It’s amazing what some people call lemons in their lives. Some people are having a bad day, they consider that a lemon of a day. Maybe you get a flat tire, or in an accident, or maybe the flue. Now there’s a week’s worth of lemons That would be considered a lemon of a day or week for most people. Now to make the best of all that would be lemonade. Knowing that everything is for your highest and best. I’m usually very good at that but this past week I felt like someone was actually throwing lemons at me and hitting me in the heart with them.
On Tuesday my hundred two year old wonderful mother, lovingly known as Bubby, started radiation for her breast tumor. Seems the male hormone pill she was taking worked for a while to stop the growth. But, it came back with a vengeance causing pain and there was nothing left to do but treat it with radiation. I decided to stop everything I was busy with and be there for her. She kept her quick wit going all week even though she was extra tired and slept a lot this week. This whole experience is a lemon, but one I could deal with. Only, on the same day my husband’s baby brother died from lung cancer. Jim and I had a special bond. Not only because he was a fellow Piscean but because he was a special person. He had his challenges early on in life but then who didn’t? He was a wild child, but he straightened himself out as he grew older and married the love of his life. He was a beautiful Spirit and had his own ashram for a while. Jim was also one of the best massage therapists in Milwaukee and of course his clients loved him. He was gracious, warm, spiritual, deep and funny all wrapped up into one spectacular person and I felt like he was my brother too. I will miss his energy and his loving smile. The only way I can make lemonade from this one is to know he is out of pain from the lung cancer and to remember the beautiful way he left. Wrought with pain the day before his death he rallied to get out of his bed, and right there in the hospital he mustered the strength to make his daughter Whitney’s dream come true as he walked her down the isle of the hospice chapel to get married. That afternoon the family all shared in the joy. After they left Jim got back into his bed and peacefully made his transition that very next morning. RIP Jim Doucette
And then on top of all this I noticed some one hit the back of my car and scraped the paint off my fender and left their black paint in the deep scar. Of course there was no note of apology left behind. What a bummer. What I learned from Jim and my mom this week is to keep the humor in all things and surround myself with good energy no matter what. The outcome of things will be just the same whether you suffer or laugh through it. …and so it is.