To the Little One on Her Bike

I have tried to sit down and write a few times but I can’t seem to muster the strength to do so. My intended plans to go to work today have me at home. For the past couple hours I have found myself buried under blankets with a heating pad. Praying the shivering and achy will pass.

It is miserable.

My fingers do not have any feeling at this moment, so I have been trying to warm them up. But I am writing not because I want to complain about the side effects (I mean I do want to complain) but I reckon you all are tired of hearing it. Atleast thats how this breast cancer battler felt on Sunday…. tired, discouraged and hurting.

I just want to share a story…..

Sunday afternoon my mom and I decided to get out of bed (after laying in it for three hours watching Scandal) and take a walk at the park. Denver has had a beautiful few days so it is hard to not want to be outside the entire time.

We joined the other thousand people (it was very crowded) or so that were at Washington Park enjoying the 70 degrees and found our way on the walking path. Feeling very achy we still managed to make it the entire loop. At one point we were walking and a family was coming towards us. Their little girl with long brown hair and big brown eyes  was on a bike with training wheels. As we walked towards them the little one stopped in her tracks. Her big eyes made contact with mine and she just stared. She looked in wonder as though a million questions were being asked in her head.

Just as we passed, her mom said, “Go on, keep riding”. Completely unaware of the staring contest her daughter had just had with me.

As we walked by, the little girl innocently announced, “Mom that girl didn’t have any hair on her head!”

I gently smiled and then lowered my head.

_______________

Dear one I thought……

You are right. I do not have hair. 

If you were to ask Why? (as so many children do) I would tell you:

 I am not well. I have been sick. But you wouldn’t understand and in so many ways I wish you never ever have to understand what “no hair” means. 

I used to ride my bike with training wheels alongside my parents,  just like you. They picked me up when I fell and they told me to keep going. Just like you.

 Like your big brown eyes, I have big brown eyes too, that so often stare at strangers in wonder. 

But today, I walk alongside my mom. She walks with me and sometimes holds my arm in hers. She wipes my tears and rubs my head because I am not well. Because there is this heartbreaking thing called cancer that causes people to be sick. And then there is medicine that makes you even more sick, before you are well. 

But then again, why should I explain. I hope you never have to know. I hope you never have to understand why someone, “doesn’t have hair”. 

Dear one, what I do want you to know is that you should keep riding. That life is full of ups and downs but in the midst you may find great joy. That often the greatest joys are found in grace when we least expect it.

And that while I do not have hair, my heart hurts and I physically hurt. I am still living. I am still riding my bike. 

And Dear one, I may not have hair today, but soon my hair will be back again, but even if it never ever came back just know that I matter. That you matter. Know that we are children of a God who loves us dearly. Who delights in our highs and lows. 

A God who knows the number of hairs that adorn our head.

But even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not therefore: ye are of more value than many sparrows – Luke 12:7 

_______________

I do not know what conversation that mother had with her daughter, or if they even had one at all. We kept walking and enjoyed the sun. But if I had the chance I would have loved to give that little girl a hug, cheer her on and tell her that she mattered.

I am struggling quite a bit today, not feeling well at all. My mom has since flown home to Kentucky and I am trying to get strength to make it to work tomorrow. Thank you all for cheering me on. Praying for me. I hope you know how much you matter to me.

Love Kristina

Me, and my big brown eyes.

Share on: FacebookTwitterPinterest

Your email is never published or shared. Required fields are marked *

*

*