Choosing Gratitude

maple leaves

Dear Readers,

My Facebook newsfeed is full of Thanksgiving and gratitude posts and quotes—for which I am thankful. It’s a nice change to see positive messages. It has buoyed my spirits and reaffirmed my own desire to practice gratitude on a daily basis.

A confession? Even though I have so, so much to be grateful for, gratitude is not always an easy attitude for me to maintain. It takes energy. Persistence. And, for those of us that have been life-long pessimists (or are just plain exhausted), it requires a deliberate change in thinking. In short, gratitude requires work.

Why am I writing this? Because as important as gratitude is, I also think it’s equally important to admit that we’re all human. We’re not perfect. Sometimes, we have bad days, and get upset by anything and everything that doesn’t go our way. It’s in these moments that we have a choice to make: to allow ourselves to be overtaken by negativity or to refocus—and recommit—to a life of gratitude.

For me, Thanksgiving is the perfect opportunity to look on the bright side. Seth will be cooking our Thanksgiving Day meal—which means it’s going to taste amazing (for those of you who don’t know, he’s a gifted cook). I expect to have a full belly and delicious left-overs for days. We’ll also decorate for Christmas; a holiday that never fails to fill me with hope and light.

It’s easier to be grateful with good food and the love of your life nearby.

So, the next time I struggle with gratitude, I’ll replay the sights and the smells of the holiday season in my mind. I’ll remind myself to cling to good memories instead of worrying about the uncertainty of the future (which is often what impinges my ability to be grateful).

I would like to thank you, Dear Readers, for sticking with me through the rollercoaster ride that has been 2017. Your support has meant everything to me. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

With Love,
Laura

Advertisements

Days Like Today

HL Window View - edited

The ride from the hospital to the American Cancer Society’s Hope Lodge is a short one…but I cried big, chemo-y, alligator tears the entire way there. I shed still more happy tears yesterday, while simply sitting in the truck and listening to the radio. I’ll probably keep on crying—because my heart is that full of gratitude.

There was a part of me, Dear Readers, that believed that I was never going to see the outside world again. I was terrified that hospital pumps and the ding of call bells was all that the future would hold for me.

Thank God I was wrong.

Thank God for the excellent team that cared for me while I was inpatient on Shep 4 (the Hematology/Oncology Cancer Floor).

Thank God for YOU, Dear Readers, and all of the prayers and well-wishes that you have shared with me. You truly have been spoon-feeding the strength that I need for this fight. You are carrying us through this storm, one step, one comment, one prayer at a time. NONE of this would be possible without your words of encouragement, without your continued love.

I wish that there were other words that I could share with you—words that could somehow capture the essence of what I am feeling. “Thank you” does not suffice. “This means the world to us” is not enough. In truth, my entire being is overwhelmed with gratitude. Even as the chemotherapy knocks my blood counts down, my veins are full, singing with excitement. My heart is lighter than it has been in weeks. I am so incredibly blessed.

Waking up in the same room as my significant other? A blessing.

Having breakfast with him, in the Hope Lodge’s dining room? A blessing.

Watching him fall asleep in a recliner while I write this? A blessing.

Hope Lodge is the house that saw so much of my first treatment—seven, intense months of it to be exact—and while I never thought that I would be back here, head shaved, port in my chest, doing this again, I am grateful to be here. I feel as though I could press a hand against the wood molding around our door, and all of the peace and healing this home has to offer would somehow sink into me, somehow bolster my resolve to keep moving forward. I look out the window and I see a hill of snow and a set of steps that, even with my left leg brace on, I conquered just this morning. I look at the artwork adorning the walls, and I see more than color and shapes—I see life.

I see life, Dear Readers.

I am not sure that I will ever feel strong enough for this fight, but days like today—I feel gratitude. I feel God’s grace. I feel hope, sending out new roots.

Please continue to send love and light. Although I will be in the capable hands of my outpatient Hematology/Oncology team, tomorrow will bring with it another round of chemotherapy. Pray that it works. Pray that we send this cancer packing once and for all.

 

With Love, Laura