Life Training

I've made my mother upset with me. Well, not "upset" upset... but, you know, more than uncomfortable. In my exuberance and excitement following the "Light the Night" Walk hosted by the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society (LLS) I decided to sign up for a half-marathon in March. LLS has this organization called Team In Training - a group of extreme sports athletes who raise funds for LLS and train for marathons, half marathons, triathlons, you name it.

The stars aligned to even get me to this point.  During my blogging hiatus I applied to Yale's Diversity Weekend and got rejected. In an effort to stay positive, I applied to Stern's "Women in Business" weekend, scheduled myself to attend a class and grab a coffee with a current student. In the midst of my NYU weekend, I met an applicant who happened to mention how she had raised funds for this organization because her father had Leukemia... 

"Wait, did you say your father had Leukemia? Have you heard of the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society?" I inquired.

"Yeah!" she said, shocked. "They have this thing called 'Team in Training' where you train for these races and raise money for LLS. It's great because you have a team to motivate you even when you may not feel like training. They give you a coach, and a trainer... they prep you with all these health seminars along the way. It's really rewarding," my new friend said.

I was sold. As soon as I got back to work the following day, I googled TNT, found a local race, and bam! Not only was there an upcoming half-marathon in my area, but it happened to be the EXACT SAME RACE CeCe had mentioned to me a few weeks before. When she first suggested it, I was less than enthused. At the time, we still had our little 5K to run (we both killed that on December 19, btw). But knowing that I could continue to work with LLS and tone my petite little self at the same time was too much of a good thing. I let her know we were doing it, and even got her on board to fundraise with me. Friends - and I mean REAL friends - are very hard to come by.

Fast forward to this week. I had retrieved my mother's address book over the holiday break and let her know I was going to be sending fundraising letters to a good portion of the people in it. To be honest, when I drafted the letter for this particular fundraiser - much like the email I sent out for the "Light the Night" walk - I referenced my loved one as "a close family member". I tried to maintain anonymity and respect my mother's privacy.  But... Mom beat the cancer in October. She was feeling much, much better. She was singing, traveling, and living her life like her old self. So, in the final letter, to compel people to donate, and to make it even more personal, I stated I was raising the money for Mom. I was proud of her. I was emotional. And I wanted to let people know that my mom was one tough cookie.

Well. Tonight I got my first shocked phone call from a cousin. Wamp, wamp.

"HOW IS SHE? HOW DID I NOT KNOW? WE ARE DEFINITELY GOING TO DONATE."

While I was happy to get my point across, I knew my mom was about to be pissed about these upcoming phone calls. Seventy-five letters. I sent out seventy-freaking-five letters to family, close friends, and a handful of personal Atlanta contacts.

I've done the math, and I think only about 33 of the people on the list MIGHT actually call her... and that's if they have her number. But damn. This is exactly what she wanted to avoid by not having ever mentioned it to family friends before. Point taken. I'm sorry.

I called her to prepare her for what might ensue. She told me she was proud of me, and didn't want to rain on my parade, but this is why she hesitated to even help out with fundraising to begin with. She didn't like the way people looked at her or spoke to her when they found out she had cancer. She said people will continue to use the word "have" - the present tense - even though she's already beaten it. Once a cancer patient, always a cancer patient. "There's power in words," she said. "I don't want words interfering with what has already come and gone."

And perhaps this is just me, but that is where I disagree. God shines brightest through other people's trials and tribulations. We learn how to be strong by watching and surrounding ourselves with strong people. Over the past few months, I've had more friends tell me they admire MY strength than ever before. My strength? What makes you think I have that?

They watched me cry. They watched me pray. They listened to me rationalize. They saw me grow. They saw GOD carry me through what was truly the most difficult period in my life. And, you know, I hope that means I was able to bring at least one other person closer to God. I hope my overcoming was evidence for someone else to believe that God is able. God will not fail. He will not forsake you. He will carry you through.

And... well, maybe... I'm hoping that Mom will see it's time to shine her light a little too. When people call or approach her with the whiny 'how are you feeling' schtick, maybe she can just smile, gracefully, and let the person know she's feeling fine. She's 100% better. She's good.

And, maybe, when they ask how she got through it, she can say "the Lord got me through it."

And, maybe, it will touch one person. To touch just ONE would be enough. And they'll take those six words home with them and begin a new relationship with GOD...

Or maybe she'll just ignore her phone for the next few days.

Sighs. I hate when I get on a person's bad side. She's my mom, so I don't expect I'll stay there too long... but. Man. I was just trying to do something good! Something positive! For HER! My excitement got the best of me, I guess. Lesson learned. 

