It May Be a Detour

We often find ourselves in a place where we are wondering if we made a mistake.  Did we make the wrong decision?  Did we jump at that opportunity without thinking it through?

I've had those thoughts plenty of times.  It's possible that we make mistakes along the way, but we usually can't undo them.  The best thing to do is look at where you are and make the decisions you have the power to make.  You can't move in reverse.  You can't click "undo."  You can't yell, "do over." You can only be present.  You can only make choices about what you will do next.  You can only move toward the future.

If you are in that place, wondering if somewhere along the way you made a mistake: yesterday, last month, last year, or 15 years ago, it doesn't matter.  It is in the past, you are in the present with the future ahead of you.  Don't think about this part of your journey as a mistake.  Think about it as a detour.

There are two kinds of detours.

There are detours where someone else makes you take a different route.  The road may be closed or under construction. You don't have a choice.  You must travel this other road and you will eventually get to your destination; it will simply take longer.  There was road construction in Yellowstone.  It took an hour to travel what should have taken 10 minutes.  While we were slowed down, we saw a herd of elk, a bald eagle and a bear.  We also had a lot of time to visit with each other.  While we were waiting in the car, a large rainstorm came. If we had arrived at our destination when we wanted, we would have been hiking in the rainstorm instead of safely dry in the car.

The other kind of detours are the ones that we cause.  We take a wrong turn or aren't paying attention or get lost.  We take a route we didn't intend.  Sometimes we are so off course, we aren't sure if we will ever get back on track.  We went for a hike through some unknown woods once.  We took at least an extra hour to get back to camp.  Some people were scared and nervous because it was getting dark. Some people enjoyed the trip.  It was beautiful and peaceful.

You never know what you will learn on these detours.  You don't know what you will see.  Sometimes the detour is keeping you from something more harmful you can't see yet.  Sometimes it's there to make you slow down and pay attention.

Don't get discouraged by mistakes in your life, they are simply detours.  You will get where you want to be.  Enjoy the journey.  Whether it is long or short, it's a new adventure that you can tell stories about one day.

Pink Story: Radiation in the Waiting Room

I get there early.  I check in, they know my name.  When the secretary sees me, she checks her computer then tells me I am checked in.  The other secretary tells them she’ll let them know I am here.  I walk back towards the offices.  I turn left and am immediately lost even though I’ve been here 15 times.  I have to read the signs leading me back to the special radiation oncology waiting room.  After I turn left again I recognize the doors and chairs and know I have arrived.  I scan the waiting room quickly hoping nobody notices that I am looking at them.  I take a quick right to women’s dressing room.  I look at both rooms.  One of the rooms is towards the back so no one will walk by me, but the one in the front tends to have the gown that fits.  I choose which dressing room to walk into and yank the brown and tan curtain over to the opposite wall trying to close the gaps.  Even though my breasts have been seen by many over the last 3 months, I don’t need to add to that list.  I take down a gown.  It’s a faded light pink top with pink flowers on it.  It has short sleeves, a snap at the top by my collar bone and a snap in the middle of my breast bone.  The bottom two-thirds of the shirt is open.  It’s my job to try to keep that part closed.  I take off my coat, I take off the scarf that is hiding the fact I no longer wear a bra.  I take off my shirt. Finally I take of the cami tank top with the shelf bra built in.  I fold my clothes and place them in the 4 inch by 3 foot locker.  I close the locker, lock it and remove the key attached to the red, spiral, jelly bracelet.  I always use the same locker.  I don’t know why.  It wouldn’t bother me if someone else used it and I had to choose a different one, but I use the same one anyway.  It’s the one on the far right.  That way I would only have one locker neighbor if there were anybody else using the lockers. Its comical that there are 10 lockers.  I’m sure there are never more than 2 people coming and going at a time based on the 15 minutes per person radiation schedule.  Maybe since the lockers are so small some people have to use more than one to put all their things in.

After my clothes are safely locked away, I go out into the small waiting room.  It’s a long, narrow room.  It fits about 8 chairs lined up along one wall facing the opposite wall which is actually holding a counter where I could have coffee, juice or water.  I’m never there long enough to enjoy the beverages, but it’s nice that they are available.  The television is mounted above the beverages and I tend to watch what is on even after the patient before me hands me the remote.  I sit down, carefully checking my two snaps and the large opening, making sure nothing is hanging out.  I always know when something is because people look at me funny or they get uncomfortable.  I sit and wait.  

It's OK to Not Be OK

A dear friend reminded me that I need to tell you that I don't always have it together.  I've learned how to keep moving because I spent time in the ditches.  I've learned how to encourage myself because I've spent time feeling spent and without hope.  I've learned how to be strong because I've spent time being weak.

When I share my observations, lessons and accomplishments they have all come out of pain, sacrifice and fear.  I've felt it all.  I've been down every dark road.  I simply didn't like it.  I didn't like those dark places and always tried to find a way to get out.  Sometimes I would succeed for a minute then fall right back into that dark place again.  Sometimes I would fall over and over and begin to wonder if I would ever figure it out.

It's okay to not be okay.  It's okay to feel sad and to feel pain.  It's okay to want to quit and lay down. It's okay to lose hope and wonder where the light is.  Being in these dark places doesn't mean there is anything wrong with you.  It means you are living life and life is doing what it does.  Circumstances don't always go the way we want.  In fact, circumstances rarely go the way we want.  We find ourselves in dark alleys full of shadows and unknown noises.

It's not okay to stay in the dark place, make your bed and settle in.  You will be there, you may be there over and over, but you don't want to live there.  The dark place reminds you to be thankful for the light. The dark place reminds you of the tough things you have overcome, but it is not the place to live. It is the place to fight to leave.  If you lose the fight and find yourself there again, that's okay.  It's time to fight again.  Eventually, you will be out of there looking back, thankful you didn't take a nap while there.

