Eleven

If I were at the Crap Tables in Vegas and I needed a number to get me through, I'd want to roll an 11. And almost a year ago, I didn't know if 11 was going to come around for him. He was in the early stages of what would prove to be a struggle for his mere existence. What were these "hiccups" and untimely changes in his behavior that summoned in me a inauspicious warning? For us "mortals" to be strapped with the "C" word often beckons fear, anger, frustration, despair, and a whole host of emotional retreats. But when that "C" word is given to our best friend, those emotional retreats are not just doubly compounded, but we begin that inevitable bargaining with God. How many rosaries can I say...do You want me to promise to attend Mass every day....I'll never speak disparagingly of Aunt Bertha again...I promise I'll never cuss or look at a Playboy magazine again. But I've learned that I can't "bargain" with God, He's going to call all the shots from here on out and actually has been calling them from Day 1. I know that strength comes from not just within but from the outside as well. No, I don't think it fair the "C" comes to humans, but even more so to my best friend. It's a curious mark that he be straddled with this. I do ask myself "why"? His whole life is centered around me and why must he be given such a test? Or, is it me that's been given the test? Jesus once said, "come to me all you are labored and burdened, and I will give you rest". I am asking Him now to give me rest and strength during this time. I'm asking my angel that on this day next year, I can post: "Twelve".
In the meantime, Happy 11th Birthday Dancer...thank you for 11 of the best years of my life.