Skip to content

more light

December 6, 2011

[Welcome to Chasing Maybes. Here, I challenge my preferences and prejudices, one Trivial Pursuit category at a time.  I am currently chasing maybes related to Arts and Literature, the brown pie piece.  Come on along, won’t you?]

So, I might have been a little overly optimistic when I declared my strep “all downhill from here” last week.  Looking back, it’s laughable that I thought I’d be running the day after my most recent post.  Instead, I felt worse for a couple of days, then better, and now I refuse to let my hubris make any further predictions about my medical prospects.

[Are you still reading, or has this riveting blow-by-blow of my strep throat cast you into a boredom coma by now?]

Anyway, I feel much better.  And, I have a lot to do.  It is December.

I’ve also got some maybes to chase, people, and that won’t happen by itself.

This is a virus. Isn't she pretty? (Image by Evil Tom Thai via flickr)

So, when I was in the throes of strep and self-pity last week, moaning about my throat-on-fire and my lack of energy and my inability to think clearly, I received a Facebook update from Elisa and Nathan.  If you’ve been following their story along with me, you’ll remember that they are parents of a toddler who were last year diagnosed with Stage IV and Stage III cancer within ten days of one another (she went to college with me).  From the beginning, their medical prognoses have been grave, but their gratitude and grace has absolutely floored me.  Anyway, on Saturday Elisa updated their blog with the news that her recent MRI showed no new cancerous lesions on her brain (you can read the full story here).

It wasn’t just this good news that affected me.  It was Elisa’s reaction to the good news — an exuberance in spite of the storms ahead — that left me ashamed of my own self-pity, in awe of her and her family’s strength, aware of the limits of time, and wanting more for the coming months.

Specifically, I want to spend more time doing what makes my best days great. 

I want more reflection and study, more extensions beyond my private little corner, more music and dance, more creative risk, more intentional breath, more listening, more beauty, more color, more light.

image by kevin zim via flickr

Before Thanksgiving, I took my children to my parents’ house for a brief visit (our ostensible purpose was a trip to the Snake Farm in New Braunfels, TX — if you know me, you know that being in an enclosed space full of giant reptiles is the pinnacle of maybe-chasing for me… I’m not even ready to write about it yet).  My secondary plan was to do some genealogy research after my kids went to bed, delving into my parents copious files.  Before going upstairs to dig in, though, I asked my father a quick question about my grandfather’s work.  We ended up having a conversation that lasted well over an hour, during which I learned more about my Dad’s father than I ever might have from poring over old papers.  I just listened.  I thought of my friend Alan, who has lost both of his parents and recently offered me a gentle directive: While they are here, just listen.

More listening, more beauty, more light.

Here’s hoping your day is more than enough of what you need.  Thanks for showing up.

[Today, I offer you this song, Let the Light In, by a favorite Austin artist, Bob Schneider.  The strange little person wearing fake facial hair in the video kind of creeps me out, but I do love this song.]

Advertisements
3 Comments leave one →
  1. December 6, 2011 3:09 pm

    Perspective is always a good thing. We often find it in the strangest places…especially under our noses.
    Red.

  2. January 15, 2012 12:33 pm

    love the video! thanks!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: