You don't have to read it; you will hear about it eventually, though.
But, perhaps you want to brace yourself first.
We have known for weeks that the super-special radiation treatments she got in September and October (the ones we were so excited for and hopeful about) were not working.
She called me Friday night to tell me she has chosen not to take a chemo treatment that was available. The pain this chemo would cause could likely last as long as the time on earth it would buy her.
You and I know that's no way to live.
What's the point of it?
So, she has made this very brave decision to forego any further treatments.
She has surrendered.
Best guess is she has less than six months left.
Nonetheless, I managed to make her laugh during our conversation.
And it involved the fish:
Lily was talking about holding memorial services instead of a funeral because they are new to Kansas, and most of their loved ones are in Nashville where they raised their children and in Michigan where Lily and her husband both grew up. So, she is considering cremation. And she asked if I had any thoughts about it.
"Well," I tried to say with a straight face, "do you want the green fish for an urn?"
She was silent.
"Nevermind," I said. "It doesn't have a lid."
"You'd tip me over and pour me out."
"Forget it. You can't have the fish because I want the fish."
"I don't want the fish."
"You're not getting the fish."
"Good. Cause I don't wanna sit here and worry about that fish showing up after I'm gone."
I would think, at this point, she could use some guidance and some peace, the ability to finish the things she needs to finish, and comfort to those who love her.
If you feel moved to pray, I think those would work great.