And yet, I smile.

The other day a kind friend commented on a picture I posted saying, “I know it’s all good because you are smiling.” I thought about that comment for a while. While her intentions were nothing but supportive- I felt it was important to clarify. A smile does not mean it’s all good. There is a lot that is darn right bad right now in my life. And yet, I smile. The smile doesn’t mean the pain is over. I still have the same amount of cancerous fluid building up in my abdomen and lining of my lung. I still feel exhausted, weak and shaky. I am still terrified of what the future holds, actually even more so as we get further down this chemo path without a significant decrease in cancer. And, yet, I smile.

Because if I didn’t I would crumble. I love being happy. I love to laugh. Cancer has already taken so much from me and my family. I won’t let it take my smile.

Some days I don’t smile. I cry and scream and want to break things. The anger I have about my life being ripped apart is gut wrenching. I am withdrawn and quiet. I sleep or try to escape my thoughts in a book or a screen. I give myself time to be sad. Really, really sad. Angry, disappointed, jealous, overwhelmed.

Then I climb out of this sadness (some days it’s incredibly hard.) And yet, I smile.

This week we hosted 3 of Wills’ friends for Camp Mac. They all dove off the T-dock!

I am still hopeful the chemo will start working to control/slow this cancer. And, I realize that it may not. I balance these hopes and fears daily, hourly, moment to moment. Watching our sons jump off the T-dock, as they have since they were tiny and yelling, “watch me mommy” over and over again. To now when I might just be lucky enough to happen to be out there when they jump. Every sun-kissed splash is like an explosion of love for the life we share - the sparkles of adventures we have experienced together and the love we created. And, in the next moment I wonder what it will be like when I’m not here. Will they think of me when they jump off this dock or surf the waves? Will they be happy? My heart breaks as I try to accept not being here to watch them grow up, meet a future wife or help their children jump off the dock. I don’t want to miss out the rest of their lives. And yet, I smile.

We are already two weeks through our time here in Michigan. And, the forecast for the next week is rain… There won’t be as many boat rides or warm, sunny beach days for our next guests. More board games and indoor day trips. In my heart I was sure by this point in our trip the chemo would be working and I would be feeling better. Instead, my heart feels a lot like the dreary day around us. And yet, I smile.

This is the balancing act of living A Hopeful Life. Sunshine and storms. We smile and hurt. Cry and laugh. Splash and sleep.

And, the bravest thing of all, always hope.

Jay pulling the boat out in the pouring rain…