Monday, January 18, 2016


It's an insidious beast.
I realized this morning that it's crept back into my life, hiding just beneath my awareness.
I've known that I'm restless, unable to really settle into my new job, but haven't been aware of why - or really tried to figure it out.

Facebook (of all things!) woke up my awareness - showing me my memories and a picture of the cat I rescued just before I had my cancer surgery. (I wrote about Dexter back then. (Free To A Good Home) I couldn't keep him because I didn't know what was coming up, but I found him a good home. Dexter recovered completely from his trials and lived a life of luxury for four years - but died of cancer just before Christmas last month.  sadness.)

As I looked at the picture of the kitten, I was transported back to the uncertain days just before surgery, when fears loomed large and there was no quieting them. Days when I moved ahead only because the noises of motion helped to drown out the voices of doom.

And I realized my resistance to settling in to this job stems from those sames roots of fear.  Because whether I'm aware of it or no, my body responds to the seasons.  Between my cancer diagnosis and Kate's, January is now my season for fear.

Why try?  Why dream?  Why plan?

The future is not certain, the year after next is not guaranteed.  So why not throw caution to the winds and live for today and only today?

Because the voice of fear is often wrong, that's why.

No, nothing is guaranteed. not the year after next, not tomorrow. But it's been four years since I first heard the word cancer attached to my body, and I'm still here. It's been a year since I heard the word cancer attached to my daughter's body, and she is still here. Neither of us show any sign the disease is returning, and we are doing all we know how to do to keep it that way.

One of the ways to keep it that way is to celebrate the life I have today, and the life I hope to have tomorrow. Which means I need to keep working for a while longer. There is another camper van out there, waiting. The time to travel again is not yet. But my heart has begun, almost in spite of myself, to plan. To remember days of freedom, of seeing Good in sunsets and sunrises and beautiful places.

Those days will come around again.

So, take *that*, fear.
You do not win.
You do not get to run or to ruin my life.

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