Conventional Wisdom

It's unfortunate that it has taken me so long to appreciate the conventional wisdom of my mom and my grandparents.

It's only in candid, confidential conversations that I begin to learn who my mother, and my grandparents, really are. And through these conversations I begin to ask: why did it take 25 years for us to get here?

I've been talking to my mom almost every day now. I love it. She has let her guard down in a way that I don't believe I would have seen were it not for the Lymphoma. Truthfully, we've been able to laugh easily since I was in college. I guess by that point I had proven myself to the degree at which she could alleviate some of her own stressors. After graduation, we overcame another hurdle, and new conversation topics were then acceptable. Now that I'm working, paying my own bills, and she has encountered a slightly-non-threatening sickness, it feels as though (almost) nothing is off the table. I love it.

Earlier today (on this fine 4th of July!) I was making my way from Saturday Night Service to a BBQ when I decided to do my daily check-in. Mom groggily answered the phone, and once I confirmed that I hadn't interrupted her sleep, we began to catch up. We discussed the nature of the sermon, her most recent doctor appointment, my mid-term grade and the dirtiness of my apartment. "Well, don't worry about it," she said. "WHAT?" I exclaimed, laughing. "I don't think I've ever heard you say something like that," I chuckled. "Well, your Mamaw (that's what we call our grandma) always says 'don't worry about stuff like that - it'll work itself out.'" I smiled. This was true. The cleanliness of my one-bedroom apartment was honestly the least of my troubles.

It's not even that my mom and I exchanged any profound words in our most recent call; it's that the repetition, and progression of these calls grows more intense and more earnest as each day passes. And, as I reflect upon my post from this time last year, I'm reminded of my lightheartedness at the time and surprised by my current growth. I was so carefree when I was en route to The Taste in 2008. Now that I'm facing real life challenges, and enduring a number of hardships simultaneously, I see that my priorities have completely shifted... and I'm okay with that. Then, I'd rather charge a trip and get drunk with college friends. Now, I'd rather go to church and talk to my mom... and then get drunk with friends for free at a later hour :-).

While the past two months have undoubtedly been difficult, I'm looking forward to what July - December have to offer. Brighter days - I hope. ::sighs:: Tonight's cookout was full of beer, mojitos and grass. I'm completely relaxed and comfortable as I recount the past 12 hours. But I know that tomorrow I'll wake up, sobered and lonely, to face a new day with only the spirit of God at my side. And, I'm okay with that too. I just can't wait until that's no longer the case.. (the lonely part, that is).

It will happen. Trouble don't last always. And, if my mom's conventional wisdom has taught me anything, it is this: THERE'S ALWAYS HOPE. Looking forward to tomorrow...

Worshipping & Wandering

So much has been happening lately. Between reading “The Shack,” attending church, and just plain living, I’ve been reaching all kinds of new conclusions about life. At Elizabeth Baptist last Wednesday, I went to church expecting a few songs, a scripture, a sermon, and a steering moment from God to help me get through the week. What I got was so different, so unconventional – and yet it was exactly what I needed. Of course, I was late. Work has been kicking my ass lately, what with my paralyzing inability to concentrate coupled with a burdening stress called “Microeconomics 2021.” So, I hurried in as the choir finished the last two songs, somewhat disappointed that I’d missed the bulk of the praise session (gospel music always moves my heart to a better place). In typical fashion, I was seated with my legs crossed and arms folded. I was “closed off” as most body language interpreters would say. I always sit like this in new settings – regardless of whether or not I’m actually comfortable. I could have just met you. You could be my best friend. I’m likely to have my legs crossed and arms folded when I’m settling in to a new situation. It is what it is.

I forget what the choir was singing, but I knew I needed to open myself up. If I was going to fully receive God’s word, I needed to stop being so closed off – at least while I was in the sanctuary. I uncrossed my legs, and politely curled my left foot under my right ankle. That’s better. I uncrossed my arms, and sat just holding my hands. Okay. I’m opening. I’m openninnggggg.

Pastor Oliver then took the stage, Bible in hand. He propped his elbow on the podium and began talking to the congregation about a recent sermon he did. Totally natural. Totally impromptu. I figured this was an introduction to tonight’s sermon. Unfortunately, I only attend the Wednesday night services, so I didn’t really have a frame of reference for his comments… but I sat, with my own Bible, waiting for the cue to turn to chapter such-and-such.

