I miss feeling more "in control" of my life and body. Sometimes, when my potassium is low, or I'm under the influence (LOL) of some of the strongest chemo known to man, it's hard to remember that I'm still trusting God, it's just my body getting in the way--and that 120 bpm heart rate.

I miss my hair. After two traumatic attacks of the giant red Tribbles (any Trekkies,out there?) and my daughter greeting my husband with "Mommy's crying in the shower...do you want to see all of the HAIR?" I got smart enough and cut what's left (not much) off as I cried with my hairdresser,

I miss feeling at home in my body. When I finally got home after chemo and a few days in the ICU and hospital (no white blood cells=Very bad news), my 11 year old hugged me and exclaimed, "Mama, you're BONY!"

Don't get me wrong, I'll never fall in danger of looking like Kate Moss, but it hurts to sit too long, to cross my, legs, and of course, my clothes fit funny.

I miss my stamina. My dear friend commented to me yesterday, "I've just never seen you without energy". Yep, it's true folks, she's just a girl, living in a sarcoma world. From what I've been told there is no one tushie this treatment wouldn"t kick.

What I oddly don"t miss is my pride. Pride that would scream that I need to write thank you notes, that would push me to say that others more deserve the kindnesses I've been given. No, being humbled lets you see pure love.

Love that is care packages from friends, family, and friends of family (who dont' really even know me!) meaning I may never have to shop for beautiful scarves and hats for my poor little pink pate.

Love is financial help from people who are barely making it themselves.

Love is a sister who gives up her life for weeks to watch to barf, to drive through hellish LA traffic to endless doctors appointments, to take you to the ER and hold your hand and literally spoon feed you bites of ice cream so you'll just eat something.

Love is a husband who drives seven hours to be with you and help with the hand holding, barf-watching, hydrating, patient advocating, and Tribble episodes, yet still tells you you're beautiful.

Love is children who hug and kiss, even when mom "looks weird".

Love is a mom who pushes aside her life to take care of your family.

Love is a sister who manages it all on the other end of the country--financial donations, family Christmas, etc --and does it with beautiful grace and flair.

Love is the hairdresser who won't take money for chopping off the hair she's done so many times....and then buys your pedicure.

Love is your DENTIST sending flowers (how cool is my world)?

Love is a note from your sweet college roommate, who knows it's hard to say the "right" thing, but writes anyway.

Love is people from church who continue to come and help get our little house more "market ready" in an afternoon than we could have done in weeks.

So, now instead of sending thank you notes, or needing to hide from attention, I cry. And I say Thank you. Because each act of love is a little kiss from God.

You know, loosing it could really be worse.