The Pathology Report Is In. . .

And it is truly a gift of grace. . .

No more cancer was found!

Henry and I celebrated by going to Joey's at Mayfield Common. I had tea and a fabulous apple crumble and Henry enjoyed a lovely glass of red wine with his sushi. . . .

I was finally able to let out the breath I hadn't realized I had been holding since this last surgery.

Timing when writing can be a funny thing. If I had written this post yesterday it would have been all sweetness and light. . . after all I am cancer free!

I spent yesterday in a grateful, peaceful haze, full to the brim with prayers and thanksgiving.

I woke this morning to the realization that I still have a long way to go. That things can still happen. That my life will never be quite the same again. . .

It would be so easy to write only about the good days.

But not very honest.

And more than anything I want this blog to be honest. 

I spent a good part of today feeling sorry for myself. I would look outside and see the beauty of the sparkling snow, the soft glow of the sun and feel absolutely terrible that I wasn't filled with joy.

But I wasn't.

So I prayed. . . and remembered just how many others are praying for me.

I reread the email sent by a lovely reader who shared her health struggles with me. One of the things she reminded me of is  that patience is needed. Healing happens over time and that's okay.

And right now?

Well it's pretty hard to stay sorry for yourself when two of your grownup kids plop themselves into chairs around you as you write a melancholy post. . . joking and laughing with each other, throwing balloons around or rubbing them on your head to make your hair stand on end and musing on the Christmas season to come. (they have offered to shop for this year's Samaritan's Purse shoe boxes, our traditional start to the Holy Season.)

And then there is the Taylor Swift Christmas CD that Morgan just brought out of storage. . .

Life is good.

And feeling sorry for yourself gets old fast. . .