Lights

I have a prescription for a medicine called 'femara'. It's purpose is to keep cancer in its place and not to have free reign to move about my body willy-nilly. The side effects of femara are an interesting mix of terror and humor (well, to me, anyway. For example: memory loss? Really, femara? After the real deal chemotherapy memory loss I laugh at your attempt to erase what's left...wait, what were we talking about?...) but there are times that I find myself whining about taking it.

I join my fellow humans on the modern version of the wailing wall; Facebook. Boo hoo, I have to take medicine. So I turn to a couple of sweetie pies I know who have never, in my presence, complained. About anything.

This is a remarkable statement, but let me tell you a bit more. They are in the midst of cancer; the blondie actually has a treatment called 'cyberknife'. COME ON, who made up that name, Stephen King? Cyberknife?

But look at these gals. Look! Smiling, cute, totally ready to take it all on! So I have their photos up today to remind myself to shut.it. when I get whiny. If they are so darned perky and cool and superhero-ish, I can most certainly take some pills. Wait, did I say that already? Has anyone seen my memory around here anywhere? :)

Birth

This is the life story thus far of my seven year old son, in his own words.

Editor/mommy's note: Hey, cancer -YOU LOSE! Every day, every hour, every minute. The end.

My mom and dad had 3 children. My mom was pregnant. She was going to have me. While my mom went to the hospital she had cancer. My mom got scared. She got toxic medicine. I survived. The medicine worked. Not all the way, but she takes a little medicine. It tastes way better. The end.

OLYMPIC!

As I'm sure you know, about 776 BC, a naked chef (truly naked, as in 'without clothing', not as in 'Jamie Oliver') named Coroebus took a run in what would be the first recorded Olympic games. His likeness is above. To this day, I have never seen a jersey with "Coroebus" on the back, and that's a darned shame. Of course, that sassy Heracles was supposed to have started it quite some time before that.  But I digress!

There are a myriad of athletes who have shared similar battles - on and off the field of competition. Did you know, fellow cancer warriors, that the following people have had cancer just like you and I? Please let me know who else should be added to the list; I know I've missed a few!  For your convenience, I've put them in order of cute haircut:


Dorothy Hamill
Eric Shanteau
Shannon Miller 

Lillian Board
Natalya Tsupikova
Michael Milton
Gabriele Anderson
Scott Hamilton

If you know me at all, you know I adore Scott Hamilton.  Were the list in order of anything else, he would be at the top.  Sorry, Scott.  :-D

So please chime in, tell me who else is should be on the list - and in what order! 

WITNESS

Toward the end of her life, my mother was confined to a hospital bed.  In and out of consciousness, her cancer had left her in a state of constant pain that was being 'handled' by endless medication.  She did have, however, moments of absolute clarity. 

Roberta Staib was not a pushy woman.  I would be hard-pressed to find someone who would have ever used that term to describe her.  This included matters of her faith.  She was a firm believer.  Firm.  HOWEVER - she respected the faith of others as well.  I knew that she had heard of a new faith practice when I would find her reading volumes about it.  Her thought was that education leads to clarity, period.  If you meet someone who had beliefs outside of your own, then read.  Read as much and as often as you can about that belief, so that you can a) engage in actual, respectful dialog b) not be a jerk.

She was a Christian.  Not in the 'we must absolutely adhere to every single ritual that some guys dictated in the 1500's' but a CHRISTIAN in the truest sense of the word.  Here is why I can say this with certainty:

1) We always had a place at the table for those in need. And not just those who owned less then we did, but for the people who were lonely, or far from home.  Many nights I would come home from high school and there would be a room full of sailors that my brother had brought home from boot camp; their homes were too far and they all just wanted a good, home cooked meal. 
2) She may have disapproved of certain lifestyles, but she never disapproved of PEOPLE.  Everyone deserves a kind conversation.  The one exception: if you hurt children, you were not welcome in her life.  Period.
3) She talked about Jesus like he was God.  :)  (that was meant to be funny, and JC is good with it.  I checked.) When she shared her translation of Jesus from her bible, it was the Jesus who loved little kids, his mama, the destitute, the underserved, the population of people who's hearts ache continuously. The cruel, harsh watchdog that some people like to showcase as god never made it in her house.  Her, and therefore our, God loved everyone and just really wanted them to behave.
4) I never heard her say anything mean about anyone.  There were people that acted poorly in her life, believe me.  But she never lashed out, not that I ever saw or heard.
5) Children mattered, so did women.  She got that right from the New Testament.  If someone tells you otherwise, she told me, they are not Christian people. They are probably not even nice people.  Avoid them at all costs, pure and simple.

So that's it, to me. That is a true witness of what God is, and what God means to me.  To her, to me and hopefully to my children, God = Love.  Period.

DAVID

I'll bet you thought I was going to make some statement about the underdog getting the chance to win every once in a while, didn't you? That the little one who is oppressed can rise up and sink the big tyrant?  Nope, not this girl. 

