Morning thoughts.

Is it better to hold them close, be in their space, parent them all through the days?  Or, is it better to step back and watch and see that they can be fine without me?

Is it better to pursue relationships and be active in a friend's life?  Or, is it better to relax the relationship and let that person bond with others?

How to balance the 'here and now' with the 'doctors are just waiting for cancer to overtake me' with the desire and need for relationship?

Wanting to pour into my children's lives as I always have, but afraid that it would be harder for them if I was gone.

Being so sick during chemo did, somewhat, remove me from my children's lives.  But, there was hope that I was getting better each time.  There was the climb back up out of chemo darkness and they knew they could still come to me, although definitely with more care and quiet.

Wanting to rush and do and be and partake.  Afraid to let me own hopes soar... no, more afraid of the words that will dash those soaring hopes.  God keeps me soaring, Satan keeps trying to crash me, man/humans/doctors are just the messenger.

Yesterday it was as if cancer hadn't come. Almost.  Probably the closest to that I've had.  Even in the moments where my breathing was a little difficult or I had a cough and panic tried to set in, I still felt so normal, unencumbered, just almost free.  But even in those moments of feeling 'free-er than usual' I knew it was just that... not the true freedom I used to feel, live, enjoy, be.   And I felt lost.  I'm still struggling to figure out who this new Kristin is.  I am so changed.

I have joy.  And it is followed by tears.  I have anxious moments, which are quickly turned to praise for God's faithfulness and thankfulness for Him getting me this far.

I don't know how to talk to people, close people, anymore.  I feel so very careful about what I say, to protect myself from wandering thoughts.  To protect them from the hard and scary and crappy bits.  Living in the moment is good for me emotionally and panic-wise, but it feels a little hollow, too.  Part of the fun is in the looking-forward-to-it, and I'm afraid to look forward because that inevitably brings so many other unwanted thoughts with it.

So, back to focusing right here and now.  And a smile comes quickly to my face.  Right here, right now, I am enjoying summer holiday with the kids.  Right here, right now, I am enjoying the quiet of the house and the click of keyboard keys as B and I both spend some computer time.  I love watching him, the way he holds his hands, the way his lips sort of purse when he is in concentration.  I love hearing his little quiet whistles, and his whispers (a new skill!) make me smile because of all the "SHH!" I have done over the years to help remind him to "lower your volume".

I am smiling to think on how Shawn is still sleeping and how he looks in our bed.  I love how warm and squooshy C will be when he emerges and sleepy-eyes-lumbers down the stairs to find me for his good morning snuggles.  I know that M is going to be hard to wake today, just like every other day (mornings aren't her thing) and I know that her hair is going to be wild and wonderful and big-messy when she gets up.  And K, a tangle of teenager and blankets asleep all tumbled in his bed.   Ah, bliss.

Going to get some cuddles in, I hear kids stirring and clomping down the stairs.  [smile]