For a long time I had my phone set so that when Emily called me, the ringtone that played was the Wicked Witch's theme song from the Wizard of Oz. It was childish and dumb, I know... and she of course never knew what it was... and it made me feel better. At that time anyway. It was one way of thumbing my nose at her without really hurting her feelings.
I eventually grew up and changed it to something else.
But it haunts me now. I wish I had tried harder.
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Friday, May 22, 2009
Choosing the right perspective
I sat across from my friend at lunch today.
It's been ages since we had lunch together. I could tell she really wasn't all that hungry, but at least she ate.
And as I looked across at her, I was having trouble comprehending just how sick she is.
CANCER
And to look at her, you'd never even know it. Unless you looked closer and saw the slight shadows under her eyes, and noticed that the color of her skin wasn't really tan, as it appears at first glance, but actually is tinged with yellow--- a subtle sign of the hideous disease that's invaded her liver.
She has the most amazing attitude of anyone I've ever met. She's taken everything in stride, and looks at the whole situation like, "well, there's nothing I can do to change it, so I might as well go through it."
I, however, would not be nearly as strong. It took me three tries to get over to her office the other day to talk to her. Every time I stood up, I started crying. I can't even fathom the thoughts that must be playing through her mind. I know the thoughts that are running through mine, and it's not even happening to me.
And as I sat across from her, I couldn't help but feel very frightened for her. And frightened that I might lose her. That this time in a year she may not be here. Frightened for what she's going to be going through the next few months. Chemo, radiation, surgery... and then isn't it strange how the most insignificant things strike you in the midst of the most significant trials? Heather has beautiful, long, dark hair. I wondered if she'd lose it, and it made my eyes almost tear up. Last thing to be worrying about, eh?
I don't believe in the power of positive thinking- what's going to happen will happen, and no amount of happy thoughts is going to change that one little bit. Either she'll make it or she won't. Period.
So where does the whole faith thing come into play?
Big time struggle at the moment.
In my heart, I know the whole faith "thing" is what carries you through the trial. It's an inner reaction to outer circumstances beyond your control. Regardless of the outcome, I know faith is what holds you together, holds your family and friends together, it's what your entire life is based on. I know that's where her inner strength is coming from. Regardless of whether she is healed or not, I know her faith won't be shaken.
And I also know that faith only in the good times is not true faith. "Good times only" faith is standing in front of the entrance to a tunnel, and having a giant hissy fit, refusing to go in unless you can see the light at the end. Real faith is stepping forward into the dark and knowing the light is there without being able to see it.
But I guess the kicker is that life doesn't give you an option. You HAVE to go through the tunnel regardless of whether you can or can't see the light.
I know this, and I believe this. But my there are too many thoughts running through my head, and I'm having trouble hearing my heart.
My head is screaming that it's not fair, that someone should do something, that Heather should be more worried, more upset, and not so calm and serene because it's CANCER for goodness sake and it's BAD. I don't want her to be sick, I don't want her to die, I don't want... don't want... don't want.......
But once the voice in my head gets hoarse from all the yelling.... I can hear that still small voice again. Not the voice of positive thinking, but the voice of faith. There is a chance that she'll be okay. And there's a good chance that she won't. And no, my thinking isn't going to influence the outcome one way or another. Kind of like that tunnel. She's got to go through it- either fearful and frightened because she can't see the light at the end, or at peace because she knows it really is there. It's the perspective that changes the journey.
I need to hang onto that. 'Cause I, and everyone else who loves her, is heading though that tunnel with her. Might as well choose the right perspective.
Damn cancer.
It's been ages since we had lunch together. I could tell she really wasn't all that hungry, but at least she ate.
And as I looked across at her, I was having trouble comprehending just how sick she is.
CANCER
And to look at her, you'd never even know it. Unless you looked closer and saw the slight shadows under her eyes, and noticed that the color of her skin wasn't really tan, as it appears at first glance, but actually is tinged with yellow--- a subtle sign of the hideous disease that's invaded her liver.
She has the most amazing attitude of anyone I've ever met. She's taken everything in stride, and looks at the whole situation like, "well, there's nothing I can do to change it, so I might as well go through it."
I, however, would not be nearly as strong. It took me three tries to get over to her office the other day to talk to her. Every time I stood up, I started crying. I can't even fathom the thoughts that must be playing through her mind. I know the thoughts that are running through mine, and it's not even happening to me.
