Mother's Day was epic. I loved it.
Coming home to three littles desperate to show off hidden pressies tucked away behind my bed was thrilling. I could barely give our gift of flowers to Mum or give any kind of detail on our luxurious weekend away (Huz took me to see The Lion King!) before I was escorted enthusiastically to 'see see see what we did for you'.
And this is entirely different from last year, where I sobbed literally all day in between falling asleep from the horrid chemo, whilst Huz and the boys lavished darling presents on me and loved me so big and so well that I could all but see in my minds eye all day the tragedy of my own untimely death, leaving all four boys behind. And my tears were bulbous with my fear, and looking back I can only imagine my boys confusion as they made food for me, cuddled me till I could barely breathe and still I lay on the floor by the fire and sobbed and sobbed.
But let's come back to this year shall we. It's a prettier picture for sures.
I woke in my gorgeous hotel room next to my adoring Huz and we took our time dilly dallying down to the lavish buffet breakfast that awaited us. Then onto the airport and I napped in the plane (and the taxi) until we arrived home. A slow and very welcome low key start with no emotional crazy town (admittedly I had purged myself of most of the cray cray the night before - sorry Huz). But how wonderful. What a relief.
And the way my little guys love me...oh my. I see now that I don't really have words to put to it. Because my littles had spent the night and day before with Aunty L, and she cooked and shopped and crafted with them like a boss. Oh my goodness. The chocolate chip biscuits that included Nutella and gold coins chopped up proudly by Brave, and the lux dressing gown in my favourite colour, the darling jewellery the boys made in class and childcare. The little words scribed on a special card meant the world.
Thank you Aunty L for all you poured into being with my boys. I'm a little bit speechless, and you know how rare that is.
Hens teeth. Really.
So I've been thinking about Mothers Day. For future Mother's Days after I've flown away,
Huz and I have talked about the idea of each of the littles sending off a helium balloon as they think about me. Maybe they can stand at the end of the Glenelg Jetty just near where I was baptised (in that freezing water!). Perhaps if I'm lucky they will want to write a little note to me on it, or a picture. Just something between the two of us.
And there I was, crying (again, yes again) not wanting another hard day for these littles of mine to endure year after year. And then Huz put it out there. Not what I wanted to hear really, but what was true nonetheless. That it's ok if Mother's Day is a deep day for them. A day to remember love. A day that will be covered in grace each year.
And I know he's right. The deep things in life aren't bad. The sad and deep parts of life shape us, and my prayers are for this grace I've come to know to reach right into all of the sad places in my littles hearts. I'm praying grace will meet them each Mother's Day. My heart settles when I remember that Huz will be there with them. Sad, but there with them.
It will all be ok, I think.
Just read this hilarious cancer analogy.
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What’s it like to go through cancer treatment? It’s something like this: one day, you’re minding your own business, you open the fridge to get some breakfast, and OH MY GOSH THERE’S A MOUNTAIN LION IN YOUR FRIDGE.
Wait, what? How? Why is there a mountain lion in your fridge? NO TIME TO EXPLAIN. RUN! THE MOUNTAIN LION WILL KILL YOU! UNLESS YOU FIND SOMETHING EVEN MORE FEROCIOUS TO KILL IT FIRST!
So you take off running, and the mountain lion is right behind you. You know the only thing that can kill a mountain lion is a bear, and the only bear is on top of the mountain, so you better find that bear. You start running up the mountain in hopes of finding the bear. Your friends desperately want to help, but they are powerless against mountain lions, as mountain lions are godless killing machines. But they really want to help, so they’re cheering you on and bringing you paper cups of water and orange slices as you run up the mountain and yelling at the mountain lion - “GET LOST, MOUNTAIN LION, NO ONE LIKES YOU” - and you really appreciate the support, but the mountain lion is still coming.
Also, for some reason, there’s someone in the crowd who’s yelling “that’s not really a mountain lion, it’s a puma” and another person yelling “I read that mountain lions are allergic to kale, have you tried rubbing kale on it?”
As you’re running up the mountain, you see other people fleeing their own mountain lions. Some of the mountain lions seem comparatively wimpy - they’re half grown and only have three legs or whatever, and you think to yourself - why couldn’t I have gotten one of those mountain lions? But then you look over at the people who are fleeing mountain lions the size of a monster truck with huge prehistoric saber fangs, and you feel like an asshole for even thinking that - and besides, who in their right mind would want to fight a mountain lion, even a three-legged one?
Finally, the person closest to you, whose job it is to take care of you - maybe a parent or sibling or best friend or, in my case, my husband - comes barging out of the woods and jumps on the mountain lion, whaling on it and screaming “GET LOST MOUNTAIN LION, STOP TRYING TO EAT MY WIFE,” and the mountain lion punches your husband right in the face. Now your husband (or whatever) is rolling around on the ground clutching his nose, and he’s bought you some time, but you still need to get to the top of the mountain.
Eventually you reach the top, finally, and the bear is there. Waiting. For both of you. You rush right up to the bear, and the bear rushes the mountain lion, but the bear has to go through you to get to the mountain lion, and in doing so, the bear TOTALLY KICKS YOUR BOT, but not before it also punches your husband in the face. And your husband is now staggering around with a black eye and bloody nose, and saying “can I get some help, I’ve been punched in the face by two apex predators and I think my nose is broken,” and all you can say is “I’M KIND OF BUSY IN CASE YOU HADN’T NOTICED I’M FIGHTING A MOUNTAIN LION.”
Then, IF YOU ARE LUCKY, the bear leaps on the mountain lion and they are locked in epic battle until finally the two of them roll off a cliff edge together, and the mountain lion is dead.
Maybe. You’re not sure - it fell off the cliff, but mountain lions are crafty. It could come back at any moment.
And all your friends come running up to you and say “that was amazing! You’re so brave, we’re so proud of you! You didn’t die! That must be a huge relief!”
Meanwhile, you blew out both your knees, you’re having an asthma attack, you twisted your ankle, and also you have been mauled by a bear. And everyone says “boy, you must be excited to walk down the mountain!” And all you can think as you stagger to your feet is "I never even wanted to climb it in the first place.”
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