I don't talk about cancer very much. I write about it occasionally, but I rarely talk about. I am not sure I even really know why. I just don't. Maybe because it's likely that I will cry somewhere in the conversation and that messes up my contacts and makes it hard to see. More likely it's because some things we just ponder in our hearts forever.
Yesterday was the 20th anniversary of my diagnosis. It was most extraordinary day. We were living in the afterglow of Confirmation night. We were looking forward to some exciting days ahead. But mostly, we were just savoring ordinary life. I love ordinary life. Exciting things are nice. Drama is not nice. But ordinary life is where joy lives for me.
Cancer is a gift in the sense that I know very well what it's like to wake up one morning and get a phone call that threatens my very existence. I know what it's like to want only to do the little things--to fix breakfast for my baby, to go for a walk before naptime, to pull weeds, or push a swing. And so, I have a tremendous sense of gratitude for those things because I look at them through the lens of a cancer survivor. I don't waste time. I don't ever waste time. I appreciate the gift of ordinary days and I see how God is faithful in all things.
I'm challenging myself more than ever to live life like it's a gift. What about you? Will you live today that way?
I'd love it if you took a few moments today to share a cup of tea and listen in to the conversation I had with Lisa Hendey and Danielle Bean yesterday. We're talking about the gift of cancer.