And as I sat across from her, I couldn't help but feel very frightened for her. And frightened that I might lose her. That this time in a year she may not be here. Frightened for what she's going to be going through the next few months. Chemo, radiation, surgery... and then isn't it strange how the most insignificant things strike you in the midst of the most significant trials? Heather has beautiful, long, dark hair. I wondered if she'd lose it, and it made my eyes almost tear up. Last thing to be worrying about, eh?
I don't believe in the power of positive thinking- what's going to happen will happen, and no amount of happy thoughts is going to change that one little bit. Either she'll make it or she won't. Period.
So where does the whole faith thing come into play?
Big time struggle at the moment.
In my heart, I know the whole faith "thing" is what carries you through the trial. It's an inner reaction to outer circumstances beyond your control. Regardless of the outcome, I know faith is what holds you together, holds your family and friends together, it's what your entire life is based on. I know that's where her inner strength is coming from. Regardless of whether she is healed or not, I know her faith won't be shaken.
And I also know that faith only in the good times is not true faith. "Good times only" faith is standing in front of the entrance to a tunnel, and having a giant hissy fit, refusing to go in unless you can see the light at the end. Real faith is stepping forward into the dark and knowing the light is there without being able to see it.
But I guess the kicker is that life doesn't give you an option. You HAVE to go through the tunnel regardless of whether you can or can't see the light.
I know this, and I believe this. But my there are too many thoughts running through my head, and I'm having trouble hearing my heart.
My head is screaming that it's not fair, that someone should do something, that Heather should be more worried, more upset, and not so calm and serene because it's CANCER for goodness sake and it's BAD. I don't want her to be sick, I don't want her to die, I don't want... don't want... don't want.......
But once the voice in my head gets hoarse from all the yelling.... I can hear that still small voice again. Not the voice of positive thinking, but the voice of faith. There is a chance that she'll be okay. And there's a good chance that she won't. And no, my thinking isn't going to influence the outcome one way or another. Kind of like that tunnel. She's got to go through it- either fearful and frightened because she can't see the light at the end, or at peace because she knows it really is there. It's the perspective that changes the journey.
I need to hang onto that. 'Cause I, and everyone else who loves her, is heading though that tunnel with her. Might as well choose the right perspective.
Damn cancer.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Unspoken shadow
Cancer.
It's amazing the myriad of emotions one little word creates. Fear. Anguish. Horror. Sorrow. Devastation. Anger.
It even sounds ugly.
I think everyone has been touched by cancer, in some way. Family, friends, co-workers, themselves.
One of my good friends found at last week that she had a softball-sized mass on her liver. Cancer whispered in the background as she was telling me.
But you don't speak it. Not yet.
They found the mass on Thursday. By Friday morning, she had a biopsy scheduled.
When doctors hurry, you know it's not good. Cancer hovers like a shadow.
But you still don't speak it.
Blood work and biopsies and waiting.
Upbeat telephone conversation on Saturday. You focus on the positive, you talk about your faith, you try to look on the bright side. Meanwhile, cancer is laughing in the background.
But you can't say it. Saying the word makes it true.
Waiting. No news on Monday. Maybe it's not that bad. Maybe we dodged a bullet. Maybe it's just a mass. Maybe cancer lost this one.
Tuesday... still waiting. Preliminary blood work came back that the pancreas and kidneys are clear. No biopsy results, but maybe it's a good sign. No news is good news, right?
Wednesday morning. Suddenly the word is spoken. And cancer becomes a horrifying reality.
I'm reeling, to say the least. My friend is only in her early 40's. This can't be real. And if I'm reeling, I can't imagine what she's going through. Cancer has been the unspoken word haunting me since she told me about the tumor.... but I'm just the friend. I'm not the one who's got it raging through her insides. A Malignant tumor that's on her liver and spread to her gallbladder.
I didn't know what else to do, so I went to Google. I don't know alot about liver cancer, but I figured I'd better look into the worst case scenario. I'm the type of person that wants to know the worst. I can handle pretty much anything, as long as I know what to expect. Hence the disaster that my life and sanity has been this past year with Emily. Grief is anything but predictable. I turned to Google, hoping to find a measure of hope. Hoping that it's one of those types that is easily curable.
I wish I hadn't. I wish I didn't know.
Liver cancer is fast-growing, and often not detected because it's relatively symptom-less. Until the tumor gets so large that it begins to cause gastrological discomfort. And by then... well let's just say that the prognosis isn't good.
I sat staring at my computer screen trying to process the words I was seeing.
life expectancy often less than a year after diagnosis.
I couldn't put that sentence and my friend's face together. I just can't.
