Does anyone else out there need some perspective? I don’t know about you, but I am experiencing pressure from every side. It is as if I am treading water, I am exhausted, and I see no help in sight. My nose is just above the water and I am wondering when will my rescue come? When that happens to me I have to get away to rethink things. I usually walk, though I have been known to drive, or just sit by the river. God speaks to me through nature in these crisis moments. Usually. But not this time.
Not that I didn’t enjoy my drive/walk. The back roads are covered with Queen Anne’s Lace in its delicate, dainty full bloom, along with the flaming orange daylilies. The ferns in the shade beside the path reach towards the sun as they create a blanket of green on the banks. The miniature purple butterflies rest on the edge of the lake, taking flight with each of my steps. The birds are singing as if it is summer…which of course it is. Squirrels scammer playfully with each other, saving the work of collecting food for later in the season. Overseeing all of this is the faithful mountain, which stands guard over the lake. No, tonight I went looking for comfort in nature and found none. My restless heart continued to churn. My mind was full of the possibilities, which are fueled by my recent nightmares. Uneasiness seems to be my constant state these days. Knees, shoulders, brains. Cars, colleges. Banks, court, jobs. The list seems endless at the moment. One thing piling on top of another…then on me, like a rock around my neck as I sink further under the water.
How to let it all go? No idea. I only know that I cannot carry it. Not alone. So I go to walk with God. I go to release the stress, and to soak in the beauty. But find that quiet only makes the voices in my head louder. It is not until I am on the way home, windows down, sunroof open that I hear his voice. “You have hair.” Kinda obvious, but hang with me a minute. To me, being bald was not the worst thing about cancer. It was an outward thing, much easier to deal with than feeling bad from chemo or low blood counts. I had a wig to wear in public, and it drastically cut down my getting ready time. I had a good hair day every day…just pop it on and go. And you haven’t lived until you have had a scalp massage. (If you ever want to bless a cancer patient get them a scalp massage…not kidding.) I try to see the positive.
At first, when the hair was coming out and splotchy, I told Bill “I look like a sick person.” To which he replied, “You ARE a sick person.” That was the reminder I saw each morning of my condition. But once I got used to seeing Uncle Fester in the mirror at the beginning of the day, I kind of adjusted. So this word from God about my hair took me by surprise. I mean, I wanted inspiration…but what I got instead was perspective. The meaning was clear to me. God knows every hair on my head…has them numbered. Before when there was a lot he knew, in the middle when there were none, and now that there are fewer he still knows the exact number. He doesn’t miss one. He is that personal, and that big. The things in my life that are difficult are not really that important. It’s only stuff. It’s only money. Not life or death. When I had cancer, I knew that. Every time I looked in the mirror I knew. Priorities were arranged around life and death issues as well as making the most of every moment. Relationships, friendships, family, faith…all top priority, and that was all. Nothing else took the attention away from those things. Words that needed to be spoken were. Memories were made. Now, time has passed and life’s issues have crept back in…but this night I remembered. I remembered hope. I remembered what is important.
The wind in my hair is one of my favorite things since cancer. I cannot explain it really, except to say it feels like freedom. Freedom from the weight of the world. Like I am flying above it all. Anything I can do for my hair to blow…walk the beach…ride a horse…ski…all of those things are the ones I long to do. Windows down, I drive the curvy roads through the mountains letting the wind whip my hair into tangled knots. I do not try to tame it, or cover it with a scarf. I let it fly. (I am dreaming of a convertible for my next car ) God did not speak to me tonight the way I was seeking, but instead reminded me that I have hair. I love it when he does the unexpected. Nothing has changed, but everything is different… because of perspective.

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