Friday, August 14, 2009


I was doing a little “chit-chatting” in the new comment section the other night, and one of your fellow blog peeps, Pol, sent me this story in a comment:

The only survivor of a shipwreck was washed up on a small, uninhabited
island. He prayed feverishly for God to rescue him. Every day he
scanned the horizon for help, but none seemed forthcoming. Exhausted,
he eventually managed to build a little hut out of driftwood to
protect him from the elements, and to store his few possessions. One
day, after scavenging for food, he arrived home to find his little hut
in flames, with smoke rolling up to the sky. He felt the worst had
happened, and everything was lost. He was stunned with disbelief,
grief, and anger. He cried out,
"God! How could you do this to me?"
Early the next day, he was awakened by the sound of a ship approaching
the island! It had come to rescue him!
"How did you know I was here?"
asked the weary man of his rescuers. "We saw your smoke signal," they

Remember that every moment you don't give up is a victory. You are winning battles every moment of every day.


Talk about a perfect lesson at the perfect time. It made me think of this quote, that’s been rattling around in my brain lately.

quote works out

As you all know, I usually try very hard to live in the here and now… I even went so far as to list it as number three on my list of life goals: To be aware and present in every moment.

I’ve got to be honest. Lately, I’ve been trying very hard to live anywhere but my here and now. It’s a weird place for me because it leaves me in limbo… I don’t want to look ahead too far; it’s daunting. And I’ve found it never serves me well. I look ahead and there are no concrete answers as to how I will do with the next reduction, how I’ll do when I’m off the steroids, how long it will take for my endocrine system to start working, how long it will take the effects of the Cushing’s to subside, how long before I look and feel like me again. There are no predictions to how this will affect my Spondylitis when all is said and done, what will happen to my pain levels, where my level of functioning will be over time. Everything is simply speculation.

How will I bounce back? Good question. No answers. No sense looking ahead.

But living in the here and now… there’s not a lot of here and now other than being still, medicating, dealing with pain, feeling sick, resting. I don’t have much ability or resources to distract myself, so shutting off my brain and watching back to back seasons of Alias seems to be my best reprieve. I’m officially living in the world of secret-agent Sydney Bristow because it feels like this world I’m in isn’t ever going to change.


Five more weeks of steroid reductions before I even see a glimmer of what may happen next… it feels like an eternity if I let myself think about it, so I’m living in the world of CIA spies instead. And pretending like I can kick some serious terrorist tush, just like super-spy Sydney.

But then I read that story of Pol’s and I thought of the above quote, and I was reminded that it’s ok to live in the here and now from time to time – and to even look ahead a bit – because I’m not stuck here. I’m just in the middle. I’m not at the crossroads, I’m not at the end of the journey, and – most gratefully – I’m no longer at the beginning of it either.

[That in and of itself is a reason to be joyful.] 

This hasn’t worked out yet, which means it isn’t the end. Which means good stuff has yet to happen. Which means there are good things to look forward to… and I want to be aware and present so I will be sure to notice them when they happen. I just have to be patient and keep building my hut so it’s ready for the smoke signal.

But just for fun, I’m going to be building my hut while pretending to be Sydney Bristow. :)

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