Found Photos

We have a winner of the [soon-to-be-made-I-promise] canvas! :) According to random.org, the winner is:

Elisa: Thank you so much for your inspiration! Through the rose gardens and stormy seas we are to keep our focus on the Lord, and you have been an encouragement to me through this blog. Not a dutiful focus, but one rooted in joy and delight in Him.

Email me at gitzengirl@gmail.com with your mailing address and I’ll get it out to you as soon as it’s made!

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I went searching through some folders tonight looking for these pictures I had forgotten about … my friend Wente [who is one of the Big House Girls] had come through town several months ago and ended up stopping in for supper with me and Susie. And, of course, I pulled out my favorite accessory… the camera!

Don’t I have the cutest friends? Wente was such a good sport, since she enjoys getting her photo taken almost as much as I do. In the process of taking pictures she almost got excited about it, though, because she thought that maybe I would stop putting this photo of the Big House Girls on the blog every time I referenced them:

The thing is, Wente is the LAST person in the world who would normally be wearing a crown on her head and a Barbie doll sweater over her shoulders. We were celebrating her engagement in the above picture and took great pleasure in making her wear them despite her feeling ridiculous. You know, because that’s what friends do when they’re happy for you.

Susie and I appeased her that night by taking a group picture, but since our friend Amy wasn’t present it was really a moot point… the Big House just doesn’t work without Amy, our lying-about-bats-in-the-house member of the group.

The night was eventful enough even without Amy there, however. Not only did we do a lot of laughing, talking and looking at old pictures, but it was also the night I opened my laptop to show them photos and it died right before our eyes. Susie had moved the screen to angle it better and the moment she touched it the lights went out and never came back on. The laptop that had been dying a slow death had finally bit the dust.

Poor Suz. That kind of thing happens to her all the time. Ironically, the fact that she touched it and it died was so funny to me that I wasn’t nearly as freaked out as I would have been!

Anyway, the reason I went looking for the photos is because of Susie’s mom, Linda [the one in the middle]. She brings me groceries once a week and this past Friday she brought her two oldest friends, Dixie and Joy, along with her. I hadn’t seen them in a few years and was instantly taken in by their laughing, talking, giggling selves.

They kept teasing me during the photo-taking session that I was capturing mine and Susie’s future on film. That it should serve as a warning, because before we knew it we’d be just like them.

How blessed we are.

HDG: Expecting Gold

Dilemma: my hands are too shaky from all the meds right now to make you a pretty new canvas for today… BUT, I just like these giveaway days too much to skip one. To satisfy my need to give stuff away and my inability to write legibly at the moment, I’ve decided to do a repost of a canvas I’ve already made in the past. This way, you still get a canvas, but I get a little extra time to make it for you!

Just leave a comment at the end of the post to enter the drawing and as soon as my hands get steady again, I’ll mail out a canvas that looks just like the one below to the winner.

Well, it might not look just like the one below. They are handmade, after all. But it’ll look pretty darn close.

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Expecting Gold
[originally posted: June 21, 2008]

I was reading through some old posts and I realized just how much I refer to life being about the silver lining. That's not just some sort of "Pollyanna-ish" way to look at life for me. There is a quote on the wall in my alcove by Maurice Setter that says "Too many people miss the silver lining because they're expecting gold." I love that quote not because of the optimistic silver lining, but because of its focus on the expectation of something better.

I think our expectations of what we want life to be often overshadow the good things that are already in front of us... and that's when we miss the silver lining. When my sister was going through a divorce, we were on the phone talking about hard decisions and out of my mouth came these words that I would later cling to for myself as well... "All God asks of us is to live the best life we can with what we are given." The point is, we are all given different blessings and different crosses to bear, which means we can only take care of what's in front of us in that moment and do the best we can.

I don't know if it brought any relief to my sister, but as my life changed over the years it proved to be something I needed to hear. I needed to remind myself that my old gifts were gone, and they didn't serve me in living my best life anymore. I had new gifts and crosses given to me, and I had to rethink how to live my life with them. It took awhile to find my new normal, and that continues to change on a daily basis. But when my focus is on living the best life I can with what I have in that moment, I always find my silver lining. I'm not expecting the gold I used to have. I'm not looking for the gold that I think I should have. I'm looking at the silver right in front of me and saying thank you every day.