I'm reflecting today on the later David.  The one who seemed to have forgotten that he was handed that rare (oh, really incredible rare) instance of seeing victory over a large terror, a force that dominated with sheer power and threat.  The David who, somehow, became his own version of Goliath.  The David that grew out of jealously and selfishness.  The David who stole Bathsheba.

She was a military wife, Bathsheba.  From time eternal, the military wife has been just as much a warrior as her husband; but without the benefit of packing heat. In this particular case, B was in substandard housing (shocker, right military folks?) It was really stinking hot and she needed a bath.  At that time, and in that location, the only place she could take a bath was on her roof.  It was probably the most secluded spot she could find; out of view of everyone.  Well, everyone except the palace but come on who up there would be looking down here at the little people?  Please. 

Well, David was looking.  And didn't stop looking, apparently. You would think that his other wives (6? 8? hard for me to count.  And the 'concubines' didn't even get a name mention in the bible...ah, slave owners...) would have a problem with his little peep show.  HA! Just kidding.  Like their opinion would have counted for anything.

So there is David.  Up there on his thone, with every.single.thing any other man could possibly want.  And then some.  But he sees something else that someone has, and decides he needs to take it for his own. I'm not referring to B - she is a person, not a thing.  By this I mean Uriah's joy.  He didn't have much, Uriah.  He was a hard working soldier, faithful and loyal to his king and country.  His belief that he was fighting for the side of good kept him going through it all.  I imagine him saying to himself  'its for the greater good.  what I am doing really matters - the work is really really hard but doggone it, I have so much respect for the king and his leadership, then I will keep working and not complain.'  He could have never imagined that the king on his throne would ever covet what he had.

But David sure did.  And he tricked Uriah into believing that he mattered a great deal, that he was doing something worthwhile and gosh, could he do it even more?  Of course Uriah did, and that was the end of him.  He had so little, but even that was seen as better than what David had, and so David won.  The little underdog had become the Goliath, stomping around and taking whatever he wanted.  How does it get to that point?  How do people fail to see the damage they are causing by just using terrorism to get what they want?  The wreckage, of course, continues. 

Bathsheba mourned the loss of her husband, we are told, then moved her pregnant self to the palace.  (YES! I KNOW! PREGNANT!) As is fairly common in the bible, we don't get the B backstory.  But as a woman, I put in my own thoughts.  This guy was in charge of her entire world, right?  He comes to 'visit' and what are you going to say?  You know he could kill your husband and family (we dont know if she had other little ones.  I'm just guessing.) so you go along with his ridiculous request.  Again, 'go along with' is not accurate.  No means no, if we are BC or AD. Then he offs the husband anyway, so he can own you forever and outright.  Yes, I also get to say 'own'.  You have more than one wife, you go from 'husband' to 'slaveowner'.  Anyhoo, Bathsheba gets the raw deal on this at every angle. 

B has to live the rest of her life with her attacker.  Her baby from the David assault died after 7 days.  So on top of it all, she had to grieve for her husband and her new baby.  She gave him another son named Solomon, of whom you may have heard . The original wise guy. Is often known as the smartest man who ever lived.  And yet, 700 hundred wives and a few hundred concubines of his own. It boggles the mind. 

Bathsheba is known throughout recorded time, inexplicably, as a harlot.  A loose woman with no morals, bashed by everyone.  Somehow, she has become the one who takes the fall in the history books, the punchline to jokes.  And David goes on throughout history known as a) the poor little shepherd who whacked the big mean bully and b) the insanely hot guy as intrepreted by Michelangelo. 

STILL

Be still.  I know that is what you would say to me right now; just be still and at peace.  In an attempt to find that peace this morning, I am going to tell you what I suspect you already know. 

Alexandra is stunning.  Her soul has wisdom I can't begin to fathom, and her empathy is overwhelming.  You would be proud of every single step she has taken in her life.  A child psychologist, that's what she wants to become. To help children with terminal illnesses. She has your adventurous spirit, and your desire to help children in need. 

Catherine is never without a smile on her beautiful face.  She is a walking, open heart.  There is not a time in her life that she hasn't rushed to help someone and made sure the interaction ended with a big hug.  Her smile lights the world, absolutely luminescent. She has your heart, evident through the constant love shining in her eyes.

Isabella  is exactly what I (and I think perhaps you, too) have always wanted to be.  She is gorgeous, but strong.  Strong of spirit, strong of mind, and wickedly strong of will.  She will never be made to feel worthless, less than who she is.  She has your quiet strength, and has found a way to wear it proudly but without boasting.

Noah is the one you would tell me to watch.  Not in a cautionary way, but in a 'just you wait to see what happens with him' kind of way.  He has a destiny, and I just pray that I am able to see what he becomes.  He knows exactly how to treat people, how to disregard cruelty, how to ignore negativity and focus purely on the good.  He has your presence, and it soothes my heart.

