Tonight I am thinking about my Dad. He died when he was 48 from lymphomia. I was 10. I remember the night he died. But more then that I remember all the crap leading up to it.
I was six when my dad was diagnosed. My parents thought it was best to not tell me. I was angy for a long time that they hid it but as a parent now I so get it. I dont even know how you would begin to explain something like that to a child. I found out from a friend at a t-ball game. She told me she was sorry my dad had cancer. I accused her of being a liar. I remember being certain this little snot nosed girl was a total jerk for making up lies about my dad. I remember my parents stopping in thier tracks when I asked them if my Dad had cancer.
they explained to me that there good cancers and bad cancers and I shouldn't worry because my Dad had the good kind of cancer.
Four years, many rounds of chemo and a broken back later, he was in what they thought was remission. We moved to Arizona and nine months later he relapsed and died.
Its been 20 years and it still hurts.
I have a chance to be part of an event that helps single parents, single mothers in particular who have cancer. I have a chance to use my gifts to help make memories for these sweet amlies. And Im chicken. i am scared it will hurt to much. bring back to many memories and dig up ugly old feelings that I am not sure i ever dealt with.
|Out for an afternoon walk|
But sometimes that how God heals us. He digs up the ugly that we want to leave buried and makes us deal with it. Who am I to hold onto my fear and tell God I will not use the talent he gave me to bring someone joy? That would be awfully Jonah of me. And I certainly dont want to hang out in the belly of a whale this weekend.
Speaking of this weekend it is supposed to HOT! Summer has officially reared its ugly head in the valley of the sun.. yicky yick yuck.