Claiming Life

Hello, dear, gentle and beloved readers..

The holidays have now passed us by and we are on our winding way through darkened, grey winter.

It's been very cold in this my small corner of the world. I'm not good with the cold. I require many layers and lots of supporting efforts to survive; there can never be too many blankets for my happiness and comfort.

My first weeks in the new year have been busy. I have been cooking and baking a lot. Eating is not so popular these days, but I can't get on board with it. I tend to be a little opposite the crowd, and it suits me just so. We've just finished a meal of steak with onions and mushrooms, and roasted sweet potatoes with maple syrup. And. The oven just dinged to announce that the banana bread topped with butterscotch chips is ready. Soon it's time for a cup of coffee and a warm slice.

I have been resting, enjoying the time that I have with reduced stress. Napping on the weekends and not getting up before 0600. I finished a book and started another. A nonfiction book which, frankly, does not read as fast as fiction, but is, of course, educational. I hardly ever read nonfiction so I'm feeling proud of this accomplishment. I have spent time with friends and had phone calls with loved ones across the miles. It's been good to enjoy these connections. To share life and laughter.

I have counseled my children. Provided direction. Given hugs. Made breakfast. That's right. I made breakfast on a weekday. I started reading bedtime stories again which hasn't been a requirement since forever. But my youngest asked and so we've been doing that and it's even drawing in the too cool middle schooler every now and then.

It's the kind of life for which I can be grateful. It's the kind of life I put on hold for so long.

I've not been feeling well this past week, so you know I hit up the internets for all sorts of diagnoses. Just like you. Admit it. "What can I be dying of today?" And you know all the serious things float to the top. You're fatigued? Cancer. Abdominal pains? Perforated appendix. I was pretty sure I had a tumor and four weeks to live.

I'm still living. I still don't feel awesome. But I think, and hope, that I have more than four weeks to live.

It was a good reminder though, that time is our most precious asset. We truly do have only so many years and days. And it passes so very quickly. If I did have just those four weeks, you can note that I would have been devastated at how I spent the last year of my life. I would have cried great big tears, and my sorrow would have crushed every last piece of me. Not an exaggeration.

I took back my life. I'm so thankful for it. So thankful that I didn't let another moment pass me by. This holiday season, these past weeks, have been some of the best in my recent memory. I count all the moments as so very special. For those that choose to use their most precious asset to spend with me - that's a gift. Someone thinking of me and reaching out to send a text out of blue - that's a gift. Someone calling to sell me something - well, not so much a gift.

The gift of time has been wrestled with for centuries. Immortality. Fountain of youth. Anti-aging everything. We balk at the passing of time, but squander it everyday.

Can I encourage you to take back your life? If you're on the fence, if you're struggling, if you feel trapped.... Live like you are dying. Every decision becomes crystal clear when faced with your own mortality and a brief, brief timeline. And. Honestly. I doubt it's going to be "I wished I had climbed Mt Kilimanjaro." It's probably going to be more "I wish I had made that phone call" or "I wish I had held on to that hug five seconds longer" or "I wish I had chosen to forgive."

I think there is some letter, somewhere, that someone wrote about dying, that killed the internet recently. I didn't read it, but I imagine it might say something vaguely similar. It has to. Because all your priorities shift to the right places.

I might possibly have a tumor but that steak and banana bread was so delicious. And sitting in a warm room with people who love me, beyond priceless.

I might have a tumor but I am enjoying my last days, and that is exactly how it should be.