It’s raining.
Just saying those words aloud has made me cry a few times this morning. And laugh with unfettered joy.
It’s not enough to break this hellish drought, not near enough, but it IS enough to grant us a reprieve, to give us hope, to bolster our spirits with rain-washed air and that luscious smell of damp earth.
It’s enough to wash dust-encrusted leaves and give new seeds and seedlings a boost.
It’s enough to add some precious water to our rainwater tanks and maybe enough to grow a little grass to keep our animals and local wildlife going a bit longer.
It’s cold outside, but our windows are flung open to welcome in the freshest air we’ve breathed in a long time and let us listen to the glorious symphony of raindrops falling on our tin roof.
Thank you, dear rain. You are so very, very welcome here.
This morning we celebrated the rain with sourdough French toast and huge cups of coffee and by declaring a holiday. We have solemnly sworn to only do fun and happy and cosy things today: great books read under the covers, old movies that make us grin, walks in the rain, hot chocolate, and the most comforting of comfort foods.
We’ve been celebrating a lot lately. Not because life is consistently jolly and celebratory, but because it’s been ridiculously hard, scary, stressful, awful, no-good, exhausting, and yucky, and at such times celebrations are vital to survival.
The last time I wrote to you I had returned home after nearly a month in the hospital. It was a traumatic time, to say the least, and we were looking forward to peaceful, pleasant weeks of recovery while we planned for a brighter future.
Then my doctors found cancer on my head, and our peaceful, pleasant world lurched to a standstill.
They said things like, “We think it’s malignant, but we’re hoping it hasn’t spread to the skull or the brain,” then booked me for surgery and the waiting game began.
We were scared and sad and tired. We’d already faced and made peace with the possibility of my death while I was in the hospital, and here we were, only a few weeks later, facing it all over again and trying not to live in fear. But that’s the thing about cancer. It is scary. Especially during the we-know-you-have-cancer-but-we-don’t-know-what-type-so-we’re-going-to-cut-open-your-head-and-hope-for-the-best times.
So we did the bravest thing we knew to do: we talked about it. All of it. The sad, the scary, the what-ifs. And we let ourselves feel. All of it. The sadness, the fear, the hope. When we caught ourselves stuffing things down trying to put on a brave front, we stopped and un-stuffed those things and brought them back into the light where they could be processed and released.
We also hibernated and took the best care of ourselves we possibly could. We rested and read beloved books, watched favourite movies and had cuppas on the back veranda, looked for treasures at second-hand stores and ate the foods we like best.
My surgery was August 9. It took 2 hours longer than anticipated and left me with a partially shaved head and a 10 cm incision that was held together with a dizzying number of staples. Last week the staples were removed and the doctor gave us the good news: they got all of the cancer and I was officially cancer-free.
We cried. We laughed. We hugged a lot.
And I realized my hibernation time was only just beginning. It turns out that when you go through one physical trauma after another, your body finally says, “Hey mate, let’s rest, OK?”
So I’ve been resting as a happy little hermit, treasuring the gift of life, knowing that this year has changed me deeply, knowing that is a wonderful thing.
Yesterday something happened that still makes me smile. I was pottering in my gardens, planting purple snow peas, cucumbers, and French beans as an act of hope that rain might fall today when Fezzik started barking and jumping around madly. I looked up and there was this chap sitting contentedly in the branches of the golden rain tree that overhangs the garden.
I could hardly believe it! In my eight years on our Australian farm, I’ve never seen a koala. Not once. I’ve seen a giant goanna clamber up the gum tree outside our bedroom window, found an echidna waddling through the bush, spotted innumerable kangaroos and wallabies in our fields, but never a koala.
Bear helped me set up a tall ladder and I stood up there for ages watching this beautiful animal. He watched me too, not nervous or angry, just curious. We knew he couldn’t stay – koalas do not eat golden rain trees – so we enjoyed his presence as long as we could before tying up the dogs and leaving him alone to mosey along to his next destination.
