glow of sunrise and dew, bursts its boundaries, pushing against spinach, marigolds, beets, while the yearling redbud tree across the yard stretches youthful branches up to the gentle morning light. Deep green heart leaves shimmer beside the aged dogwood nearby, both trees moving in rhythm with the gentle morning breeze. “

Last Friday I attended my first Relay for Life. It was quite an experience. Lancaster, PA holds the third largest relay for the fight against cancer in the country. It is shocking –the cancer statistics - how many walked the survivor's lap and how many luminaries lined the track honoring or in memory of cancer patients. With a still swollen ankle, I limped through the whole survivor's lap. On the track I saw my oncologist; I think he was wearing a survivor's gold medal. I had no idea. The night was filled with mixed emotions.

The luminary service was touching, hope-filled and beautiful. The word HOPE was illuminated on the bleachers as bagpipers played Amazing Grace. During the songs and ceremony, I remembered everyone I could think of in my life, who fought cancer, including my dad, my sisters, cousins, aunts, uncles, and friends. I thought of Alice, the rescuer of my dog, Hutch. Alice died from cancer when Hutch was a year old; Hutch died a few months ago. Of course all this remembering brought out the tears and tissues.

I'm resting now, with foot propped up and on ice as I write this blog. Minding my ankle is hard, being free of chemo and so wanting to get on with life. Then I think of Jim, walking the survivor’s lap, enrolled in his last chance clinical trial for advanced lung cancer, and feel chagrined over my impatience with my ankle.

So friends, I challenge you to go out and enjoy life today; whatever the difficulty, walk the survivor’s lap, in spirit if not on foot. And by all means, listen for the red bird!

Joyfully, Sharon

A wise story: The disciples were full of questions about God. Said the master, “God is the Unknown and the Unknowable. Every statement about God, every answer to your questions, is a distortion of the truth.”

The disciples were bewildered. “Then why do you speak about God at all?”
“Why does the bird sing?” said the master.

THE BIRD SINGS NOT BECAUSE IT HAS A STATEMENT BUT BECAUSE IT HAS A SONG - from Song of the Bird by Anthony De Mello