It is a curious thing, how quickly one's attitude about life can change. On Tuesday last week I was moping about in a sad puddle of "I want to live in Oregon" homesickness.
On Wednesday afternoon, my doctor filled out a mammogram order to check out a "mass" in my left breast that he was concerned about. And suddenly I wasn't nearly so concerned about living in Oregon as I was about living. For a long, long time. Without breast cancer. I was no longer worried about my hair (which is in desperate need of a new style,) or my clothes (which are also lacking style,) or the slightly inconvenient fact that we are, once again, a one car family (which is actually sort of stylish in the sense that going "green" is so nauseatingly stylish these days (*eye roll*), (and post to follow on that topic,)...
But all I have cared about and prayed for since Wednesday of last week is to be able to raise my children and grow old with my husband. That's all I want. (I could spend a lot of time trying to relay the insights and the tenderness of sober ponderings over the past five days, but I don't think those personal reflections would mean nearly as much to any of you as they do to me...and, if you can believe it, there are some things that I reserve for the privacy of a penned page in my personal journal. I think those thoughts will be best preserved in that volume.)
I went in for the "big squish" this morning and, to my great delight and relief, only had to have a sonogram. And to my even greater delight and relief, I was told everything looks "beautiful" and perfectly normal, and that I won't need to be visiting that doctor's office again for another sixteen years. I don't know where the characters are on this keyboard to convey the monumental sigh of relief I took on hearing those words.
Those close-call kinds of life moments have a knack for perspective refocusing and desire purification. It's lovely in retrospect, but painful and frightening to tears in the process. I'm sure you've noticed this cycle of "the gimme, gimme's" vs. "gratitude for what is," as a recurring theme on this blog.
Of course, I think to myself, today's clarity will be permanent. But I have a gnawing suspicion that the old forgetful beast, Human Nature, will set in quickly and all too soon, I'll be ogling over Boden flats and Patagonia fleeces again, wishing for a newer house -- in Oregon. I haven't been a very valliant remember-er in the past, but I've never wanted to wallpaper my house with sticky note reminders more than I do now. I hope, at the very least, that I'm taking the pearls of insight from these oysters of adversity and growing a little from each one.
Anyhow, one thing I know for sure is that this is a beautiful day in a beautiful life!
And in keeping with the theme of Beautiful Days, I bring you:
Slices of our Trip to Oregon -- Part II: Preserving Summer's Goodness:
The peach tree worked hard this summer, growing beautiful, plump fruit.
And we worked hard to preserve it so we could enjoy it in cobblers and smoothies all year long.
First step: Rinse and sort.
Second Step: Blanch.
Third step: Ice bath. Brrrr!
Fourth step: Peel and slice.
And finally: Bag, seal and into the freezer you go!
Where was Henry this whole time, you're wondering?
He had more pressing matters to attend to.
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