We talked on Saturday. My friend is one of those people that is always upbeat. She's the perfect Pollyanna. Truthfully, sometimes so much that a little of her goes a long way. But she has a heart of gold, and she put up with alot of my crap over the last year. And even though she can sometimes be... a little much at times... she's one of the truest friends I have. So all through the conversation, I'm trying not to let the worry creep into my voice, and she's the same laughing, carefree.. well, Pollyanna... that she always is. I told her that we didn't have a thing to worry about. I'd already had a loooong conversation with God that I had a whole list of people He couldn't do anything to for the next 10 years, because I simply couldn't deal with it. I laughingly told her that it was in fact all about me, and that she was going to be fine... that she had to be because I simply couldn't handle it.
We both laughed.... even though cancer hung in the air, unspoken, between us.
She'd be the first person to tell me that Google was the last place I should be turning to for a measure of hope. I know where my hope lies, and I know Who it lies with. And unfortunately, He doesn't always give the answers so that I can hear them. My knees hit the floor Thursday and I haven't gotten up yet. But it doesn't always end the way we want it to. The Relay for Life over this past weekend is evidence enough of that.
cancer
It. Is. Not. Fair.
It's amazing the myriad of emotions one little word creates. Fear. Anguish. Horror. Sorrow. Devastation. Anger.
It even sounds ugly.
I think everyone has been touched by cancer, in some way. Family, friends, co-workers, themselves.
One of my good friends found at last week that she had a softball-sized mass on her liver. Cancer whispered in the background as she was telling me.
But you don't speak it. Not yet.
They found the mass on Thursday. By Friday morning, she had a biopsy scheduled.
When doctors hurry, you know it's not good. Cancer hovers like a shadow.
But you still don't speak it.
Blood work and biopsies and waiting.
Upbeat telephone conversation on Saturday. You focus on the positive, you talk about your faith, you try to look on the bright side. Meanwhile, cancer is laughing in the background.
But you can't say it. Saying the word makes it true.
Waiting. No news on Monday. Maybe it's not that bad. Maybe we dodged a bullet. Maybe it's just a mass. Maybe cancer lost this one.
Tuesday... still waiting. Preliminary blood work came back that the pancreas and kidneys are clear. No biopsy results, but maybe it's a good sign. No news is good news, right?
Wednesday morning. Suddenly the word is spoken. And cancer becomes a horrifying reality.
I'm reeling, to say the least. My friend is only in her early 40's. This can't be real. And if I'm reeling, I can't imagine what she's going through. Cancer has been the unspoken word haunting me since she told me about the tumor.... but I'm just the friend. I'm not the one who's got it raging through her insides. A Malignant tumor that's on her liver and spread to her gallbladder.
I didn't know what else to do, so I went to Google. I don't know alot about liver cancer, but I figured I'd better look into the worst case scenario. I'm the type of person that wants to know the worst. I can handle pretty much anything, as long as I know what to expect. Hence the disaster that my life and sanity has been this past year with Emily. Grief is anything but predictable. I turned to Google, hoping to find a measure of hope. Hoping that it's one of those types that is easily curable.
I wish I hadn't. I wish I didn't know.
Liver cancer is fast-growing, and often not detected because it's relatively symptom-less. Until the tumor gets so large that it begins to cause gastrological discomfort. And by then... well let's just say that the prognosis isn't good.
I sat staring at my computer screen trying to process the words I was seeing.
life expectancy often less than a year after diagnosis.
I couldn't put that sentence and my friend's face together. I just can't.
We talked on Saturday. My friend is one of those people that is always upbeat. She's the perfect Pollyanna. Truthfully, sometimes so much that a little of her goes a long way. But she has a heart of gold, and she put up with alot of my crap over the last year. And even though she can sometimes be... a little much at times... she's one of the truest friends I have. So all through the conversation, I'm trying not to let the worry creep into my voice, and she's the same laughing, carefree.. well, Pollyanna... that she always is. I told her that we didn't have a thing to worry about. I'd already had a loooong conversation with God that I had a whole list of people He couldn't do anything to for the next 10 years, because I simply couldn't deal with it. I laughingly told her that it was in fact all about me, and that she was going to be fine... that she had to be because I simply couldn't handle it.
We both laughed.... even though cancer hung in the air, unspoken, between us.
She'd be the first person to tell me that Google was the last place I should be turning to for a measure of hope. I know where my hope lies, and I know Who it lies with. And unfortunately, He doesn't always give the answers so that I can hear them. My knees hit the floor Thursday and I haven't gotten up yet. But it doesn't always end the way we want it to. The Relay for Life over this past weekend is evidence enough of that.
cancer
It. Is. Not. Fair.
