Constance & Seeds of Hope

From the wind it was carried across the miles and brought to rest upon chance,  atop a place it could be inspired to grow, a place it could dance - 

A place the tiniest seed of hope only dare to take root, a place only hope dare know. 

Its truth seemed insurmountable and its potential off-written. The wild world seemed wrought with unchangeable circumstances and an unfavorable position. 

The week has found me within the walls of a room on 7B in preparation for another ERCP. This time, replacing the previously placed temporary stent within my bile duct with a more permanent one. After three rounds of chemo and having to be put under anesthesia again, my pulmonary team wanted to hit these lungs with some potent antibiotics to help them rebound and weather whatever may come. Gratefully, I will be headed home by the end of the day. 

That tiny seed of hope embracing all its odds left no match unmet - 

determined to weather every storm and be grateful for every sunset. 

Today she is known as “Constance”, she’s not grand but

she’s not small. 

She is made of patience and peace - her leaves unfurled

waiting for the sun to call. 

             I sit beneath a “Constance” set between a tower of                 reddish-brown brick 

shielded from the warmth and radiance of the sun hearing an invisible clock tick.

Shadows shift, dance, and dissolve as the wind moves and evolves.

Her leaves a muse to the season’s touch, light pouring through her canopy painting patterns of contrast by nature’s brush. 

I look up and see how she shows signs of the changing season found. 

The earliest of leaves caught just right by the wind gently find their way to the ground. 

Leaves left behind cling gently to the branch - 

fluttering by way of synchronicity as if they are just waiting on chance.

The wind is warm and welcomed. It’s persistent in its presence, yet feels strangely comforting as I tuck my short new bob behind my ears for what feels like the hundredth time. My tingly numb fingers quickly reach the end of my hair and I feel a familiar sting - a reminder of this reality. One that feels both familiar, yet so foreign. 

It is mid September so the sun hangs low in the sky. Pools of amber light pour across concrete canvases and the world has for a moment, an embraceable warmth. A gentleness. I close my eyes and do my best to hold this moment within my hands - grateful to be immersed in such beauty wishing for time to simply stop. For any progression to simply stop.


But, this is the truth I’ve always known, even if I haven’t always embraced it. My life has been built upon trying to stop time - to stop the progression of CF. And now, to stop the progression of pancreatic cancer. So, why then does it feel like I am a stranger in my own life’s story? 

    Because I never imagined to know such a season. 

The shadows cast by Constance’s leaves cannot dance upon the pavement without the contrast created by the sun’s radiance. We cannot know the power of the light if we do not know the dark. We cannot know the beauty of this life and its priceless meaning without knowing all we have to lose. We cannot survive this life without even the tiniest seed of hope. 

From the wind it was carried across the miles and brought to rest upon chance, atop a place it could be inspired to grow - a place it could dance. 

A tiny seed of hope only dare to take root - only hope dare know. 

Love to you all.