She had more faith than Jesus. She had a story to tell and she shared it where ever she went. Some people didn’t know what to think. Others weren’t sure of their own faith, so they questioned hers. Yet, never once did she falter for Christ even when the circumstances were most dire.
She talked about the lovely people who surrounded her. The faces that were kind. She marveled at the diversity. They seemed to come from all walks of life.
Young.
Old.
Rich.
Poor.
Middle class.
White.
black.
Yellow.
Hispanic.
Male and female.
They were all together in this place. It was like Disney. Beautiful and clean just like a fairy tale setting.Everyone had their own space. It was immaculately decorated. There was every creature comfort you could want. All at your finger tips. The helpers came at your beck and call. Amazing servants that waited on you hand and foot. It was all so lovely.
Except it wasn’t.
The magical environment couldn’t hide the chemical drips of poison going into their veins. Each one in their beautiful space hooked up to another line of hope. Fighting the despair that their lives were being robbed by a cancerous mutation that had taken hold in their bodies. All enduring agony for a cure. For a few more moments of life. All knowing that they were a victim of fate and the doctors who practiced on them.
She chose a different path. Her path was one of positivity. She thought that it was a waste of time to dwell on being down when all you have is up. It was a choice to wallow in despair or choose to be joyful for the little things. Like being waited on hand and foot. Sharing a smile. Displaying Gratitude. Laughing.
Only she could say that having chemotherapy was fun.
When have you ever heard anyone say that?
Get busy living or get busy dying. She chose to get busy living while dying.