We’re so glad he stopped in for a visit to brighten our day.
Cancer free…..good news rained down.✨ And that koala…fur encrusted joy.✨ May your resting places wrap around you gently. ✨♥️
“resting places wrap around you gently” – what a beautiful wish, Rita. Thank you! XO
I think you’ll find that was a congratulatory koala. Unlike the dreaded drop-bears, these appear at times of relief to cheer you on to the future. 🙂
I’m cheering you on too.
Oh, you made me laugh, Amanda. 🙂 Yes, I’m very glad it was a koala instead of a drop-bear. 🙂 Thank you for being such an awesome cheerleader! XO
What a post! So glad that you have been able to take your time recovering and for the rain. xxx
Thank you for your care and checking on me, Fiona. 🙂 It means a great deal. XO
I’m so very glad to hear they got it all….devastated to hear what you’ve been going through. Much love & prayers to you going forward! You’re in my heart always, lifelong friend!
Dear Amy, thank you so much. XOXO Love you dearly and thank you for your support.
My beloved Krista, yay for rain, I was looking at the weather this morning and hoped you would get some of the blue blob out west. Yay for no cancer and yay for taking a break. Resting is so good and we forget in our busy lives how important that is. Sending hugs and love 💕
We DID get a bit of the blue blob here, Lorraine. I’m so grateful. May it return many times and bring us much more rain. XO Love you!
Yay. So very much yay. We are so happy this is such wonderful news. Thinking so often of you.
I so appreciate your thoughts and joy, Anca. XO
I suspected from your blogging absence that you were having a tough time, but this gobsmacked me. So very glad you have rain (we could use some here as the fire danger continues to be off the charts and plants are shriveling) but your news about being cancer-free has my heart singing for you and Bear!
It makes me smile to think of our hearts singing together, Jackie. 🙂 I will hope for rain for you too as I do for us. It MUST return one day soon. XO
So glad to hear that the docs got all your cancer. You certainly have been going through some hard times. I pray that things will start turning around for you and that you will be able to recover fully. The koala was beautiful! Glad you got to see one so up close. Take care Krista; sending lots of hugs to you and Bear!
Thank you for such lovely hugs and kind words, Judy! XO I’m so grateful to be in this new place of recovery and healing. XO
Sorry to hear about your cancer diagnosis Krista, but pleased to hear that they managed to get it all. Yeah! So happy for you that you had a koala visitor on your farm. Aren’t they fascinating creatures.
They are truly amazing, Cathy. 🙂 What a gift he was to me that day. 🙂 XO
This is the best blog ever!!!! ❤️ – even without the koala bear!! That simply puts it over the top in the “life is beautiful and mysterious and there is a loving God out there who loves us all” space. You have been constantly in my thoughts and prayers. So much love and respect for you, dear Krista. Thanks for sharing your story with us all!! ❤️❤️❤️
Oh Margo, thank you so much. XO I’m so incredibly grateful for the good that has come out of all this pain and awfulness. 🙂 Love you!
Words cannot describe how happy I am for you and your bear!
Thank you for celebrating with us, Michelle! XO
You have endured a major milestone in your life – The endurance to endure!!.
The Koala – what a special moment from a special little Australian Spirit – a sign of something bigger – A connection!
Time to rest R-E-S-T
Isn’t the appearance of the koala such amazing timing, Neil?! It makes me smile every time I think of it. 🙂
Thank you for sharing your journey and your joy. Xo
Thank you for celebrating with me, Angela. XO It’s been such a long road, and it’s lovely to share this with you.
So glad they got all of the cancer krista! Praying for a speedy recovery!
Thanks, Josh! 🙂 I really appreciate you cheering me on.
Praying much for you, Krista, with love and hugs!
Thank you so much, Auntie Rosalie. XO Each day is a bit better. 🙂
I am celebrating with you Krista!!!
Thank you, Melody!! XO
Sending you love and thoughts for healing.
Thank you so much, Ozoz. XO