At least the walls weren't pink.

While sitting in the waiting room of the radiology department of the hospital, my emotions came crashing down.

I looked at all the women in the room waiting to hear the same answer as me. "Your all set. Go home and enjoy the day."

But as we all sat silent trying to look like we were thinking about something else other than the result of the mammograms and ultrasounds, I said some prayers for the women, as well as myself. And the tears just started to come....

I looked around and thought- at least the wall weren't pink.  Cancer isn't pink. It isn't fluffy, cute, and a color. It isn't a fad, or a shirt you can wear to show your support and then take off as you rest your head at night.

Cancer is dark.

I have a yearly check up with the radiologist (this time just an ultrasound because of our sweet baby's safety).  The yearly check up is due to the fact that I have two to three tumors in my breast that the doctors keep an eye on. I remember clearly the day after having my first mammogram the doctor calling me into the back room to discuss the need of surgery. Blessed for me- the tumors are non cancerous. But none the less after having a pretty large one removed three years ago, they need to be "kept in check."

Yesterday was the same ordeal but just a different part of the body.  I may be tan most of the year, love the sun, never burn, but I do have to have certain parts of my skin checked for cancer.  Yesterday happened to be that day. And as I sat in the office with the dermatologist scraping off something"suspicious," I could only think about how degrading cancer can make one feel.

Yesterday was also the day my midwife told me I had gestational diabetes.

I kept my head high yesterday. I praised Him for loving me, us, and our child so....., I even laughed about certain jokes said to lift my spirits.  I went to bed well rested knowing that I had done all that I could right by our child thus far. The diabetes was nothing I could have prevented. But darkness has a way of creeping in and stealing that joy. And steal that joy it did by morning.

As I sat in the waiting room at radiology and tears coming to my eyes, thinking how could I be so sad when just last night I was ok? I thought about last night and a particular moment that stood out fresh in my head.


My husband was outside grilling some food and I was inside cooking as well, when he rushed to the door and said "you gotta come hear this!"

Our buddy Ash had just left after eating eight hotdogs- a new record- so my mind immediately went to the thought of hearing him (or her) barking.  If you have ever heard a fox bark its both weird, and charming.  Thinking that I might hear Ash bark excited me and I ran outside.

What we heard was not Ash barking but a group of three to four kits across the street from us in the field, yipping away.  Kit cries are undeniably -just that- a kit crying.

I had been waiting for this moment. A little litter of fox pups in the field across from us!  We shown a flashlight over and sure enough- there were the little eyes peeping back at us!!!

Now I'm not sure if they are Ash's, but I want to lean towards the possibility that they are. We did not see Ash with them but I pray we will see them closer than just across the field.  And before we went to bed those little yips and yelps were coming from our back woods. No longer across the street but now on our property. Happy as can be yipping and yelping, and finding their voice in the world.

I was elated. Babies. The promise of life. Spring. Birth, Growth. Renewal.

So what does one story have to do with another?

As I sat, emotion filled, feeling like a failure to our unborn child, and awaiting the results of things beyond my control, I was reminded of this simple joy God gave us last night.

Here was birth, and newness playing, and seemingly unaware of the darkness around them.  Dancing as if they were seeing the sun.  And here I was- with a miracle inside of me, sitting, solemn, and letting the darkness get the best of me.

God brought these little kits in our night last night as a sign of His hope.  No fear is given to these new little lives, only care. How could I think that He would give us any less? How dare I feel sorry for myself, when all around me His promise of life is being represented as the spring buds burst forth from winters slumber?

Today was a hard day. I didn't feel good, and alot of that built up, hidden emotion came out. But I took God's gift of those little fox yips and replayed it in my mind and heart. I will again go to sleep tonight thanking Him for His love, creativity, and story that is written for us.


Thank you God for Your creation, may I forever look towards it as a painting of your love.<3

consider the lillies.