Monday, July 20, 2015

Seasons of CF

I know not a thing of absolute other than the certainty of the changing seasons. 

It's the season of summer. Everywhere I look the earth around me is filled with so much life. I walk outside and the afternoon summer sun kisses my cheeks, radiating warmth through my entire body. I pause for a moment, take a breath in, and tears begin to overwhelm my eyes. I think to myself, "Yes, I truly am alive." With each uncertain breath that fills my lungs I am consumed with the deepest gratitude for life, for this beautiful season. 

I close my eyes and the world seems to stop. I can breathe, able to soak in every beautiful moment. But, suddenly a sense of panic surges through my body. My heart feels as if it skips a beat and I feel as if I cannot take in enough air to satisfy my deprived lungs. My mind begins to race. 

The song of the cicadas tears through my peaceful perfect moment. Their song echoing through every part of my soul. My heart sinks. Those tears of gratitude are overtaken with those of fear. How can the loud hum of a bug set my soul into panic? The sound of the cicada has always been a reminder of the next season, Fall and therefore Winter. When I was very young I was told the cicada's song meant six weeks until the first frosts of Fall. I am frozen, myself, with panic. I am desperate to hold onto this season filled with so much life. 

The Seasons of CF
It's been brought to my attention repeatedly upon looking back at my journey with CF how much it emulates that of the seasons. Summer is filled with so much life, stable health, and the renewed feeling as if I am invincible. But the sound of cicadas reminds me of my past seasons of Fall, time when my health begins to take an uncontrollable turn. Fall turns into the desolate and harsh season of Winter where CF seems to have a strong relentless grip, trying its best to break me. 

The thought of the coming seasons terrifies me. I think back to last year's Winter and a sense of panic churns in each breath I feel pass through my lips. I stop for a moment and take a deep breath, reassuring myself I am indeed still alive. I pay careful attention to how the air passes through my lips into my lungs, making sure that I have not missed any signs of an impeding infection that may be ready to bring me to my knees. I silently plead with my body, with CF. If I could just stop time... If this season could just last forever...

Making the Most of Certainty
But I know CF doesn't work that way. It doesn't care the plans I've made, the new goals I've set, and the passion for life that is ignited within my soul. It doesn't care about my immense love for this vibrant season. With the sound of the cicadas I feel that always present sense of urgency only intensify. Have I wasted any time? 

But, I must remind myself to breathe. I've been given today, and I feel I must thoughtfully live in every single beautiful moment. I've been graciously gifted this beautiful season, I must make the most of it, never knowing what the next season will bring. 

There's no certainty in tomorrow, for me or for any one of us. There's only this beautiful moment we've been given. Breathe in the beauty of the season and the life that is abundant all around. Take a moment and step outside to listen to the cicadas. Let their song remind us to live fully for today, always aware of the certainty in changing seasons. Whatever those changing seasons may hold, each will contain its own beauty, life, and potential to be unforgettably amazing. For each and every season I will be truly grateful, always finding the beauty in every breath no matter the season of CF. Each of you is what helps make this season even more beautiful. Thank you from the depths of my heart. Love to you all. 

Step outside and breathe in the beauty of this season you've been given. 

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