It is the end of September which means the end of my September is National Children's Cancer Awareness Month campaign on Facebook. Was it well received? I don't know that I care. It was important to me to revisit this month four years ago. It was important to me to revisit all that a child's cancer brought to my life, and took from it.
When I was little there was a girl that had cancer. I don't remember what kind for sure, but I think leukemia. When I went outside to play, she stayed inside. I don't remember her dying, but I know that she did. I imagine it was too difficult for my parents to explain the death of a child to me. It is still too difficult for the death of a child to be explained to me.
You all know Ashlyn's story, our story. I repeat it often because hers is a story of strength and faith. It is a story of our community wrapping their arms around us and doing all that they could possibly do to make sure we were ok. It is a story about a family that has been a team, an undefeatable team for over 22 years.
I know that there are a million and one charities that are worthy of your money. But when you are asked to donate to Curesearch. Make a Wish, Child Life, St Jude's or any number of other children's charities, please know that you are giving in the name of people like Ashlyn who is in her third year of remission, is an honor student at ISU, has traveled to Europe, volunteered with Dance Marathon, and continues to live her life fully. You are also donating in the name of people like Ella who will forever be five years old. A child that took on cancer with such a zest for living that we all were sure that she would survive. On the day that Ashlyn and I last visited her, she should have been wiped out in bed but instead, had sheets and blankets draped over chairs and IV poles. She and her sister had created a mess of a town in her hospital room. She went to Kansas City for a transplant. It all became too much for her little body. If you ask Ashlyn, she will tell you that she will always make forts.
So, I wrap up this month with one last thing. September is National Childhood Cancer Awareness Month. For many every day is an awareness. Cancer can be treated, it can go into remission, a person can be declared cancer free. But what it does to a person, to their family, to their faith, it lasts a lifetime. I will not speak for Ashlyn or for Hayley, Jacob or Danny, but for me cancer only intensified the incredible family bond that we have. Cancer brought me back to faith, brought me back my mom, brought me a feeling of overwhelming grace and peace and understanding. Understanding that everyone has a struggle, a fight, a battle and that these wars we wage or that are waged against us have no measure.
Sunday, September 30, 2012
Thursday, September 13, 2012
53 Years Ago
I am a day late with this post. I knew that yesterday was the fifty third anniversary of my parents marriage and that could have easily been the subject of my blog about faith and trust. Ashlyn and Hayley's stories needed to be told though.
September 12, 1959 my dad hit the jackpot. Don't get me wrong, he was a good looking guy. But my mom, my mom was a knock out. Just today at work when someone complimented me, I said I owe it all to my parents. If you think I am pretty, you should've seen my mom. She was stunning. Sometimes it takes my breath away, that black hair and ivory skin. And she was pretty tall and was lucky enough to live in the world of sixties dresses. Not that hippy crap but the tailored, darted, fitted numbers that just made a woman look fantastic.
I am amazed and in awe of what my parents were able to achieve as husband and wife, parents and partners. I wish I knew more about their early years. I wish I knew more about their courtship. I have romanticized that, I am sure. My dad in his cuffed jeans. My mom in her white nurse's cap.
My mom was twenty three, my dad nearly twenty six when they married. They were parents less then a year later. They bought their first and only home within the next two years. They raised five children there. All went to Catholic school, first through twelfth. There was never a moment that I remember wanting for food, for clothing, for anything. We were not rich by any means, but we were provided for.
I think back now to their fortieth wedding anniversary party, the summer of 1999. The dementia had already taken ahold of Mom. Someone always stayed close to her that day to help her with names. There were a lot of people there so I don't blame her for being overwhelmed. I remember that day as being so much fun. So much life and laughter in the KC Hall that afternoon. How blessed my parents were to be surrounded by so many friends and family.
I don't ever remember them fighting. They must have though. Maybe their opposite sleep schedules just didn't allow for a big row so they said their peace as they met each other on the stairs. I don't know. They loved each other. That I know. I knew it more by their actions then their words. I wish I would have paid attention more to their love, learned from it.
So here I am, all because two people fell in love.
Cheers to Bob and Rita Snow. Married on September 12, 1959 at St. Patrick's Catholic Church in Fairfax. The bride was stunning and the groom was grinning from ear to ear.
September 12, 1959 my dad hit the jackpot. Don't get me wrong, he was a good looking guy. But my mom, my mom was a knock out. Just today at work when someone complimented me, I said I owe it all to my parents. If you think I am pretty, you should've seen my mom. She was stunning. Sometimes it takes my breath away, that black hair and ivory skin. And she was pretty tall and was lucky enough to live in the world of sixties dresses. Not that hippy crap but the tailored, darted, fitted numbers that just made a woman look fantastic.
