So I read Eva Markvoort's blog these past few days. All of it. From when she started writing in 2006 to when she died in 2010.
I don't know why I started reading her blog, or why when I started I read through it all.
Pages and pages, so many entries written by a vibrant red headed girl.
She wrote about having CF, about her lung transplant, about rejection, about life, and love.
And I read all these entries. I read them as I was sitting in front of my computer after Taylor's memorial chat on SBW and when the pain in my stomach was so bad I thought maybe my appendix had burst.
I read them on my phone by the bathroom light as insomnia and pain kept me from sleeping.
I read them in the afternoon's, when I was too exhausted to do much and I wasn't sure why.
I finished reading them tonight...
I am amazed by this girl. Reading through her entries, she's gone some of the same places I have. I wonder, if I go there again, I could catch some of her crazy strength. I want some...
It was US Thanksgiving yesterday, and I've been reading posts by my US friends sharing what they're thankful for. Even though Canadian thanksgiving was a month ago, I am still so grateful.
I am thankful for love.
I was pondering this thought during my late night reading of Eva's blog. Eva loved, a lot, which maybe was what got me thinking about love.
I'm loved too, a lot.
These past few days I'm just feeling it. This love is giving me hope and strength and courage.
I've had so many people reminding me in this past month that I am loved. Being loved makes me happy.
I made this little collection of cards on my wall. Eva had one, which is what gave me the idea. It's my wall of love. It's filled with cards and pictures by people who love me, and little things that remind me of being loved. It's pretty small right now (a dozen or so cards) but every time I look at it it makes me smile. There's cards my parents made for me in the hospital playroom when I was little, a birthday card I got in the mail today, letters and cards my friends made for me when I had my scopes last November, a birthday card I kept from my 9th Birthday that my Grandma wrote a poem in, a big huge card everybody at my old school signed for me when I came out of my coma, a card my 2 friends from SBW sent me. There's the little string of old bravery beads I used to tell my story when I was in the hospital the beginning of this month.
They all make me feel loved. It's pretty awesome.
There's not really a point to this post, no meaningful message, just love. Maybe love is the most meaningful message of all.
The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return