"They're just more great people in your boat," my cousin Brenda said. I had just been explaining to her about how weird it was to be navigating the world of radiation oncology; how difficult is was to meet new nurses, doctors, and technicians. I told her I did not like it that they did not know my story. They had no idea of what the last almost eight years of my life had been like.
The new people in my boat were making things crowded. Brenda thought it was great, and I wanted to elbow them out and overboard into the wicked, wicked waters of the world of cancer treatment. I felt I had enough people in my boat.
Where I was once desperate to find people in my boat, (hence the first journal entry in this blog and the name of this blog), now I was longing for some breathing room. I am still, I find, wanting to be left alone, wanting the waters to be still and calm, wanting a break from the unrelenting storm. I long for a day when my sails are full and the breeze is steady and sure, the charted course is perfect and the rumble of thunder that is a constant companion with having metastatic
disease will be silent....just for one day, one voyage, I want it to be clear sailing. I cannot see a picture of a sailboat on the water without a sense of jealousy and longing. I remember what it is like to have the perfect day, the sun, the sound of the wind filling the mainsail, me Katie and Raul the only people on my boat, the Slow Dance.
The Slow Dance has been gone since 2001, and my journey since then has often been symbolized as being in a boat with the raging storm all around me, God holding me, people in my boat loving me, helping me. People waiting for me on the shore. All of us willing to go the distance, to out ride the storm, to trust in the calm waters of faith, to keep our eyes on the distant shore of hope and determination. To know that the ultimate captain of this ship is no one person or doctor....we are all just passengers under the perfect plan and purposes of God.
So what if the boat is getting crowded again?? As always, we'll all just scoot over and make room on deck. We'll hold onto each other, share knowledge, try a new drug or two, and pray that the voyage will go on and on. We are getting ready to sail through another Thanksgiving, then another birthday, then another Christmas. How blessed am I? Everyone in the boat, some from the very beginning, has helped me see eight of these holidays seasons. In my crowded little boat, we somehow keep going forward...somehow keep on the charted course, somehow keep the rumble of thunder behind us. And God somehow finds a way to keep the waters calm and whisper to me when the winds are high and the storm is brewing, "make room, Kathy. We have a few more of my children who need to climb on board."
"I will lie down and sleep in peace, for you alone, O lord, make me dwell in safety." Psalm 4:8
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