Slipping Away

Friday the 13th. People sometimes associate such a day with bad luck, but the number 13 has been a fortunate number for me. I was born on the 13th, as were two of my sons. Perhaps it is just my imagination, but Fridays that are on the 13th day of the month have always felt like especially good days to me.

Today, as I go about the tasks of living, I can feel the blackness of the last six months sliding away into a memory. I no longer retain that vivid awareness of standing on the precipice between life and death, no longer sense the immediate possibility of sliding into that chasm that separates our reality from heaven's. I feel as if I have turned a corner, that I am no longer in limbo, waiting while the battle rages. Today I am done with the battling and moving on with restoration and life.

Oh, I realize that I am not quite beyond the reach of serious trouble healthwise, but the possibility is receding that the grim reaper will grab me by the ankle and pull me in. Morbid thoughts come to visit less frequently these days and the call of activities in this realm draw me forward.

After my last bout of cancer, I remember reaching this same point of release and saying to a friend "That wasn't so bad, really." He looked at me as if I were daft and responded, "Yes, it was." He spoke the truth. What I had been through back in 2005, and what I have endured now in 2009 have not been pleasant. It has been brutal, taxing to the max, painful, pressing, and downright nasty.

What I think I was expressing then, and what I definitely feel today, is that although the physical part of dealing with cancer is awful, the love and support I have experienced both times has been phenomenal. The caring made the crying endurable. And from that respect, if you have to go through crap, you might as well go through it cushioned in love. At least then, looking back, you see ugliness entwined with beauty. And that is not so bad.

Grace of God, Body of Christ.