And I know I can't just apply this to my own life... I have to apply it to the people in my life as well. If I am really allowing the people around me to live the best life they can with what they are given, I can't put my own conditions on them. Some people have been given more of a capacity for compassion, some for actions, some for being loving. I have to trust that people are doing the best they can, so instead of expecting gold from every person in every situation I can be thankful for the silver lining they inevitably bring to my life in other ways.

Same applies to my body and my health. I am always prefacing any plans I make with the stipulation that I won't know until the day of if any of it will happen. Heck, I really won't know until the minute of. Back when I was able to get out and about, my friend Meg had picked me up one night to go watch Susie's husband Mark play in his band. I knew before we left that my day hadn't gone smoothly, but I was sure I could push through the pain and go with them. I got in her car, and during the very short ride to Main Street the shooting pains in my leg had me shifting around trying to find a comfortable way to sit. We got to the bar, I got out of the car and took about three steps on my crutches - and I was stuck. I couldn't stand up straight, couldn't walk to the bar, couldn't walk back to the car. [Yes, it was as embarrassing as you are imagining.] Susie and her brother Steve helped me to the car and Meg drove me straight back home.

I was hoping for gold, but I wasn't expecting it. Deep down I knew there was a huge chance the night wasn't going to play out as I had hoped... but I didn't miss the silver linings. Steve and Susie were there to help me into the car. Meg wasn't worried about missing the first set and instead made sure I got home ok. And here's the biggest silver lining of them all: all of those people would try again with me any time. Really, how can I be anything less than grateful for that?

Now, let me just say that sometimes disappointment weighs heavy on me. But in my disappointment, the same rules still apply... I do the best I can with what I have. Is it usually all I want to do? No. But in the end, focusing on the silver lining is what gets me through the day.

I really think, in this life, we find what we are meant to do when we stop focusing on what we are kept from doing. I have to remind myself of that sometimes, but the more I acknowledge that silver lining, the less I notice the gold that's out of reach.

So tell me, what silver linings have blessed you today?

Leave a comment before midnight CST to win a [yet-to-be-made] canvas! Only one comment per person, please…

Sting of Words

I’m happy that I can say, for the most part, I have very little conflict in my life. I don’t yell, have big fights, hold a lot of anger against anyone. People have hurt my feelings and I’ve hurt theirs, but those moments have been few and far between… and usually very unintentional.

Which is why the experience I had this past Friday night was so incredibly shocking to me. I would have never dreamed of blogging about it, except the longer I sat with it the more I realized that – like all things in life – there was a lesson to be learned.

I have an upstairs neighbor who has lived directly above me for a couple of years now, who I really don’t know at all. I’ve seen her two, maybe three times in the hallway and honestly wasn’t even sure of her name. Those few times we smiled and said hello… nothing memorable, just neighborly.

The thing is, she and her boyfriend are very loud. In the beginning it was loud parties and loud music, but after some complaints were filed from multiple neighbors those died down. Mostly we all just put up with rude things, like cigarette butts landing on my patio from her deck above or being woke up at 3am from the noise. Annoying, yes. But, being the non-confronter [read: wimp] that I am, I just picked up the cigarette butts and dealt with it.

You all know I’ve been feeling less than stellar, and this past Friday around midnight or so the noise was really getting to me. There was a lot of loud talking, running around… sounding like they were moving furniture. And I was exhausted. I normally let it go, mostly because I have no way of telling her to be quiet. I can’t walk up the stairs to knock on her door. I don’t know her name or have her number. So I walked into the kitchen, grabbed the broom and rapped it on the ceiling.

BIG. MISTAKE.

Less than a minute later, there was a knock on my door and the very angry sister of my upstairs neighbor started laying into me before I got the door propped open. She was literally shaking with anger as she started telling me I was a rude little person... that she has a three year old with every right to be running around if he felt like it, and I needed to back off and let them socialize with her sister. She said they would be in and out all weekend and I’d better get used to it... I was rude for hitting the ceiling, should stop complaining and leave her sister alone.

