About Me

  Patricia Hammell Kashtock

Aka: Pat Kashtock. Mother of three, wife of one. BA in Social Work and Biblical Studies. Graduate work at Virginia Tech interrupted, then derailed by oldest child’s brain tumor...

My life has not followed the course I planned. But I am not complaining. Pain is to be expected in a world broken apart from its Creator.

The miracle resides in the ability to find joy when least expected...

 

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Windows to the Woman’s Soul (W2WSoul)
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Blessings,

Pat

For What It's Worth

Each life is a journey. The voices of many guides try to direct us, saying, “This is the path – walk in it!” Yet each one leads in a different direction.

I believe only one Voice can be true. That Voice will lead us in ways most unexpected, into worlds yet undiscovered. It will lead us up the hill, around the river and through the forest. And sometimes, it will lead without mercy.

Or so it seems.

I have made listening for that Voice and following it, my life’s quest. I will share some of what I have heard that Voice say with you. But I am not in the business of telling people how to think or what to believe. Each has to decide for himself. Only you can decide if you find the truth of the Voice in these words. And only you can decide how much it is worth to know the Voice, and follow.

But for me, it is worth the whole world.

And then some…

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Thursday
Dec082011

Diary from a Cancer Ward: Just a Mother

Pat’s Journal

 6/21/85 continued

          I’m so alone. Cut off. The world continues to spin on course outside of my daughter’s window. I can see it, but cannot reach it. A glass jar has dropped down to contain us. We can see out, but we cannot get out.

          The air inside grows thin. I have to find a way out soon, or we will die.  

  From the woods behind our house

          It is now late into the night and everyone else is sound asleep. I have been sitting on Heidi’s bed since the latter part of the evening – and praying. Only the rows of stuffed animals that line the walls and cover the bed almost burying the sleeping child, keep me company. The wind blows through the window, gently moving the Holly-Hobbie curtains. Light from the street lamp filters in and softly illuminates the lavender walls.

          Heidi has not once stirred, nor asked why I am here. Her swollen face sinks heavily into the pillow and she does not move with the normal movements of a sleeping child. Instead, she lay there stone-like. Coma-like.

          I pray with every ounce of strength and longing that I can pull up. I reach further and further down until I can reach no farther, for that is all I can do. I am not a doctor. I am not a surgeon.

          I am only a mother.

          So, I pray…

…for what else is left for me to do?

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Reader Comments (1)

What an inspiring letter of a battle of a mother.I know that everything has it's purpose and God knows what is better for us.I just wish that you can survived to your battle and live normal just like before a happy and a loving mother.

February 18, 2012 | Unregistered CommenterCosyplay

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