Sometimes....

Sometimes it's easy to feel sorry for myself with the events of our life right now.

Sometimes I cry at things that one would ordinarily think would not provoke tears -- like the first day I had to tend to the litter box after Tim's cancer diagnosis. That was something that had been Tim's job since the beginning of our married life. It's not that I've *never* done it but it was typically Tim's domain simply because I spent so many years pregnant and we all know pregnant ladies don't clean litter boxes! Twenty three and a half years later there I was cleaning the litter box and crying. Now he's the one that can't do it. It wasn't about the litter box but rather what it symbolized -- a shift in our life -- a huge shift that involved more than kitty litter...much more.

My tears seem to have many origins.

Sometimes they are tears of sadness as I mourn the life we once had. I know that we will have a "new normal" one day but it is still immensely sad.

Sometimes they are tears of loneliness because while Tim is here, he is so quiet -- it hurts him to talk and it hurts me to not hear his voice. I miss our talking with each other. I miss our date nights. I miss the humor we shared.

Sometimes they are tears of fear for what is ahead -- you know, you can never really "relax" once cancer makes an appearance because you just never know if, when, or where it may show up again.

Sometimes they are tears of exhaustion when I have more to do than hours to do it in -- each day it feels like that.

Sometimes they are tears of anger -- anger at the invasion of our lives and our souls by the cancer dragon.

Sometimes they are tears of jealousy at the lives of people not traveling the cancer road.

Sometimes they are tears for our children who have to see things that young children should not have to know about or experience.

Sometimes they are tears of frustration at one more thing that has to be remembered (that I forgot) now that I am completely the "mother brain" for the family.

Sometimes they are tears of missing Tim giving me a hug, rubbing my feet or just laying beside me. We do still hold hands though. :)

Sometimes they are tears of a little girl that just wants to scream that life is not fair. Maybe if I kick and scream enough I will get what I want -- our life B.C. -- before cancer.

Sometimes they are tears of everything mixed up together and there is no sorting out which tears belong to what emotion.

But sometimes, many times, they are tears of profound gratitude and thankfulness for the blessings we have seen -- for the people who have rallied around in love to offer what is needed -- even when *we* don't always know what is needed. Even in the midst of this trial there are blessings to be found. If I am watchful I can see them.

I feel such gratitude at the "little" evidences that we are watched over, ministered to and taken care of by angels, seen and unseen, over and over again. The evidences that whisper "I know you", the evidences that Heavenly Father is reaching my reaching.