I've Started Singing Again

One of the things I've missed so much since getting sick is singing. I am used to singing most days -- not formally, but just as I go about the day. I've always loved to sing and dance while cooking or cleaning. I've always loved to sing at church.

I've been too exhausted for months to sing. My throat and mouth have been bone dry (literally) from the chemo, and even if I had wanted to sing, it would have come out like a frog croaking. I've held onto praise inwardly -- sometimes with a very tight grip -- but everything has been very inward for a long time as I've just clung to Jesus and hung on.

Yesterday I was playing some music and I suddenly started to sing aloud. And later I was trying to remember a song and sang part of it. And then today I've had some time alone and I started playing some favorite videos and I started to sing again. I can't say it sounds beautiful (I'm still pretty croaky) but it FEELS beautiful, because it feels like my spirit is waking up like a flower after a bitter winter. I may be stiff and broken (and bald) but my hands are starting to lift heavenward. "Holy, Holy, Holy Lord, the earth is yours!" (I sing along with Gungor...)

Dancing, of course, has been out of the question. The pain and stiffness in my leg make it hard to walk, much less dance. I'm not there yet, but I can tell that my body is wanting to dance again too. I sit in my chair at the kitchen table and my hands rise and wave and my feet start to tap. And I pray it is just a matter of time.

Life Goes On

It's been a long time since I have managed a blog post. The past several weeks have been a long, exhausting blur. If I had to pick one word to describe them, it would probably be slog.

Having cancer is a terrible thing. Lots of well meaning people will tell you, when you have it, not to let it rob you of the things that matter, and it's true that attitude matters. But the plain fact is, being bludgeoned by serious illness and intensive chemotherapy just takes a lot out of you. It changes everything  - your body, your face, your daily routine, your relationships, your faith journey. It wears you out and wears you down. It makes you feel like a stranger to yourself sometimes.

I am tired on all sorts of levels today, and I am simply here to say sometimes it is okay to rage and okay to grieve. It's not giving too much power over to the reality; it's simply acknowledging that sometimes reality is just hard. Really, really hard. And while I am thankful for prayers, peace, love, and people who care - all part of this journey- I have days where I just need to say I am weary, and that is the truth. I have days where I need to say enough is enough, and I want healing, and "how long, Lord?" And to know it is okay to say those things and okay to cry and okay to want my life back.