Laying down and getting back up

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I'm not up to the usual update, my friends. I don't want to write about things that hurt, or things that are scary, or uncomfortable stuff. At least not right now.

I want to talk about being able to just lay down.

So the weekend after the last treatment, with the help of some advice from a phone nurse, I actually felt pretty good. Saturday I was able to open my eyes without pain and actually function. Sunday I made it to early Mass, breakfast, and even an errand. I kept saying how strange it was that I didn't feel like I was going to die.

I did a lot those two days, but when I felt tired I just laid down -- totally weird for me. The part of me that can't and won't lay down relented, she didn't even fight it. I nestled in, closed my eyes, and just rested.

Apparently this is an actual thing, resting.

So resting led to hoping. Just laying down, feeling safe, comforted, and calm, made me feel hopeful. Go figure.

For me, hope has always been this little creeping thought that starts just outside my peripheral vision. It's like those little groups of stars you can't see when you look right at them, but when you look slightly off, there they are.

I've got to have more of this rest, this hope. It's better than a prescription. It might even get me through the stuff that's coming.

"and hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out into our hearts through the holy Spirit that has been given to us. For Christ, while we were still helpless, yet died at the appointed time for the ungodly." (Romans 5:5-6)

I hope you know I've been praying for you. For miracles for you. And now I pray for you to have this little thing, this little mysterious thing -- this rest that leads to hope.