Life sure has a way of getting heavy when you're not looking.
My mother-in-law is sick. Yes, it's cancer; the same cancer from nearly fifteen years ago, only now with renewed vigour. We've known for a month now - or is it three? No matter. My brain and my heart are still rejecting it. Sure, we visit often, we pray, we cry, we bring smoothies and soup...
I'm not ready for this.
Her husband and sons are remarkably strong in all this. I don't mean that "manly" act of hiding emotions, but actual strength. Maybe it's because they've been here before. Either way, I long for their peace. I am still flailing against it, desperately seeking something I can do.
What strange things do you do when life relinquishes your power and control? Usually, I take it out on my hair. This time I've been taking it out on the apartment; first rearranging all the furniture, then when that didn't help, replacing it. Craigslist has seen a lot of me lately. Soon, I'll begin some refinishing, and then hang new things on the wall. And then...
Denial, anger, redecorating, acceptance...that's how it goes, right?
Her name is Joy.
After her own mother-in-law died, a little nugget of Sanscrit wisdom was found
scribbled in her well-worn bible:
Look to this day, for it is life...the very life of life.
For yesterday is but a dream, and tomorrow is only a vision.
But today well lived makes every yesterday a dream of happiness,
And every tomorrow a vision of hope.
Look well, therefore, to this day.
(this is exactly as it was written in her book - full version of the poem here)