Happy Anniversary

I have an affinity for anniversaries. Whether of beautiful occasions or of times of deep sorrow and suffering, I find myself often reflecting back on the person I was, the metamorphosis that  occurred as a result of the event, and the person I have become and continue to become as a result.  We are evolutionary, after all.  We are who we are because of the lives that we live and how we absorb our experiences.

The benefit of anniversaries comes in being able to look back with a wider, more clear perspective of the person we were at that time that such an event took place.  In the moment we are tunnel visioned on the event itself.  We can see only what is before us.  In joy, this is euphoric and intoxicating.  In despair, however it is paralyzing.  Knowing that life continues to roll on with all the good, bad and ugly is imperative and hopefully stabilizing.

As I approach the anniversary of a tremendous milestone in my life, I reflect on the person I was. I remember her through memories played in my mind like the cloudy, static reels of an old home movie.  I remember the conversations I had with myself and the thoughts I consciously tried to block. I remember the fatalistic view I had of myself, yet the naivety I seemed to hold for the dangers in the misdeeds of others. I remember the exact moment when a new me was born.

All of these years later, that date still hits me like the wrecking ball that it was.  The sadness I feel is not for who I am, but rather who I was.  Tragedy of all kinds, does that; it brings new life through the death of an old one.  Letting go of who we were to become who we are, is terrifying and uncharted.

Today, I embrace my nowness, knowing that at any time, a new reality may take over.  I celebrate the randomness of life and the future anniversaries, both of joy and sorrow that are hiding around the corner. I honor the life experiences I have ridden through and continue to ride through as glorious shades on the color wheel of who I am.  I am thankful for it all.  I am not a victim in life, I am a product of living.

Climb Every Mountain

In my past life I was not the biggest fan of the outdoors.  The heat, dirt and bugs- not to mention all of the hidden critters, some slithery, some potentially rabid, were enough to make me a confirmed lover of the safe, comfortable shelter of my cozy, upholstered lifestyle, complete with monogrammed tea towels. I learned quite nicely how to navigate the days, weeks and years in my climate controlled atmosphere. 

What I did not know as the "Queen of the Suburban Castle on the Hill," was that despite the color coordinated bath mats and the simmering potpourri on the stove top, I was still surrounded by heat, dirt, bugs and critters with bad intentions.  As the rose colored glass began to crack, slowly at first, and then with the rapid pulverizing crush of infinity's weight, the ideal of my imagined sanctuary began to disintegrate.  Perhaps not surprisingly, it was not so long after that I discovered the beauty awaiting on the other side of the door.

When that door was opened for me, (very much so, against my wishes, mind you) I found myself at the foot of the most enormous mountain I ever could imagine.  What I was being told to climb would be impossible for anyone, let alone a channel surfing, pleasantly plump air conditioner goddess. Interestingly, it seems, I would really have no choice but to take part in the hike. There really was no opting out, because if there were, I would most assuredly have chosen that route.

As I began the steep assent, I realized I would not be on the journey alone.  I became a sponge to what others were teaching me.  I quickly learned that the people and experiences that are placed in our lives are not accidental.  There are no coincidences.  Listen to everything, especially when you doubt a lesson can be gleaned.  It is during these times when the largest rewards are reaped.

Slowly, I began to get dirty.  I learned how to camp.  I learned how to go to sleep listening to the wind brushing against the branches of the trees and wake up to the sound of squirrels playing hide and seek as the birds welcomed the new day.  I learned that one could go from taping daily episodes of the Young & the Restless to being content with watching the way a fire dances around burning logs; that it is not destruction, but rather beauty and new creation.

I learned that if you go to a waterfall when you are feeling broken-hearted and worthless, she will speak to you as if she were your momma if you quiet your soul enough to listen.  She will tell you that you are traveling the path you are meant to travel, that there are countless ways to get to the final destination, and although some have a straighter shot than others, we are all water and as water, we will all flow freely.

As I continued my way up the mountain, one night I found myself more exhausted than I could remember being since this journey had begun. Weary and sore from the hike, I lowered myself to the ground and began to cry in my hands.  I was alone, but I was embarrassed and ashamed that I was having such a lapse of the strength that was not only expected of me, but had become required.  

Internally, as I began to chastise my weakness, the shadow from the enormous tree that I sat a few feet from enveloped me.  The cast was so strong that I immediately felt my skin begin to cool and I took notice of the tree's massive presence.  The tree had an enormous trunk with thick, rough bark.  The branches were massive in their own right and spanned what seemed like miles in every direction.  There was no rhyme or reason to the way this tree's branches grew but it was evident that they had  continued to grow beautifully and randomly  despite the extreme temperatures and storms that the tree had lived through. Lastly, I took note of the tree's roots. The roots were giant and spidery, extending far from the base. Without these roots, the tree would have toppled over long ago.  In that moment I learned what I believe to be the greatest lesson in my climb thus far.  We cannot always control the way that our branches twist and turn, but if we remain rooted in what it is that is truly important, then we will be beautiful and we WILL be STRONG.

Throughout my climb, I have been fortunate enough to be able to share a portion of my journey with different trail guides. Through their music, art and beautiful conversation I have seen my steps hasten upward as my heart has been strengthened by their soul's wisdom.  With every interaction, I have retained a spiritual souvenir from that guide to assist in my onward assent.  I will forever be changed by the moments another took to share with me who they are. I am better because of our time together.

