ConseCrate

Sometimes the slightest pivot in circumstance puts things in a whole new light.

Last week, I was happily de-cluttering my house with fervor. It was fun and satisfying to fill up another bag or box with items that were mostly just taking up space. I enjoyed pondering why I kept all these things so long and how much time had passed since I last touched or used this or that.

Then, I started noticing an irritation, a sensation really, in my throat that was unusual and has been lingering for a few weeks now. I don’t want to describe it too much because I’m not looking for any help with diagnosing – but I will say it was troubling enough that I went to the doctor, and she is concerned enough that suddenly I’m having a small battery of tests to determine what is going on.

And I’m freaking out.

I hate to admit it. I would like people to think I am constantly filled with the peace that passes all understanding, but the truth is that I am not. Not always, anyway. In fact, the last few days I’ve been overreacting with fervor. Just ask the kind radiologist who happened to do my ultrasound yesterday. I burst into tears as soon as I walked into his little ultrasound room. He was so nice as he said comforting things and handed me tissues and water. But you see, I kept thinking about how the only other times I had  ultrasounds were because we were expecting a baby – and what if this ultrasound finds something that is terrible and I’m dying and I have to leave my beautiful babies and this beautiful life and…

The ultrasound showed nothing.

So now I am having another kind of test scheduled soon and in the meantime, I’m telling myself to breathe, to stop imagining the worst, to think about what this intense fear I have is all about and what it is trying to tell me.

I think the fear comes partly from the generalized fear that most mothers have of something happening and not being around for our children.

It’s partly because I have spent time with so many sick people over the years, visited them, prayed with them, and seen their quality of life slowly diminish, and sometimes be extinguished. I don’t want that. But then, neither did they. None of us ever know when or if illness will strike.

It’s partly because my own father was sick for so many years and it stripped away all his joy and life in his life. I still grieve how his poor health robbed him, and our family, of so much.

It’s partly because my father-in-law died from a cancer that began as an irritation in his throat…

See, all these things! I may be healthy as can be…or maybe there is something wrong. I’m in the in-between time right now when I don’t yet know. So, staying busy helps and I want to throw myself even deeper into the de-cluttering…

But now when I sort through another tub of papers or clothes, there’s a quiet, but impressively over-dramatic voice in the back of my head whispering, “Well, that’s one less thing for Chad and the kids to take care of when I’m gone.”

You can see how the whole spirit of de-cluttering has shifted in this light.

I’m sure I’m fine…or maybe I’m not…either way, I’m alive now and nothing is bad. I woke up and gave my children breakfast, and helped my long-haired 11-year-old boy comb his thick blonde hair into a pony-tail. I went for a jog and while I did some cleaning I listened to some spectacular mix-tapes I found while going through old boxes. I just ate the perfect hard-boiled egg. I’m infinitely thankful God gave me this day. This gorgeous, one-of-a-kind,  possibility-filled, breath-taking day.