At church, at home, safe and rejoicing

I’m posting this from church, where I’m sleeping in the alcove for the first time since the night in May that I found the tumor. Safe Ground is in the Great Hall and outside in the courtyard.  The other host is outside with them; it's a calm, warm night.

It's like slipping your skin back on, and you're you and you're real and you're home and you love it.

We've hosted them twice a month all summer, and about twice in total I wasn't in Riverside or recovering. I'd stop by for an hour, and need to leave. I couldn't deal with other people's needs. I'd be annoyed at someone who came to me with their headache. Or want to engage, but I just couldn't get outside of myself and be present to that many people.

I came up here tonight because I thought I was ready. I was right. They're mine and I'm theirs and we've missed each other so much. It is so good to be home. I let people minister to me, and it felt right. And I told someone who needs to see a doctor badly (and knows it) that if she made an appointment and I could go with her, I would. She knows how to find me on Facebook. And it felt right to give her that, too.

I’m having breakfast tomorrow with two organizer friends, and then driving to the Ranch until probably Friday. I'll get to have my birthday up there. (A and I already celebrated it, and will some more when I get back.) I had my PET scan yesterday, and if the Sunday-Thursday turnaround time holds true, I'll find out the results that day too. I’m honestly not stressed about it, one way or the other.

That, too, is gift and grace.