I have been climbing this mountain for awhile now, and  I am tired.  As I rest to catch my breath and see how far I have  come, I must admit, I am impressed with my progress.  After all, it was an un-climable mountain!  Yet, the distance that lie ahead is as further than what can be imagined. 

Step by step.

Rock by rock.

Song by song.

Flow by flow.

I will get there.

Cheers to the Crunchy Bits

I'm a 40 year old work in progress; a one step forward, two steps back kind of girl.  Every day I wake up realizing I have indeed made it to a new morning and this life that I have been plopped in the middle of, is still my world to navigate through.  In the flurry of movement sometimes I must accept that the endless activity is no more than futile attempts to gain ground but sometimes I learn that, I am, in fact going forward.

I purport to know very little.  Truly.  I am a second guesser and skeptic in most things.  I am deeply committed to self doubt, somewhat committed to self loathing and on the fence about just about all else, however, I have had real and beautiful observations of the world in which I live and I hang onto those observations as the life preserver that they are for me in the  tumultuous waters that I struggle each day not to drown in.

So folks, here is what I know-

We all have those "crunchy bits" of who we are tucked within our jovial, shiny wrapping, that have a tendency to come out and poke us when we are least ready to deal with them.  We are the sum of all of the parts of our life experiences, crunchy or not, and it is that very totality that makes us wondrous and beautiful.  Without our less palatable pieces, we are nothing more than pleasant cookie cutter cyborgs with no mystery and no depth. Attempting to whitewash away the imperfections in our characters and our lives, is really kind of silly. Own the crunchy bits, accept them, and love the people in your life with more of their fair share of their own crunchy bits, because God knows they need it.

That being said, at some point we all need to endeavor to be greater than we currently are, and in that, our desire should be to attempt to soften out the sharp edges of who we are.  To be a completely whole person, we must strive towards that wholeness and not simply wallow in our flaws and misery like a mutant pig bathing in septic sludge. Today we are broken, tomorrow we will be less so, and perhaps, in time to come we can begin to resemble an illusion of patched together wholeness if we squint our eyes just right and tilt our head towards the sun.  So we continue on.

I am an absolute expert at imperfection, and I am more than grateful for the people in my life who continue to love me and support my heart, mind and soul despite that fact.  In turn, I want to be that steadfast person to my fellow crunchy-bitted people.  In me, you will always have a rallying fan.

Until.


Love can happen in silence and distance.

Peace.

Resurrection

In the Christian faith, Easter is celebrated as a time to recall the moment when Jesus Christ miraculously rose from the dead after being brutally crucified on a cross.  He died amongst violence and humiliation.  His death, though horrifically dramatic, was not His end, but the rather the apex of His legacy to His supporters then, and all who have vowed to follow Him since.  Christians believe that because He chose to accept that death, the door to eternal life has been unlocked and made accessible to all those who wish to enter.

We are welcomed into this Easter season as the frigid winter temperatures become more temperate and new sprigs of greenery and blossoms dot the landscapes.  The barren and bleak skies slowly start to house rays of sunshine and sweet melodies of birds that have been vacationing on other locales over the past several months.  Tentatively at first, but then with rapid fire succession, spring ushers in NEW LIFE.

Whether one aligns their belief with Christianity or not, the notion that rebirth can occur after death, is the very hope that comes from spring;  an annual reminder from a season that just when you believe that the cold darkness is a forever reality,  a glimmer of light can break way and spark new and beautiful growth.  The lesson in the Resurrection and the new life of spring reaches far beyond the death of Jesus and the sprouting tulips that replace the frost covered ground.  We should be reminded that personal resurrection can and will occur in our own lives should we allow ourselves to be made better from the brokenness of life, rather than be destroyed by it.

From the time we draw our very first breaths, we are set on a journey of life and learning that will see us die and hopefully be resurrected a multitude of times.  The idea of dying a thousand deaths certainly does not seem appealing to any of us, but it is what we gain from those deaths that is the blessing of personal resurrection and new growth.  Rebuilding and renewing, just as the Phoenix rises from the ash, is how one finds strength and beauty deep within, in a place that could never had been uncovered without tragedy and heartache.  It is through this suffering that we can be made more whole.

As we travel the winding, bumpy road that is our life's journey, we will surely encounter detours that at times may feel like roadblocks that will stop us from moving forward.  These unexpected, unwelcome setbacks may come in the form of personal illness, the death of a loved one,  financial hardship or the end of a love that was meant to last forever.  Being faced with such devastating trauma feels like the death of a soul, and can lead one to question how they could possibly continue the journey.  With such devastating derailments to our reality, these changes can lead to having to say goodbye to the person we once were. A choice is to be made, just as Christ had a choice. Do we choose to accept the cross?  Do we choose to ride again?

Accepting the death of a life that once was, is not a given nor is it a comfortable process to undertake, but it is in that bold acceptance where personal resurrection begins to take root.  Allowing ourselves to be transformed out of the darkness to a place of light is removing the stone from our tomb and rising up.  We certainly cannot always control our circumstances, yet learning to recognize our hardships as opportunities to grow and renew means that no suffering is in vain, and perhaps, in time, we even find thanksgiving in the challenge.

