Okay, I'll admit it. Prior to this, I loved attention. Loved getting up and doing sermons, no shyness in the pulpit or the center ring. Sure, it's positive attention, right? And the attention I got -- though brief -- when I had the emergency appendectomy, well that was nice, too. Coupla casseroles, a few get well cards, nice to be nurtured.
But the attention for this ... I hate it.
I mean, I guess the alternative ... getting no attention, no one wanting to lift our spirits, bringing over casseroles and prayers ... I'm sure it would be worse. The one thing I have *never* felt in all of this is "alone." I am incredibly blessed to have friends who keep remembering me, neighbor ladies who have been bringing over little presents to "lift my spirits" (how thoughtful is that???), family that jumps to help even without us asking ...
But I don't like this attention. I don't like being "the lady with the baby with cancer." I don't like trying to appear upbeat and positive when almost-strangers ask me how Little Warrior is doing. I don't like writing thank you notes for all the little niceties that have been done. (And I'm normally an oddball who *does* enjoy writing thank-you's.)
Yeah, I'm grateful. And when I think about it all, I know that it *does* help me, *does* lift my spirits.
And maybe that's the part I really hate. That I need the help. That I need the attention.