Thursday, March 22, 2012

Seasonal gifts

The corridors and exam rooms tugged at me with their familiarity and storied history. But when the nurse walked me past conference room D with its cushioned chairs and sweeping view, the tears fell in earnest. "I need some time here." She stopped and turned and asked if I wanted to go inside and I nearly took her head off. "I don't want to go inside, I just want to stand here and look; to experience this." (Where the heck did that volume come from? Was that my voice?)

My nurse practitioner, Laila, completed her routine exam and talked with me about my emotional well-being, which was, I admit, both fragile and apparent. I was offered time with a social worker and, yes, in conference room D.

And so we entered, Katie and I, and we made new memories in that space, and I harvested the tender fruit of grief and of loss. Some of you have seen pictures taken in that room; poignant pictures of Faith, with her daughter in her arms. Pictures that hold evidence of the fear and uncertainty that prevailed in that time and place so many years ago when her breast cancer returned, seeding itself with abandon.

Katie says I am harvesting now, and though it is springtime and the season for harvesting seems so very far away, I shall accept the task- the gift- for the seeds within.

O' fruit of the earth, sustain us. Amen.


  1. You stand well Jenny! love, Jan

  2. There need be no special time for the harvest. Accept the seeds whenever the time seems right for you. You are a strong, wise woman my dear friend! Hugs and bugs, Ginny