I’ve always found it difficult to know what information about my life I should scatter out into the sea of the Internet. For some people — the ones who share that they’re hungry for a sandwich, and then that they went to get a sandwich, and then that the sandwich was so amazing — this isn’t a concern. If something is going on, they just blog or update their Facebook status about it. There’s a nice simplicity to that, and while some whine about having to drudge through the minutiae of other people’s lives in their Facebook feeds, I actually find it quite interesting. But that’s when it comes to other people. Me, I’m a bit more private than that. I like to think of my Internet presence as a highlights reel rather than a play-by-play. I try not to stick everything in — just the good stuff.

But there’s my dilemma. Life isn’t just about the good stuff; bad creeps in occasionally too. And how am I to handle that bad stuff online? I faced that question last March when my dad passed away, and I’m facing it again now. Not knowing how much I want to reveal, I’ve opted so far to say nothing at all. But that hasn’t really been working. There’s a difference between not disclosing every little thing and intentionally holding back the most important thing. Holding back the most important thing feels not only dishonest but also uncomfortable. And so I guess (at least for me) that’s when a lowlight becomes scatter-worthy.

Here’s what has been going on....

These are the words my daughter used recently to scatter the news that her husband has cancer.

Just a few days earlier her news had been about the pleasure of buying Cokes in refillable glass bottles in Africa.  Mine had been about preparations for visiting them there during the month of February.  But then her husband found a lump.

Lowlights happen, and plans change.  Rather than meeting in Africa, we've come together in D.C., where her husband has already had surgery and is now awaiting a short course of preventative chemotherapy.  Luckily the news is good: the cancer hasn't spread, effective treatment is available, and the recurrence rate after chemotherapy is very small.

In all likelihood they'll be returning to Africa in about a month or so. 

My daughter will be back to scattering highlights. And I'll be back to worrying about mosquitos in Africa instead of son-in-laws.

Until then, I'm going to do some babysitting for a slightly confused little boy who knows nothing of cancer, but is getting to know his grandma. Highlights among lowlights.  Scatters of life.