We never know how high we are...

We never know how high we are by Emily Dickinson

We never know how high we are
Till we are asked to rise
And then if we are true to plan
Our statures touch the skies --

The Heroism we recite
Would be a normal thing
Did not ourselves the Cubits warp
For fear to be a King --

Its funny how we "learn something" in life and then we LEARN SOMETHING in life.  How words come to life under the most diverse circumstances.  Like how big and bold and bright the colors of the rainbow are.  And we can describe them, and oh yeah, they're pretty.  But then you grow up.  You marry one day, and have a baby.  And suddenly after this human being that you are suddenly indelibly linked to, comes into your life, with ear splitting screams, and unyielding needs, and the most intense love you'll ever feel.  And then suddenly, you know COLOR.  Like techno-color.  Like the light switch was finally thrown on and suddenly you can see you've been in a very dimly lit room all along.  Because red is like RED and you see all the pinky-purply-blackish-bluish-beauty to it, and you wonder where you've been all along, stuck looking at monotone drab blah for red. 

And seeing red, like really SEEING red, reminds me of that poem by Emily Dickinson.  Because do we ever really know the fullness of our capabilities until we are forced by circumstance to rise up to meet that occasion?  We were probably capable all along, but do ever really push ourselves to see, to find out, to discover?


Because if we did?  The feats we conquer, might actually not be so heroic, if we could just go do them every day... they'd just be normal.  "Warping the cubits"- well cubits is a kind of measurement.  And warping the cubits must mean altering them.  Its the effort we actually put forth, rather than the true effort we could perhaps put forth.  Because of our insecurity.   Um, its like tying one hand behind our back and trying to shoot from half court, and then not feeling too badly if we miss.  Or being content seeing drab, as a muted tone of red.  


I didn't think I could do cancer.  I didn't think I could do daily blood draws like oh-my-god-they-are-sticking-needles-in-my-arm blood draws every day.  Or scans, PET, Bone, CT, MRI, scans.  Or chemotherapy?  Who me?  And surgeon visits, and oh yeah radiation therapies?  


Oh, and another thing I've never dared to do?  Call myself a writer.  I still blush any time someone says it.  


 And I am not alone in the "heroics" I see every day.  When Stacy tells me she went out "cold calling" just to see if she could garner some items for the silent auction?  She got a huge response!  She sounds so surprised, but I'm not.  Just wait till you see what they did with the little pink purses.  Can't wait to show you.


And I wonder if Pam thought of herself as a "business owner?"  But NeckLaces and the bracelets are doing so very well, and she is so very good at it.   And would her husband, Greg ever think he was going to organize and plan a spaghetti feed benefit?  Plus a silent auction and maybe a golf tournament?  But he stepped up, along with many, many others and led the way. 


And I'll accidentally leave someone out who is working tirelessly behind the scenes, like Kim, or Tami or Amy, but I assure you I will have pictures at some point for proper recognition.  Did they know they could do all that they are doing?  I assure you its a lot of behind the scenes I am not around to witness.  


But it makes me wonder... where is your crown?  Where is your stature?  Are you waiting to be called to rise to see?  





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TJ let his class pet Cocoa who was visiting for the week wear the bracelet.

And this is Rockstar, I mean Sabrina, who fought and won the battle against stage 3 breast cancer 4 years ago- yes, when she was 17!  Way to go Sabrina, love survivor stories of strong women! 

Katie and Sabrina

Awww, and Julia with her mom Sue, thanks girls! 

They're here!  We have Shelly to thank for setting us up with Joy of Joyz Jazz so everyone can buy a silver hand stamped, fight like a girl necklace!  Click on the photo in the sidebar to take you to Joy's paypal page.  Or visit Joyz Jazz on facebook and leave her a mesage.  A portion of every sale goes back to me!  Thank you Shelly, thank you Joy!!  


Keep the photos coming, we love getting them!  Thank you everyone! 

All Shall be Well

Its raining, sleeting/snowing and thundering outside tonight and I've heard rumors there was hail.  It seems the weather took a cue from my internal state and can't quite decide how it really feels at any given moment today.  Oddly that makes perfect sense to me.

It hardly feels like just a week ago today, I was in that tiny exam room with the tech telling me I had cancer.  One test, 1 page of images.  And she knew.  And so did the Doctor.  But he wanted to wait till they did more tests to tell me.  But she didn't wait.  With his permission, she told me first.  She normally isn't the one to deliver such news.  I can't help think it was such a brave thing for her to do.  She felt I should know, so I could start preparing.  I think I learned a lot from her in that moment.  The doctor stammered and stuttered more than she did, when he later confirmed her suspicions.  She may have been afraid, but she did it anyway.  With grace and compassion.

I cried, called Rick, and sat in shock for a bit.  I've had cysts before on two other occasions.  This one just hasn't resolved on its own, and when it quickly developed a hard ridge to it I knew I needed to have it checked.  I really hadn't been prepared for this.

As I sat there gathering myself, I remember thinking to myself,  please God, just let me know how to walk out of here on my own two feet.  Please God, just help me breathe.  The tech returned.  Somehow I made it to the mammogram machine, and back to the exam room for the needle biopsy.  The staff were all warm and compassionate.  The doctor's hands were gentle.  I breathed and walked, breathed and walked.  Calmness descended.  Please God, be with me.  I am no fan of needles.

"Snap," the needle enters and brings out its first sample.  I startle at the loud sound it makes, but I hardly feel them.  10 total samples and 2 shots of lidocaine, one hour later I am done.  1 more mammogram.  Bleeding stopped, bandaged.  And I went home.

And fell apart.  Are you sure God?  I think it takes a really strong person, and I am not feeling all that strong.  Soreness settles into my side and arm.  How am I going to do this God?  Please show me the way...

Thursday I awake with the nurse's words in my head, "Grab a book, stay in bed, and read."  I've been waiting to have the time to read this new book.  Suddenly the whole day has been made just for this.  I reach for my nightstand and this is what I grasp, "one thousand gifts, a dare to live more fully right where you are" by Ann Voskamp.

I read and read, barely stopping for anything.  Eucharisteo.  Giving thanks, for the gifts and blessings I already have.  Take the dare.  Its the only way to do this.

And this is how I am doing it.  Being thankful in everything.  I absolutely think this book, on this day, in my hands, is a God thing.



My list is growing daily.

Thunderstorms in March

virtual couches online

doctors with a sense of humor

the smell of freshly ground morning coffee brewing in the pot
blue paint samples that make me want to dive right in

And yet I stumble.  I fall in weakness, and break down.  But someone is always there to pick me up, stand me up when I don't think I can, until I know I can again.

I hardly know how to express my gratitude for all the love, prayers, concern, tears, joy, and laughter, I have been surrounded with these past few days.  I am humbled to say the least.  And I think you all are answered prayers.

Writing has always been a therapy of sorts for me, and my hope is to chronicle this journey when I can.  My sweet friend Sara, has agreed to fill in for me when I am unable to do so myself.

Love and blessings to you all.  Count your gifts todays.  I am finding you can see them in the tiniest moments.  If you are open to seeing them, they are all around us.