I know you all don’t know me in person, but I don’t know how to fight. I’ve never yelled in an argument in my entire life. Which means I was standing there, stunned. Before I could literally get a word in edge-wise she said, "Oh, and I have MS. We all have problems. You being sick or whatever doesn't make it ok to mess with her life.”

That’s when I understood the feeling of being sucker-punched.

Tears stung my eyes, I looked at her and told her I was sorry about her MS, that I barely know her sister and don’t have her number to call her, I can’t walk up the stairs to knock on the door and had no way of letting them know how loud it was other than to hit on the ceiling.

To give you an idea of how all of that looked, my lungs can only get about four words out each breath right now… so I was obviously laboring to a degree just to tell her that much.

She told me again that she has been sick, too, and to get off my pity party.

I honestly barely remember how it ended… I knew I was seconds away from crying from the sting of the words. I was very upset, but calm. I told them the way they were talking to me was totally ridiculous, I was sorry if they were offended and that they needed to leave my hallway. I closed the door and locked it behind them. Part of me ended it so quickly for my own safety, and part of me did it for the little three year old who had followed his mom down the hallway and was witnessing it all.

Now, here’s the part where I get to why I’m telling you about it. After I sat down, rather stunned, and tried to process what went wrong and how that could have been so completely out of control, a couple of things became very clear to me. The sister had come to my door, very angry with preconceived ideas about me and my life. A sister that I’ve never seen or met before. My neighbor doesn’t know me… she could deduce that I don’t leave the house, that I’m not out and about, that I walk with a walker and am sick. But she doesn’t know me.

From her words, they assumed I was a bitter person trying to make them miserable. My neighbor created her own story about me in her mind, simply because my life looks different. A woman with a disease of her own glanced into my life, assumed I was an angry victim who believed the world owed me something and was totally prepared to put me in my place. I didn’t get a benefit of the doubt. I didn’t even get to speak. I got the full force of whatever anger and resentment had built up in her life.

I was the instigator that night by not ignoring the noise. I’m sure it did seem aggressive with the bang on the ceiling. But the family had to have talked about me, made decisions about me, made judgments about my life long before that 30 second walk to knock on my door and tell me that me being a sick and bitter person was all they saw.

They were so wrong. And later I wondered how many millions of times in my life I’ve done the exact same thing. I can obviously say I would never treat anyone the way they treated me. It boggles my mind. But I can’t say my mind has never made stupid snap judgments. What did I think about people I used to see in the mall? How did I make judgments about their appearance or the way they spoke to their kids? Did I think someone was lazy for driving their car two blocks away rather than walking, without even knowing if they were able? Did I think someone was a rude person because they didn’t have a smile on their face, not knowing what had happened in their lives that day? Did I get so wrapped up in my own world that it made me feel better to judge their worlds, which I knew nothing about?

That night, I was a complete and total mess until I stopped and looked at it from an outside perspective. Until I looked at it from the angry sister’s perspective. Until I considered that I have no idea what is happening in her life that makes vicious words a soothing feeling to her. As cruel as she was, a part of me is so sad that a person can live with that much anger inside.

I’ve lived through enough to know that I don’t like or need drama in my life. I have wonderful friends in the building who I could call if anything like this happens again, but I’m honestly hoping the confrontation left with the sister. There will be no more ugly words, because I won’t participate. But I will take this lesson from it: the next time I make a decision about someone I will be basing it on who they are, not who I think they are.

As someone who has apparently been judged for awhile now without realizing it, I can tell you the difference can be immense.

Brought to You by the Letter B

Happy Monday, blog peeps...

Thanks again for all of your kind words last week, and for giving me all those great ‘B’ suggestions for today’s topic. I’m still running pretty slow since my outing over a week ago, but am finally feeling a bit stronger. I’ve moved from holding on by my fingernails to having a decent grip on the railing, and I can’t tell you how much good it does for me to see even little improvements.

