Today, I threw a party

 My nephrologist gave me hope a few months ago.  He said that if I could make it to November without relapsing, I would be in "good shape." So I planned a party on facebook.  It was originally going to be a virtual party, but I succumbed to the peer pressure and, with an encouraging doctor's visit, planned a real life party. 

  I don't know how I'll remember today.  I doubt that I'll remember the bouts of tiredness that threatened to knock me down or my frustration over not being able to cut the celery perfectly even.  Instead, I'll remember Stephen playing our out-of-tune piano with a mastery that made me cry, and Dave having the courage to follow his performance and lead the group in a few of my favorite hymns.  Will I remember watching my dog think about attacking Josh's pit bull or giggling over old pictures in my high school scrapbook? I hope I never forget the image of my niece in her "Yo-Ho" Pirate costume or my Dad and Dale setting out a spread of delicious food.  I doubt that I'll remember the taste of real ice cream with real whipped cream, but I will remember the hugs and kind words, the sweet notes written for my scrapbook to encourage me on tough days and remind me where I've been.  

It was an eclectic group, some new friends, many old.  Friends with stories to swap and friends with new stories to write.  Friends that walked with me through the hardest moments of the past year.  Erin, who took care of me when some punk kid hit my car; Kristin, who drove over 3 hours to come and drive away the fear when I was in the hospital; Rita, who sat with me for hours when I didn't have the strength to stand; Annajoy, who visited and called faithfully;  All the rest,  who called, texted, sent encouraging notes or facebook messages, and seemed happy to see me, even when I was grumpy or tired beyond belief. 

I say that "I" threw a party, but it's really not true.  My family threw this party--partly to celebrate that I had something to look forward to these long months, but also to celebrate that I lived. And I live because of them---because they fed me, and helped me with everything, and because, even when it was scariest, they helped me remember who really brings us through the darkest times.  My parents, my sister,  and my dear brother-in-law have gone above and beyond what I would have expected,  but they gave freely even when I had nothing to offer.  Their love mirrors the grace I find in Christ Jesus--who gave me my life and everything in it and asks for nothing in return.

Every so often, I'm reminded that there were moments in the last year, health problems, that could have killed me.  I'm glad my friends all met to celebrate me at something other than a funeral. I hope that someday (A long, long way down the road) my funeral will have the same feeling of celebration.