Friday, May 15, 2009
Relay for Life
I miss you Mom-Mom. I always set out a luminaria for you at the Relay for Life. This year it hurt to circle "in memory of" instead of "in honor of" on the form.
What Cancer Cannot Do
Cancer is so limited...
It cannot cripple love
It cannot shatter hope
It cannot corrode faith
It cannot destroy peace
It cannot kill friendship
It cannot suppress memories
It cannot silence courage
It cannot invade the soul
It cannot steal eternal life
It cannot conquer the spirit.
~Author Unknown
Monday, May 11, 2009
Not quite Africa.....
I'm going back to Poland again in August. I had pretty much decided before my plane even left Krakow last year that I was going back. When Terri e-mailed me a couple weeks later asking me if I wanted to join them again, I didn't hesitate before responding with a YES.
I think it's hard to put into words what happens to you on a mission trip. It takes your pre-conceived notions and turns them upside down for one thing. When I told people I was going to Poland to help with Habitat for Humanity, I did get a few strange looks. Kind of like, if you're going on a mission trip, why Poland? It's just not quite Africa. When you hear mission, you think third world. I did the same thing. But third world kind of scares me. (Lord, if you are listening.... I don't want to go to Africa!). I like my creature comforts, and malaria and bugs and dirty water is a little more than I can deal with at the moment. And I felt kind of guilty for feeling that way, and I definitely didn't like to use the word mission in conjunction with my trip. I wasn't going to help people in extreme poverty... I wasn't going to preach the Word to people who'd never heard it.... I wasn't helping orphans... or feeding starving children. I was "just" going to Poland.
Well let me tell you about the people I met. We had a chance to spend an afternoon with one of the families that will be living in Building 8. A family of 4- Alexandra, Stanislaw, and their 2 children- Nicoleta who is 12, and Andrew, who is 2. Nicola is the sweetest little girl. Her English definitely put my Polish to shame. They took us to their flat- a one bedroom apartment. The kids slept in the bedroom, and their parents slept on a pull-out sofa in the living room/dining room. Their entire apartment could have fit into my downstairs living room. But oh, how happy they were! Their apartment was filled with books and games. No computer, no video games... none of the stuff that we tend to plug into. Nicola spoke the most English, but Alexandra knew quite a bit as well. Between Nicola, and a dictionary, we managed to laugh our way through the afternoon. Several times Alexandra would be trying to find the English word for something. She'd get flustered and start flipping through her dictionary. She'd try and describe it, and I'd suggest a word and it was the one she was searching for. Her face would light up and she'd beam at me and say "yes, yes, you understand me!" It was so precious. At one point Alexandra was trying to thank us for coming and building a house for them. She got so choked up that I don't think she could have even said anything in Polish. She held out her hands to the three of us, then folded her arms across her heart. I cried. In that moment the barriers between a spoiled American and a "poor" Polish woman fell down. Love is a language that is universal, and needs no words. She was thanking us, but I should have been thanking her. A need is a need, and what this family needed was a house. No, this wasn't a family living in poverty in Africa.
But not everyone can go to Africa. My pride was taken down a few pegs that afternoon. I was thinking that because I wasn't "sacrificing" by going to someplace like Africa, then it wasn't really worthy to be considered a mission trip. Well I learned that day that I wasn't "just" in Poland. It changed my outlook on the week ahead, and what we were there to do. And in the days that followed in the midst of some frustrating moments, I would remember Alexandra's happy, tear filled eyes, and suddenly the situation didn't seem so frustrating.
August can't get here quick enough. And just a little plug- if you'd like to consider donating to my trip--- it sure would be appreciated. Alexandra and their family's story is just one of many. This housing complex we are building is changing the lives of so many families that just need a little help.
I have a special website set up that you can donate to online, (check it out here!)and it gives a little more information about the trip, what your donation will be going to, and some information about Thrivent Builds/Habitat for Humanity. Also, if you missed it and would like to catch up through last year's blog, here is a link to that too. (Which was written in part by yours truly!) Since I was the "official" blog writer on the trip last year, I really didn't get to write alot about the week from my perspective. I don't really do well writing from a third person point of view. I'm definitely a details, feelings, me-oriented, type of writer. This year is someone else's turn to write the team blog, so I'll have time to write whatever I want on mine. Stay tuned! :)
I think it's hard to put into words what happens to you on a mission trip. It takes your pre-conceived notions and turns them upside down for one thing. When I told people I was going to Poland to help with Habitat for Humanity, I did get a few strange looks. Kind of like, if you're going on a mission trip, why Poland? It's just not quite Africa. When you hear mission, you think third world. I did the same thing. But third world kind of scares me. (Lord, if you are listening.... I don't want to go to Africa!). I like my creature comforts, and malaria and bugs and dirty water is a little more than I can deal with at the moment. And I felt kind of guilty for feeling that way, and I definitely didn't like to use the word mission in conjunction with my trip. I wasn't going to help people in extreme poverty... I wasn't going to preach the Word to people who'd never heard it.... I wasn't helping orphans... or feeding starving children. I was "just" going to Poland.
