I just got back from Atlanta this morning. On the way over I caught a rather early flight. All of us on that flight had to get up real early to catch it. When I found my seat, two large men had to extricate themselves from their seats and stand in the aisle for me to get to the window seat (when I have a choice I always take an aisle seat).
Before the plane even got off the ground the guy next to me was asleep. I wanted to sleep but it was impossible. Why? The guy next to me had imposed himself on me. He had oozed over. His knees were splayed out—now touching mine. And his elbows were way past the middle of the armrest. Way past. I leaned over to cuddle with the window and even that did not help much. He was not obnoxious–he was sleeping quietly.
I had two thoughts. Wake him up and gently ask him to keep to his side. (Actually, if you want to know the truth, my BP spiked and I wanted to tell him in no uncertain terms to keep himself to himself). The second, just relax. Deal with it.
About ten minutes later, when we were off into the wild blue yonder, it occurred to me that this was something of a metaphor of our lives. We, as a family, have had cancer intrude on us. It leaned in on us and pressed itself against us and we could chose to get upset…or not. Sure our BP has spiked a time or two. But with the Lord’s help we have attempted to do what we could (and sometimes there was absolutely nothing we could do). And, in everything, rest in the fact He was in control.
Thursday night (the day before I left for Atlanta) Judy arrived back with Cammie from Houston. They did a full workup (which they do every month, one month here in Dallas and the next down there). She is, again, cancer free at this time. For that we are grateful.
Yes, we have been pressed up against the window. Fortunately we have learned to deal with it.
March 20 2005