Mary Potter Kenyon QUOTES

2 " Can you remember another time when your chest felt like this?”

My fingers splayed across my aching chest as I carefully pondered her
question. Then I nodded vigorously as I remembered. Tears streamed down my cheeks unchecked as I whispered hoarsely, “Yes, I do remember.After my husband died, it hurt like this. My chest felt full and heavy, and I thought then, Oh, this is what it feels like to have your heart break. "

― Mary Potter Kenyon , Refined by Fire: A Journey of Grief and Grace

4 " You who have never “been there” in the throes of grief, have no idea what is going on inside the head of the grieving spouse: the scattered
thoughts, the constant worry that we will forget something or someone in our fog-induced state, that strange feeling of not quite “being all there” when out in social situations, the pall that covers everything, like a cloak of sadness that never lifts. "

― Mary Potter Kenyon , Refined by Fire: A Journey of Grief and Grace

6 " Tonight I attend my thirty-fifth high school reunion with some trepidation.
I have not seen most of these former classmates for thirty-some years. I am not the same young girl they knew in high school. What they cannot know, what I am just realizing myself, is that I am not even the same person I was two years ago. "

― Mary Potter Kenyon , Refined by Fire: A Journey of Grief and Grace

8 " That evening I sat across from Jeremy Bulloch and Jacob at the dinner table. I watched as Jeremy, who seemed to speak Jacob’s silent language fluently, drummed his fingers up and down on the edge of the table, as if playing a piano. A delighted Jacob mimicked the actor’s actions. My throat filled with tears. I met Ben’s eyes across the table, where he sat straight with pride next to his son. He was enjoying the show just as much as I was. Jacob was in his element, interacting with an actor from his favorite movie. The other men at the table were part of the set: Mike, the owner of the comic book store, who had made the entire thing possible, and the Mandalorin Mercs, new friends of the little boy who had
become one of their own, a comrade in distress. "

― Mary Potter Kenyon , Refined by Fire: A Journey of Grief and Grace

10 " The whole encounter was surreal. No one had mentioned cancer. I hadn’t requested special treatment for Jacob. Yet he’d just nabbed a private meeting with an actor from his favorite movie. I would later ask Mike, the comic book store owner, what had prompted him to invite Jacob to the supper and a private meeting with Mr. Bulloch.
“It was Jeremy at the door. He recognized something in Jacob. Jeremy
is a cancer survivor. "

― Mary Potter Kenyon , Refined by Fire: A Journey of Grief and Grace

12 " I held back from seeing Jacob much during those weeks. He wanted only his mother, and I wasn’t sure I could handle seeing him like that. I stopped by to pick up his siblings and take them away, but I rarely went inside the house. After several days of this, I knew I must face the sight that my daughter faced daily. Inside, I approached the couch tentatively.
Would I upset him? A few times when I had visited, he’d hidden his face
in a blanket. I reached out hesitantly, touching his thin arm, the skin hot and dry as paper. He didn’t move, but I could see the rise and fall of his swollen chest. Suddenly, my legs gave way, and I dropped to my knees in front of the grandson that I loved so dearly. My hand shook as I lifted it to his soft, fuzzy head. I felt as though I was in the presence of someone very holy.
“I love you,” I whispered, and when he didn’t respond, an even softer whisper, “Tell Grandpa that I love him and miss him.” And then, with a groan, “Dear God, don’t let him suffer. "

― Mary Potter Kenyon , Refined by Fire: A Journey of Grief and Grace

14 " We put on a pot of tea, a necessity between these two writing friends. We
could no more imagine writing without this hot sustenance than we could
without pen and paper. We sat at the table to talk shop, sort through our
notes, and make plans for the book. Then we settled down in the sunroom,
giggling a little at the unexpected absurdity of our activity, editing
within arm’s reach of each other, like toddlers at parallel play. "

― Mary Potter Kenyon , Mary & Me: A Lasting Link Through Ink

16 " Initially, after David’s diagnosis, I would cringe when I read
books or articles by cancer survivors who stated that cancer had
been a gift in their lives. How could all that David endured be
viewed as a gift? The invasive surgery, the weeks of chemotherapy
and radiation: a gift?
Yet, after the cancer, David would often reach for my hand and
say, “If it is cancer that is responsible for our new relationship, then
it was all worth it.” And I’d reluctantly agree that cancer had been a
gift in our lives. We’d both seen the other alternative: patients and
survivors who had become bitter and angry, and neither one of us
wanted to become that. "

― Mary Potter Kenyon , Chemo-Therapist: How Cancer Cured a Marriage

18 " Whether it means producing a piece of art, writing a short story, or simply bringing beauty into our home or into the lives of others, consider for a moment that we each have the capacity to be creative. The masterpiece, then, is not something we create to hang on our wall but something in ourselves as we fulfill our God-given potential, utilizing the talents He gave us. "

― Mary Potter Kenyon , Called to Be Creative: A Guide to Reigniting Your Creativity

20 " Sometime during the night, my husband’s heart had stopped
beating, and I was certain that mine would break in two. It had taken
years of marriage and a bout with cancer, but we’d finally discovered
the joy of a good relationship. David had loved me completely and I
had learned what it was to truly love him in return.
And now?
Now, I had to learn how to live without him. "

― Mary Potter Kenyon , Chemo-Therapist: How Cancer Cured a Marriage