Well let me tell you about the people I met. We had a chance to spend an afternoon with one of the families that will be living in Building 8. A family of 4- Alexandra, Stanislaw, and their 2 children- Nicoleta who is 12, and Andrew, who is 2. Nicola is the sweetest little girl. Her English definitely put my Polish to shame. They took us to their flat- a one bedroom apartment. The kids slept in the bedroom, and their parents slept on a pull-out sofa in the living room/dining room. Their entire apartment could have fit into my downstairs living room. But oh, how happy they were! Their apartment was filled with books and games. No computer, no video games... none of the stuff that we tend to plug into. Nicola spoke the most English, but Alexandra knew quite a bit as well. Between Nicola, and a dictionary, we managed to laugh our way through the afternoon. Several times Alexandra would be trying to find the English word for something. She'd get flustered and start flipping through her dictionary. She'd try and describe it, and I'd suggest a word and it was the one she was searching for. Her face would light up and she'd beam at me and say "yes, yes, you understand me!" It was so precious. At one point Alexandra was trying to thank us for coming and building a house for them. She got so choked up that I don't think she could have even said anything in Polish. She held out her hands to the three of us, then folded her arms across her heart. I cried. In that moment the barriers between a spoiled American and a "poor" Polish woman fell down. Love is a language that is universal, and needs no words. She was thanking us, but I should have been thanking her. A need is a need, and what this family needed was a house. No, this wasn't a family living in poverty in Africa.
But not everyone can go to Africa. My pride was taken down a few pegs that afternoon. I was thinking that because I wasn't "sacrificing" by going to someplace like Africa, then it wasn't really worthy to be considered a mission trip. Well I learned that day that I wasn't "just" in Poland. It changed my outlook on the week ahead, and what we were there to do. And in the days that followed in the midst of some frustrating moments, I would remember Alexandra's happy, tear filled eyes, and suddenly the situation didn't seem so frustrating.
August can't get here quick enough. And just a little plug- if you'd like to consider donating to my trip--- it sure would be appreciated. Alexandra and their family's story is just one of many. This housing complex we are building is changing the lives of so many families that just need a little help.
I have a special website set up that you can donate to online, (check it out here!)and it gives a little more information about the trip, what your donation will be going to, and some information about Thrivent Builds/Habitat for Humanity. Also, if you missed it and would like to catch up through last year's blog, here is a link to that too. (Which was written in part by yours truly!) Since I was the "official" blog writer on the trip last year, I really didn't get to write alot about the week from my perspective. I don't really do well writing from a third person point of view. I'm definitely a details, feelings, me-oriented, type of writer. This year is someone else's turn to write the team blog, so I'll have time to write whatever I want on mine. Stay tuned! :)
Saturday, May 9, 2009
Poland 2008, unfinished draft
(rescued from the "drafts" folder)
One thing that I don't think I really got to share was how Emily ended up being a part of my trip after all. She was so excited for me that I was going, and had all these great ideas how she was going to help me raise the money to go. Emily was not the kind of girl that liked to work hard or get dirty... but she was the girl who would give her all to help you do it. After she died, raising the $1,500.00 to go was the absolute last thing on my mind. In fact, I'd come to the conclusion that I wasn't going to go at all. I couldn't afford it, I didn't have the heart to do it. I had intended to e-mail Terri and tell her I was canceling, but I got busy at work and never got around to it. That same night, my parents sat me down and told me that they wanted to give me part of the money from Emily's life insurance to pay for the trip. Talk about not knowing what to say. And it struck me that in my haste to give up so quickly, I never even once talked that decision over with God. Never thought to leave it in His hands. Nope, I just decided on my own that I wasn't going. I'm very quick to give up when things start to look difficult. He obviously had different intentions. It amazes me how He answers prayers, even the ones we didn't know we asked.
So I never sent the e-mail to Terri, never told her that I almost cancelled on her.