He began talking and what I presumed to be his biblical anecdote took on a life of its own. I don’t recall which book or chapter he pulled from, but he got to a part where he began to discuss Mary Magdalene and her relationship with Jesus. He said (and I’m blatantly paraphrasing) “…she took her hair down. You know, critics have all kinds of things to say about Mary; people tend to hate on her. But her focus was on Jesus, and she took her hair down to worship him. You know – to ‘take you hair down’ really means ‘to relax’. And that’s what some of us need to do. We need to chill out. We get so caught up in our own lives, and the bills that are due, and our mortgage, and what other people think of us, that we forget to put God first. If Mary had worried as much about her critics as we do about ours, do you think she would have gotten her blessing? The Bible says she took her hair down and got on her knees to worship Him. She kneeled so far down that her hair covered his feet. His dirty, crusty, smelly feet. And when she was done, she got up, and you know – her hair probably smelled like Jesus’ feet. Do you know what that means? She had to go though something a little uncomfortable… a little dirty… a little gross… to worship Him. And when she got up, she was able to take his Essence… his smell… an element of HIM with her. How many of us are willing to be UNCOMFORTABLE for God? How many of us will kneel down, while everyone else is looking at us, and talking about us, and plotting against us, to worship him? I wish some of you would just let your hair down and give God His glory. Don’t worry about who’s looking at you. It might be a little uncomfortable. You might not like everything that you have to go though. But hasn’t God been good to you? Even when you were tired. Even when you were low. Even when you were sick. Eeeven when you friends deserted you. Eeeven when the bills were do. Even when your mother died. Even when your father died. Even when you got laid off. There are some people in here who can’t let go of their own problems long enough to bless He who is able to do all things! I wish someone in here would just let their hair down…”

It stirred me to the point of tears. It caught me off guard. Where was the scripture? Where was the text? Where was the structure? And yet, it was so fitting – “let your hair down”. We don’t need a text. We don’t need structure. We need to “chill out.” I NEED TO RELAX. I need to let things go. I need to Let. Things. Go. I cannot control what is happening with my mom or grandmother. I cannot control how my relationship ended with that boy. But I can let go of my worrying and stress. I can go into the house of the Lord and lay my burdens down. I can rest easy knowing that She is taking care of it.

The session lasted for a good 45 minutes. He was just talking to us – the congregation; his people. Everyone was standing and agreeing and worshipping. It was beautiful. And, it got me to thinking (tangentially) about all of the biblical “rights” and “wrongs” that many pastors preach about on any given Sunday. The church can be a discouraging and condescending place sometimes. But, at Impact and EBC, I worship with pastors with whom I can truly relate. In my own mind, I think that Jesus just wants us to be good people. By worshipping Him, we’re honoring our own efforts to live by His will. Our goal as Christians is not necessarily to emulate Jesus to a “T” but to learn from his ways and teachings and live our lives in ways that honor Him. I don’t think the “sins” such as fornication, or drunkenness or what have you are really all that terrible. I think the missed lesson is that if we indulge in those things, we’re not really bettering our lives. Fornication between two individuals may not ever hurt a soul – but how often does it contribute something positive to a person’s life? Yes, it feels good… but how does it contribute to our overall well-being? Do we feel more whole? Do we feel closer to God? In hindsight, many of my encounters have made me feel more empty (after the fact). I can’t think of a single case where I’ve done it out of pure love. And the energy invested into those people, and those encounters, is now lost forever. I think that’s the lesson behind abstinence – from a purely unbiased, non-political perspective. It’s not to say “if you have premarital sex, you’re going to hell”. But it is to say “adding sex to your life will complicate things more than necessary, and distract you from other blessings that may be in store.” I dunno. I just don’t believe that God is so mean that She’d cast me away for some silly things I did in my early twenties. I think most lessons from Jesus were simply for our own good as we try to navigate these troubled waters called life. Humans add problems, complications and rules to what God likely intended to be a simple, humble and fulfilling life. The same thing goes for alcohol. I know I blog about beer and vodka excessively. And, my alcohol consumption doesn’t really affect anyone but me. But what positive things do those Vodka Tonics really contribute to my life? If anything, they added to those “silly decisions” in my early twenties, and left me with more early-morning headaches than I would have had otherwise. I’m not going to stop drinking. But, I’m just saying…

I’m going to let my hair down (which has grown a lot since March 6, btw)! I’m going to do so more often, too. I’ve been making a bigger effort in my relationship with Her lately. I’m going to keep building. I’m going to keep trying. There’s victory on the other side, you know. There’s a blessing in all of this. I’ve just got to keep going…

God's Magic. Mommy's Touch.

