A Father's Visit...August 23, 2021

My father visited last night. To get to the door to greet him, I slid on my butt down the stairs. I have learned that it works, thank the Universe very much for this trick. It works just fine, thank you.

And my father and I sat in the peace of dusk.

Now my father is one of the best listeners in the whole wide world. He has good questions too. Last night he asked...have you learned some things the last eight months, Julie?

Ever the lover of quick words and responses and retorts...I couldn't answer right off. There was so much, came a whisper. Out loud I said...yes, I have learned some things, Dad.

And one of the biggest lessons is that my head can be a very fearful and very lonely place to be, if I overstay my visit there.

For perhaps like you, I have honed my ability to break down situations, identify issues, come up with solutions, try out all that smart thinking for problem resolution...yada, yada, yada.

And that thinking has worked pretty well for a long time, even when my life would get tough now and again, as life tends to do to all of us.

But when this tumor came, it brought such vast stuff that I just couldn't solve, couldn't resolve, couldn't tackle in the same way as before. It brought countless tests and aggressive treatments and basically a million more questions than answers, at least until recently.

So I would count the days, the hours, the minutes, the seconds even, before one or another scan that spied on some or another part of my body...and I could almost feel my mind click into place, do its thing, trying to predict the unpredictable, to control the uncontrollable.

It was all hard and scary and it hurt, alot.

But then I fell into my heart a few times, accidentally at first...and heard...all shall be well, all shall be well, all shall be well, so breathe...stop holding your breath, dear one.

Breathe.

By the morning of my surgery, I had had glimpses of another way than just staring down terrifying stuff with a steely glare. I knew a bit how to pivot from my head and accept the invitation from my heart.

Come, I can bring you peace, I am your heart and your faith. More and more peace comes now, in fits and starts, never a perfect line, but it comes more.

A few days ago, Peter and I went to the Arboretum, with pretty plants and flowers everywhere. For the first time, I rode in a wheelchair as Peter pushed me. But as I rode, my head was quiet to any dislike of this new way of moving around...as it might have been prone to protest the slowness and inefficiency of it all.

Instead, my heart sighed...oh my, I haven't the world from this level since being a little girl. I rather like it, yes, seeing the world in this curious way.

So yes, Dad, I have learned...and hair does grow back.