You Are Not The First...October 22, 2021

I look at Evan here, a real life prince, and remember something important, an important something too.

In July, my surgeon pulled his circle chair up close, to watch every glimmer of my reaction. He began talking very slowly, giving me time to follow, like a small child. And he said...we must be grateful and celebrate that we have a cure to offer you, Julie.

My heart turned that day.

Yes, celebrate and be grateful...

...but you must lose your leg to receive the cure.

In a split second I asked...I don't suppose I am the first person to have this happen?

No, you are not the first, Julie.

After I established that he had done this surgery before...I said yes to the gift of life.

Sometimes I replay that conversation, as if I missed something in that blur. That if I replay it again, there might be an ending where I keep my leg. The ending always stays the same...my leg never stays or comes back.

But then I remember my doctor's reassurance that I am not the first, I am not alone.

And yes, I know this to be true in the most unflinching way now, a deep in my bones knowing truth. Because when I positively shook in fear for days and weeks on end, sometimes not even able to breathe it seemed...I would ask Peter or my sister...how do you think this story ends?

And they would tell me a beautiful story...one fit for a fairy princess. It was a golden story, in all my suffocating fear, I was taken to a place with pretty gowns and big castles. And even though there were dragons, Peter and my sister always ended with...and they all lived happily ever after.

So now I wake every single day, thankful for my happily ever after, for my breath, for the gift given to me.

And yet...the story isn't really over, because it never is, no story ever can be, so I gather myself and look around.

You are not alone, Julie. We are not alone when circle chairs get close or other dangers lurk. We look to the heavens and to others. Ask about their stories, to write our own. Especially when our hope is dim, when terror's hot breath lurks or even a little lukewarm upset.

All of you, my friends, lift me up. In your words and love there is wisdom that points my way...and there are people like Evan here, who lost his leg from an awful tumor and he tap dances now. I see his smile, his leap, and my heart turns from panic to hope to possibility.

A never ending story...with dragons and joys but hope wins, always and forever. And as my doctor assured...you are not the first. You are not the only one, Julie.

For we are in our stories together.