I thought I was slipping into a mild depression at one point. Now, I don’t think that’s what the issue was. I may have been overwhelmed by all of the things happening in my life simultaneously, but I think the worst of it has passed. My family has gotten a lot closer over the past few months, which is an incredible blessing. It’s sad that someone’s health has to fail them before we realize how important they are to us. I talk to my mom every day now. I talk to my dad every other day. I pray more often. I’ve seen aunts, uncles and cousins more in the past few months than I have in recent years combined. And our exchanges are pleasant. No one begrudgingly hugs another and silently questions where they have been since 2007. We’re genuinely happy to see one another. I’m learning so much about my dad’s side of the family that it makes my head spin. There are so many dark secrets, and skeletons buried deep within our ancestral closet. And yet, with every new discovery, I feel closer to the cousins and extended family members I’ve grown to love over the past 25 years.

My cousin and I went to visit my brother this weekend to christen his new apartment, and celebrate the new chapter in his life: becoming a grown up. His job is treating him well, his new home is lovely, and girlfriend is playing “wife” with more ease every time I see her. Friday night when we arrived, the three of us sat on his patio sipping beer and discussing the estrangement of our oldest uncle (my dad’s brother) from the rest of the family. We hypothesized the many reasons he could have cut off an entire network of his life – sisters, brothers, and an ailing mother. It could have been my grandfather’s death. It could have been the new man that entered Grandma’s life once my grandfather passed. It could have been the pressure of being the oldest. Perhaps there were life challenges that he met in the Navy that changed his perspective about the value of family. We’ll never really know.

On the car ride home my cousin and I discussed my grandmother’s inevitable funeral. Would our long-lost uncle even attend? Would there be tension if he showed up? Would there be tension if he didn’t? You know, just being around family is one of the most therapeutic treatments life has offered me recently. I find myself smiling more. Laughing, even. There’s a genuine, unspoken love that fills a room - even when it is silent - when you’re around family.

It’s my dad’s mom who is sick and drifting. So, I’ve been spending lots of time with his brothers and sisters as they make their way in town to see her. With every hug, however, is a question about my mother. Though they have their own mom to worry about, they embrace me with more warmth because they know how difficult it is on a child to watch a parent endure hardship. There’s no hierarchy with them. No priority of their pain over mine; over my mom’s. We’re a family and we have to get through all of this together.

None of my friends have been able to say or do anything that has fully comforted me over the past two months. Granted, unless someone has been in the exact same situation, there’s no amount of advice or comfort they could really offer anyway. How have I been getting through this? The love of God. An unwavering embrace and extension of love from Her… though I cannot say that I’ve done the same in return. I have been so frustrated and confused and hurt and angry. Some mornings I’ve woken up peacefully, knowing that this was all a part of God’s plan. Some mornings I’ve woken up dreading the day before me, begging for God to hurry up with this lesson and let me move forward. But, regardless of my mood or immediate reaction to this trial, I have managed to keep going.

I never realized how important extended family was until now. It’s a difficult, albeit beautiful, lesson that God has taught me. My grandmother is bringing me closer to family I rarely, if ever, speak to. We’re planning family trips and reuniting on multiple levels now. That’s a blessing. We’re building unspoken connections through our pain. These connects will sustain themselves forever, I’m sure. We’re a lot tougher than we think we are. Everyone is planning to surprise my dad with a visit in a few weeks. I expressed to them that I was worried about how he was handling all of this. He admitted that he wasn’t doing a great job of taking it all in. And so, his brothers and sisters are rising to the occasion… God’s incomprehensible magic at work.

I talk to my mom every day now. Unsolicited phone calls from me while I’m working, driving, sitting, dozing… I appreciate her so much more. And that’s a blessing. I still have so much to learn from her, to ask her, to emulate. What better time to start than now? Her strength, courage and wisdom… her faithfulness to God… her steadfast and confident spirit… her retreat from life stressors… her sense of humor in the midst of it all… her life coaching skills… her unyielding maternal instincts… her sharpness… her blond moments… her ability to support herself… her ability to ask for help… I want to be like her when I grow up.

And God, I need for her to stick around.

The Valley

I drove home for Memorial Day weekend to attend a funeral. A friend's brother passed away, and the service commemorating his life was taking place that Sunday. Before I made it home, though, I was alerted that my mother was back in the hospital. She'd been having trouble sleeping, trouble breathing, and overall weakness in her body. Guess the bear hug I needed from her was going to have to wait. This weekend, she needed me more.

I arrived in my hometown too late to visit her that night. She was scheduled for release the next day, and I was prepared to take care of her in any way that she needed. My brother and his future wife made it in town about 30 minutes after I did (close to 1:00 am). Dad was asleep and Paris was busy on her laptop... so I watched a movie to calm my nerves about the next day's events.