You are not with me, but that is not relevant on this particular day.  To me, every day is your day.  Every day I look at your descendants, I see glimpses of you.  I hear your voice telling me to be still, and to absorb all of their goodness.  I feel your heart as you tell me to appreciate all the dirty, sticky, giant-frog toting, melodrama, wonderfulness of these incredible little people.  I know you would love every second you would have had with them, had that been the path that could have been. 

They make my every day worth living. Thank you for showing me what the most important parts of what life really are.  Happy Mothers Day!

FINE

"No, really, I'm fine she said", with a gentle smile on her face. I hadn't been a part of the initial conversation and had just pulled up a chair and a cup of tea to join a few ladies at church. I just sat quietly and heard the most amazing revelation unfold. One of my church sweeties had, for some reason, come into a sum of money that was apparently unexpected. The table was full of people with fairly unique advice. "You NEED a big new tv". "Fur coat! Thats what you NEED!" "a cruise, thats a MUST!". All of these dreams and wishes came fast and furious - clearly the very personal dreams of the people offering the advice. Her response was luminescent. Truly. She said "Nope. I'm fine." Everyone was astounded. Taken aback. Lots of silent blinking at the table. She went on to tell us exactly why she was fine, and it was beautiful to hear. "I have", she said "everything. Healthy grandchildren, beautiful property to look at in the morning, a chair to rest in and drink my coffee in the morning while listening to the birds outside. I can't think of one thing that money would give me that could make me a happier person." And there it was, right in front of me (and anyone else blessed enough to hear her words). I'm fine, just fine. My material needs are still there, but they are not elevated in my heart above my family. My wants are just that - wants. Need isn't something that plagues me; that's the message I took from her sweetness. She doesn't have a mansion. She doesn't drive a car that costs more than the annual salary of the average American. She likes to sit outside, and her view isn't that of a golf course and perfectly manicured lawns. Point of fact, she likes to do her own lawn-manicuring. She reminded me by example that almost every single person I know is, in fact, one thing. Fine.

CELLOPHANE

noun. a transparent, paperlike product of viscose. I handled quite a bit of it recently while packaging baskets for sick children. There were hundreds of volunteers, all doing various things on the assembly line of kindness. Someone put in the book, another added the spinning flashlight thingy, someone else, colored pencils and paper, etc. Each one of us doing our part. The very best part of the day is that the recipients will never, ever know us. Will never see us, talk to us, we can't look into their eyes and see the joy of gifting. Yes, I said the best part. The compassion is what matters, the act of the gift creation. In the happy rush of the opening of these gifts (as seen on television), the cellophane was the first thing that was discarded. Tossed aside, immediately forgotten. But I see in an entirely new light. It is a representation of the people who did the work, and that is something I'll never forget. The cellophane people are the ones who wrap things up, add to the mission as a whole, tie on the pretty bows. If you think about the people you know, I'll bet you think about the cellophane crew as among the finest people you have in your life. They just do, and are content to help. As a matter of fact, it fills their cup. They can sleep well at night knowing that while they may be tired, they have worked hard to help others. I like being with the cellophane people. I find most comfort in their presence, that is where I am most at peace. Cellophane people are happy with a day's work, proud to do this task. A job who's sole purpose is to make a little kid smile - a kid who really really really needs and deserves a smile. Here's to you, my wonderful cellophane friends. For holding us all together with an invisible shield of kindness and compassion. Never discarded, never forgotten, and absolutely totally without question the most important part of the gift.

LOVE

As we live our lives, the way we can demonstrate love changes radically. Babies need the basics, but I feel strongly that 'the basics' include lots of adoration, both verbal and through gestures. As the children age, their needs follow suit. Love comes in many forms - most of which they are incapable of seeing as 'love'. All of those trips to sporting events, to school functions, to slumber parties...they aren't things we should ever complain about doing. It's the best way to say I love you to someone of that age. I have someone in my life right now who spells love in this way 'L-E-G-O'. It's a cryptic language, this lego, but it is something that little tiny men of this age feel is just as important as oxygen. So I don't question. During the post-Christmas clean up, I was vacuuming and heard an unusual clicking sound and realize what I'd picked up. It was the headlight (so to speak) for a star wars l-e-g-o ship. I knew he would need this and when he found it missing, would be a very, very sad little man. So I emptied the canister, very carefully, and combed through the dustbin to find it. Keep in mind that I have a dog that discharges enough hair to make another entire mammal every other day. This made the task particularly challenging. But I found it, and handed it to him. He didn't even say anything, just titled his head a little bit and blinked at me. I said it got vacuumed accidentally so I got it out for him. No further details. He came over and gave me a big smooch. Thanks mama, I love you, too, he says. Because to him, that says love. I can say it fifty times a day, but it gets absorbed into the atmosphere. Showing one simple act, no matter how yukky it might be to accomplish, that really says l-e-g-o to him. I hope that grown-ups can learn this lesson. Don't just pretend to be a nice person. Just go be one. Show people what l-e-g-o really means.