He never asked to move mountains...

          The leaves have turned brilliant shades of orange and yellow, reminding us that fall is here.  The darkness comes earlier and mornings are filled with crisp air.  Summer is gone.  The town, painted orange each weekend, is alive again with fans cheering for their local college- UT.  Soon the first snowflakes will drift to the ground, fires will be burned, and families will gather for the holidays.  Life in Knoxville seems as it always has, months steadily passing.

          But for one family, they stand still as the world outside whirls around them, seasons blurring, and time passing too quickly for them to keep up.  For them, the world stopped in August, the day they heard the words no parents ever want to hear.  Their son, Patrick, was diagnosed with Rhabdomyosarcoma, a rare form of cancer.  It was a moment in time, but one that will never be forgotten; a reminder that our lives are not our own. 

Psalm 34:18 - The Lord is near to the brokenhearted, And saves those who are crushed in spirit.

          Seventeen.  That’s the age in which my cousin was diagnosed with cancer.  A senior in high school, his concerns were no longer about what he would do after the year was over, entertaining thoughts of prom, or avoiding the cops at the Friday night parties after the football games, but instead centered on treatments and blood counts.  His life had changed, but Patrick remained the same.  

“Every day another child, another family, another community is affected by cancer.”

-Anonymous

 

          In the south, God is the biggest part of our life.  So, it didn’t surprise me to see a prayer group forming shortly after his diagnosis.  Planned for an afternoon in the local park, an invitation was sent to prayer warriors across his town.  Still under the weather, Patrick was unable to attend.  I waited impatiently by my computer, refreshing his Facebook page, hoping to catch a glimpse of those coming together to pray for him.  What surprised me was the volume of people as pictures began posting.  His sister, Jessica, wrote of the people who didn’t even know him in attendance and the prayers that were being offered.  Prayers that in time, would make a positive difference throughout his journey. 

“The most wasted of all days is one without laughter.”

-e.e. Cummings

 

          Since August, his sister and mother have both been keeping Facebook pages- highlighting improvements and asking for prayers when needed.  I’ve enjoyed reading comments from family and friends and those I’ve never met and probably never will.  I especially enjoyed this post by his mom:

 

Today has been a better day, Praise God! He had a waffle, another grilled cheese, and then ate 2 pcs of thin crust cheese pizza. Teenagers!

I laughed until I cried when I saw this message and then later a picture of him with a fake mustache.  My husband, unsure of what to say or do, just put his arm around me.  It was the first time since I had heard the news that I had considered that he was a teenager.  I had made comments before, “look at the people you’re bringing to God” and “even my atheist friend said she prayed last night”, but suddenly those comments seemed small and insignificant.  Yes, in the south we are about God, but we are also about people.  And his mother’s comment about teenagers, reminded me that though God is moving mountains through Patrick, the only thing he wants, is to be rid of cancer; to be a teenager. 

          And so, Patrick fights not just the cancer, but the everyday battles of being a teenager.  He argues with his parents, steals kisses from his girlfriend, and finds time to be goofy.  He still dreams as big as he ever has, flirts with the nurses, and makes plans for the future.  He eats greasy pizza, shoots guns with the guys, and drives his car fast.  He doesn’t complain, though he has reason to, but instead remains his sweet, southern self. 

Everyone has their inspiration, mine just fights cancer.

          So, Patrick, I write this for you.  Thank you for reminding me that a dirty house isn’t the end of the world, though I almost always tend to think so; for kick-starting my mornings, as my work is more personal because of you; for sharing your stories however hard they may be, inspiring me to be more; and for just being you, reminding me that in this world that’s all we ever need to be.  I pray for your health, your hope, and your faith.  But mostly, I just pray for you.  We love you!

Patrick's High School shows their support.

