Proud and Mushy

First, I want to catch up on the ovary thing - I had my visit with the oncologist. I really liked him and feel very reassured that what I have is not cancer. He seemed quite positive based on blood tests, pt history, etc. On the other hand, he felt fairly certain that he would have to remove my entire ovary while he was in there. It won't affect my fertility (well, by 1/2 it will, but in the long run, whatever) or hormones, it's just a little jarring to have my girl-parts removed. I will miss you, little Right-y!

I will be in for surgery on April 10. Wish me luck, i'm quite nervous.

On Sunday, it just so happened to be Easter Sunday, which we don't celebrate or observe in any real way, Lucy, Todd, and I went out for Brunch at our very favorite local haunt. (http://www.stclouds.com). On our way, an older gent with a grizzly white beard and ratty clothes approached us. He seemed friendly and obviously homeless. He gave us a long story which amounted of course to being hungry and without money. We listened to him and told him that we would bring him some food after our breakfast if he was still around.

Through breakfast, Lucy had many questions. Does that man have no house? Does he live on the street? When we told her about the mean world and how sometimes no matter what people do, things happen to them where they end up without money and without a house and they need our help, the help of people who have money and houses. People who are lucky like us. She was so thoughtful about this. She was glad we would bring him food and she insisted on drawing a picture for him, too.

She said, "When I go home, I will get my piggy bank and count the money in it and bring it to him."
"When we move to Connecticut, that man can have our house."

The thing that was so amazing about her response was that it came from a place of love and compassion. Totally. There was no guilt or remorse or discomfort or pretense or fear in her response. She had generous concern for the welfare of this man. In her heart she knew that she wanted to make him feel better.

When we were done with our lunch, we went out in the rain with a boxed veggie omelette breakfast. The man was still out there on the street, and he was clearly grateful for the food. But I think he was more grateful for the way Lucy talked to him, openly and again without pretense or fear. She said she wanted to draw him a picture. He looked so genuinely pleased by her presence as he squatted low to hear what she had to say. I think it was this interaction between them that meant more to him than the simple gesture of food.

How I love that little being!