I woke up Saturday morning, dialed Mom, and found out she wouldn't be coming home any time soon. The doctors were awaiting test results and, since many of them had the holiday weekend off (!!), she would be spending the next three days cooped up in a hospital room. WTF. So, in eldest child fashion, I began knocking on bedroom doors and rounding up the troops. "Get up!" I said, brushing tears off of my cheeks, "we're going to the hospital."

I headed downstairs for a quick pep talk with Corinne. Both of her parents had just finished rounds of Chemo, and I needed to know what I was in for. Granted, I was jumping to conclusions as no one had mentioned the word "cancer" just yet, but I needed to know what to do. How was I supposed to handle this?

Corinne did her best to reassure me, and I jumped into the shower so that we could leave. Once we arrived to her room, I opened the door surprised and elated to see my grandparents and Aunt seated around the room alongside my father. Sighs of relief. She was not alone. We exchanged warm welcomes and found our places (chairs, window sills, the foot of the bed, etc.). We were going to be there for awhile. The day was passing quietly enough when yet another troubling bit of news came to us by phone. My paternal grandmother, God bless her, was suffering from dementia. Though my dad and his own siblings had moved her to an assisted living home, her health was starting to get the better of her. She had suffered a few mini-strokes over the past weeks (unbeknownst to my aunts and uncles), and wasn't in good shape. She was having trouble recognizing her own children's faces. She was weak....

When it rains it pours.

My siblings and I left around 4:00 to grab dinner, and returned (after a brief nap) to spend the evening with Mom. She was a bit groggy and obviously tired, but she was not defeated. I love that lady. By 11:30, after the Lakers BARELY slid by the Nuggets, it was time to give Mom some rest. Both my little bro and I were too weirded out by the day's events to go straight home - so we headed to a hookah bar. He, his girlfriend and I partook of Watermelon and Blue Ice hookah along with bottomless cocktails that night. After awhile, we began to feel the effects of the smoke and spirits, and had a quiet breakdown at the corner patio table. I started it. We were talking about how great our parents were, and how strong they had been in raising us. The mere thought of anything remotely negative happening to her became too much to bear. Then my bro was in tears. Thinking about Grandma, and our family as a whole, and how devastating it would be for Dad if anything - in either situation - went awry.

Whew.

Sunday, I woke up exhausted but oddly refreshed after some much needed rest. I got dressed and headed to the funeral. For the most part, I was able to stay together, shedding a tear every now and then as thoughts of other potential funerals began to cloud my thoughts. Had to shake those off... Funerals, though tragic, are often beautiful. The poems, testimonies and words that family members used to express their remembrance of the deceased were beautiful. The most poignant statement to me, came from his father. He said that family had to hold on to one another in times like this. Others may try to console you, and express their regret, but their words won't necessarily mean that much when you are grieving. Only those others who have experienced your exact same loss will understand and truly be able to offer comfort. He said "do not take advice from people who have not been in your situation; people cannot give what they don't have." How true. And, I sought to apply that in my own life. While I was worried about my mom, my grandmother, and my now-deceased relationship with the boy (why was I even still thinking about that?!) I could only look to God to truly help me. Friends with parents who had fought cancer would be helpful. Family members or friends with ailing grandparents might offer insights here and there. Any girl with a broken heart knows what it feels like to have someone she loves bite the dust. But, the culmination of these things all at once? Having one's heart and mind stretched to capacity in a matter of hours? Who can advise on that? ::sighs::

Monday was better, but I dreaded having to leave. I had so much on my mind. I had so many questions. I had so much to say. And I needed help! I needed my Mommy to tell me what to do; to help make things right. So, I went alone to visit her. We sat and talked; we watched TV. And, as I was packing up my things to leave, I broke down again. I was crying about so many things that I couldn't even get the words out. Nurses entered and left to change her IV, take her temperature, and offer assistance. I just sat there, cradled in her left arm, waiting for them to leave.

We talked about relationships, and being single until you're thirty. I feel like that's the road I'm on these days. She said to me "I think you're worried about this because you see your brother with his girlfriend all the time. If he didn't bring her to every thing, you probably wouldn't even be focused on it." She was right. And while I didn't mention all of the devastating things that had happened in my own love life lately, her comment did put a few things in perspective. Why was I still trippin' about that estranged young man? Hellooooo. That ship has sailed.

We talked about how she was going to be just fine. Seeing me cry was going to make her cry. We all needed to just keep our spirits up and know that God was going to handle it. Had all of this church-going taught me nothing?! Of course God was going to handle it. Everything was going to be just fine!