I am amazed and in awe of what my parents were able to achieve as husband and wife, parents and partners. I wish I knew more about their early years. I wish I knew more about their courtship. I have romanticized that, I am sure. My dad in his cuffed jeans. My mom in her white nurse's cap.
My mom was twenty three, my dad nearly twenty six when they married. They were parents less then a year later. They bought their first and only home within the next two years. They raised five children there. All went to Catholic school, first through twelfth. There was never a moment that I remember wanting for food, for clothing, for anything. We were not rich by any means, but we were provided for.
I think back now to their fortieth wedding anniversary party, the summer of 1999. The dementia had already taken ahold of Mom. Someone always stayed close to her that day to help her with names. There were a lot of people there so I don't blame her for being overwhelmed. I remember that day as being so much fun. So much life and laughter in the KC Hall that afternoon. How blessed my parents were to be surrounded by so many friends and family.
I don't ever remember them fighting. They must have though. Maybe their opposite sleep schedules just didn't allow for a big row so they said their peace as they met each other on the stairs. I don't know. They loved each other. That I know. I knew it more by their actions then their words. I wish I would have paid attention more to their love, learned from it.
So here I am, all because two people fell in love.
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
An Act of Faith, Part Two
So the story I told talked about worth and trust.
I did not have a lot of trust in the Lord. I was one of those that thought it was some sort of tit for tat game with Him. If I said my prayers then He would answer them. You know what I am talking about. Ask and I shall receive. Well, like all things in life, it is not that simple.
Sometimes I think it took something huge to wake me up to the love of God. Apparently a war and the death of my mom weren't huge enough for me to see the love. Knowing what I know now, the love was there. It was always there but that worth thing I talked about earlier, well the lack of worth tends to make someone see a lack of love. That was me anyway. I couldn't always see the love that was around me. Or if I did see it, I thought it was only there because of Danny and the kids.
Ok, back to the point of today's blog, trust.
Forgive me Ashlyn if I tell too much. It's just that this part of your story is so powerful. It brings me to tears whenever I think of it.
Trust or Faith or what ever you would like to call it was taught to me at about this time, four years ago. Ashlyn had been diagnosed with acute myloid leukemia. She was seventeen. I believe that traditionally, seventeen is one of those completely self absorbed years. The life's not fair, why me phase. It was for me. Anyway, back to the real story. Ashlyn had had enough of her weepy, mopey parents. How were we to fight this if we were too weak to get through the first weekend? We were the Whites. We bucked up and soldiered through all kinds of crap. Right? Right.
Ashlyn, one of the wisest people I know, had learned a very valuable lesson while teaching religious education with a friend of hers, Anne. Anne was very knowledgeable about the bible and was able to share a story with the children that they taught. It was a story about how Jesus did not want us to worry. He was there for us and would help us carry our burdens. You can look it up, 1 Peter 5: cast all your worries upon him because he cares for you. I looked it up, I know how to do that now!
So Ashlyn, freshly diagnosed with a very rotten disease tells me that "Jesus does not want us to worry so I gave this diagnosis to Him." Simple as that. Ashlyn trusted the plan. She didn't understand it, maybe. I certainly didn't. But I thought if she was brave enough or smart enough to hand it over then who was I to hold on to this burden. I said the words aloud. As hokey as it sounds I told the Lord that this was His. And even hokier, a weight was lifted from me, physically, I felt lighter.
From that moment on, cancer did not seem so great. There was something greater happening here. I didn't really know what it was. But the Lord showed His hand pretty quickly when the phone and doorbell started to ring.
We were flooded with love. You know what I am talking about. The good old fashioned casserole kind of love. For almost a year, we were provided for in one way or another. I could write forever on the kindness and love of our community.
So Ashlyn taught me my first very important lesson in trust. It was Hayley who would teach me the second most important lesson. I raised very smart children.
Hayley took the news of Ashlyn very hard. She needed to come home from school even though Ashlyn stayed. I think she felt pretty helpless. I suppose there was that fear of death that everyone has when they hear cancer.
Hayley and I were in the car. She asked me about treatment for Ashlyn. We hadn't met with the doctors yet so I didn't know the plan, but knew that a bone marrow transplant (had no idea what that was) was something doctors did along with chemo and radiation. Mind you, I didn't know what any of this was, I watched a fair amount of doctor shows, this was all seat of my pants conversating. So I say that a bone marrow transplant might be something we would do. Hayley (who has no recollection of this conversation, but I will never forget) says "And that's where I come in." We would find out later that Hayley was the perfect match. She must have always known.
