Let Go or Be Dragged

During a particularly frosty winter in my younger years, my best friend and I discovered a frozen, dead, cat. I knew the cat belonged to an elderly neighbor and I remember the special ache I felt for her loss. At 6 or 7 years old I was so devastated I convinced myself there was a slight chance it was still alive and merely was being very still. I decided the best thing to do was to take the frozen feline by its tail and drag it to my home in order for my mother to officially call it. My friend begged me not to touch it, she insisted it was dead and I needed to leave it be, but I couldn't. I grasped the icicle tail even more firmly and pulled the dirty popsicle,  formerly known as a pet, down the street as though it were my radio flyer wagon.

Since that fateful frigid day I have had a problem with dragging and being dragged by frozen dead cats of every variety… I let go of relationships a decade too late, only after forces much stronger than myself peel each begrudging finger off one by one. I tend to rehash conversations that felt tense or I believed somehow could be decoded into the hinge points where everything went south. I tend to have a difficult time forgiving myself for finding the frozen cat a minute too late or wondering if I only had sprinted down the slippery streets a little more quickly…would I have made a difference. When a past love, bad habit or unproductive thought process sneak in, I am quick to believe there is a glimmer of hope. I convince myself again that the cat isn't dead but is only being very still.

There are many strange metaphors and allegories warning us about getting stuck in the past. I recognize a frozen dead cat likely ranks among the most peculiar and somewhat gross of metaphors. However, I think at the end of the day the cautionary tales about looking back are strikingly stranger than most because the past is a particularly dangerous place to dwell. One needs to fear becoming a pillar of salt or a frozen dead cat in order to avoid it! Most of us are so allured by the past we blaze by the WARNING: YOU ARE ABOUT TO INHABIT A SPICE RACK or BEWARE OF DEAD CAT signs regardless…

Living in the past is most toxic because it renounces our ultimate hope in the future. The year I battled cancer in someways was the best year of my life because it required both hands. I had no extra space or time to worry or analyze bygones, and I certainly didn't have a free hand to take any past cats by the tail. I had to put every ounce of energy into fighting for my future. I had to without a doubt believe that my hopes and the deepest, most righteous desires of my heart inhabited my future. I had to believe that what it required me to leave behind was less valuable than what awaited me in my future.
This isn't to say that I don't have days where I wish to vacation in the past. It isn't to say that there aren't occasions where I don't miss the trivial things cancer required me to leave behind i.e. thinner body, more money, typical college experiences, perfect vision, or not having to explain my medical history on every date…
Even though I promised myself once I was safely in remission I would leave my past and live for my present, I constantly battle the tendency to reach for the cat's tail. I even find myself reverting back, seeking the silliest of things. Without fail I have a dream every six months about cleaning the house/ providing childcare for a former flame and his wife while they go on a date... (This is an individual who seldom, if ever crosses my stream of consciousness) I find myself reminiscing about my 17 year old figure and the simplicity of dating in this era. I worry when a former friend I haven't seen in a decade won't accept my Facebook friend request. Needless to say, we all get stuck sometimes.

Regardless of my stumbles I am grateful for the experiences that continue to shake me awake, and for friends who remind me to leave the cat alone. I am grateful to be present in a future that few anticipated I would have. Most especially I am humbled by the reminder that "faith always points toward the future."

“Gal”entines Day: Celebrating the Pink in Everything...

I love Valentines Day! I mean love it! It ranks among my top three favorite holidays. This is odd. Very few people love this holiday… Even those couples wh0 are knee deep in amorous, sprinkled gumdrop, cotton candy sort of love have their hesitations about it… So why would someone such as myself, who has been knee deep in the most dysfunctional decade of dating ever be smitten with such a celebration? I am first to admit I am a sucker for anything kitschy and pink. I like the idea of spending an entire day unabashedly doused in flamingo shades while inhaling an exorbitant amount of chocolate. Though my fuchsia fetish is reason enough, my love for this holiday extends beyond an affinity for magenta. Without fail this holiday that is notorious for making the majority of the population feel inadequate, has taught me how about adequacy. It has taught me the sheer transformative power of validating another human being. There isn’t a greater manifestation of love than reminding someone else they are worthy.

My first experience with Valentines validation occurred in the 7^th grade. It was all the rage to send val-o-grams at the time. Essentially a val-o-gram was a lollipop and card you could purchase through the school for 50 cents to send your friends or those you secretly admired. Then on Valentines Day, one of the school’s personnel would come into each homeroom and call out the names of whomever had received one and passed them out. I dreaded the distribution of the val-o-grams. Around mid January, I would begin to fret over whether or not I would receive one. After all, at 13, receiving a val-o-gram was the truest indication of your worth. Exhausted by my constant fretting, my mother gave me a challenge. She told me to think through every person in my grade who would likely not receive a val-o-gram, gave me 20 dollars, and encouraged me to send an anonymous val-o-gram to the list of individuals I came up with. I took her up on her challenge and poured over the pages of my yearbook in order to make a list. I ended up sending over 20 anonymous val-o-grams that year. I even sent some of the individuals I selected more than one. As luck would have it I myself received two val-o-grams that year. More importantly I learned my first Valentines lesson. My mother taught me a simple but poignant lesson about love. She helped me to recognize that in the moments we feel unrecognized, unloved, or maybe just not loved or acknowledged in the ways we hoped, it is important to look out for others more carefully, give more generously, and love more abundantly.

