God will pull me through.

I thought I was hanging in and doing fairly well considering all the chaos and upheaval and low blood count and birthdays and stuff.  And then at 2:00am last night I woke up crying.

Last night my sisters and my dear friend came over to help sort out my craft room to take to storage.  On our way in to treatment yesterday with Mom I was on the phone with our restoration company to determine timeline and trades scheduling and such.  The result of that conversation, and because the contractor is trying hard to get this done and out of our cancery-lives (there is so little hair to get out of... you know, as in 'get out of my hair'?? [wink]) restoration company is coming this morning at 9:00.

That meant that I needed to go through my craft room last night, after coming home exhausted from the second big Vancouver drive in two days, with super low blood counts that make you really tired and susceptible to germs (hello coughing children, I love you but stay back!), and hopped up on pre-meds that were still fully trying to knock me out.  Help!  And help came.  Thanks Keri and Kori and Bonnie.  Could NOT have done that without you.

And the emotions.

It felt like dying.

My craft room is me.  My space.  I am so blessed to have a husband who has always granted me space for my scrapbooking and, a more recent addition, quilting.  I had already put a call in to Bonnie asking if she would sell my quilting fabrics for me (you quilters will understand the hurt and sorrow of that) and Erika to sell my scrapbooking supplies (for context know that one year I scrapbooked 766+ full 12"x12" scrapbook pages...that's a lot).   More importantly, that room holds me, my spirit, my Kristin-ness.  When you look at the fabrics and the paper and the stickers and the memorabilia you see me.  My heart, my emotions, what colours and style and patters speak to me. I have hand-held every single thing in that room. Honestly, you feel me in that room.  And we were packing it up and sorting it to be taken away.  Out.  Out of the house.  Out of this family.  Away.  Gone.

It felt like dying.

It was as hard as cutting my hair.

It is me being removed.  

I am being gone from the house.

I haven't been 'here' to do house work and to sort through and to challenge kids and husband to get things done.  For a year now.

I see my flavour missing from the days.

And now my craft room.

Like if I were dead.

No more me.

It's just stuff.  Yes.  But that stuff is hours of wandering through craft stores with my bestie-friends, memories of going on retreats and spending an entire weekend laughing and sharing stories with other like-interested ladies.  That stuff is holding preschoolers' hands and letting them choose one sheet of stickers (always the ugliest stickers) and laughing and buying them anyway because it was fun to do together.  It is stories waiting to be archived, written out, shared.  Sharing memories.  Moments captured to be shown and shared and remembered and smiled over and those happy-tears rolling down your face as you remember the good and the hard and the candid and the way things were.  Stories need to be shared.  I have been blessed to get to share mine through scrapbooking and journalling and I have spent hours sharing my craft room with our kids, watching their interpretation of events or how they think a sticker should go on the paper or listening to them explain why they chose to scrapbook the photo they did.  Moments.  Stories-sharing.  Memories caught with gentle hands and released with love onto the pages and into the albums that fill my dining room shelves.  

Packed up.

I woke up in tears at 2:00am.  I praised and I prayed and I listened to God's Words comforting me.  And then my brain started whirling... if I get them to take the piano keyboard out I could ask the movers to bring the downstairs shelf in and then I will have a home for my paper trimmer and adhesives which I'm keeping here anyway... where else will they go??  They are coming at 9:00, I'll be just back from getting the boys to the bus... no time... I'm awake now... I had a 4+ hours nap I feel good right now I'm going downstairs... 

And I did.  I went back into my craft room and cut bright orange and bright pink signs and tagged the things I want kept here.  The restoration company had already agreed that they would do all the legwork for me and schlepp boxes up the stairs.  They know I have cancer.  They saw me in 10/10 pain on Sunday as they walked back and forth in and out of the house.  They were so quiet and so discreet and the look in their eyes was so kind.  And now they will take care of the physical work when I cannot.  God is good.  

ARH just called... I need to go in for a cross-match this morning and then that gets the transfusion process started for either later today or tomorrow.  PRAISE GOD!  I am so glad I called my local oncologists' secretary, that girl is awesome at her job and has always been such a support!  Thanking God for her.  

God lined it up.  I slept well.  Was able to be up and deal with my room in a manner that gives me full peace about the work they will do in there today.  Thank you, Lord.

I slept well.  No coughing-to-puking last night.  Praise God!!!  That means a good solid sleep for Shawn, too.  PRAISE GOD, that husband needs it!!!

Feeling love, feeling thanks, feeling that today is a good day.  Yet again, God brings peace even in floods and infestations and low blood counts.  I am a blessed woman.

Feel blessed in your day, I pray.

Hanging by a thread? ... God will pull you through!