There was a day we would walk the park and chat for hours working on marriage and parenting struggles. Celebrating the highs and holding each other up during the lows. Cheering each other on to fight the good fight, no real fighting of course, just trying to get it all right.
I was sporting dirty hands and smelled of "Round Up" and she was sporting a sassy new hairdo, as is common for her. A quick hug and compliments of her new shorter hair, I caught a glimpse of a familiar logo on her sweatshirt. I also caught her hesitation to accept the compliment without some explanation.
Hoping her hesitation was going to have a simple, silly explanation like; "I had to cut my hair because of an extreme infestation of lice"....
This is not as random as it sounds. We walked this road together. A sign of a true friend; lice picking!
Gross, I know.
But, through tears I heard the news you never want to hear.
Her new cute hair is really a wig.
The logo on her sweatshirt proudly worn on her soon to be reconstructed chest.
I learned that hearing the diagnosis is horrifying and the details of the process were gut wrenching. But gaining the wisdom of doctors and gearing up to fight the good fight, was where her strength was.
Hearing her new perspective was a high note of our conversation and her positive attitude would be coveted by anyone fighting a similar battle.
The best part of the evening though was watching her tender, warrior of a husband take her hand in his and head down the street together. Fighting the good fight together, needing desperately to get this one right.
What an honor to be let in, to be trusted with her heart ache.
Matthew 10:30
And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered
very touching <3
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