I’ve just celebrated ten years as a breast cancer survivor. Although the weekend was full of activity with my youngest son’s football SuperBowl game, my husband’s birthday, a football banquet, Georgia romping all over Auburn, and Clemson (where my cousin’s son plays) rocketing into the ACC championship, I found myself in quiet reflection for a good part of the time.  I guess it’s the change of season that always does it to me: I find myself gazing at red and gold trees so long that my kids have to remind me the traffic light has changed. I stop on the side of the road and take pictures of particularly fire-y bushes just because, and often get completely lost in the gentle swirl of falling of leaves down onto the street or into a yard.

So maybe it’s simply this time of year that causes me to become so aware of my ‘being’. Maybe it’s that in the last two months more than one dear friend has passed away and I’m thinking about how their families will handle the holidays this year. Maybe it’s just recognizing once again that I’ve been given another year. Another 365 days. One more calendar full of Monday mornings, baskets of laundry, school pictures, garbage pickup, football games, Sunday dinners, report cards, Dunkin’ Donuts coffee, and car payments.

Sometimes I worry that people tire of hearing me celebrate again, a good report from my oncologist, another landmark ‘anniversary’, another “I remember the day…” story. And to be honest, sometimes I feel guilty for having another ‘anniversary’. It’s hard to explain unless you’ve lived it but there are days and even seasons when I experience what some people refer to as ‘survivor guilt’.  The ‘why them and not me?’ question… the ‘but she was a single mom’ question… the ‘her kids will never know her’ question. So before I go too far down Melancholy Lane and cause the few readers I do have to turn off their computers, let me turn the page.

I’ve been reflecting on what it means to be given time. Do you know how Webster defines time? Check it out: “time (n.) The indefinite continued progress of existence and events in the past, present, and future regarded as a whole.”  Huh??? If someone read that definition out loud and asked me what it meant, I don’t think my answer would be, “oh yeah, you’re talking about ‘time’.” Let me see if I can make it a tiny bit more personal …

I’m thankful for time to make my son a cup of hot chocolate on Saturday morning.  Not just the dump-it-in-your-cup-and-hit-the-microwave-button kind, but a cup of hot milk with chocolate powder, stirred with a wisk, topped with a mound of whipped cream, and sprinkled with red or green sugar crystals. Served on a dessert plate with a spoon on the side so he can dig into the whipped cream while the chocolate cools. And his smile as he says, “thanks, Mom” makes getting up a little earlier on Saturday a little easier.

I’m thankful for time to flatiron my daughter’s hair. And she has a LOT of hair! She may not always ask me at the most convenient time (like when I’m already running late getting myself ready) but she still wants me to help, still wants to tell me about school and her friends, music, and – oh yes – boys. She still wants to talk.  And at barely two months shy of 13, I’ll take it. She’s my only daughter. And I’m seeing in her the makings of a wonderful, strong, beautiful woman with a laugh that sounds like butterflies.

I’m thankful for text messaging and cell phones. My oldest son now lives in Texas and when I think back on my college days when my mom and I would ‘talk’ only by letter, it must have been maddening for her. Me, I was just happy to see something in my mailbox! But to be able to send my son a picture of our beautiful Fall trees when he’s missing the change of seasons, or get a picture of his new puppy on my phone, or just send a “have a great day, I love you” text message makes me feel like we are still very much a part of each other’s daily lives.

I’m thankful for time to write. I never dreamed I would have a job that allows me to write AND receive a paycheck. Some days it is technical, some days it is counseling verbage, some days it is creative and free-flowing, and some days it is painful because the organization I work with cares for people at the lowest, most desperate point of need in their personal lives, in their marriages, and in their ministry.

I’m thankful for the time my friends give to me. They invest in me and I’m learning to give myself the freedom to be ‘me’ with them. I’ve learned that some can handle ‘me’ and others can’t. I have friends from every kind of background and lifestyle you can imagine – and it makes my life incredibly rich and colorful! I wouldn’t have it any other way and I treasure this beautiful jewelry box of ladies I call my girlfriends.

My life is not perfect: far from it. But here I am, living this “indefinite continuous progress of existence and events in the past, present, and future regarded as a whole”.  I am, we all are, living time. Pretty cool. Kinda’ scarey. Very thankful.

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