She "ranted" a bit in a recent email, stating she was "tired of this thing already" and that she wanted to "crawl into a ball and just be alone."
She later wrote again, apologizing for her candid complaints.
I immediately wrote her back stating that her stream-of-consciousness email merely proved that she is, in fact, human. An honest human.
I think so often we sensor what we say or how we say it so that it can be acceptable and appropriate. This is especially true for many people battling difficulties. Consequently, there are times when we need to HEAR the thoughts and feelings of those enduring hardships. It is through their candidness that we learn. We can become more sympathetic, empathetic, and overall, attempt to see and understand that person's particular struggle.
While I've never had cancer, nor has anyone in my immediate family, I am able, even if only through a tiny glimpse, to see what my cousin is going through. She's teaching me. I'm learning how best to support her and consequently, how to support anyone I encounter in the future who has been diagnosed with cancer. While I can't totally get it, I am a step closer thanks to her authenticity.
I've looked back at some of my fall 2012 posts. I've read over some of my journal entries from the past few years, entries detailing our infertility struggle, and foremost, my struggle to understand why God was not hearing me and following my plan.
Lately, I've been hearing a song by Casting Crowns, titled, Already There; it's played on my radio multiple times in recent weeks. It is an incredible reminder that God is God; He knows what paths lie ahead. He's crafted them one by one. Whatever your struggle, He isn't wasting a minute of it because it is leading you to something... something that you can't know now. But He knows. And even for the control freak like me, that's reassuring.