Renee & Fred

My sister, Renee, has cancer.  Again.  Her chemo treatments are causing her to lose her hair, which is very disturbing to her.  When she shaved her head her husband, Fred, shaved his.

Renee asked my mother to send me some photos of her without hair before she came to visit.  She and Fred live in Montana and Renee paused her chemo treatments for a couple of weeks to come have an early Christmas with us.  Renee was worried about how my kids, whom she adores, would react to her without hair.

I looked through the images mom sent me and the one pictured here was last.  I can’t tell you how it made me smile. My sister’s cancer is serious. She is scared.  Nearly seven years ago she lost a breast.  Now she’s lost her hair.  And yet, through tiredness and vomiting, surgeries and endless tests, there is joy.

There is still joy.

And it pulls itself up from inside to meet a loving kiss from her spouse with a laugh.

Captured here on film, Renee’s joy reminds me that today is a pretty fine day.  Any day, for that matter, is pretty darn excellent.  Because no matter what our situation or circumstances, if we can live in each moment, there is always joy somewhere inside of us. We just have to let it out.

Savor more; fix less. Laugh more; cry less. Anticipate positively more; anticapte negatively less. Nothing is more important than that you feel good. Just practice that and watch what happens.

– Esther Hicks

There was a time when I would have thought this to be a very selfish way to live. Now I know that this is actually a very generous way to live.

How much more do we give when we’re happy, rather than sad?  When we are happy and feeling good we listen more, help more, love more, laugh more and smile more–all of which benefits others as well as ourselves.  We do the world a great service by being joyful in it.

My son recently turned eight. We had his birthday party yesterday at our house. There was a badminton set, horse shoes, t-ball, air hockey and a heck of a lot of hot dogs. Most importantly, there were friends.

To be completely honest, I can only remember what games they played based on the remains strewn across the backyard. What I remember most was how much fun they had just being together.

They played, they giggled. They wrestled, they ate, they ran. They laughed. They climbed, jumped and rolled. They beat their chests like the tribe of brothers they are. They were sweaty and dirty and just about the happiest they could possibly be, simply because they were together.

At the age of eight, these kids have a few things figured out.