Inspire me, Monday

While interviewing for a new job (and possible new career path), I was asked to think about three words that I would use to describe myself.  Certainly, I had done my background research and considered answering with the specific words that would surely secure a position within the company.  I wanted this job.  I needed this job.  I asked for a moment to reflect on the question and in that time several things went through my head.

1- A job does not define who we are, though we tend to think this is true.  It's amazing that after being out of a job for only three months how lost I had felt.  I had associated who I was as a person to my job, losing my identity as I let go of the classroom and packed my bags for the west coast.  The problem is, I hadn't lost who I was. (Hold on and I'll get to that point).
2- I can not be defined by three words. 

As a teacher, I knew to answer the question as it was given.  So, I tossed out three words, three strong words that did infact describe me.  But, I also added something else.

I asked the ladies to entertain the idea that perhaps I could best describe myself through actions, not words.  Looking slightly confused, but intrigued, I continued.  I first began with the story of a cold Christmas in which I had returned with hot cocoa and warm socks for the outdoor cashier at a Home Depot.  I told them of the wine and trash magazines I wrapped up for my neighbor, knowing her husband wouldn't be home for Valentine's Day and I spoke of the funeral I attended for a former student's mother and how upon my arrival, she asked me to sit beside her and hold her hand through the entire thing.  I shared who I was, not what three words boxed me in as.  I shared that who I am is only best described through the things that I do for others, the things I do for myself. 

When I left that interview, I knew I had probably blown my chance.  But, I left knowing, for the first time, that I didn't have to be a teacher anymore.  I just needed to be me.  It was never about the books or the lessons, it was about making a difference.  And I did that- before teaching and well after.  It was always in me and always will be.

So, when people ask me what I do when gathered at my husband's work functions or my charity organization meetings, I'm going to start responding with: "I make a difference".  And I hope, one day, it will inspire others to do the same. 

Oh, sweetie... you went there!

“I volunteer with … to make a positive impact on children without having them.”

The words sliced through the large room, cutting the whispers and side comments being tossed between members of our league.  A smile registered on my face as the sound of applause from various areas began to echo my reaction.  The question was simple, “Why are you a part of this organization?” but returned an answer that few had probably considered; one that for some of us, is true.

 

 

I don’t hide my age (or my wrinkles), but instead wear each year proudly, knowing how blessed I’ve been.  I suppose that’s why those around me have started to ask the ever so popular (and personal) question – When are you having a baby?  I’ve fielded questions and avoided discussions about having children.  In the south, this forward attitude would be considered impolite and rude, but in southern California I’m quickly learning that “anything goes”.  

Yes, roll your eyes if you must, but it’s true.  While I believe your intentions may be sincere (bless your heart), your questions can be painful to answer.  I’ve watched those that have been unable to conceive, even after seeking professional help from a fertility specialist, squirm uncomfortably as they try to give a response while not breaking down in tears.  Others, with no desire to have children, are left feeling like an outcast, as the inquisitive person follows up with wanting to know why further implying they have the right to know. 

I write this while watching my husband out back, swinging his new golf toy, and taking out weeds as he goes.  I consider our life with children, running after them barefooted before they eat the weeds or trample our flowers.  I imagine them with his green eyes and my blonde hair, pudgy legs and dimpled smiles.  I picture a family of four taking on the world.  His next swing brings me back to reality, visions of children are gone, and I’m left watching just my husband.  Unaware that I’m stalking watching him, he continues taking swings and I smile considering how blessed I am.  We are happy.  We are in love.  We are blessed.  We ARE a family.  Though a life with children would be rewarding, so is life without children.

Want to inspire a young person?  Teach or volunteer to coach.   Have an abundance of experience to share?  Mentor a child.  Exceptional baker or Pinterest pinner?  Become a classroom “parent”.  Family and holiday traditions that you’d like to continue?  Be a Big Brother/Big Sister.  You, too, can make a difference in the life of a child without having one yourself.  The possibilities are endless.

So, before you ask others whether they will be starting a family, for most of us, we already feel as though we are.