When trudging along in the midst of winter, it is impossible to imagine that one day soon, in the not so distant future,  delicate daffodils will become plentiful in our sight.  As the seasons change, the new growth begins to take beautiful hold.  A blossoming of all that we could not fathom before, becomes commonplace and expected.  Our scenery is new and fresh, as is our outlook.  As are WE.

In this Easter season, may the cross serve as a poignant reminder to us all, not only of the death Jesus Christ so willingly accepted so that we might have eternal life, but also as a symbol to ourselves of our own day to day struggles and heartbreaks, and the resurrection of spirit that will explode in vibrant blossoms at the change of the season.

Eye Has Not Seen

Faith is that which you know for certain to be true, though you have not seen it with your eyes.

For two years I have been told by many that I should write the story of my survival and testimony.  My response has always been the same. I cannot write a story that I do not have an ending to.  This thought was challenged this weekend during a chance encounter.

My path crossed with a missionary on Saturday.  I had encountered this person briefly in the past and found them to have a gentle spirit and to be very easy to talk to.  During our very brief conversation this weekend, they revealed to me, that it is among their goals to teach people to share their testimonies in one minute. I initially volunteered that I didn't believe my testimony was complete, as my story is still evolving. They responded with the assertion that there exists inside of us all a testimony that can be revealed in a minute. I laughed.  "My" story could never be contained in such a time limit.  Not knowing my history, the missionary very lovingly assured me that the crux of what was important could be said in a minute. I have since been haunted by the calm persistence in the words that I heard. 

It occurred to me some time later that I had done just that, unknowingly. I had shared my "come to Jesus" moment in one minute, probably less, exactly one week prior to that day.  It was a conversation I had never had with anyone before, but on that night, for some reason, I shared the exact moment in my life when God became real and not theory to me.

In less than one minute, I share with you today.

My life was changed in an instant by a telephone call.  As I hung up the phone, I became paralyzed.  A supernatural feeling of fear and anxiety washed over me to the point that I could not breathe or move my limbs.  Every part of my mind and body was entrapped in the hell and I could not escape. I was terrified in a way that even now, looking back I can not imagine. 
And then, at once, it happened.  My heart was overcome by the most serene feeling of calm  and comfort.  Not through words, but through His peace, I was told to breathe, to move, and that everything would be okay. I was not alone and I would be guided and protected.  So move I did, and have been doing since that day, under His guidance and protection, as promised.

And that is it.  That is when I came to know; not to believe- but to know. 

I know that my I am thriving as a result of God's work through me.  In the moment I realized I had no control in my life, I surrendered myself to be an instrument in His hands.  He has wielded me to do beautiful things and make glorious strides, and as a forever grateful child of His, I have availed myself to stretch further than I ever imagined I could.  It is because of the peace He infused in my heart that afternoon, that I have discovered a joy within myself that I never knew existed.

The world is full of people who can reason and speculate away what I know to be true.  My knowledge is not based upon scientific data or algorithms studied by geniuses. My assurance comes from a truth that was revealed out of sight, in a place where the answers are clear even if the mind cannot explain.

Still, I'll Choose to Love

It has taken me a lifetime to not make excuses for being authentically me.  Through like minded souls, I have come to learn that what once I saw as a flaw, is truly a gift.  Blessed to be taught by the hearts of others with similar philosophies, this is what I know:

We are the unabashed lovers.

When  we walk through the threshold, it is obvious that our hearts proceed  our bodies as introductions are made.  We peer deep into  others  eyes searching for clues as to what makes our new friend beautiful.  We have not been introduced to a stranger, for to us, the word does not exist.  There is an unmade connection behind every face.  This is a certainty.

We ask questions because we care.  We want to know you and we want to love you.  We see the finite world that exists and we believe that traveling it  with you makes our world more intimate and beautiful.  When you break, we too will break.  When you succeed, we will rejoice with you.

We very seldom accept evil as a possibility and as a result often put ourselves in harms way.  We are firm believers in the silver lining that shines through clouds and will crawl on our hands and knees through the mud to ensure that it is seen in all people.  Sometimes it is found, quite often not.  Tattered through the disappointment, we remain hopeful that perhaps, somehow we simply have missed the beauty and light that must exist even still.  We are criticized unendlessly  for wasting our time on ungiving spirits, yet we know, that it is those hearts that offer the greatest return to our own should they one day soften.  So we remain.

We understand your warnings;  we are not an ignorant tribe. We are led by our hearts, sometimes exclusively, rather than our minds.  It is what makes us us.  It is why we have glorious, life-long connections and why we are regularly tormented by those who have let us down.  We recognize that there is another way, but it is this language where our fluency will flourish.  We are not ridiculous or naive.  We understand the risks.  We always have.  The potential return for ourselves and others on our investment is worth the gamble.

Yes, fiercely we will love.  With every fiber of our humanity we will love.  And we will be loved by many.

But on that day, (and these days will come as surely as the sun warms the earth) that we realize our hearts have been dismissed and disregarded, we will stand up as strongly and  fiercely as we tried to love.  We will gather our scuffed spirits and nurture all that has been damaged within us.  Because we love, we love ourselves, too.  And we will love again. 

Do not look upon us with  pity or with a need to counsel us into a thicker, more discriminating skin. Perhaps, we have been doing love right all along. With our final breaths, we will assuredly rest in the realized dream that we loved with our full hearts.

