You can be a victim of cancer or a survivor of cancer. It’s a mindset. (Dave Pelzer)
Debby and nature know one another. She celebrates it and doesn’t take blue skies and artistically shaped branches for granted. I love Debby’s lack of pretense. It comes naturally. She grew up on a farm and recognizes the innate virtue of the living world.
As a child Debby had a pet skunk. Scent weaponry disengaged. At an early age she could accept the soft beauty of a maligned animal. Debby recognizes goodness in the light-and-shadow natural world. Therefore, when she developed cancer and needed a spiritual sign, nature provided the hope she needed.
Fear is a normal reaction. Pain. Severe post-treatment nausea. Then, came the result of any trauma—waking in the morning and knowing the previous day wasn’t a dream. It touches anyone who has walked through hell.
Therefore, nature knew what to do. It created art for her in a unique form, one she could see from her window. Dried leaves formed the shape of a heart on the roof of a neighbor’s house. Dried and crumbled oak. Cracked brown maple. Unidentified stems.
As new winds approached, the pattern remained. For weeks. Hope healed Debby’s spirit. Spirit filled her body, and the cancer did not stay.
Eventually, wind scattered nature’s artwork. It erased the leaf-heart. The message wasn’t needed anymore. Debby’s beating heart was going to be enough. She had purpose. She would survive.
The original photograph of the neighbor’s roof isn’t much larger than a postage stamp. The enlarged version, like life, isn’t as clear as I would like it to be. However, a little sun color highlights the miracle celebration. The unspoken possibilities.
The story of Lazarus claims he was raised from the dead. However, the rising wasn’t permanent. It didn’t put him in front of anyone in line at a grocery store. Imagine how many lines in his face he could have by now! His second burial didn’t make much of a story. His life in between? That could be another matter, possibly not exciting enough for added scribbled pages. Most of the good we do isn’t dramatic.
I am grateful for Debby. Her healing. Her presence in my tiny spiritual community. Her friendship.
Peace to all. May gratitude grab this moment, whether it be inside a place of struggle or a moment of triumph.
It’s never too late – in fiction or in life – to revise. (
terrypetersen 