My mom and dad. They get those moments, too.
There are times when the windows are open and the bluegrass is playing so loud that I feel like the world is really the place I always hoped it would be. The trees sway against my house and the shadows of the leaves dance onto my walls. It is a moment that is safe from the darkness and I let it lift me to a place I have been before.
I have been blessed with many instances like this over the past six months. When my dad was diagnosed with Acute Leukemia in December I thought I had lost happiness. I did not believe I would never find safety again. I did not know that it was just life. That heartbreak is intermingled with joy freely and fully.
The first time I felt truly unfettered happiness after his diagnosis I also felt shocked and a bit guilty. Since then, I’ve let go of both of those emotions. I have decided to stop denying the things life offers me. If I am forced to face the bleak I will also embrace the wonderful.
My dad had his bone marrow transplant 74 days ago. On day 100 the doctors will do a bone marrow biopsy and we will get a sense of the effectiveness of the procedure. Until then he goes in for a blood test every Tuesday. Every Tuesday, I think of him in that hospital not so far away and will my thoughts into that white room. As I clean the kitchen or play with my girls I hope he knows I am there waiting with him. Listening for the doctor’s footsteps at the door, waiting, hoping, praying to hear that all the cells and blasts still look as they should.
So far they have.
I suppose Tuesday is really no different than any other day right now. We are all waiting for day 100. Listening for the footsteps at the door. Hoping and praying that everything looks as we think it should.
Until then we have our faith and our Lord and our family. And we have those bright moments of happiness. Those have not left us.
I don’t believe they ever will.
Want to listen to a little Bluegrass meets Country from the inimitable Alison Krauss? Yes? Me, too! Happy Monday!