Little Gifts

July is almost over. This summer has flown by but also crawled by while I was healing. Time is such an interesting thing on how our experience of it can speed up and slow down. I’ve been on a roller coaster of emotions after having cancer show up in my body again, as a mole on my toe. I’m so very grateful it was stage zero and we got clean margins, all without taking my toe 🙄 I didn’t realize I was so attached to that little pinky!

Now, I’m in a hyper aware mode again as I look around me and enjoy “firsts” after healing. The joy of swimming, the ability to pull weeds, or walk a lap on our property are all “new” after being slowed down by recovery. It was humbling how much losing a pea of flesh from my toe hurt and the length of  time it has taken to heal.​

It’s been a good reminder that healing is a long process. My spirit is healing as I seek to quiet the Fight or Flight response activated. I need to be gentle with myself and others as they heal too.  Building back resilience after hard things can be a complicated process, often with steps forward and backward. ​

Time seems to stop whenever I step in a grief puddle by bumping into something that brings sadness to the surface- a mole declared melanoma, my sister being in heaven and not being here for my mom’s 80th birthday this July, the anniversary of my little sister-in-law’s birthday, or just the bright color of pink she loved on an item in a store knowing I can’t send gifts to heaven. These things trigger emotions and I’m splashed in grief again. It takes time to dry off.​

Meanwhile, we decided to pull the trigger on getting a puppy once we got the good news about my toe. Kua bounded into our lives on 7.5.25. He’s a growing bundle of joy, snuggles, and very sharp teeth. He’s our 5th in an amazing line of Rhodesian Ridgebacks. Puppy raising is an intense experience, with lots of prioritization of potty training​, little sleep, and bite marks everywhere. It’s also full of laughter, licks, warm snuggles, and a slowing down of the calendar. It’s delightful to watch him play with our older dog, Akili, or discover the yard while I weed. The cats still aren’t sure about him, but he’s a charmer and will win them over in time. Thankfully while he sleeps and grows, I’ve also gotten to paint.

When Kaiser called with the bad pathology results last month, I processed by heading to the coast. I stopped at Valley Ford Creamery and got ice cream. They make it fresh from their Jersey cows’ milk, and it’s divine. The cone was gone way too soon, so I got a 2nd one 😂 Then I headed to Dillon Beach for a walk.​

The ocean always calms me. It speaks to me of God’s immense power, love and wisdom. He doesn’t need my help bringing in the waves. This brings perspective beyond my tunnel vision of frustration at what’s happening now.​ I processed all of this by putting paint on the largest canvas I’ve used, 3’x4′. Apparently large emotions mean I need a big canvas haha. I’m calling this view of the fog receding over the hills, and the beach beckoning, Reset.

While recuperating after the excisement on my toe, I  read something that stuck with me- if we looked over a surgeon’s shoulder during an operation it would seem barbaric. Too much blood and destruction of tissue would be happening. But when we know the story from diagnosis through surgery to healing, that same surgery is a blessing.​

I was reminded by this of the limits of my perspective. I don’t pretend to understand why one friend this week updated me on the horrific spread of her cancer, and another one went in for a biopsy to have the mass miraculously gone. I celebrate the miracle, and grieve the limited time given to my other friend.​

I’m left with questions, that I wish I could understand. Simultaneously I’m at peace with not being able to completely comprehend God. His unfathomable nature speaks of His limitless power and vastness. So, I seek to trust in the midst of the “surgery”, when what I can see just seems barbaric, and beg for the gift of hope, and faith when mine is insufficient. I need hope that surpasses my comprehension.​

All of this highlights again what a gift today is. It’s all we really have. Nothing else is guaranteed. Today, I choose to trust even when I don’t understand.  Today I write my story by enjoying the little things like the blackberries sweetening on the vine, the Gravenstein Apples ripening on the tree, roses blooming again, tomatoes turning red, zinnias bursting forth in a rainbow of colors, and a puppy learning not to chomp at my skin.​

This growing puppy keeps me company as I prepare for an art reception soon at Brothers Cafe in Santa Rosa (7.31.25 2-4pm). I’d love to see you there. Most of these paintings will be hung to celebrate the little gifts in life- like wildflowers along our path. In Sonoma County we can enjoy the outdoors, hikes in the hills, walks along the beach, tall trees, flowers blooming, or yummy soft serve 🍦 😁 May we find joy in the little things, today.