oh the army has stepped in

There is an army of meal makers.

An army of text writers, letter senders, gift givers, question askers, hug offer-ers and laundry-doers.

It's an army I tell you.

The army that continues to give to our family with no thanks required. An army who forgives the lack of neat and tidy 'things are getting better', the lack of 'end' to this foul stench of sickness that has weaselled its way amongst my tribe.

And our people keep giving.

It's an army I tell you.

It's an army of friends that love on us with an extravagance that has me pretty close to tears most of the time.

If you bring it up I'll cry. It's a given.

So if it would entertain you to watch a fragile woman in her (almost) mid thirties lose it almost immediately, then I'm your gal. Give it a go. Just mention how amazing it is to see our community gather around and meet every need we ever thought we had, and on top of that needs we didn't even visualise, and you will have me where you want me. 

It's raining in my eyes. What?!

Our neighbours have stepped into our lives and vowed to lend support in weekly meals, offers of staying at holiday houses, carting my littles to school and back again over train tracks, down steep hills, and in the face of confused boys who don't grasp yet the bigness of the sadness of this cancer - boys who miss their mum coming into school. Neighbours who take me out for mint lattes and melted chocolate, and who walk up the hill to hang out with me and my little Soul. Neighbours who offer us swims in their pool and bring us jam. 

oh my. I really like my neighbours.

An army of church family who bake and lend and cook and write and raise money and welcome and extend grace and remind us that cancer is not bigger than Jesus' love week after week and now month after month. I really don't want to add 'year after year' but it's getting that way.

We are kinda a long-term project at this point.

And there's a huge part of me that longs to be on the 'other' side of the giving. I would feel better about myself on the other side. The side of lending strength instead of needing it so badly. The side of offering help instead of the one in tears receiving it.

My boys, my littles, I want you to remember this love that has been thrown over us daily like a sweet, damp fog to temper all the hard we have seen and walked through. I want you to remember and see that we've not been forgotten to just get by and survive by the skin of our teeth, or in a way that down the track we can all be proud that we 'got through' everything due to our own tenacity or determination.

We have been smothered (in the very best way!) with very big love from every angle imaginable.

This experience is rather humbling.

And in all the ways I've probably needed to be I've been broken. So now the cocky 'conquer it all on my own' has diminished. Because doing cancer on your own is not how you want to roll. 

I'm so glad for the army.