Growing Old(er) Rocks

It's that thankful time of year again.

There seem to be a lot of places nowadays that have slips of paper for folks to write our reasons for thankfulness. Mine is always the same:

My good health (insert hand-drawn heart here)

But I think I will change that to: The blessing of growing old.

I am rarely on Facebook (my hubs is actually on my account more than I am), but a few weeks back I spied someone who posted: I'm not ready to grow old.

They are in their late 20s. My thoughts often come out of my fingers (can you tell?) and I could not stop my fingers from writing:

You know, after surviving the big c, I found myself real-deal giddy when I turned 40. I feel confident that I will feel even more gleeful as each decade passes, if the Lord wills it. Growing old rocks.

Another awesome cancer chick chimed in after me that she totally got this sentiment. Bring on the wrinkles, creaky bones and silver hair.

Thank you, God, for allowing me some time on this earth. Thank you for allowing me to age and think thoughts about my husband's retirement. Help me live each day fully. I'm excited to look Jesus in the face but I'm also excited to grow these girls up!

Other People's Storms

Today as I was finishing up my shift at my great new job (I'm calling it my second favorite paid gig ever because it's stress-free and puts me in my daughters' school), a friend in her 20s came by for a visit. She had just heard some news about a dear friend, and wanted some advice on how to deal with it.

"Cancer?" I guessed, feeling my nose apprehensively wrinkle. She nodded and said there was lymph node involvement. I asked if her friend was young.

"No, she's not. She's in her early 40s," she said.

(Ha, ha. I just turned 40 myself this year.)

She said that her response to her friend's news had been terrible, but I assured her that acting sincere and interested had been the best response when I was immersed in that world. (There are people who watched me go through cancer and have still never acknowledged it. This blows my mind, but that's a different blog post.)

I told my friend that she was welcome to pass on my contact info to her newly-diagnosed friend - I am happy to offer any insight I can. Truly one of the greatest blessings was being able to talk turkey with other cancer chicks in the first days of my own news.

"Two are better than one, Because they have a good reward for their labor. For if they fall, one will lift up his companion. But woe to him who is alone when he falls, for he has no one to help him up."  Ecclesiastes 4:9-10

Earlier in the day, I had received word from a dear friend that a mutual friend was at the hospital with her elderly husband, who had suffered a heart attack. When I called this feisty woman, I was not surprised that she did not answer; I left her a voice mail message that I love both she and her husband and that they would be in my prayers.

I wish I had more to offer than that. Ever since going through my own completely unexpected whirlwind, I have found that I have fewer words of encouragement to speak instead of more. This last year I have personally known two terrific people my age to die completely unexpectedly (not from cancer) and known others to weather their own health/marriage/family/job maelstroms.

I think that's why I've been so silent on this blog for nearly a year (but it hasn't been for want of trying: There are 23 blog entries in my draft folder)! Nearly three years ago, God held my hand through every drop of storm - but wow, there were days when everything was not OK. Everything was not turning out all right. I went from knowing God to knowing God and it was marvelously terrifying and deeply humbling. Reflecting on that has quieted my words.

Tomorrow a friend goes in to surgery to try and correct hideous pain she's been experiencing since her initial cancer-related surgeries three years ago. Her doctor isn't sure it will work or not. My only words are these: God has got this, friend.