It's been a hard day this summer. So many blogs should have been written, so much feeling expressed. My friend and colleague is fighting for his life against cancer. Hope was pretty dim a few weeks ago, but so many people have been praying, and God has answered prayers. At this point, the prognosis is much brighter. My mom, on the other hand, is fighting against the inevitable. Mom's cancer is inoperable and incurable. She's begun radiation and chemo; doctors hope that if treatment is successful, it will add a few more months to the precious few she has left.
Earlier this week, Ken's uncle killed himself. Doctors sent him home from the hospital with the news that they could no longer treat his heart problems. Nothing remained to be done. He made a choice not to fight, not to live any longer. Too much death. Too much dying. Definitely too much giving up.
I've found myself almost completely unable to focus and concentrate. When I should be working on research or my online courses, my brain just frags. I enjoy working outside, and I've been working like a crazy woman when it isn't raining. Last year was a drought year, and we beseeched heaven for every drop of rain. This year, we've had rain almost every single day since school got out.
I am heartily sick of rain. It's become symbolic of frustration, angst, struggle, and my inability to do what needs to get done.
It's been a hard day this summer. The good thing--the comfort--is that at the end of each day, I can still snuggle up next to Ken, tangle my fingers in his beard, and know that I am still held tightly in the arms of Jesus.
