Don’t be selfish . . .
*I am going to try to use this area as a journal. As a way to leave my mark in the world. Of course, knowing that the world can read this may limit what I confess :). I may change the names of people involved in the stories in my posts if I think that they might have an issue with me using their true identities.
To get started I would like to share my thinking for the title of my “meet me” “journal” page.
Becky was here!
The simple explanation is that I love to make the world a better place by me being in it. There are many times that I forget this desire and I am rude and impatient to the world around me. But my hope is that I leave the world (at least my communities) better then how I found them. This comes in the form of how I treat others, how I raise my family to treat others, how I treat the planet and how I treat myself. This also comes in the physical form of how I love to create and re-create things I find for cheep and for free. I love to paint things and embellish. I love to design, decorate and dream up new ways to make the house and garden look like a place one could call home. (oh wait! I do!)
Becky was here!
The deeper explanation.
When I was a preteen in the early 90’s it was the cool thing to carve, etch, and draw onto almost any surface we came across. Yes, I now think that kind of behavior is vandalism and I would be upset to say the least if I had to clean the stalls at the schools and parks that are frequented by today’s little vandals. But you don’t think of that kind of thing when you are a kid. The idea in my mind was to let the world know that I was in it! That at one point I was standing or sitting at the very spot where they now stood. To leave my mark on a bench overlooking a beautiful vista.
When I was 12 years old I was diagnosed with cancer. At one point, a few surgeries and chemo treatments in, I became aware of the fact that I just might not make it. I knew that there was a pretty good chance that I would die. I accepted it. I promised myself that my death would in some way make the world a better place. I was certain that God would use my story to reach someone who needed to know Him better. The problem was, my parents wouldn’t understand. They wouldn’t be able to let me die so that God could use me. I felt that it was up to me to make sure that they were ready for the possibility and that they know that I was Okay with it and that God would use me still.
So, dragging my IV lines behind me I approached my sleep deprived, aging before her years with worry and stress, mother and told her exactly what I was convinced of. “Mom, I want you to know that I might die. But I need you to know that God would not let my death be for nothing.” I climbed into bed feeling at peace and fell asleep thinking that now mom will feel at peace too.
I am now a mother. She did not feel at peace. She cried and screamed inside herself to and at God. To and at the doctors. To and at herself.
What can a parent do in the face of cancer?
I was cured. I am a survivor. But, there were many children going through treatment at the same time I was. Every time I returned to the hospital to have my markers checked, Every time I went to a event held by the hospital, there would be another empty bed. Another story for God to use. Another name etched into the world __________ was here!
Journal Entries
Don’t be selfish . . .