Towards the end of the work week, our Habitat host Adam seemed really preoccupied and worried. There are many teams of volunteers throughout the year that work with HFH in Gliwice, but in addition to the volunteers, they also have paid Polish workers. Adam had said they weren't sure they would have enough money to pay the men the next day. Later on, a beaming Terri told me she had a special surprise for Adam. A Thrivent team typically consists of a minimum of 10 people. Part of the money we have to raise is a donation to the local Habitat affiliate. $10,000 per team. Our team was 20 people, so Thrivent decided to up the donation to $20,000. Terri had just received the offical okay to let Adam know. That extra $10,000 insured they would be able to pay the workers on time. Then came the kicker-- Terri told me that if even one person had cancelled, Thrivent wouldn't have been able to give the extra money.
Whoa.
Again, I cried. Then I told Terri how close I came to not coming, and then she cried. God managed to work through a mess inspite of myself.
I hate the phrase "everything happens for a reason". I do not believe for a moment that Emily died for a "specific reason" or a "purpose". But I do believe that He works through the most awful of circumstances. While it certainly doesn't justify or make her death any easier, it does serve as a reminder that He can bring something beautiful from a whole lot of ugly.
We painted a square on the side of our trailer and we all signed our names. Terri added one more "Anoit Emily" (Angel in Polish). It certainly was not the way we had planned, but she helped me get there after all.
One thing that I don't think I really got to share was how Emily ended up being a part of my trip after all. She was so excited for me that I was going, and had all these great ideas how she was going to help me raise the money to go. Emily was not the kind of girl that liked to work hard or get dirty... but she was the girl who would give her all to help you do it. After she died, raising the $1,500.00 to go was the absolute last thing on my mind. In fact, I'd come to the conclusion that I wasn't going to go at all. I couldn't afford it, I didn't have the heart to do it. I had intended to e-mail Terri and tell her I was canceling, but I got busy at work and never got around to it. That same night, my parents sat me down and told me that they wanted to give me part of the money from Emily's life insurance to pay for the trip. Talk about not knowing what to say. And it struck me that in my haste to give up so quickly, I never even once talked that decision over with God. Never thought to leave it in His hands. Nope, I just decided on my own that I wasn't going. I'm very quick to give up when things start to look difficult. He obviously had different intentions. It amazes me how He answers prayers, even the ones we didn't know we asked.
So I never sent the e-mail to Terri, never told her that I almost cancelled on her.
Towards the end of the work week, our Habitat host Adam seemed really preoccupied and worried. There are many teams of volunteers throughout the year that work with HFH in Gliwice, but in addition to the volunteers, they also have paid Polish workers. Adam had said they weren't sure they would have enough money to pay the men the next day. Later on, a beaming Terri told me she had a special surprise for Adam. A Thrivent team typically consists of a minimum of 10 people. Part of the money we have to raise is a donation to the local Habitat affiliate. $10,000 per team. Our team was 20 people, so Thrivent decided to up the donation to $20,000. Terri had just received the offical okay to let Adam know. That extra $10,000 insured they would be able to pay the workers on time. Then came the kicker-- Terri told me that if even one person had cancelled, Thrivent wouldn't have been able to give the extra money.
Whoa.
Again, I cried. Then I told Terri how close I came to not coming, and then she cried. God managed to work through a mess inspite of myself.
I hate the phrase "everything happens for a reason". I do not believe for a moment that Emily died for a "specific reason" or a "purpose". But I do believe that He works through the most awful of circumstances. While it certainly doesn't justify or make her death any easier, it does serve as a reminder that He can bring something beautiful from a whole lot of ugly.
We painted a square on the side of our trailer and we all signed our names. Terri added one more "Anoit Emily" (Angel in Polish). It certainly was not the way we had planned, but she helped me get there after all.
Beneath the Surface....
Netflix- seriously, is the coolest thing ever. For some reason, this town cannot support a video store. In the 11 years I have lived here, there have been at least 3 different video stores that have come and gone. Blockbuster is too far to be convenient, and too expensive. We recently discovered Netflix. Unlimited movies! They send it to you, you watch it, send it back, and then... another one right away. It's seriously awesome.
Anyway, my mother and I watched the best movie last night- "The Secret Life of Bees". I read the book years ago and loved it.
It's set in South Carolina in 1964. It's so hard to wrap my mind around racism. I realize it's still an issue- but when I watch movies like this one, where there was a separate door for "colored" people... it just breaks my heart that people are so cruel. I don't understand where that mentality comes from- how you can assume an entire race of people is of a lesser worth than you because they are different. I had the same struggle as I walked through the Auschwitz concentration camp last year. I just don't understand. And I don't just mean the color of someone's skin- we do it for all kinds of things- race, nationality, gender, sexual orientation, religion, handicaps....
