I didn't think I'd be here.

 It hit me last night.  Sitting in the cheesiest of malls, waiting for the indoor "snowfall".  Doodle and I were tired.  We had been out all day. But sitting there in the  Faux Euro Cafe, eating tiny faux amaretti cookies,  and waiting for the faux snow I had the very real realization that I did not expect to be here.   When the music started and the crowd cheered and the fake soap bubble snow began to fall, I exhaled and I cried.  I think I have been subtly holding  my breath since I first learned about the tumor in my brain.  I hadn't really thought about it in so many words, but I didn't expect to live long enough to see the light side of the year again.  I didn't expect to wake up and see and hear and taste and know who I was.  I didn't really know what to expect.  But I didn't expect this.  I didn't expect to be sitting around in malls, watching Doodle play in "snow" and dance with Santa. I didn't expect to not be sick and in pain all the time. I didn't expect to see the Solstice sun rise over the trees in the backyard again.  It's all just one big grand surprise after another.  It's like the wrapping over all the stuff that I was supposed  to notice has been taken off.  There is nothing between me and the light of the winter sun anymore. The ugly wrapping of a brain tumor and the skilled hands of a surgeon.  The light and the dark.  It's right there where I can reach it. 

I have long loved the this letter written by a Franciscan Friar  during the Renaissance.  Revels uses an abridged version in several of their performances. But I think the full text is far more powerful.  I have recited it to myself many times.  Including last night, on the Solstice Eve.  In a crowded bubbly mall. With my heart in my throat and my son in my arms and "snow" falling all around.

I salute you. I am your friend, and my love for you goes deep.  There is nothing I can give you which you have not. But there is much, very much, that, while I cannot give it, you can take. No heaven can come to us unless our hearts find rest in it today. Take heaven! No peace lies in the future which is not hidden in this present little instant.
Take peace! The gloom of the world is but a shadow. Behind it, yet within our reach, is joy. There is radiance and glory in darkness, could we but see.  And to see, we have only to look. I beseech you to look!
Life is so generous a giver. But we, judging its gifts by their covering, cast them away as ugly or heavy or hard. Remove the covering, and you will find beneath it a living splendor, woven of love by wisdom, with power. Welcome it, grasp it, and you touch the angel's hand that brings it to you.
Everything we call a trial, a sorrow or a duty, believe me, that angel's hand is there. The gift is there and the wonder of an overshadowing presence. Your joys, too, be not content with them as joys. They, too, conceal diviner gifts.
Life is so full of meaning and purpose, so full of beauty beneath its covering, that you will find earth but cloaks your heaven. Courage then to claim it; that is all! But courage you have, and the knowledge that we are pilgrims together, wending through unknown country home.

More about Fra. Giovanni 


Take Peace and Joy and Courage.