I prefer smooth.  Crunchy is just no good.  Smooth is nice, easy, even a bit reassuring.  Crunchy is indicative of something much worse.  It is to be avoided at all costs.  Oh, you thought we were talking about peanut butter.  Are you insane?  Do you know how many people are allergic to peanut butter?  No, I’m  talking about something much less volatile than peanut butter.

You guessed it…cancer.  Beyond my obvious intentional over exaggeration of the demon that is peanut butter, allow me to elaborate on why I don’t like “crunchy.”  As a child, my sister Cathy (author of the great blog, “To My Audience of One”) would play with us and help us “fly”.  She would lay on her back, we would lay on her, chest down on her feet, and she would lift us into the air.  We would spread our arms and legs and pretend to, well, fly.  So, to this day, I do that with Joe, Bella, and Trey.  However…however, I noticed something that I shared with our Oncologist last week.  I told him that when I push against Bella’s chest with my feet that it feels smooth, soft…normal.  However, however, when I do it with Trey it feels…crunchy.  When I first noticed it I quickly put Bella up again…smooth.  Trey again…crunchy.  Crap.  I sheepishly asked our Doctor, “ummm, uhhhhh, so is that the…..?”  He confirmed that it was, in fact, the disease (tumors, calcifications, etc.).  I asked if I shouldn’t, then, be doing that.  He confirmed, “Yeah, anything crunchy you should stay away from it.”

Fast forward to the other evening.  I’m meeting with someone whose life is going through some horrific times.  They asked me, “How do you just let it go?  How are you able to not freak out?  How can you NOT try to take control back from God?”  We talked for a bit about comfort and healing their most recent terrible hurts, but we ended up talking about their early years.  I talked about mine and how I have been blessed with the opportunity to heal from a lot of things that have happened earlier in my life.  Now, what we are going through with Trey (which is more than enough thank you) can be dealt with for what it is.  You see, whether you want to believe it or not, what you went through as a child (traumatic or not) has dramatically impacted who you are and how you feel today.

Trey seems fine.  Oh, he has his scars (all over his upper body), but other than that the boy looks fine.  Yet, underneath the skin (and not far) is a disease that is killing him.  It’s right there.  I can look at him and pretend like he’s fine, but he’s not.  You can pretend that your hurts from childhood don’t affect you now, but they do.  Your skin may be smooth, but underneath…you are crunchy.

Comfort, therapeutic letters, and other tools are all essential for you to heal these long standing hurts that amplify your current situations.  Will it fix everything?  No.  Will it be easy?  No.  Do you have to do it?  No.  Does it help?  Yes.  Does it allow the hurts of today to simply be the hurts of today and not rip open hurts of yesterday?  Yes.

For the record, I prefer smooth peanut butter as well.