I still have dark days.  I have dark moments.  I have dark weeks and months.  It is okay to find yourself in the darkest of alleys feeling alone.  It is not okay to decide to stay there and give up hope of being in the light and enjoying the joys of sunshine and joy.

Pink Story: Sick

After only 5 days of radiation treatment, I got sick with the flu.  I went to bed that evening with amazing plans to tackle household tasks since my surgeon gave me the thumbs up to do whatever I wanted.  My plans were thwarted when I woke up with a stomach ache soon followed by vomiting.  I spent the day resting, nibbling crackers, drinking soda, and waiting for the next sign that I needed to run to the bathroom. I spent the next day recovering my strength and feeling the effects of a day without food. I had to think about going back to work the next day while being completely behind in everything.  I'm wasn’t sure I could do this schedule: put in minimal time at work, go to radiation treatment, go to bed early, get sick on the weekend, then do it all over again.

Less House More Home

I give full credit of the title of this post to our dear friends who gave us a sweet gift upon our arrival home.  The gift included a beautiful blue sign saying, "Less House More Home."  My first thought was how thankful I was to have friends that know us so well.  For the past few months we've been talking about how reducing the size of our homes would give us more time to live in them.

So here I am, finally in our new home, finally moved out of our old one.  We tried to move 3 years ago. We've talked about moving for many more years than that.  This time, everything came together perfectly.  Everything worked out.  This time, we moved.

When we were about 5 miles away from our new house after our trip home from Montana, I started getting butterflies in my stomach, the same kind you get when you're about to meet someone new.  I felt anxious and excited.  I was finally going to get to walk into our house when it belonged to us.  I had visited it many times while they were still building it, but I didn't get to move in when my family did. They moved in a week before me.  They got to spend a couple of nights there.  I hadn't been there yet. I was thrilled, yet nervous like it might not like me.  I knew a house couldn't do that, but I felt nervous anyway.

We walked in and saw the thoughtful gift from our friends.  Each day since we came home, I have read that sign over and over as I walk through our house and unpack and organize and make it home.  I'm not sure of the moment when your house becomes your home.  Perhaps it is when the bed shows up, that's where you will sleep.  It could be the arrival of the furniture where you will sit and socialize. Maybe the presence of the dishes upon which you will share meals with family and friends makes it home.  It could be the pictures that decorate the wall and remind you of where you've been and what is important to you that turn it into a home.

For me, it was the moment that I realized I was happy be in it.  I was happy to sleep in my room, to use my bathroom, to clean up the kitchen after a meal, to walk through the halls, to simply see it and know that it is the place where I will rest and settle and enjoy all the gifts life gives.

Technically, the making of a home takes nothing but the presence of a person who settles there.  Our old house was our home for a very long time and we enjoyed it, but there was always something between us and it that didn't mesh.  We were a bit different.  Our old house encouraged us to be separate and live in our own spaces.  Our new ones encourages us to be together, we like being together better.  Our old house asked to be fixed and maintained constantly, our new one enjoys being cared for, we prefer the caring.  Our old house forced it's lifestyle on us, our new one welcomes our lifestyle to exist with it.

We are very happy, very content, and eternally grateful.  We know this is a gift.  We know we are blessed and welcome the many years we have to be at home in our new house.

Pink Story: Being Follows Thinking

December 12, 2012:  “As your thinking goes, so goes your entire being.” (Jesus Calling)

It’s time for me to take this to heart.  My thinking has been pure fear for the last week: fear of what might or could happen as a result of radiation.  What will happen will happen, I will manage then it will be over and I will get all better.  I do not need to dread the next 6 weeks.  I need to walk one day at a time knowing my Daddy gives me grace enough for each day, each moment.  I need to stop trying to tackle all of it at once, relax and take one day at a time.  He has given me strength for today.  My pity party is over.  Thank You for not condemning me while I was in it and for gracefully bringing me out.

Graduation

I know I already shared how I have completed my journey of getting my master's degree, but I want to continue to celebrate.

I've graduated 3 times.  The first time I graduated from high school.  I always knew that graduation would come.  I planned on attending college from a young age so high school graduation was a given. I graduated 3rd in a class of 104 students.  I was proud of my achievements.  I was ready to move on.

My second graduation was from college with my bachelor's degree.  I completed my bachelor's in 3 years and 2 terms (we had 3 terms each year).  I took a term off to get married my sophomore year.  It was difficult being newly married and finishing college, but I did it.  I maintained good grades and had a job upon graduating.  I was proud of my achievements and for working through difficult times.

My third graduation just happened.  I graduated with my master's degree.  I'm actually getting teary-eyed just typing this.  I earned this one.  I hadn't always planned on getting a master's.  When I did, I believed it would benefit me and was excited to embark on the adventure.  I didn't know MS would slow my pace.  I began the degree young and confident and capable.  I'm ending the same, but most of the time I move in slow motion compared to what I used to do.  I can't be reckless with my health. When everyone else is staying up until 1 am to finish a paper, I've been asleep for 3 hours and will have to do it later.  I stopped doing housework to get this degree.  I had to let things go.  I had to learn what was the most important (people) and not worry or even think about anything else.  I fought for this degree.  I sacrificed for it and am more proud of this achievement than anything else I've accomplished. This means more to me than all other graduations and probably always will.  I went through the fire and came out victorious.  I didn't simply survive.  I thrived.

I am eternally grateful to those who helped me achieve this.  I never could have made it alone.  I'm thankful I made it and never let myself quit.