50/50

**WARNING: I feel some rambling ahead. Consider yourself forewarned.

I never intended it to take me 6 months to process all that has happened in my world to the point that I sat still long enough in my mind, body, and soul, to type another post.  In some ways I still find myself eerily speechless, almost numb. 

In my last post, I indicated that I was making a leap.  I did it.  I jumped, and I'm flying for now.  July 15th I will complete the initial requirements for my teaching certification, and will hopefully begin to teach in August...anywhere.  I'm not going to be particular.  I will merely be pleased with a teaching position.  Looking ahead with a lack of clarity is disconcerting for me.  Change is not my most favorite of things, but is coming and I'm excited-ish about it.  I just wish I already knew where I will be in 3 months.  This is where the trusting part comes.

Any of you who follow me on Facebook know that I have dedicated many of my posts to two sweet two year old girls fighting cancer.  Piper was diagnosed with infantile leukemia at only 6 weeks old, and spent most of her 2 year and 8 months on this earth battling a beast for her life.  Phoebe received her diagnosis on New Year's Day 2012.  An MRI indicated a large mass in her brain, which they removed mere days later.  Pathology reports revealed Phoebe is in the fight of her life against AT/RT cancer, a very aggressive form of cancer.  The doctors suggested to her parents that she has a 50% chance of survival.  This vapid unfairness led me to the question we desperately train ourselves not to ask, "Why?"  Little princesses are not supposed to have to face these battles.  They are supposed to make messes, play dress up, and get dirty! 

As I considered further Phoebe's prognosis, it struck me that each day we all have a 50% chance of survival.  Now, don't think that I'm being morose.  Just stay with me for a minute.  Every day that we wake we face a 50% chance of survival.  The odds are 50/50 that you will make it to bed at the end of the day.  We all face the fact that each day we will live, or we will die.  Most people out run the odds, and live for decades.  Others leave behind families forced to cope with the reality of 50/50.  Two girls with cancer.  Only one left to fight.  50/50. 

Piper's journey on this earth ended April 3 on a sun shinny afternoon.  Phoebe just started round 4 of her chemo treatments, and had some scary days in the ICU herself.  50/50. 

Each day we all face the fact that we will live or die.  Tonight I find myself sobered by the fact that I somewhere feel justified in whining about not knowing what my life will look like in 3 months, while my friend Susana, her husband, and child have to teach themselves to live life without their 4th part.  My other friends, Nathan and Amey, keep vigil with their little Phoebe attempting to continue to nurse life into her body, as poison is poured into it with hopes of killing the wretched monster trying to take another sweet girl.  They have 3 brave boys at home they have to nurture, train, and love while processing the choices of daily life complicated by cancer. 

Their lives were completely derailed in a day, and I'm whining about 3 months?  What is it I'm crying about again?!  My milk isn't even spilled.  It's still in the cup.  I haven't taken a sip of it, but I'm throwing a fit like a 3 year old because I may not like the way it tastes.  Dear Lord, forgive me!

50/50.  Back to that again.  I know this post has been heavy.  Honestly, I am not sorry.  I hope that somewhere in all of this madness something good arises.  Beauty from ashes, as the verse says.  I find myself constantly reminded of the verses in Psalms,
             ^"I would have despaired unless I had believed that I would see the goodness of the LORD in
         the land of the living.  Wait for the LORD; be strong and let your heart take courage; yes, wait
         for the LORD." (Psalm 27:13-14) 

I'm not very good at waiting.  Patients has never been very high on my list of virtues.  During this time I shift my focus to gratitude.  I have so much for which to be thankful, and that gives my heart courage.