Goodbye Yellow Brick Road

Goodbye Yellow Brick Road

An Open Letter to My Sisters in Blue

I do not believe in coincidence.  I believe in purpose and the poetry that is life.

A little over two years ago, ladies, I was introduced to you- as a patient.  I was facing what I was certain was going to be the most life defining moment I would ever encounter. As a patient, I was checked in by Toni, had my vitals taken by Sheryl, was consulted by Dr. Scarborough and Swan, sat in Jenny's office as she referred me to plastics and signed consents and went over pre-op with Kathy.  I did what hundreds of our patients do every single week.  But I was not any patient.  I was me.  I was scared and you showed me compassion and understanding.  You coordinated my care with respect and love not because of who I was, but because of who YOU were; because that IS who you are.

Before my incisions had had time to heal, my world imploded and much deeper wounds were created.  Suddenly, I was a single mother of 4 children with the responsibility of having to support myself and them with no job experience other than years as a preschool teacher.  I was broken emotionally, I was weak physically and I had not a thing to offer you, but you you embraced me anyway.  Because that is who YOU are.

Swan, you immediately recognized me as the patient who fell asleep in the exam room with my husband as we waited for you and Chuck to come into us.  You recounted how badly you had felt for making us wait, but it had been a busy afternoon with many positive cases.  I couldn't help but be at awe that you recalled with such detail an appointment that had happened months before; details that I had completely forgotten, until you reminded me.

Rachel, you were given the very unenviable task of training me.  For what seemed like months, (I'm sure it was only a week or so) you patiently walked me through step by step every little nuance of the office.  You shared with me the office dynamics and gave me heads up on the unspoken rules.  I marveled at the grace you showed me and the strength that emanated from you as a mommy who had dealt with the pain of a seriously ill child.

Toni and Blanca, you tag teamed me with tough love, and I needed it.  "Stay in your box."  I will forever have the image of that sticky note stuck to the side of my computer in my mind.  Indeed, important advice when working in the medical community, just as relevant in the rest of my life.  I have used the metaphor time and again since that day.


Allison and Za, you were the sounding boards for the matters of my heart as I wound through the divorce process, struggled with raising my babies and began to date.  My street cred was amped by Za as she gave me vocabulary lessons (I still have not recovered) and was offered the "Cone of Safety" by Allison.  The words "no judgement" were uttered perhaps more than any other...well, and SABOTAGE.

Kathy and Roberta, I have required unending mothering over the past two years and you both have filled that role. As a 38 year old woman, I still crave a mother's hug and unfortunately need a mother's reprimand from time to time.  It was with you that I felt most able to let the tears flow on the days I could no longer be strong, and with you I was reinforced and encouraged.  Thank you.

Suzi, Lisa, Brandy, Sheryl, Kacie, Haley and April Showers,
I love you all.  I love the laughs, the swirls in the chairs, the singing and dancing and the multiple blind date attempts that had me considering going into hiding. I love that you would chase me with post it notes and try and  offer me free medical advice, solicited or otherwise.  I love that every one of you have deep, personal experience with my bionic boobs and  you never tired of examining, talking about them or advising me on how to handle those suckers- or maybe you did.   Thanks for not letting on.  The three of us appreciate your support greatly.

And of course the Vaginas, to include the entire Gyn/Onc team,  First and for most, thank you for letting me refer to you as the Vaginas.  I know it's unprofessional.  I'm well aware.  I can not help it.  You are my people.  I came to the office as a 36 year old,  post menopausal,  Brca 2 + woman who was living each day watching my beloved aunt die of ovarian cancer.  You were my life line.  You answered my persistent questions and invited me into your fold.  You allowed me to participate in the work you do to raise awareness for Gyno cancers and allowed me to feel like I was honoring my aunts in doing so.  Through you, I became more educated and passionate.  Tara, you sought me out specifically when you knew I was concerned about a patient.  That meant the world to me.  Tricia, knee deep in charges, you danced with me in the front office.  Nixie, thank you for always being concerned and interested. Renee and Jen, You both are angels in my eyes.  For me and for countless other women and their families you have demystified cancer.  What you two have is not something that could ever be taught in nursing or med school.  I felt it as your friend and coworker, but your patients feel it every second of the day.  Many of the ladies you see are in the fight of their lives, but because of you, they are blessed beyond measure.  You are their light.


Yes, you are my Yellow Brick Road friends, as Dottie says.  You have been  people I have met along the way to help me on my journey back Home.  I could not be more thankful for your beautiful spirits and the love and laughs we have shared.  Thank you all.  Until the next time, please dance in my absence.

Caroline

http://www.totallyfuzzy.net/ourtube/elton-john/goodbye-yellow-brick-road-video_caccdcf06.html

Light Up

I have a beautiful antique chandelier hanging over the table in my breakfast room.  In a true reflection of the chaos that is often my life, I came home this evening to find five of the six bulbs in the fixture  burnt out.  The irony of course, was that I had just returned from the grocery store where I purchased light bulbs for various other lights in the home that were burnt out, not knowing that these bulbs also needed replacing. In a moment of minor desperation, I climbed onto the step ladder to search high above the refrigerator in the hopes that the Caroline of months past had the foresight to purchase extra bulbs for the chandelier during her last light bulb run.
She had.
Thank you, Past Caroline.

