By all accounts...

By all my calculations, if all the notes I've taken over the first three cycles of healing therapy could be used to predict a pattern of some kind, today should be a pretty crappy day. I should be dragging myself around, moaning, groaning, whimpering, and praying for the end of the weekend.

But, thanks be to God,
thanks be to all of you,
thanks to all the prayers, candles, sitting, thinking,
thanks to all the plants, cards, notes, emails, texts, calls,
thanks to all the soup, rotisserie chicken, and banana bread,
thanks be to All that Is Good and Kind and Perfect,
I feel great today.
Unexpectedly energetic, perky, and grateful.

I woke up earlier than usual this morning with enough energy to write in my journal, read some, pray for a few minutes, and respond to a few emails. Then I made cornbread for my son and started a load of laundry. I spoke to a dear friend on the phone and tried to imagine what another is doing in Barcelona today. I encouraged my daughter to ask for what she wants in her personal, student, and work life. I've flipped through a couple of journals I recently made. I've read a few goodies on the internet.

I know enough not to over do it, and I also know enough to enjoy this moment, and be grateful.
I am enormously grateful.

I had a major "AHA" moment yesterday:
I can be splendidly imperfect during this process.
I can be grouchy and tired.
I can be grateful and happy.
I can miss appointments or not make them.
I can ignore phone calls or send dozens of texts late at night.
I can watch reality television and read books on faith.
I can completely neglect my housework or scrub every sink on a daily basis.

I don't have to plan for bad days. I don't have to plan for great days.
I can simply let it be, dear Gail, let it be.
I can stop imagining how _______ or ___________ or _________ would handle this situation.
I can lay down the measuring stick, the calendar, and the magnifying glass.

Comparison is a waste of time. There are no competitors. This life of mine is not a competition.
There is no one who can do a better job on my kanswer journey than I am doing.
There is no one who can mother these two children better (or worse) than I can.
No one can create the journals or blogs or meals or messes that I create.

Why do I waste so much time wondering what anyone else would do?
Heck, I don't even need to ponder, "What would Jesus do?"
Certainly, Jesus had plenty of problems to deal with when he was here on earth,
but dealing with breast kanswer while homeschooling a teenager,
walking with another child through her community college experience,
and comparing his front lawn to that of the other suburban families on the cul-de-sac
were not among his challenges.
I can do this kanswer/mothering/marriage/life thing exactly how I want and need to do it.
And that's exactly how I plan to do it - my way!

By all accounts, today should be a fairly crappy day.
But I am enormously glad that my account-keeping is faulty today.