I can remember singing the words in Junior High…
Everything has its season. Everything has its time. Show me a reason and I’ll soon show you a rhyme…
The words, from Pippen’s “Corner of the Sky” have stuck with me all these years. And lately, I’ve found myself humming the tune more. Maybe because I know. I know now what I didn’t know when I was 12 or 13. Life is made up of seasons.
Even in the bible it says, to every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven. And the Byrds remind us the same as they remind us, “To everything turn turn turn. There is a season turn turn.”
Much like the calendar, the story of our lives flip pages to new seasons… seasons of care-free fun — like summer. Seasons of beauty — like fall. Seasons of feeling cold and sometimes without life — like winter. And seasons of hope — like spring.
My journey thus far has been so similar. Like I am going through all the seasons in a six month timespan. I saw summer, right before diagnosis. It was a happy time… the boys were all old enough this summer for us to get out and have fun. We were looking at moving. It was a time of excitement and anticipation. And then, fall — a diagnosis — a diagnosis which flooded my life, oddly, with goodness. And love. And beauty. And then, winter. The long, cold winter. The time where I went through chemo and prayed for days of sunshine. The times where I would cry that this might very well be the winter of my life. The end of it all for me on this earth. The time where I wondered when or if I might experience spring again.
And then, in the midst of winter, little glimmers of spring. Of hope. Of fall. Of beauty. Of Summer. Of happiness. All the seasons, intertwined. And I knew that this would not be it. My life would not end with winter. It would simply regrow, with spring.
Monday, I celebrated. Tuesday, I cried. A lot. I wept on my friend’s couch as I shared my fears. And then Wednesday, I was at peace with it. And I awoke today feeling the same.
I mean, I’m irritable because I can’t drink my morning coffee. But otherwise, I am ready for this day to be here. And to move forward from it. It will be a defining moment in my life. A bullet in my synopsis. But it will not be it. Because spring is on its way. I just know it.
I believe in hope. And I have hope and faith that if God brought me to it, he can bring me through it. I am ready to rid my body of any cancer that might be looming. I am ready to be in the best hands I can think of for this situation — Dr. Thayer, Dr. Johnson, and Dr. Amoura. I am ready to do this step and to process through it, just like we’ve had to with everything else.
Last night as I laid with each of the boys. Barrett cried. And I hugged him as tight as I knew how. I told him I’d be home in a few days. And that this is just a part of our story now. I packed my bags. I had Adam take some pictures of my current set {because honestly, they’ll never look like this again — good, bad, or otherwise}, and I snuggled in tight close to Adam knowing that we will have a few weeks where snuggling will be a feat due to drains and pains. But mostly, it was a good night. And I slept like a champ.
I am most scared for my boys. And my family. And of course, Adam. I am most worried for their emotions as they wait for the surgery to be complete.
I can’t say that there is no part of me that is anxious or nervous. That would be a lie. A dirty, filthy lie. But I can say, I am ready. Scared or not. I am here. At the next part. And it has to happen for me to someday be able to say, “I have no evidence of disease” and in 5 years, “I am cancer-free”. It has to happen.
We all go through seasons. Our life ebbs and flows. And this winter has been a rougher one than most. But I lived it. And now, spring is just around the corner. And that, that is a beautiful thing.
And I’m hopeful for it to be sunny, warm, and full of continued goodness.
So, peace out, cancer. And hello spring. I’ve been waiting for you all winter.
