It's a quiet and rainy morning here. We needed the rain, so I'm not complaining. I'm sitting here in my jammies, finishing my usual second cup of coffee. I've got to get started on this house. I've got a busy week coming, helping Mary and Danny move. I have a couple tests this week. I'm on the downhill side of school. My classes end the second week of May. I have finals coming up. I'm still straight A, as far as I know. Wouldn't that be something to wind up with straight A's for my first semester?
I'm ready for school to be over. I am taking a pretty intense (from everything that I hear) summer course, but just the one course. I've got some scholarship forms to fill out today. Cara will be coming home for a month, but then she is headed back out. She is working with Upward Bound for the summer. She had a free day, so she decided to bring home a carload of stuff. She is ready for school to be done too.
Tim thinks the interview went well. We'll see what happens this week.
This week will be a toughy for us on a personal level, so all you praying people? Pray.
Last week at church, I was worship leader, and when we did the sharing of our joys and concerns, Mr. B shared the latest on his recently diagnosed lung cancer. Then there was an outpouring of concerns. Pray for this person, who has cancer. So-and-so who has cancer. Three year old nephews, with cancer. Cousins. Brother-in-laws. Fathers. Mothers. I wrote the names down as people offered them up, and I was just really struck by the sheer number of these requests. I feel like I'm supposed to be doing something, but I don't know what it is. I'm a sap anyway, but add to that a week of personal issues and a euthanized dog, well, I was a wee bit more emotional than usual even. It was hard not to be teary eyed about all those names. Yesterday, back at church, I saw Mr. B and went to him. It shocked me to see his gray pallor. He admitted that he was having trouble with shortness of breath. He had his medport put in, and he begins chemo this week. Three times a week. He's having chemo three times a week. I cannot imagine. I tried to be encouraging, but on the inside, I was aghast. Three times a week! Holy cow. I pointed out that he was no less stubborn than I was. I assured him that he was tough enough to take it. Then I got off by myself and let the tears fly a minute.
We all operate in our own little corner of our world. We try to make a difference where we are, bloom where we are planted so to speak. I'd like to think that I make a difference, but it's hard to tell. There are people who seem to accomplish a lot more than I do. There are also people who accomplish a lot less. I write a column, and I write this blog, and people are encouraged by it, or interested in it, or entertained by it. There are some who simply use it as another way to criticize. I have a circle of friends and I am glad to have them, but it seems like we move in and out of each other's lives. This makes me doubt the importance of any difference I can possibly be making. I saw new Mary's aunt in the store yesterday and realized that it has been some time since I've had a chance to talk to her. How do we lose track of people like that? Do you ever think about it? How it will end? When we are gone, will our absence be noticed, or will we simply disappear with no trace to mark that we were ever there at all?