As the boys unloaded the groceries, I replaced the dead bulbs with their new illuminating counterparts.  As I twisted each bulb into it's new home, the boys commented with increasing excitement what a difference each light brought to the room.  Finally, six lights shone brightly and our home was aglow. My boys were ecstatic.  Seriously.  You would have thought they had been given a trip to Disney World.  My initial reaction was cynicism.  How sad is it that these little boys were overjoyed by fresh light bulbs?  How desperate have  our lives become that this is where they find happiness?

But then I saw the poetry in the moment; there was a lesson there-

We MUST search for the light, and when it is found, whether it is a sudden spark or a massive fire, we need to acknowledge that it is a gift. Our gratitude for such will only promote new light and opportunities to set the world ablaze.  We ARE the light of the world.

There is an awful lot of darkness in our world, and it is human nature to obsess over it.  It is easy to indulge in the loss we feel when the brokenness is so overwhelming.  I have seen beautiful souls turn cold and unmoving by the most tremendous of losses, perhaps never to be rehabilitated to their previous splendor.  It is a waste.  There is too much beauty in our world to allow ourselves to be blinded in the darkness.  We need to retrain our hearts to become giddy like a child over the light opposed to allowing ourselves to be swallowed by the black hole of disappointment and frustration.

There are blessings in every trial we face.  We need only to claim them.
Do not allow Evil the opportunity to steal from you the light that exists there.  Even the most heinous life events are not lived in vain when we allow ourselves to be bettered by them.

It was once said that the fall of a person is in direct correlation to the height of a monument that can be erected in the aftermath.
We were made to grow.

All life is dependent upon light for growth.

What the World Needs Now

Waking Up

We revere Sleeping Beauty for the fairy tale ending she embraces after her prince gives her the kiss that awakens her. There she slept, beautifully incoherent,  until one day, when the stars were aligned perfectly,and he came to kiss her tenderly as she awoke.  Her life begun at that moment, but her sole involvement in her own  rebirth was  to be beautiful enough to be kissed.

Silly princess.  Get it together, girl.

If only our awakenings could happen so seamlessly.

Life is not a fairy tale, it is a journey that cannot be taken while we sleep or be replaced by a kiss, however passionate.


In my darkest days; those moments when my eyes were first adjusting to the blaring light of the new day, I became fond of the song by Avicii entitled "Wake Me Up."

                So wake me up when it's all over
                When I'm wiser and I'm older
                All this time I was finding myself
                And I didn't know I was lost

I knew in my trampled heart that I was lost and had been for an eternity.  I knew that the only hope for myself and babies was to navigate through the torrential downpour- but I didn't want to.  I was not excited about that challenges I faced nor the new opportunities that awaited me.  In bed I would lay and dream that somehow I would awaken in the morning to a picture perfect and put together existence. The song is nothing more than a fairytale.

I am waking up.  It has been terrifying and exhilarating.

I have been reintroduced to my soul.  I have embraced and celebrated the beauty within my heart that I forgot existed, and I have critiqued and chided the ugliness that remains and must be rehabilitated.  I am stepping cautiously onto unfamiliar soil, acknowledging my missteps and finding shelter in new surroundings.

I could not go back to sleep now if I tried.

The path to wherever it is that I am headed is frought with hazards and uncertainty, but the hidden treasures nestled beneath the rocks are all  the reassurance I need to know that waking up and continuing on my journey, is absolutely the greatest gift that I can give myself.

Aurora, you were awaken by true love's kiss.

I have been awaken by truth.

You Don't Know You're Beautiful

I am sorry that you do not know.
You are beautiful.

No matter how shiny the wrapping or large the bow, when one receives a gift, they peel through the outer layer to see what is hidden inside. I evaluate the beauty of a person this very way. Truly.

I recently saw the lamentations of a friend discussing the unattainable goals of societal beauty.  There I sat, with a road map of stretch marks spanning my belly, and a mop of frizz coiffing my head, knowing I am far from the social standards of beauty but feeling peaceful and beautiful in myself.  I am not  just the untamed mane or scars of skin stretched too fast during pregnancy.  I am more than my uniquely Jewish nose, pink skin and crows feet. I am the gift inside the imperfect wrapping.  I am a lifetime of brokenness and dreams.  I am poetry and humor and song.  I am compassion and knowledge and love. I am beautiful, as I am.

Inside every physical body is housed the character of the person who inhabits it.  This character; this soul is where genuine beauty is found or lost. The ability one may possess to make another laugh with unbridled vigor is far more necessary to sustain attraction than is a set of perfectly straightened teeth.  Youthful good looks and symmetrical features matter not in a person who proves themselves habitually to be unkind, disloyal and quick to anger.

It is my hope for you, my friend, that you see the beauty that others see in you.  You are beautiful in your compassion for others, your impeccable comedic timing and the spirit in which you view the world.  Your heart for the shared world lights up the wrapping that you are contained within.

Be so very confident in your beauty.

