We should all live like our loved ones have cancer...

When the cancer hit, one of the things I told Daryl was that I was not going to patronize him, and that when I get irritated with him, I will treat him just like normal, and not tip toe around like we can't disagree anymore. I figure life as normal as possible is good.

One event, however, has taught me that we should all live like our loved ones have cancer. The results are really pleasant, and, I suspect, pleasing to the Lord.

There is a picture that is a treasure to Daryl from his childhood. It was an expensive picture for the times, and his dad (who we have always jested could squeeze a penny till Lincoln yelled "Uncle!") bought it over some cheaper, less appealing pics, especially for Daryl's room when his older brother moved out. It is nicely framed, has a gold plate with the title of the picture on it. It is also not particularly my taste, and I was dreading finding a place to hang it.

Daryl also told me that he enjoyed looking at it while he had rheumatic fever as a child, and had to spend a lot of time in bed. It's a train station, and I can just imagine him thinking about places to go, and imagining stories of where he went and what he did.

Sooooo...this time, I did let cancer influence me, and determined that regardless of my personal dislike for a train pic in my pretty blue living room, I was going to find a place of prominence and defer to my dear husband's preferences. The story surrounding it was just too sweet to do anything else.

Well, I truly believe God blesses good attitudes, and I figured I'd get the attitude in line, and trust God to make the feelings follow along. I should not be surprised that God led me to the perfect spot for the pic, a spot where Daryl spends time listening to his music, a spot in the living room, and a spot in which the picture not only looks nice, but fits in with the decor. It's in what used to be a conversation pit, where we have a music entertainment center. On top of the center, we have an old chiming clock from his Dad, a collection of old books, and a pool ball in a wooden triangle from the folks pool table. Even the smoky coating from the old stove in the folks garage looks good on the pic now, giving it an antique haze. I love the way it looks. A warm connection to family and good memories.

So, I contend that we should all defer to one another occasionally in areas we would rather not, and take those emotional plunges on a regular basis that we normally reserve for loved ones who have cancer. It might be a nice way to live!