As we wrap up the holiday season for 2011, I sit reflecting on it all. First thoughts are that life is so strange right now. There is all this "normal" floating around in a sea of crazy ocean. It's like there are two different lives going on in parallel. This regular life where we are on break from school and having christmas with the family - cooking, cleaning, laughing, playing. Then there is also this epic battle for life happening inside my husband while we just hang out together. So strange. If I get to thinking too much about it, I can get pretty stressed. So I clean, I organize, I stay busy. It's the quiet moments that are the hardest (luckily these types of moments are not too common in our house). People think I'm strong, that I have it all together. I can assure you that I am not, that there are many times I lose it, that I cave to feeling sorry for myself, that I lose faith briefly, that i feel defeated.  These aren't my proudest moments, but they exist. Somehow, through Grace, I am scooped back up and propped upright again, stronger. Sometimes it's my kids, sometimes it's friends, sometimes it's family, sometimes it's Michael who bring me this gift of strength.  All I know is each time I fall, I am lifted back up.  With each lift, I am reminded that I will never be left alone in grief.  Somehow I am given the strength to handle challenges that come my way. I have so much happiness in my life right now. The key to recognizing this most days is to stay in the present, don't fret about what the future holds, hold my faith high, keep friends and family close. Great life lessons for sure. What a gift.

Livestrong

Well, today is what I like to call Chapter 3: The Chemo Fight. In case you are keeping track... Chapter 1: The Diagnosis, Chapter 2: The Surgery.

Here we sit with the chemical cocktail coursing into Michael and letting his body know we aren't going to take this lying down. It's strange, really. We are in this big room with about 32 treatment chairs, about 1/4 of them full (so, how many chairs have people in them, how many are empty? Sorry, it's the math teacher in me) and we are all counting on this liquid drip stuff to save us/our loved ones. Weird. As I look around the room, I see that cancer really doesn't have a "type". It really does affect everyone. Young, old, all ethnicities -- we are all included in this club. As I type, the chairs start to fill. Each person carrying their own hope, grief, sadness, strength, faith. We are all together yet fighting our own battles. What a community we are.

livestrong indeed.