


Remember Weebles?
The super cool little plastic roly-poly toy that showed up in the seventies. They were egg shaped people with an unforgettable catch phrase…
“Weebles wobble, but they don’t fall down”.
I loved Weebles.
They made me feel better about my body type.
And now I wobble.
I’ve never actually been a real graceful dude, I’ve always been pretty clumsy.
I wobble.
But, I have a low center of gravity, so I can usually catch myself.
My legs are about fourteen inches long. My girth is probably three times that, So basically I’m built like a Weeble.
But, now I wobble more than ever.
Here’s the crazy thing about my wobbling..,
It’s not the disease that is making me wobbly, it’s the cure!
(Stop and think about that for a moment)
The drugs running through my egg shaped body are making my walking weirdly wobbly.
Unlike Weebles, sometimes when I wobble I fall.
I give into gravity.
I’m not crazy about that.
I want to defy gravity.
As someone told me lately,
“Everyone deserves the chance to fly!”
But gravity can get the best of me.
Here’s the crazy thing about gravity…
I’ve learned sometimes we are meant to defy it,
But, sometimes it’s meant to pull us down.
God created gravitational pulls.
They keep us from getting blown away by tailwinds and twisters.
There are times we need to be grounded.
The wobble is part of the walk.
Gravity reminds us of the need for trust.
When we hit the ground we remember that we will never leave the ground without some help.
We don’t forge our own wings.
We defy gravity when we move at the speed of Spirit, instead of self.
I presently find myself constantly looking for something to grab ahold of when I start to wobble. I need something to lean on.
I stay close to someone or something that can hold me up…
My wife, a nearby wall.
And for now I wobble,
It’s part of my walk.
But, soon…
I
will
fly.


We just got back from the Doctor.
When I lost my chullet…wait…can we just have a moment of silence for my dearly departed weird beard?
Thank you.
Anyway…when I said goodbye to my hairy little friend. I had several wonderful individuals step up and send me solutions for my suddenly naked chin. Here are some of the fake facial hair ideas…

It’s treatment week, that means that I’m attached to the magic juice box again. It pumps three flavors of non carbonated cancer killer into my body for twenty three hours and ten minutes a day ( it takes about ten minutes to get a refill).
cancer does not discriminate between the sinner and the saint.
It doesn’t care about ages, wages, or stages.
It just takes, and takes, and takes.
As an act of rebellion…
we keep living and loving anyway.
I glanced around the infusion room today…
It loudly dawned on me…
there are no cookie cutters in the clinic.
Every ugly expression of the disease is different.
Every beautiful face is different.
There is struggle and survival…
despair and hope…
goodness and grace…
etched into the eyes.
Every story is different.
There are no cookie cutters in the clinic.
Each soul is inimitable.
Each life an original.
That’s a great reason to keep living anyway.
EVERY story is needed.
EVERY life is irreplaceable.
I pray silent prayers for each of my fellow fighters…
The world needs them.
The end of this fight is coming…
The belly bully is going down.
There is great hope here…
I’m willing to wait for it.
I’m willing to fight for it.

I am reminded…
