Journey Out of Pink

Dear Body,  This is a very difficult letter to write. You've broken my trust, not once, but several times in the past and here you go again.  I thought, after you decided to pull the cancer card, we'd find a way to coexist, and we did for the most part, but apparently, you didn't think that challenge was difficult enough. You wanted to play dirty. So, you fostered a tiny clump of cells and allowed them to feed and grow in my right lung. You're sneaky. I'd have never known they were there, but for another health issue and the test that brought it to light.  Reading the test results, I never dreamed a tumor would be present, especially in my lung. The ENT was looking for a problem in my throat. How did that happen? Was it merely coincidence, or was it God's grace allowing the CT scan to light you up? It doesn't really matter. I'm just thankful it did. Now your secret is out.  I called the oncologist's office. I wondered if they'd like a copy of the...

My Daddy was a complicated and complex man. You'd never know it by the looks of him. He was very quiet and reserved, rarely speaking unless absolutely necessary. I didn't realize it when I was kid, but he weighed his words carefully, never wasting a one. That's a virtue according to the Bible - "Be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to become angry." James 1:19. He did pretty good with 2 out of 3. Not only did Daddy weigh his words, he also loved weighing babies. Whenever a new baby was born into the family, Daddy would pull out a set of old grocery scales. He'd set it up on the kitchen table, line it with a small hand towel, and carefully place the baby onto the curved metal bowl of the scale. Slowly and tenderly, he'd move the weight until the scale was in perfect balance. A gentle smile of satisfaction would cross his face. He'd done it again. After recording the baby's weight, he'd put the scale away until next time. My siblings and I...