Quick detail for those of you who aren't really keen on reading all my reflections. My video visit with the doctor at UCSF who specializes in liposarcoma (or at least sarcoma - I'm fuzzy on how these specialties work) has been scheduled for March 7. At first glance it feels like a long time to wait but I'm actually grateful for some room to breathe, heal, and reflect in the meantime. "Spaciousness" was a timely word sent to me as I settled into this sentiment.
It's been a month since surgery and I'm slowly gaining focus (a little like the image coming into focus on the puzzle), returning to life giving rhythms of reading and writing. I finally opened up a book I have been wanting to read again. Hannah Coulter by Wendell Berry held special meaning for me in processing my mother's journey with thyroid cancer. At the end of the first chapter, the voice of the title's namesake states:
"This is the story of my life, that while I lived it weighed upon me and pressed against me and filled all my senses to overflowing and now is like a dream dreamed . . .This is my story, my giving of thanks."
This statement at the end of chapter one, coupled with an episode of "The Chosen" (in which Jesus,Y'shua, is exhausted at the end of a day dedicated to healing the masses who sought him out in the desert) gave inspiration to the following poem - the reflection that I so relish in these days of preparation.
As muscles tighten and sustenance flows
Discomfort, pain, joy, exhilaration, contemplation and digestion
I have never been so aware of the movement of my bowels
Breathe deep, but not too fast, lest the diphragmatic jolt radiate like lightening into my shoulders
Breathe deep, nonetheless, slowly, surely, take it all in
The sun on my face, the glint in my eyes, the light on the page, allowing me sight to write
The crackle of the fire and the whine of the cello, each delivered to a different ear
The cold of the window and the warmth of the pillow
The smell of my morning coffee lingering with the aroma of yesterday's burger
The mundane and the divine swirl around me and press into my body and my spirit.
The ache in my core both a sign of healing and foreboding of what is to come
This time of preparation belongs only to You - the God who sees, hears, smells, tastes, and feels
Exhausted and ready for rest at the end of a full day of healing.
The tangible notes of love (stickers on an envelope transferred to my journal as well as the multiple text messages, emails, songs, and scriptures sent) fill my senses with the hope of each new day. Here's a couple of songs for those still reading. May they lift your spirits as they have mine.
The More I Seek You - Kari Jobe
In the bold confidence of God's care,
Dawn Noelle
No comments:
Post a Comment