Prayers for Marriage

I believe in the beauty of marriage. 
I believe that marriage done well, may possibly be the most beautiful blessing that one can ever have.  In my ever naive heart, the idea of finding a soul mate to share a lifetime of  joys and struggles with, seems precious and beautiful.  To have that one person who knows the authenticity of your heart, broken or wonderful, and loves you in spite of it is a comforting, glorious notion.  Despite the tragedy of my own marriage, I believe in marriage for others and believe it should be celebrated and prayed for incessantly.

Prior to the ending of my marriage, but when it became painfully obvious that our union was in trouble, I began to truly see the attack that marriage in general is under.  As heartbroken as I was that my marriage was decaying, it was almost more frightening to see the epidemic of failed marriages that exist.  It was during this time that I began to pray, not only for myself and my husband, but for marriages everywhere.  Families are crumbling daily, hearts are being broken and lives are shattering.  What is supposed to be celebrated and nurtured, is being thrown away and discarded as if we are all just transient strangers coming in out of each
others lives for mere moments.

My marriage did end tragically. I clung to it well after the time had come to let go, but I did so out of respect and belief in the institution.  I still believe in marriage despite my own painful outcome, perhaps more so now. I believe in it for my parents, my siblings, my friends and my children.  That beautiful gift can still exist in the right hands. Because I hold this belief, I still pray for the institution and the danger that seems all to prevalent to it.

Earlier this week, I saw an article on pledging to pray the rosary for marriage on April 28th.
Although, I no longer align myself with Catholicism, I was moved by what I thought was the sentiment; a day where people prayed for the hearts of the married so that they could strengthen their unions and commitments towards one another.  There I sat, behind my computer, misty-eyed and reflective, pledging to myself and my God, that I too, would join in and pray the rosary for marriage.

And then I opened the link.

And I immediately closed out.

This was not a benevolent call to arms to pray for the strength of committed hearts.  It was a rallying against those who wish to be able to call their same sex soul mates their spouses.  It was an organized "prayerful" display of bigotry.  I instantly was angry at myself for not immediately understanding the motive beyond this "pledge," as the topic of homosexual persecution and marriage is lighting up the Supreme Court this week.  My naive, hopeful heart once again betrayed me. Needless to say, I did not dust off my long since neglected rosary beads that night.

I am not a theologian, nor am I scholar of the social sciences.  I do not wish to engage in debate on the validity of same sex marriages in the legal arena. What I am, is a woman who has lived and  watched the devastating effects that take place on individuals and families when marriages are destroyed.  I am certain that our prayers need to be focused on preserving love and not preventing it; protecting hearts and not prejudging them. 

Pray for marriage. I do every day.

That Which is Unknown is Most Everything

... knowledge must continually be renewed by ceaseless effort, if it is not to be lost. It resembles a statue of marble which stands in the desert and is continually threatened with burial by the shifting sand. The hands of service must ever be at work, in order that the marble continue to lastingly shine in the sun. To these serving hands mine shall also belong. (Albert Einstein, On Education, 1950)


We live in a society in which the inhabitants are constantly grappling for position to prove their intellectual and moral prowess over one another. Through subtle intimidation or overt condescension, the race is constant to show superiority in knowledge and theory.  It has been mistakenly assumed that the loudest most frequent voice is the one that will be absorbed by the largest audience.  Perhaps this is the case.  I, however, contend that it is not.

Passion is beauty.  Sharing ideas breathes life into that which matters. It is the responsibility of us all, for the sake of our souls, our fellow man and the world as a whole, to nurture that which is innate within our minds and hearts.  Truth exists there.

Even greater still than regurgitating what we hold to be absolute, is the eagerness to search for and receive opposing discourse. It is through these often uncomfortable lessons that the evolutions of our minds take place. It is only when we are challenged that we can begin to grow. When we cease to grow, we cease to be.

Be hesitant in your judgements.  Always look for another way.  Explore the vastness of the possibilities that exist.  At the end of the great long day, you may find yourself in total agreement with your previous self, or you may discover a rebirth and evolution of the spirit.  Allow yourself the opportunity for transformation.

Don't Politicize Jesus

I follow the teachings of Jesus Christ. I believe that He was the greatest man that ever will live.  I know that through His grace and love hearts can be changed forever.
I do believe, however that I make a lousy "political Christian."

Since the beginning of time, nations have crippled each other in the name of  God; villages destroyed, women raped, babies murdered.  Somehow, in the eyes of radicals, all is justified, perhaps even required if done in the name of "Fill in Entity of your Choosing Here."  I would like to believe that the religious  radicals are the minorities in our non secular society, yet with the birth of the Religious Liberties bill, I have my doubts.

 I can acknowledge that I myself, have a deep, burning love for Christ, and at times my desire to want to share His Word with someone of conflicting mindset is overwhelming and frustrating. It is not because I am trying to prove my rightness over their wrongness, rather I truly believe that through my relationship with Jesus I have been given a peace and love that can transcend no other and as a lover of all humans, I desire that beautiful gift to be realized by as many people as possible.

This I know with no doubt: The love of God can not be imposed.  Do not try.  Share it, offer it, live it, explain it.  Never force it.  Jesus did not do it, and He is the teacher if you call yourself a Christian.  Be a light filled person. Let the light of Jesus shine from your being and saturate the earth.  Be the goodness.  It is my sincerest belief that hearts will be changed by kindness, compassion and grace.  A genuine relationship with Christ can not be born from brow beating and manipulation.  Jesus did not operate that way.

