My son’s godfather was recently diagnosed with cancer.
It has been about two months since he began treatment, and the sweet man has kept up his humor and his joyful spirit, but he’s thinner–a lot thinner. I asked him last Sunday about bread–was he eating any and could I make him some?
Jane, he said in his southern accent, if it’s soft, really soft, I’ll try it. I’m willing to try anything right now…
So I literally raced home, baked some molasses bread and zipped it over to his house. Packed with whole wheat, oats, some butter and iron-rich molasses, I told him that if he could stomach it, I’d bake for him whenever he wanted.
And I mean it…
Would you cheer him on with me?
We love you, Deacon Howard!!!
We are delighting in the last days of summer sun–the sleep-in mornings–the late nights of eating ice cream and being silly together. We have had a tremendous summer! We Meyers have all remained healthy, safe, and had new adventures. We are grateful! I am grateful.
And yet… there is another part of me–a part that is not about me…
I have two friends with cancer, another in and out of the hospital, and several who are struggling with depression and relationships. For some, this summer hasn’t been all about road trips, making stripety bags, and baking brownies. For some it has meant hardship, headaches and hoping for better times.
Last week I found myself on the doorstep of several of these friends. Offering food (including bread of course!) and my time to just sit and chat. You do this,
and I do this.
Sometimes, it’s better just to give and not blog all over the place about it.
So I’ll stop there.
We make a living by what we get, but we make a life by what we give.