What Cancer Does to a Home

When I was in high school, my mom got a sweatshirt as a gift that read, "When momma ain't happy, ain't nobody happy." Even then we knew how true that message was. A calm, content, and fulfilled mom made a home that felt the same.When cancer enters a house, all that changes. "Momma ain't happy." Every moment is haunted. Every breath is taken with hesitance. Members of the household stop making eye contact.I haven't been updating this blog during the time I have spent with my friend partly for this very reason. A great weight has made a home for itself within my ribcage making breathing and thinking and writing difficult.We've celebrated two birthdays in the time that I've spent here. That word--celebrated--should be put in quotes. Celebration is difficult when cancer's dark shadow occupies every corner. We sing, we take pictures, we fake smiles... sometimes all at once. We try to forget. We try to ignore the twisted form in the corner.How long can a person pretend everything is okay before imploding? Can one pretend that all is well until the darkness passes? I don't think so.I think this is what makes good friends--or, in my case, a great husband--essential. Sometimes you need to implode, and that's best done under the loving eyes and support of someone you trust. Someone who is praying for you, even when you're having trouble praying for yourself.I wish I had more to say. I wish I was at a point where I could have more perspective to offer. I have no perspective. I'm in the trenches... I'm in the valley. I can't see over the next hill. I can't help you understand what I'm going through or help you heal if you're going through a similar situation. Maybe one day. For now, all I can do is cry out to our Father for mercy, my Savior for courage, the Paraclete for comfort.I offer you a similar perspective from the blog of One Crafty Mother: "Love, Fear, Courage and Faith - What Cancer Does to a Family"