Moving here was a huge adjustment after 10 years in Alabama. And two years in Turkey before that. As much as I hated moving as a child, one thing I am deeply thankful for is that I think being exposed to people who were "different" gave me a deeper sense of valuing a person underneath their skin.
I have a picture that was taken at my Great Grandmother's 80th birthday party. They had hired a photographer for the day, and he brought his daughter who was about my age. I've long forgotten her name, but we really hit it off and had a blast. I was looking through our mess of old photos trying to find the pictures from that party. I found a picture that was taken of the two of us, mugging for the camera and holding balloons. I had to look twice at the photo. I didn't remember that she was black. All I had remembered was that she was so much fun to play with. I never even noticed the color of her skin.
One of my best friends when we were in Alabama always had the coolest hair. Her mom braided it into all these intricate braids and then fastened the ends with those little plastic animal barrettes. (Anyone remember those?!) Her head was a sea of braids and bright colors. I wanted my hair done like hers, and I had a fit when my mother tried to explain that my hair was different, and that it just wouldn't work. Telling me that something can't be done is just about as effective as waving a red flag in front of a bull. So I sequestered myself in the bathroom with my armory of plastic animal barrettes and proceeded to put them all over my head.
I looked absolutely ridiculous. But I refused to see the differences, that "black" hair is different from "white" hair. I looked ridiculous, yes. But maybe what we need is to be a little more ridiculous.
What happens to us as we grow up? I don't believe that we are born prejudiced.... I don't believe that it's an inborn trait to look down on someone because their skin is a different color. Or because of a certain country they came from. Or because they can't help who they fall in love with. Or because of a religion that they follow. It has to come from somewhere.... but where?
Anyway, my mother and I watched the best movie last night- "The Secret Life of Bees". I read the book years ago and loved it.
It's set in South Carolina in 1964. It's so hard to wrap my mind around racism. I realize it's still an issue- but when I watch movies like this one, where there was a separate door for "colored" people... it just breaks my heart that people are so cruel. I don't understand where that mentality comes from- how you can assume an entire race of people is of a lesser worth than you because they are different. I had the same struggle as I walked through the Auschwitz concentration camp last year. I just don't understand. And I don't just mean the color of someone's skin- we do it for all kinds of things- race, nationality, gender, sexual orientation, religion, handicaps....
Moving here was a huge adjustment after 10 years in Alabama. And two years in Turkey before that. As much as I hated moving as a child, one thing I am deeply thankful for is that I think being exposed to people who were "different" gave me a deeper sense of valuing a person underneath their skin.
I have a picture that was taken at my Great Grandmother's 80th birthday party. They had hired a photographer for the day, and he brought his daughter who was about my age. I've long forgotten her name, but we really hit it off and had a blast. I was looking through our mess of old photos trying to find the pictures from that party. I found a picture that was taken of the two of us, mugging for the camera and holding balloons. I had to look twice at the photo. I didn't remember that she was black. All I had remembered was that she was so much fun to play with. I never even noticed the color of her skin.
One of my best friends when we were in Alabama always had the coolest hair. Her mom braided it into all these intricate braids and then fastened the ends with those little plastic animal barrettes. (Anyone remember those?!) Her head was a sea of braids and bright colors. I wanted my hair done like hers, and I had a fit when my mother tried to explain that my hair was different, and that it just wouldn't work. Telling me that something can't be done is just about as effective as waving a red flag in front of a bull. So I sequestered myself in the bathroom with my armory of plastic animal barrettes and proceeded to put them all over my head.
I looked absolutely ridiculous. But I refused to see the differences, that "black" hair is different from "white" hair. I looked ridiculous, yes. But maybe what we need is to be a little more ridiculous.
What happens to us as we grow up? I don't believe that we are born prejudiced.... I don't believe that it's an inborn trait to look down on someone because their skin is a different color. Or because of a certain country they came from. Or because they can't help who they fall in love with. Or because of a religion that they follow. It has to come from somewhere.... but where?
Friday, May 8, 2009
Catching up
I haven’t been keeping up with this blog as much as I would have liked to. Let me re-phrase that… I haven’t been posting entries on here as much as I would have liked to. I’ve actually been writing like crazy- and then not posting them. Partly because I’ve taken to writing on paper rather than typing on the computer. I cleaned out my purse the other day and found wads of notebook paper full of my messy scribbles. No wonder my purse was so heavy. It seems that the writing bug always strikes me at work- which is not exactly the best time to be spending time on the internet. So I jot it down quickly on paper, (all the while pretending to be working, haha) with the intention of posting it online later. But as a true procrastinator, later never seemed to come, and my purse just kept getting heavier.