Matthew 5:9  “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God.

Simple enough, folks.  If you love Christ, emulate His words and actions.  

If you find yourself in a quandary over the moral righteousness of your fellow man, know first and foremost, we as Christians are called to love one another.  If you feel your own uber Christian super status somehow entitles you to discriminate against those you see as morally corrupt, remember who it is Jesus, Himself would be hanging out with if he were to happen our way.  He does not call us to act as the judge in His absence.   

Love one another.  That means everyone.  Even if you do not like the way they live their lives, love.  Even if they do not want to know your God, love.  Love those that are hardest to love first.  Love them the most fiercely.  

The Religious Liberties Act is taking the teachings of Christ (or whatever deity deemed worthy enough to discriminate for) and telling believers that it is okay not to do exactly what we as Christians are being called to do. If an individual, or a business is more concerned about taking a stand against their fellow man than showing love and compassion, then the teachings of Jesus have been lost.  If one is so racked with tormenting anguish over the possibility that their forced dealings with a person with opposing views will only lead to the further decay of one's soul, then I would remind you, that trusting in God is paramount to a Christian life, as is prayer.  Discrimination, hatred, belittlement and marginalization are in direct contrast to all that Jesus spoke of.

 

Isabelle

Today is the one year anniversary of Isabelle's death.

I cannot quantify how much I love and miss her.  Ours was an odd relationship, but beautiful, and her passing has left me with a deficit.  I am so thankful that the time we shared was never wasted; every conversation mattered.  She was a philosopher at all times and I learned from her constantly.  Even when I disagreed with her, and I did often, I always felt further along in my own journey of truth than I was when we began.

Some people just have beautiful souls. Hers is one of the most beautiful. 
In her dying days; in her misery, she insisted on ministering to my children and I.  To her, healing came through love and discipleship. Until her final breath, she stayed on the path she felt God had called her to and although not always conducive to interpersonal relationships, she never made apologies for it.  Fiercely independent and strong willed, she was authentically Isabelle until the very end.

The course of my life has been altered in unfathomable ways by her presence in it.  I am so very thankful for her.

Shine On

The longer I live, the less I know, but that which I DO know, I know with certainty.

We are transcendent people.  Our relationships and experiences may be transient, but the effects of our presence can not be erased.  Every interaction we have with one another will write on the soul of all involved; often subtly, sometimes so profound that what once was, will never be again.  In knowing this truth, it is impossible to ignore the responsibility that comes in knowing the power we all possess; both in beauty and light and wretched agony.

Love yourself enough to recognize the tremendous impact you have on the world.  Love the world enough to be the light. 

I Saw the SIGN and it Opened up My Eyes

The other day at work it dawned on me that I am fast approaching the one year anniversary of my hysterectomy and double mastectomy.   This time last year I dreamed of the day that those events would be in my rear view mirror; and they are- so far in the past that it seemed they took place a lifetime ago, to an entirely different person.  In many ways that is true, I guess.

When I made the decision to undergo BRCA testing and have the preventive surgeries, I thought for sure that it would go down in my history as the bravest thing I would ever do in my life.  I truly thank God for that experience, and the timing of it.  Not only was it a testament to strength and courage I was unaware that I had, but  it also happened at precisely the right time. Had I not started the process when I did, I honestly do not know if I would have been able to complete it in the foreseeable future, possibly leaving me vulnerable to getting very sick.

I have heard all my life that God's timing is perfect.  Truthfully, the statement always kind of bothered me.  In my mind, it was just an explanation as to why "our needs and wants" were not being met.  As with most things, I could not see the forest for the trees. Now, however, I am utterly grateful for His divine time line.

We have often talk in my Sunday school class how we wish God would show us the huge signs that He often showed the people in biblical times. "God, just toss a burning bush my way so I know what I'm doing here."  Steve, our teacher, has told us not to be afraid to ask God for clear specific signs.  While I have yet to get my burning bush, He has provided me with huge signs of His faithfulness and love.  When it became necessary for me to immediately get a full time job to support myself and children, God placed me in a position where I would have daily contact with breast cancer and ovarian cancer patients.  I did not look for a job that would directly coincide with my life's journey, but God apparently thought it would be a good thing.  He is clever that way.

So as I attempt to navigate through this completely unfamiliar and often frightening path that I now find myself on, I implore myself to remember that God is sitting beside me, smiling a knowing grin and lovingly urging me to just hang on to see what He has in store.

One Moment in Time

I'm sappy.  I freely admit it.  My sappiness and hopeless romanticism has left me vulnerable at times, but I refuse to make apologies for it.  I believe in love.  I believe in miracles.  I believe in second chances.  I don't want to become so jaded by life's events that I lose my sense of hope. 
Just give me one moment in time.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b68AkJtjdPs

Plan B

  For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.
                           Jeremiah 29:11

 The plan I had for my life was not the final plan.  I am learning a new normal and reluctantly saying goodbye to the dreams I once had.  I have trained myself in the past few months to not look at all that will not be realized and all that never was, because sometimes the reality is too overwhelming.  Instead, I focus on the moment to moment tasks of what must be done in order to survive on this new strange planet.  This is a place I never wanted to be; would have never chosen, but here I am.  And here I will survive.

