Receiving is hard for me

I have a hard time receiving. There. It's 'out there'. I have always been a giving person, trying to help the other guy or gal. I want to make a difference. I write cards and letters. I make phone calls. I send email. I teach and help people understand a concept so they can pull it off in their own lives. I lift spirits. I sew for others. 

Fact is, when I am in a situation like cancer, and others are doing for me, it's very difficult to know just how to respond. Your caring is priceless as you offer rides to medical appointments. Meals keep us afloat, especially as I lack energy many days to cook anything. Monetary contributions help us with outstanding unplanned medical bills. Your cards are beautiful, I keep them all to read and reread on my down days. They help me know you better.

And then there are these remarkable, very thoughtful gifts that you pass on to me with your cards: a special quartz stone, a worry angel, a quilted hug, a crocheted angora shawl, a painting of a beautiful horse, a bookmark with very unique meaning, gift cards, a bracelet that says 'Anything is Possible', lavender soap, flowers, Aquaphor lip balm, warm socks, even water from Lourdes in France. I am touched beyond words at how you love me. 

What happens, however, is that I almost feel guilty at having cancer and receiving these thoughtful gifts from you. I know you think that's totally weird but something in me wants to say, "No I am healthy. Give these gifts to someone who can use them." 

And then there is this dawning where I realize I really am sick and you are reaching out to me with God's love. You become my most avid cheerleaders. My husband keeps reminding me, "You are so loved by so many."

Believe me, I am eternally grateful. You are not only sharing love, you are teaching me how to receive graciously, and there's a life lesson in that. I am learning to say 'thank you' every way possible because I want you to know that you are making a difference to me - a huge difference - and I am wanting to take you all into a huge hug that just lets us 'be' together. 

No words. No conversation. Just a big 'love hug' that is my simple thanks for being there for me.  I feel you holding my hand so I am not terribly alone inside a cancer wasteland. You help me survive when I am overwhelmed. Bless you all. Bless you.

Grateful you are in my life, The quilting cancer girl