This early October day was blooming more beautifully than the weather people said it would. From my bedroom window at 8 o’clock this morning, there were some clouds but a blue sky and the sun fell across my bed, waking Beanni and me at the same time. It’s so good to see the world from our perch every day.
Beanni uses it to oversee the safety in our tiny neighborhood. I use it to launch my morning prayer as I stretch and thank God for saving me from the life I once lived. Today, my front yard maple bashfully showed us a few of her beautiful colours. We are privileged to have first look of autumn from our magic window that no one else can see.
My neighbors have been kind, generous guardians taking care of me for the last six years. My lawn gets mowed, my driveway gets plowed, my trash mysteriously gets moved to the curb, weeds disappear into bags, mulch appears miraculously around the few hardy plants that still persist despite my best efforts. On Sundays a wonderful meal appears, often off the grill with fresh vegetables. When I bump my medical alert they’re called. It might be 1 AM or 2:30 PM, but they find time to come over and check on me. They find my dog, Beanni, when he’s wandered away and I’m barefooted, crying and calling his name when he sneaks out.
You find out today the husband has been diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer that is spreading everywhere. And even though he knows it, he goes outside to bag weeds. He sees me trying to figure out how to install a Progressive insurance Tool in my car. Comes over to help, and tells me his news. And he pulls out his wallet, right after he tells me he is most likely dying, and shuffles through everything until he finds a Business card of someone he respects, who can mow our lawns and plow our driveways this winter. “I don’t think I can do this anymore” he says. “I have to go comfort my dad right now” he says. “But I’ll be here if you need me.”
If I need him.
I need him! We need him! We need all the warriors who are making our lives better while fighting a huge war inside their bodies. Like my cousin, Jay Mathews. Or my mom, Bev Wells. Or Janet Pahssen who has been fighting, and winning, the ugliness of cancer, never giving up.
Our mommas told us there would be days, no, lives like this. And as the sun sets, I see the stars of warriors of my past and the new warriors, who gather up their armor each day, and say “There will be days like this.” And just keep going on.
With love & blessings, V