We can’t control life, other people and things that may arise. We can control how we respond.

It takes courage to fully accept each moment instead of judging it or withdrawing from it. Each moment is an opportunity to accept, open, and expand or to reject, retract, and shrink.

Breathe, I told myself. My 22-year-old son, Owen, ran down the hospital corridor to find a nurse. My husband, Scott, was hooked up to heart monitors that had started beeping loudly. The monitors showed no heartbeat. He was flat-lining.

On our first visit, Joe talked about his highly successful corporate job, his travels, and his lucrative income. He worked nonstop and only occasionally enjoyed a beer with colleagues. He had been married for a few years and then divorced. His focus was on his career, money, and recognition. 

Sitting up in his bed, Bill gave me a faint smile as I entered. He had lost the ability to talk due to ALS. He communicated to people by looking into a computer screen that then spoke his words. As I came up to the side of his bed and offered greetings, he said via the automated voice, “I am alive.” Tears rolled down his face. 

Sitting on the couch, petting my cat Chaz, I felt the sun streaming in through the window. I felt Chaz’s silky fur run through my hands and the warmth of the sunlight shining on my face. In that moment, I was okay.

My mind wandered back to the last week and how sick I had been after my chemotherapy