Valentines season my senior year of high school taught me another imperative love lesson. The Sunday before Valentines Day I was asked to give a talk in my Sunday worship service. In my faith, different members of the congregation are asked to deliver talks on various religious topics each week. On the particular Sunday I was asked to speak, I learned that a young woman, beloved by our entire congregation, was unconscious in the hospital due to meningitis. The hour before I was to deliver my talk I grappled with what I would say in light of the information. The topic I had been assigned was faith. I don’t remember the words I said but I remember feeling an overwhelming sense of hope as I spoke them. A few days later, on Valentines, this young woman passed away. At 16 years old she possessed a grace beyond description. She was an intimidating, exquisite kind of beautiful yet unfailingly kind. Her ability to see the worth, value and goodness in others was unparalleled. There was no need for her mother to teach her val-o-gram object lessons, she came by it naturally and seamlessly. She was a constant reminder to me of the importance of having just a little more patience with people. Remembering who she was (and is) gave me daily strength throughout subsequent years as I endured my cancer battle. She made such an impact upon me that there isn’t a day I don’t think about her. Every Valentines Day I am reminded that if she made the impact she did in 16 short years, I can do more than I am doing with the marvelous gift of time allotted to me. I can be grateful for every new year of kitschy pink I am able to celebrate.

So many good things have come to me in the Valentines season. In a way I think Valentines is the time I really evaluate where I am and where I’d like to be going. This time of year has always brought me the promise of spring. Whether it has been new friends, hopes, opportunities, or perspective, it has always tinted my life with rose colored glasses in the best possible way.

This season I have been thinking a lot about the need for women to be more loving and supportive of one another. I have reflected on the ways I am overly competitive and critical of the women around me. I think we should extend our Valentines celebration beyond romantic love and consider how we are doing at loving our families, friends and even strangers. We could all take a cue from Leslie Knope and make a point to celebrate “Gal-entines Day” and the female friendships in our lives. I have been disheartened by the recent bombardment of blog posts of women criticizing other women. There have been pieces written demeaning the role of wife and mother. There have been outraged wives and mothers who have responded by criticizing women who follow professional endeavors over family pursuits. Women dedicate so much virtual (and actual) space to criticizing everything from the fashion choices, weight fluctuations, and life paths of other women that they miss the overwhelming resource they are to one another! Isabel Allende said it best. “I can promise you that women working together - linked, informed and educated - can bring peace and prosperity to this forsaken planet.” Valentines Day can be the commercial, kitschy, obnoxious, disappointing holiday it has always been, or it can be a day that reminds us to send a val-o-gram, be more patient, support and celebrate the accomplishments of others and most importantly always believe in the promise of spring.

Miracle Workers: Lessons from those who Saved my Life

Yesterday the world celebrated International Cancer Day. This day certainly brings up a slew of emotions for me. This year as I reflected upon all the marvelous blessings and challenges of cancer and the remarkable miracle of my survivorship, my thoughts especially turned to the tireless efforts of caregivers. A cancer battle requires a great deal of the one diagnosed but I believe the real battle is fought by the caregivers. I was blessed with incomparable care. My family, my friends, my physicians, and even strangers were the triumphant, faithful, hopeful, selfless stalwarts who bore me up.    Though I unequivocally credit God with the preservation of my life, I credit my support system with my survivorship. They were the victors of my fight. Every caretaker in my life made a profound impact and taught me something valuable and precious. Here are just a few examples.

During my cancer battle my mother taught me PATIENCE. My mom attended every one of my appointments. She drove with me across the country to live in Texas for two months with virtual strangers in order for me to receive needed treatment. She sat with me in the waiting room for two hours every afternoon before I went in for treatment, she waited an additional hour beyond that while I was treated. She endured my mood swings and even somehow lived through the two weeks I was prescribed steroids to control the swelling… She has made 1 to 2 trips to Texas every year since for my follow up appointments and has seen me through every subsequent side effect.  I would estimate my mother has attended over 100 doctor appointments for me over the course of the past six years.

During my cancer battle my oncologist taught my INGENUITY. She was on the forefront of her field and specialty. She was innovative and pushed for continuing to develop and research a treatment that would eventually save countless lives. She took special care to tweak and perfect my treatment plan. She made adjustments in order to best care for me. She taught me the importance of continually following your passion, perfecting your craft, asking new questions and continuing to work toward contributing all one could to alleviating the sorrows of others. (Her influence made up almost half of my  personal statement for my Harvard application.)

During my cancer battle my sister in law taught me SERVICE.  At the time my sister in law was not yet my sister in law. She and my brother weren't even engaged at the time. However, when I completed my treatment I was so physically exhausted I was not able to make the drive with my mom home from Texas. As my mother was also exhausted my sister in law flew to Texas and drove my mother home. Can you imagine taking a cross country road trip with your future mother in law? My mother also happened to be one of my sister in law's former professors… My mother is one of the most lovely people I know and a wonderful driving companion but I am still in awe that my sister in law would have taken on such a task, especially when she was still the girlfriend!

After my cancer battle my eye doctor taught me LISTENING. My eye doctor has dedicated 6 years to saving my eye after radiation ravaged it. I always marvel that whenever I am in his office he will always sit back, listen and think before preceding with any sort of treatment. He will often make decisions based on his intuition, explaining he just has a feeling about certain things in specific moments. Sometimes when at an appointment he will say something to me along the lines of "I was thinking about you last Tuesday around 3, was something going on?" Without fail, I will have been encountering some kind of challenge (often relating to my eye) in the very moment he recalls having thought of me. He has given me his cell number in case I ever need anything. Over the summer when I got a terrible infection he would see me every single day including Saturdays and Sundays until he was sure I was out of the woods. He didn't charge me.

These are only a few examples of the extraordinary service rendered to me. Regardless of whether one encounters illness, tragedy or hardship, we are all surrounded by caretakers. It is crucial to take frequent inventory of what caretakers contribute to our life.