strength-of-spirit

I've learnt not to draw my sword first to strike. That in no way portends I have the most feeble of minds or might . . . Probably, I'm waiting for the perfect moment to startle with a fatal strike.

I love to walk. Walking is a spiritual journey and a reflection of living. Each of us must determine which path to take and how far to walk; we must find our own way, what is right for one may not be for another. There is no single right way to deal with late stage cancer, to live life or approach death, or to walk an old mission trail.

I walk to rid myself of the terror of cancer, and to overcome the fear of it coming back. The fear may never completely fade, but actively engaging life _ whatever that may involve _ reminds me of the joy each day can bring.

When I put down Lance Armstrong__ book, I understood something profoundly. Edie, if you can move, you__e not sick. I decided right then and there that no matter what cancer did to me I would continue to move. Movement was what the physical body was designed to do; it was how it coped and functioned. Movement was vitality. It was life.I would move. Always. No matter what. Until my last breath, I would move.

Through the Grace of God and His medicine I am healed._ The prayer was accompanied by a vision straight out of Braveheart, a line of Scottish Highland warriors in kilts with huge shields and long spears marching in brave unison and attacking and killing the cancer. They were advancing, towards the cancer, striking and killing it with strong accurate thrusts from their sharp spears. The vision was so strong I could hear marching feet, and visibly see the cancer in me dying. __hrough the Grace of God and His medicine I am healed,_ became my constant prayer. The prayer awakened with me each day, coming on the wings of the morning. It followed in my heart through the day, and was on my lips as I drifted to sleep at night.

I started to walk the day I was told I was dying of cancer. I believe walking has kept me alive. I live with a constant, pressing awareness of death. Once I start to walk, I am not afraid anymore; all is well.

Acceptance of death and cancer did not mean I intended to give up, just the opposite. I was prepared to fight cancer not out of fear of dying, but out of joy of living.

We all die. Not all of us live.

Dad thinks I'm ready to fly around the country as the Ambassador of Hope, but Mom thinks I'm a frail little bird with broken wings.

I am fighting to stay alive not because I fear death, but because I love life.

I thank God every day for this life, and I want there to be more, though that__ not known. What is known is that I__ alive today, this minute. And that__ pretty much what we all have _ this day, this moment.

Hope is made of air, and wishes. An empty box wrapped in shiny paper.And now Dad wants me to be the ambassador of hope for his foundation. How can I be the ambassador of hope, when hope doesn't change anything? When unrealized hopes only bring pain and despair?

Some stories won't have a happy ending, but there's always hope that the next one will. Hope is everything. Even when there's nothing else. Especially when there's nothing else.

Hope is made of air, and wishes. An empty box wrapped in shiny paper.

My father is using me as a message of hope. My sister is using me as a message of fear.I don't want to be used by anybody.

Embrace who you are and your divine purpose. Identify the barriers in your life, and develop discipline, courage and the strength to permanently move beyond them, and keep moving forward.

It takes strength to be proud of yourself and to accept yourself when you know that you have something out of the ordinary about you.

You have to push through every difficulty to have a breakthrough.