Lent begins March 1st. It was not observed by my family, but it was a tradition of my ancestors to chose something that would align ones awareness to the 40 days of fasting that Jesus did just before beginning his mission to the world.
It is observed until Easter. The choice is individual, it can be something you don’t do, like abstain from something like a certain food, or something you do, like a helpful deed committed to for that period of time. I’ve always wanted to do it.
I’ll be observing lent this year.
I spooked myself in the mirror this morning.
It wasn’t as bad as I thought,
but it was still weird.
I didn’t fall, didn’t break anything, didn’t forget anything important, didn’t spill anything, didn’t drop much, didn’t embarrass myself, didn’t offend anyone, and didn’t eat anything toxic.
We did have peace in the home. I did have conversations with family across the country and I did get to tell them I loved them.
It was a good day.
Peering over the edge of the tub, there was a decision to make. Would I be cleaner or dirtier after taking a bath in that tub? I had swished the sink, even tackled the toilet on a good day. But with brittle bones and 9 cracked ribs, the best I could do for the tub, was spray and turn on the shower.
Days have gone by. Too many. I’m not tellin’ how many, but I needed to either get back in that dirty tub or find the courage to ask someone to clean it for me.
It is a strange thing laying in bed, too weak to hold a cell phone for very long and hearing someone else scrub your tub.
Thank you, my dear neighbor, Linda
I’m hairless as a bald eagle.
My daughter’s friend, invited us to her barber shop after hours. It was another one of those guided angel moments. I wouldn’t have thought of a barber, but hair stylists don’t shave heads, barbers do. Who would have thought?
I wasn’t going to look, I planned to just do it, put on the wig and then open my eyes. The process was gentle, kind, sweet and soul-warming. I was okay. I opened my eyes, and there I was, looking like an alien in a star trek movie.
It was pretty much what I expected, weird, odd, peculiar, but not traumatic. I feel like I’m in school wearing clothes my mother picked out for me. It doesn’t hurt, its just an out-of-place feeling.
I’ll get used to it.
There are fairy baskets in the waiting rooms of cancer clinics. Fairies come along and deposit carefully handmade hats into these baskets. The table where the basket sits is the warmest place in the room. That is because it radiates the loving kindness of the hat fairies.
Mysteriously, the rays of kindness do not go away when the hat is worn. When you put on one of these hats, the loving kindness pours down from the hat and wraps around you. It lasts all day.
Thank you hat fairies.
Day after 2nd round of chemo. Wrapped in blankets living in a cocoon. The day’s objective is to keep the chills away.
When I look back on my life, what would give me the sense of “job well done.”
Where would the regrets be?
Reflecting on restructuring life patterns.