I know way too many young moms whose lives have been cut short by cancer. Beautiful, vivacious women with tiny babies and chubby toddlers and gangly eight year-olds who are going to remember watching their mothers fade away. Strong, smart, caring mothers who won’t get to watch their children grow. And it’s been so heavy on my heart and mind. I know that these moms fought the good fight and are in Heaven with the God who made them, but from my feeble understanding, it’s still so hard to grasp the depth of the sorrow and loss that their passing leaves behind for those who love them.

Cancer is scary. I don’t even want to type the word, for fear it will find me, will hear me talking about it and decide to strike me as its next victim. But we cannot live in fear.

We just can’t.

There is so much about this life I will never fully comprehend. So many mysteries, so many questions, so many scary unknowns.

But then there is the blue of the lake, the wrinkles deepening around my eyes, the buds breaking forth on the apple trees, the jagged grown-up teeth pushing through my daughter’s smile, the pitch of my baby’s voice as she sings songs at bedtime, the warmth of my husband’s embrace in the middle of a long day, the puppy who falls asleep on my lap at night with his own little set of organs and life at work in his tiny body, the long-awaited sunshine of spring and the way it warms my skin and my soul, the ache in my back, the dirt on my floors.

I am just so aware of it all, this life.

So much of it is aching for redemption but I am trying to take it all in, knowing it will all be made beautiful.