I used to think about death all the time. I even took a college sociology class on Death & Dying. Y'know,
just to be prepared. I used to write melodramatic poetry while
wandering through cemeteries. I
would get all worked up over elaborate mausoleums and headstones
covered in moss. I was apt to start quoting John Donne in an English accent.
In those days, I took myself very seriously.
I don't know exactly why The Lump scare happened. I do know it was a kick in the pants. God must've had a good laugh at my expense. I don't begrudge Him one bit.
After all, He gave me new eyes and a fresh perspective. Nature never looked so beautiful, my children never seemed cuter, food never tasted soooo good, hugging my husband felt like falling in love all over again.
Honestly, I think I just had the BEST WEEKEND of my life!
I know I've had many beautiful, happy days. I just don't think I've ever soaked them in, reveled in them, GLORIED in them like this past weekend. I've wasted so much of my life worrying, fretting, what if-ing.
And then last Friday when things could have turned out badly, I had this major epiphany (for me, at least): if it's cancer, there will be plenty of time to think about dying!
I realized that if it was cancer, I would be sick with regret for having wasted even one day wandering through moldering cemeteries worrying about death.
Life is for living and loving. I intend to do just that!
