It's early morning and I had so many jumbled thoughts going through my brain. Usually when I get the urge to write its because I have a story to tell, this morning it's all just thoughts. Mrs. Harrell my 12th grade English teacher would tell me to organize my thoughts, so let's give it a try.
Strength, everyone keeps telling me I am so strong. That's a funny word, because I don't know if this is strength that I would use right now to describe me. I guess I just feel like I have a way to weather the storms. In the beginning, I usually put those sails down and head right into the storm, I ride that initial front that is blowing in and tackle the problem head on. To my loved ones, that is the "confrontational" side of my personality! Right now that is where I am, let's gather our information and be as aggressive as we can be and fight this thing till we beat it! That is not to say, that I don't try to find that protective harbor and run to it every now and then.
I know where my "strength" comes from, if you chose to use that word. It comes from my mom. I have never in my 47 years seen her "lose it" or freak out, or break down. She is a rock. I can't say the same for me. I have "lost it" on multiple occasions, you can ask my kids! She has so much grace and I admire her so much. So when I think of strong, I think of my mom, who at 87, I wouldn't mess with! I wish I had her strength with her composure. Hopefully, through this journey I will have a chance to work on composure and grace.
I have often watched new moms with their kids. The children fall down and the first thing a little one does is look to their mom to see their reaction. If the mom comes running and is freaking out, the child then cries and screams. If a mom has composure and quietly says your going be ok, then a calm goes over the child and he will get up and brush himself off. I have tried to raise my children that way. Don't ask Kristi about when I had her brush herself off and go to school with a broken arm, that was an extreme case of this example. Even though I learned how to brush myself off, my mom was there to hug and comfort after the fall.
My humor, well that comes from my dad. With a nickname like, Porky, how can you not be funny. Looking back when he got his diagnosis of cancer, I don't ever remember him having a bad outlook. It was almost like he didn't take it serious. I often wondered if he was just clueless and didn't know that with pancreatic cancer he only had 6 months to live. Or was it that he lived everyday, and didn't really care about time remaining? Or as my funny husband would say, "what's time to a hog"? I don't really know what that means, but I laugh every time he says it.
So, to get through this, my goal is to do it with the grace of my mom, the humor of my dad and the spunkiness of Traci! (that's Suzanne's word!)