Now, there is never a why me. I don't understand the plan, but I trust it. And if it turns out that there is no God and this is all a random lucky collection of happenings, I will still trust God. Because Faith is believing without seeing. Trust is knowing without seeing.
I did not have a lot of trust in the Lord. I was one of those that thought it was some sort of tit for tat game with Him. If I said my prayers then He would answer them. You know what I am talking about. Ask and I shall receive. Well, like all things in life, it is not that simple.
Sometimes I think it took something huge to wake me up to the love of God. Apparently a war and the death of my mom weren't huge enough for me to see the love. Knowing what I know now, the love was there. It was always there but that worth thing I talked about earlier, well the lack of worth tends to make someone see a lack of love. That was me anyway. I couldn't always see the love that was around me. Or if I did see it, I thought it was only there because of Danny and the kids.
Ok, back to the point of today's blog, trust.
Forgive me Ashlyn if I tell too much. It's just that this part of your story is so powerful. It brings me to tears whenever I think of it.
Trust or Faith or what ever you would like to call it was taught to me at about this time, four years ago. Ashlyn had been diagnosed with acute myloid leukemia. She was seventeen. I believe that traditionally, seventeen is one of those completely self absorbed years. The life's not fair, why me phase. It was for me. Anyway, back to the real story. Ashlyn had had enough of her weepy, mopey parents. How were we to fight this if we were too weak to get through the first weekend? We were the Whites. We bucked up and soldiered through all kinds of crap. Right? Right.
Ashlyn, one of the wisest people I know, had learned a very valuable lesson while teaching religious education with a friend of hers, Anne. Anne was very knowledgeable about the bible and was able to share a story with the children that they taught. It was a story about how Jesus did not want us to worry. He was there for us and would help us carry our burdens. You can look it up, 1 Peter 5: cast all your worries upon him because he cares for you. I looked it up, I know how to do that now!
So Ashlyn, freshly diagnosed with a very rotten disease tells me that "Jesus does not want us to worry so I gave this diagnosis to Him." Simple as that. Ashlyn trusted the plan. She didn't understand it, maybe. I certainly didn't. But I thought if she was brave enough or smart enough to hand it over then who was I to hold on to this burden. I said the words aloud. As hokey as it sounds I told the Lord that this was His. And even hokier, a weight was lifted from me, physically, I felt lighter.
From that moment on, cancer did not seem so great. There was something greater happening here. I didn't really know what it was. But the Lord showed His hand pretty quickly when the phone and doorbell started to ring.
We were flooded with love. You know what I am talking about. The good old fashioned casserole kind of love. For almost a year, we were provided for in one way or another. I could write forever on the kindness and love of our community.
So Ashlyn taught me my first very important lesson in trust. It was Hayley who would teach me the second most important lesson. I raised very smart children.
Hayley took the news of Ashlyn very hard. She needed to come home from school even though Ashlyn stayed. I think she felt pretty helpless. I suppose there was that fear of death that everyone has when they hear cancer.
Hayley and I were in the car. She asked me about treatment for Ashlyn. We hadn't met with the doctors yet so I didn't know the plan, but knew that a bone marrow transplant (had no idea what that was) was something doctors did along with chemo and radiation. Mind you, I didn't know what any of this was, I watched a fair amount of doctor shows, this was all seat of my pants conversating. So I say that a bone marrow transplant might be something we would do. Hayley (who has no recollection of this conversation, but I will never forget) says "And that's where I come in." We would find out later that Hayley was the perfect match. She must have always known.
Now, there is never a why me. I don't understand the plan, but I trust it. And if it turns out that there is no God and this is all a random lucky collection of happenings, I will still trust God. Because Faith is believing without seeing. Trust is knowing without seeing.
Monday, September 10, 2012
An Act of Faith
I had the opportunity to spend the weekend on a religious retreat. During this retreat I was able to share my faith journey with the group. Though my subject was reconciliation, that was just a small portion of my story. My faith story is about trust and worth.
I have come to terms with my worth. My worth is quite high. As is yours and his and hers. Why wouldn't be? Why shouldn't it be? We are incredible people full of grace and kindness, brilliant ideas and marvelous creations. We were created in His image. We are really quite spectacular.
It makes me sad when people don't see their worth. That was me at 13, 27, 35. I have the scars to prove it. I can say that it was outside opinions that formed my ideas of my worth, but it really isn't. Now, I use a lot of self depreciating humor but I know that I am the cat's meow, the bees knees, I am the shit, a rockstar, freakin awesome. I can also tell you that I am not all things to all people. I have many failings, more than I can count. But those two facts do not take away from all that I am. And I would expect the rest of you to view yourself in a similar way.
