Strength, Guts, and Fortitude

I was going to write about being angry. Really, really angry. Because I am. And then all these nice things happened because I happen to be surrounded to beyond wonderful people, so now I can't write about being angry. Not tonight.

I am writing in the dining room and Ky is singing Frosty the Snowman. In the sweetest little voice. See, another reason why I can't write about be angry now.

But then I keep trying to write about all of these nice things, and I can't. My words don't do them justice. How can I describe how much a series of messages from a friend who survived a brain tumor means? Or a series of messages from old youth group friends about pot brownies made me laugh because the endeavor would be such a farce? Or how a filled canvas tote from the nurses who took care of me when I had my babies brought me to tears? Or how flowers sent from old friends brightened our kitchen for days? Or how my doctor friends have offered and given guidance and support through this tangled maze? Or how a neighbor I barely know came to my door with scarves and hats for me that she used during her cancer treatment? Or how my oldest, dearest friend is doing and thinking of things I can't even get my head around? Or the countless other things that have happened each day?

I can't. I can't even come close.

An old high school friend messaged me last night, with an offer of generosity I can't even get my head around. He wrapped his message with the words strength, guts, and fortitude. These nice things, they build my strength, guts, and fortitude. And I would add faith.