Just Breathe

I love music. And not in the "I know every genre and every artist and every album ever released" kinda way. I love music in the "that song makes me feel understood" sort of way. One of my favorite songs to listen to when I'm having a stressful day is "Breathe" by Michelle Branch. I roll the windows down, crank up the volume and belt it out LOUD. And believe it or not by the end of the song I have convinced myself that everything is really going to be okay. I think we all need little, albeit very simple, reminders that life goes on despite rocky roads, rough patches and dark days.........

The word cancer evokes some nasty emotions. I find my family stuck in the muck of them right now. We found out a little over two weeks ago that dad/Gman was diagnosed with prostrate cancer. My initial thought was this: "Ummm, excuse me? Sorry cancer, but you are going to have to take your nasty disease on down the road....ya see, I've been telling my dad that he's sticking around for at least fifty more long years. K, thanks, buh bye." Unfortunately words can't kick cancer to the curb. I traveled to Enid last week with sweaty palms and a queasy stomach and sat with dad during his appointment with his urologist and listened as he said the words that left us breathless. "Aggressive cancer." Sister was in the corner wiping away tears as the doctor rattled off what seemed like words from a script about the possibility of it being in an advanced stage. My initial thought here: "ummm, excuse me? I've already had a talk with cancer, do I need to have a talk with you too, Mr. Urologist?! My dad is staying put for AT LEAST FIFTY MORE YEARS!!!! K, got it?!" I thought that all the while listening as intently as possible to every disgusting word the doctor had to say. Every word is seared into my brain. All of the words now run through my head daily as we wait to hear the results of his bone scan and CT scan which will tell us the stage of his cancer. I've never really understood the concept of an "out of body experience" but I'm beginning to warm to the idea that these experiences really do happen. I feel like the last two weeks have been an out of body experience. I feel like watching my mom take her last breaths was one of those experiences as well. To be so in the moment that you feel as though your body and mind have separated. Yeah, I'm kinda over these terrifying moments. Mentally kicking them to the curb. Replacing them with flowers and rainbows and kisses. There. Done. Ugh. If only it was that easy. Right now we are in a waiting game. Waiting for a "no, your cancer has not spread and we will be doing surgery to remove your prostate" or a "yes, your cancer has spread." Excruciating??? Yes, very much so.  

I've found peace in reading an affirmation book that Aunt Alta bought for Bailey, dad and I. Peace has also come from running through the sprinkler in my work clothes with Hallie and watching her help me cook breakfast on a Saturday morning. Peace happens while sitting on the couch holding Riley's hand while we watch a chick flick just to cheer me up. I've even found peace in running a half-marathon. Receiving letters, texts, calls and Facebook messages from friends and family is pretty darn peaceful. Listening to Hallie sing "Jesus Loves Me" over and over and over....now that's peace. Talking to dad on the phone each day brings a sense of comfort and peace. My time in the car talking with God each day is where peace is at. 

I just keep reminding myself: look for the peace.......and just breathe. 

Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God so that at the proper time he may exalt you, casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you.     1 Peter 5:6-7