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So I’m almost 3 months post-chemo, and feeling pretty close to back to normal. Whatever that was.  I still get tired after a long day and forget lots of things, but I can no longer remember if that’s a chemo-recovery thing or an old-person thing.  Probably a bit of both.

When I lost my hair to chemo this year, I swore I’d never complain about a bad hair day again.  Not wanting to deal with complicated scarves or hot wigs in the summertime, I opted to go with hats during my dog days of chemo.

Mostly, those who didn’t know about the cancer along with the in-the-know-crowd simply said “I like your hat!” or “Hats look great on you!” Which was much better than pitying looks from strangers at the supermarket, or the awkward moment of realization for those folks I hadn’t seen in a while.

“Thanks,” I’d tell them. “I’m trying something a little different.” I didn’t mention that the different part was trying to cover up my thinning, mangy hair tufts and bald spots.

After chemo, when my hair (peach fuzz, really) started growing back, I had to make a decision to continue wearing the hats or embrace my inner pixie.  I opted for the latter, and while it was fun at first telling people who asked about it that I lost a bet or decided to become French, I eventually just announced it was my chemo ‘do.

Now, you can see from my pre-chemo photo below that I normally sport longer hair, for the most part, and I don’t think I’ve had it this short since I was two, but I’m getting used to it!

Although I was secretly hoping it would grow back thick and curly, it’s coming back in my normal mousey brown, and my normal straighter-and-limper-than-linguine style. And growing at the speed of Congress.  No “chemo curls” for me –  oh well.

The upside is that one bottle of shampoo has last me over a month, and it takes about 5 minutes to style my hair in the morning! So who knows – I might just keep it!

Another upside: I’ve become a lot less fussy about life’s little disappointments — and my body’s imperfections — since the cancer diagnosis.  Like my hair, I’ve grown some, too.

Oh, I know, God is everywhere, but the time I feel him the most is when I’m at the ocean. The beach is my big, messy prayer closet.

Maybe it’s because I grew up in a coastal town, but the ocean is probably where most of my deepest emotions were felt.  I had some of my best times at the beach; I cried over losses at the beach; I contemplated important decisions at the beach; heck, I even got pregnant at the beach!

So now, visiting the ocean is an absolute must every few weeks – it’s like a breath of air when I feel suffocated by life, or a drink of water at my thirstiest.  And, without a doubt, it’s where I feel God’s presence at its strongest.  God’s character seems embedded in the power, the depth, the provision, and beauty.

This visit, as I waded into the water and felt the familiar chill on my toes and ankles, I asked God why cancer had to happen to me, but didn’t get an answer…yet.  I asked God to let the chemo kill all the cancer so it doesn’t come back. And I asked God if I could live long enough to be a great-grandmother (or Grand-Tutu, as I’ll probably prefer to be called), and I guess we’ll see.  Though I don’t always get clear, unambiguous answers, just being at the ocean tells me God loves me and cares so deeply for me.  And most of the time, that’s what I need to know.

The ocean covers over half the world, and really, it doesn’t seem that necessary for survival.  We need fresh springs and rivers for drinking, watering crops, and as a bonus, fish. But truly, why did God create the ocean except for our enjoyment?  The magnificence of the crashing waves, the wonder of enormous whales, the joy of snorkeling and surfing, the relaxing sounds of the surf – all of it simply for our pleasure.

Yes, I know, there are many more purposes for the ocean if you get all scientific about it, but when I visit the ocean, it feels like God made it just for me. And I’m simply in awe.

This weekend’s trip gave me my deepest breaths and sweetest tears since this fight with cancer began, for which I’m so thankful.