Happy March!

I am always impressed with Nature's resilience at this time of year, as I watch the daffodils outside my kitchen window courageously spring forth. They start to bloom in February, only to be nipped by the next freeze, and then the weather warms and they try again. These sweet yellow flowers encourage me during the darkest part of winter, reminding me that the days ahead will steadily grow longer, the sun will shine brighter, and before you know it, we'll all be complaining about the heat.

As one season rolls into the next, I am reminded of the beautiful passage in Ecclesiastes 3:1; "To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven."  Our lives, like the seasons, are a constant cycle of birth and death, planting and reaping, dancing and mourning. The season of renewal and rebirth is here, and in my baby steps of remission, I am feeling reborn. Even though I always appreciated the beauty of this time of year, I am seeing it afresh, with new eyes. I feel inspired to attract as much beauty into every part of my life as possible. I invite you to celebrate this tender season as well, and vibrantly live the day in front of you.

Ruth and Jojo, 2001

The Music Of Life:

Journal Entries of a Cancer Survivor

On February 9th, I lost my beloved Akita, Jojo, who would have turned twelve this month. Those of you who have read my books and are familiar with the liner notes in Songs for the Good Life, know the special place Jojo had in my heart. It has been a profoundly difficult loss.

A year ago at Christmastime, I told one of the children in our neighborhood who loved Jojo, that it was probably his last Christmas. He was a large breed dog with health issues, including advanced kidney disease, and had been slowing down for some time. And yet, in July when I was diagnosed with ovarian cancer, Jojo sensed that I was going to need him to stick around for awhile. He lived beyond my expectations (and those of every veterinarian who'd cared for him over the years) to faithfully accompany me through the greatest storm of my life. During chemo weeks, when I spent a lot of time resting, Jojo would curl up at the foot of my bed in steadfast solidarity. There is no doubt in my mind that he was determined to see me through my season with cancer, knowing I couldn't sustain the blow to my immune system that his death would bring.

Over the past weeks, as I have grieved the passing of this extraordinary dog, I have reread this quote from Kahlil Gibran, which adorned a sympathy card sent to me by two very special people:

Our beloved furry creatures simply do not live long enough. But their brief lives teach us this great lesson: What we love, we will grieve. There is no other way.

And, I would do it all again in a heartbeat.