Maybe I am terribly conceited. I am full of sin. I should be humble and contrite. I should lift others up while I keep myself respectably down. But I won't. Oh, I will lift you up because you are equally amazing. There is a very good chance that you are more amazing. In fact, I will just say it. You are more amazing than you can possibly know! But I will not keep myself down. I will tell you that I baked that wonderful cake you are enjoying because it is a gift given to me from my mom. I will tell you that is my section at work that looks GOLD (grand opening look daily) and to not muck it up. I will thank you when you have appreciated my story because it is a gift that God has given me that I am required to share.
I know that I cannot do whatever I like. I cannot play professional basketball or be a rockette or a great number of other things. So I do what I can do with more gusto, with more care, with the effort that will show its and my worth. I spent too many years not doing any of what I wanted because I didn't think I was good enough. That, my friends, is the sin.
Just this weekend, I woman I find to be stunningly smart and beautiful told me that I should get paid for my blogs. I don't need the money after a compliment like that. That would be really cool, to get paid to write, but it is so much cooler to know that what I have to say is being heard and being filed away in a heart for later use.
Sometimes, often times, I think it is important to stop and count the gifts that God has given me. I have had that opportunity a lot lately because these women I mentioned earlier have told me. I will admit that I don't see myself as the beacon of faith that they see, but I am. I have faith. That is a gift. I believe in a power greater than myself. And I believe that this power that is greater than everything loves me. He really does. He made me and forgave me and He gives me a million and ten chances to fail. And He never thinks I am worthless. He never points to my scars and says that I should have tried harder. He points to my scars and He reminds me that I had to put them there to get here. To get to this spot where I can see what I am worth. To Him and to myself and to all those around me.
My worth is more than the stars in the sky. I hope I remember that always. That I keep instilling that in my family, my friends, in everyone I pass along the way. That we are all worth it. We are all valuable. We are all rockstars!
I have come to terms with my worth. My worth is quite high. As is yours and his and hers. Why wouldn't be? Why shouldn't it be? We are incredible people full of grace and kindness, brilliant ideas and marvelous creations. We were created in His image. We are really quite spectacular.
It makes me sad when people don't see their worth. That was me at 13, 27, 35. I have the scars to prove it. I can say that it was outside opinions that formed my ideas of my worth, but it really isn't. Now, I use a lot of self depreciating humor but I know that I am the cat's meow, the bees knees, I am the shit, a rockstar, freakin awesome. I can also tell you that I am not all things to all people. I have many failings, more than I can count. But those two facts do not take away from all that I am. And I would expect the rest of you to view yourself in a similar way.
Maybe I am terribly conceited. I am full of sin. I should be humble and contrite. I should lift others up while I keep myself respectably down. But I won't. Oh, I will lift you up because you are equally amazing. There is a very good chance that you are more amazing. In fact, I will just say it. You are more amazing than you can possibly know! But I will not keep myself down. I will tell you that I baked that wonderful cake you are enjoying because it is a gift given to me from my mom. I will tell you that is my section at work that looks GOLD (grand opening look daily) and to not muck it up. I will thank you when you have appreciated my story because it is a gift that God has given me that I am required to share.
I know that I cannot do whatever I like. I cannot play professional basketball or be a rockette or a great number of other things. So I do what I can do with more gusto, with more care, with the effort that will show its and my worth. I spent too many years not doing any of what I wanted because I didn't think I was good enough. That, my friends, is the sin.
Just this weekend, I woman I find to be stunningly smart and beautiful told me that I should get paid for my blogs. I don't need the money after a compliment like that. That would be really cool, to get paid to write, but it is so much cooler to know that what I have to say is being heard and being filed away in a heart for later use.
Sometimes, often times, I think it is important to stop and count the gifts that God has given me. I have had that opportunity a lot lately because these women I mentioned earlier have told me. I will admit that I don't see myself as the beacon of faith that they see, but I am. I have faith. That is a gift. I believe in a power greater than myself. And I believe that this power that is greater than everything loves me. He really does. He made me and forgave me and He gives me a million and ten chances to fail. And He never thinks I am worthless. He never points to my scars and says that I should have tried harder. He points to my scars and He reminds me that I had to put them there to get here. To get to this spot where I can see what I am worth. To Him and to myself and to all those around me.
My worth is more than the stars in the sky. I hope I remember that always. That I keep instilling that in my family, my friends, in everyone I pass along the way. That we are all worth it. We are all valuable. We are all rockstars!
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