Advent I: Hope

After I sat down on Sunday night and lit the first candle of my Advent wreath, I just sat and watched the small flame flicker for a time. Such a small light. So much dark. Somehow, the small quietly overcame the much, and reached my soul and reignited a flicker of Hope.

Life carries no guarantees. None for me. None for my family and friends. None for the world.

Nobody ever said "treatable" meant this repeat cancer journey would be easy.

But I have today.

I can't undo what radiation has done to my system, but today, I can work on easing the long term damage. Today my mind works. Today my body is allowed to move again. No small blessings, these.

I am grateful to the parts of the Universe which have been working together to ensure I don't lose sight of Hope this year.

Time and again, my burdens feel heavy, and I just want to curl up on the sofa underneath my white fuzzy blanket and make it all go away.

Time and again, when I reach this point, someone unexpectedly reaches out to me, with a text or a card or a small gift or a letter or a phone call, and lets me know I am not forgotten. I am loved.

These gestures make a difference. They give me the oomph to take one more step. 

They are my light in the darkness. 

Such small lights.
Such great power.