My perspective has changed so much in the last few months.  What was "bad" before is merely laughable through these new eyes.  What was "impossible" before has now become just an obstacle.  At the end of the day, most of life's trials can be shelved until the next day.  Everything looks different in the light of morning.

I am surviving, and right now that is all I'm really attempting.  I am hopeful that one day, my life will be about more than survival.  I have all of the same dreams I always have had, but they are framed differently now.  Perhaps one day some of those dreams will be realized. Perhaps not.  I believe that the Lord has not brought me to this point to leave me.  He is here.  His plans for me are real and they are wonderful.

Because she suffers...

When I was growing up in Philadelphia, I always thought my Aunt Isabelle was the coolest.  I loved to run errands with her and take walks around my grandmother's neighborhood after dinner with her.  She is several years younger than my mother, but in my child's mind, she was WAY younger, as in teenager or babysitter aged; the idea that she was actually a contemporary of my parents never really crossed my mind.  Maybe this was because she was single, or maybe it was because her lifestyle was so different than the one I was used to, but I felt really cool if I was around her.  Especially if it was her and I alone.  We left Philadelphia when I was 8 years old, but visited a couple times a year, and I continued my admiration for Isabelle.  No matter what she talked about, she did so with such authority and conviction.  It was hard to imagine that anything she said or thought could possibly be wrong.  I seriously remember conversations I had with her prior to moving away; conversations that must have taken place between the ages of 5 and 8 years old.  I guess when it seems so important at the time, it's hard to let go of.
After we moved to North Carolina she and one of her friends took a road trip to visit us.  I don't remember a ton about the visit except that they wanted to visit the "amusement park,"  PTL that was owned my Jim and Tammy Faye Baker back in their hey day.  PTL was the ultimate golden calf and people would travel from everywhere to visit it, whether they were supporters of the Bakers or curious gawkers.  I went on the day trip with Isabelle and her friend.   I felt like the coolest kid in the world because here I was, no parents around, getting to hang out and laugh at the insanity that was Jim and Tammy Faye's Jesus wonderland with my cool aunt and her friend. 
As I got older, became married and moved even further away from Isabelle, our visits have become much more infrequent.  It's just not extremely doable to jump  in a mini van with 4 kids and drive from south Georgia to Philadelphia on a long weekend.  Despite the distance, Isabelle and I have always remained close though phone calls and more recently frequent emails.  I still have that child like trust and belief that  she has 100% knowledge about everything she says despite my overly healthy adult bred skepticism.

I remember the moment this winter when my mom told me that Isabelle was diagnosed with ovarian cancer; the same disease that had only a few months prior claimed the life of my mother's other sister.  For a second, the air in the room stopped flowing. Everything froze. I knew enough about ovarian cancer to know that a diagnosis of such is not much more than a death sentence.  Suddenly all I could think of was that the last 10 years of phone calls and letters were inadequately pitiful. All I could do is shake my head in silence.  In fact, as I look back on that moment now, still that is all I can do.

Thankfully, God has used Isabelles's illness as vehicle to really strengthen our connection.  We email several times a week and talk on the phone much more frequently than before.  My aunt is a tremendous servant of the Lord and even through her illness she has been administering His word and sharing his glory fervently with me.  Every breath she takes, she does so for her savior and she is overjoyed to share His message of salvation and grace.  It is her incredible love for Christ and total faith in her everlasting life with Him that offers me so much peace. At the end of her illness, whether it is tomorrow or in 5 years or beyond, she knows where she is going and who she will be with and she could not be any happier about the prospect.

But unfortunately cancer has a very ugly reality to it as well.  Isabelle has felt awful.  Her cancer has spread and she has had to endure nausea, chemotherapy, and low white blood cells.  Despite her faith, she is human.  She gets scared, and irritated and overwhelmed.  She is suffering; and her suffering is considerable.
And her suffering is unfair.

After her sister, Adele's diagnosis with ovarian cancer, it was revealed that Isabelle carried the Brac2 mutation making her more susceptible to breast and ovarian cancer.  Unfortunately, she was already sick before she could receive preventive treatment, but it was Isabelle's illness that spurred my sister and I to be tested.  Perhaps because she was the second aunt to be diagnosed, or perhaps just because it was her, but something about Isabelle getting sick suddenly made everything hit so much closer to home.

And of course, we are positive for the mutation as well.

I have now had my hysterectomy.  The doctor removed everything because microscopic ovarian cells can exist even after the ovaries are removed and still cause cancer years later.  It was a relatively easy surgery and did not really impact my life much at all.  Because I had foresight, I will not suffer the same fate that my aunts have.  I am so very thankful that I was able to receive this knowledge, but struggle greatly with the implication of the cost of which this knowledge has been gained.

I am safe, because she suffers.

The night before my surgery Tucker and I were talking about how nice it would be when it was behind us and we no longer had to worry about the likelihood of me suffering with ovarian cancer.  As we were feeling giddily empowered at the bullet we were dodging he brought the reality back to earth;

"I have to remind myself that your preventive surgery isn't going to save Isabelle."

 I am sure this seems like a no brainer, but when I am feeling like I have the key to the future and the holy grail to a cancer free life, it is an amazing letdown to realize that no matter what I do to save myself, I can not do a thing for Isabelle. 

She will continue to suffer.

I am so thankful for what her illness has given me, but I am devastated that because she suffers I am safe.