I’m tired of lugging all that weight around (boy is that a metaphor!!) so I’ve tried to sort through them and make some sort of order out of a huge mess.
But the main reason I haven’t posted was because I just wasn’t sure what to say anymore. I got caught up in trying to write for “someone”, and I really wasn’t writing for me. I was writing what I thought I should be feeling, and editing out the stuff that was too heavy. I was afraid I’d written too much, that pouring out my pain and “ick” was too depressing. Narcissistic, yes? I’ve got all kinds of half-finished blog entries I never posted because I couldn’t find a positive note to end on.
I realized though that this is a journey. And those words that I wrote were a part of me at that time- sometimes not eloquent, sometimes disjointed, but always me. And re-reading some of those pain-filled entries has made me see where I was, but also how far I’ve come.
So I’ve decided to go back and post them anyway. Most of them—there are some that I just can’t quite share yet. Maybe someday, but not just yet.
I’ve posted them on the dates that I typed and saved them, just because I want to keep them in order. If you want to go back and read them… here’s the links. There’s quite a few…
Joy in the Midst of Sorrow 4-12-08
Rollercoaster 5-08-08
Time 5-12-08
Calendar Verse 5-14-08
Don’t Cry 6-4-08
Nervous breakdown 6-9-08
Penguins 6-12-08
Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Day 6-13-08
Lonely 6-14-08
Pretending 6-16-08
Birthday cards and root canals 7-7-08
Too soon 7-9-08
Pieces 7-13-08
The ghost at the altar 8-4-08
Angels 9-14-08
Falling Apart 11-5-08
Missing her 1-4-09
Walls, walls, walls 1-15-09
They say 2-3-09
A quote that actually means something… 2-7-09
Picture 2-7-09
Valentine’s Day 2-13-09
The beauty of children..... 2-24-09
Hesitating and hurting. 3-1-09
Thoughts 3-3-09
Birthdays 3-2-09
11 Months 3-3-09
Stay away, it hurts too much 3-6-09
Voices, questions, struggles… 3-13-09
Choosing to remember 3-25-09
So now what do I do? 3-27-09
April 1st 4-1-09
A sand dollar and a sign 4-11-09
Celebrate 4-15-09
Emily’s Tree 4-18-09
I’m tired of lugging all that weight around (boy is that a metaphor!!) so I’ve tried to sort through them and make some sort of order out of a huge mess.
But the main reason I haven’t posted was because I just wasn’t sure what to say anymore. I got caught up in trying to write for “someone”, and I really wasn’t writing for me. I was writing what I thought I should be feeling, and editing out the stuff that was too heavy. I was afraid I’d written too much, that pouring out my pain and “ick” was too depressing. Narcissistic, yes? I’ve got all kinds of half-finished blog entries I never posted because I couldn’t find a positive note to end on.
I realized though that this is a journey. And those words that I wrote were a part of me at that time- sometimes not eloquent, sometimes disjointed, but always me. And re-reading some of those pain-filled entries has made me see where I was, but also how far I’ve come.
So I’ve decided to go back and post them anyway. Most of them—there are some that I just can’t quite share yet. Maybe someday, but not just yet.
I’ve posted them on the dates that I typed and saved them, just because I want to keep them in order. If you want to go back and read them… here’s the links. There’s quite a few…
Joy in the Midst of Sorrow 4-12-08
Rollercoaster 5-08-08
Time 5-12-08
Calendar Verse 5-14-08
Don’t Cry 6-4-08
Nervous breakdown 6-9-08
Penguins 6-12-08
Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Day 6-13-08
Lonely 6-14-08
Pretending 6-16-08
Birthday cards and root canals 7-7-08
Too soon 7-9-08
Pieces 7-13-08
The ghost at the altar 8-4-08
Angels 9-14-08
Falling Apart 11-5-08
Missing her 1-4-09
Walls, walls, walls 1-15-09
They say 2-3-09
A quote that actually means something… 2-7-09
Picture 2-7-09
Valentine’s Day 2-13-09
The beauty of children..... 2-24-09
Hesitating and hurting. 3-1-09
Thoughts 3-3-09
Birthdays 3-2-09
11 Months 3-3-09
Stay away, it hurts too much 3-6-09
Voices, questions, struggles… 3-13-09
Choosing to remember 3-25-09
So now what do I do? 3-27-09
April 1st 4-1-09
A sand dollar and a sign 4-11-09
Celebrate 4-15-09
Emily’s Tree 4-18-09
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