Thursday, May 30, 2013


I've had a lovely few days. I spent the night with a good friend whose company I enjoy. I went to the city to buy groceries and run errands, shopped for a rocking chair for my soon to be grandchild. Every day kind of things that make me feel like life is getting back to normal. I stopped in at work to get caught up to speed on what's been happening in preparation for my return to work next week.

As I was driving into the city yesterday I felt full of gratitude for being able to do stuff like that. It's the first time since my breast cancer diagnosis/journey that I can remember feeling such deep gratitude. I thought to myself what a nice change it was to smile without my face hurting and to be able to truthfully say I was good when people asked me. Genuine gratitude felt like such a gift in itself.

Last month I listened to this author being interviewed and he talked about a new mantra of his: Here. This. Now.  I have repeated that mantra to myself many times since I heard it. It works to remind me to be in the present moment instead of running a million miles ahead of myself like I'm want to do. I take a deep breath and repeat it and for the moment I am in the moment.

The geneticist's office just called me to let me know that they will have my BRAC 1 & 2 test results back within the week and could I please come in to discuss them on such and such a date. I asked if they couldn't just tell me over the phone? After all it is an 8 hour drive to hear that I don't carry the gene. And if I do, well, just tell me already. They said either way I needed to be seen in person. My appointment is on my birthday. It's either going to be a great birthday present or one I won't forget any time soon.

Here. This. Now. Breathe.


Rebekah Grace said...

Beloved, thank you for being here; for writing your journey. It was nearly 4 weeks ago now that my dad called to tell me his news - cancer in his prostate. More tests were done. More news - cancer, though small (tumors) in his bones (rib and pelvis.) My head and heart have run the gamut since his first call - he and I, or I, rather, have struggled with this relationship; this father and daughter thing that has sucked since I was 9. He was a pastor, cheated, and my parents separated. I would have to write a book to tell you the depths of what it did and how it affected that little girl who still resides inside me, as well as her view of God.

I've white knuckled the pain and resentment and anger - for 35 years. When I get humble and honest I know it got me nowhere. So I can tell you today that the month of May held in it a paradigm shift for my heart that I could have never seen coming. Just like God to throw me a curve ball made of grace.

I would write more, but I've taken enough space. Thank you for listening. And for writing, again. Love and grace to you, today and on your birthday.

Jim said...

I wouldn't want to lose finding you here, but have you ever considered putting this whole journey into a book. You have the talent; and your honesty in this could well be what others need to hear...

Hope said...

Rebekah Grace - I am so sorry about your dad's diagnosis. Curve ball made of grace. I love that expression.

Jim - yes I have considered writing some kind of book although on many days I am aware of how little I really know and then think I'd have nothing to write that mattered!

Peter said...

Yes a book. When you can. And Now is all we have.

annie said...

You know more than you think you know, Hope! And you've articulated so many things very well.

I'm glad for the "lovely few days" you've had!