My friend, Pat, had a conversation with a fellow hippie artist at a show many years ago. He came home with this little gem of wisdom to share. I repeat it often.
“Life is maintenance, man.”
Anyone with a chronic disease or a cancer diagnosis knows all too well about the maintenance involved with staying alive. Medicines, doctor appointments, labs, and whatever else you must be subjected to to treat your condition.
That being said, everything in life requires maintenance. I had no idea how much maintenance cancer needed and I will get to that in a bit. But let’s move on.
I’m not too big on wearing tee shirts with words on them, but every once in a while I find something that piques my interest. This is one of those times.
In the 70s or nearby decades, blank books appeared on the market. Everyone was encouraged to write their book, keep a journal, or write notes to themselves.
I loved to give blank books as gifts. On the first blank page, I wrote this Bible verse from Matthew 5:13-16 — “You are the salt of the earth. But what good is salt if it has lost its flavor? Can you make it salty again? It will be thrown out and trampled underfoot as worthless.
“You are the light of the world—like a city on a hilltop that cannot be hidden. No one lights a lamp and then puts it under a basket. Instead, a lamp is placed on a stand, where it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your good deeds shine out for all to see, so that everyone will praise your heavenly Father.”
We sang about hiding our light under a bush, oh no, I’m gonna let it shine. To me this meant be your self. After all God created you just as you are — something that took me years to accept. If you know me well, you probably also know I’ve never had a problem being “salty.” I was hoping to encourage the recipient of the book to write about their life with light and salt.
These verses are too long to put on a tee shirt, but I saw someone had paraphrased the passages into something that struck me in the heart. “Be Salty — Stay Lit.”
It says it in a nutshell. It says it in a way that I can relate to, being the “outlier” I have been accused of being in my lifetime.
In the past week, I felt my saltiness had lost a bit of sting. My light had dimmed. I wanted to hide and pace the floor waiting for the imminent end. The bad news. The next challenge. The new maintenance required to live a few more months, hopefully, years. I put my life on hold thinking, thinking way too much.
Then, came the tests, the labs, and more needle stabs that have become painful over the the past 18 months. The wait. The results. The sigh of relief.
No new evidence of disease. Something must be working. Methinks it’s all the prayers.
Positive scans give me hope to recommit to living life instead of waiting for the end of my story.
Good tests are an opportunity for me to be “salty” and stay “lit” for a few more months.
INDYchildrendotme 
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