It also does me good when life hands out little gifts… like the fact that, when I was unable to do anything but lay still and do breathing treatments this weekend, my cable company had a free HBO movie preview weekend!!! Ahhh… there is a God! And He likes me!

It also fit in perfectly with one of your ‘B’ suggestions:

For B, I think it should be books and blockbusters.

So, books and blockbusters it is!

Back when I was an English major, I knew upon walking into my first class that I was not going to fit the stereotype very well. I was a showered, make-up wearing, clothes picked-out girl with a Mountain Dew in hand… walking into a room with two options. One side had an array of grunge, black outfits and crazy piercings, while the other side was doing their best to look like they didn’t care about the insignificance of college life… they were far too busy making sure not to speak unless each word was at least five syllables long. Oh, how they tried to be existential and above it all.

Yes, my peppy post-cheerleading self was totally out of place. And I loved it… partially because the people were as interesting as the books, and partially because, like the books, it opened my world to entirely new experiences.

The point of me “not fitting in” is a way to explain why I am the worst person to ask about my favorite things. Favorite books and blockbusters? Favorite style? Favorite music? The truth is, I just don’t really fit the categories… I’m a hodge-podge of likes, the definition of the term eclectic. More than I like any style, I like what a style does for me.

What do books and blockbusters do for me? They totally get me lost.

I remember riding in the car once when I was little, absorbed in some book or another, when I screamed aloud and nearly scared my mom off the road. I had forgotten where I was, what we were doing… the scene in the book was so vivid in my mind, and the emotions of the characters had so completely taken over my being, that the surprise in the plot surprised me right into a scream. And that’s why I love a good book.

I like my brain to be challenged. I love Patricia Cornwell’s series about Kay Scarpetta using forensics to solve crimes. I love figuring out who did what and why. I love it even more if they can surprise me. I love action and adventure… both in books and in movies. I love a fast pace that takes me from moment to moment, not allowing me enough time to daydream back to my own reality.

I love fantastical stories that could never happen, but seem so possible you expect to wake up the next day in a totally different reality. I love the fact that some of my nieces and nephews went to bed the night before their 11th birthday expecting an invitation to Hogwart’s Academy just like Harry Potter. I would have thought it possible at that age, too. If it could happen in a book, if I could see it in my mind and feel it in my spirit… then somewhere out there I thought it just might be true.

Which probably sums up why I don’t do horror or scary movies/books. Mysteries and suspense? Oh, yes. Being terrified… no thank you. I’ve never seen Silence of the Lambs, but the preview where he said, “Clarice…” was enough to send shivers through me for days. I already know crazy exists, I don’t need to feel it deep within!

My two favorite courses in college were ones with heavy reading. In my Literature and Psychoanalysis class, we took anything from Shakespeare to Faulkner to Hawthorne and psychoanalyzed the characters using Freud and Nietzsche. I was so in over my head, but it helped me learn to read in an entirely different way. Whether a classic or a romance novel, I suddenly found myself more involved, more lost in the world of the characters, lost in the “why” of everything.

The second class that sticks in my mind was an entire semester dedicated to Milton’s Paradise Lost. I can state unequivocally that I love Milton because my professor loved Milton. She was so difficult. An ‘A’ on a paper from her pretty much made your college career worthwhile. I could go into other classes having not even finished a book and talk my way through a relevant discussion, but in her class I could bring my A-game and leave having to start over from scratch. I loved the challenge.

As much as I loved those classics… loved prose and mythology and words that melted like butter when read with the right tongue… I am so not a book snob. My favorite reads are still the ones that lose me into an alternate reality. I love a good Nicholas Sparks, Danielle Steele, James Patterson. I couldn't care less if they are the same story over and over again, as long as you take me on a journey that keeps me turning the page. I find the pace, the flow of the words, the imagery that’s conjured is so much more important than a critics lofty opinion. I’m no critic… when I read, I am purely a fan.

Blockbusters are the same. I love a classic. I love action, adventure, romantic comedy, drama. I love the clothes and the speech and the way people decorate their homes. I want to live Meg Ryan’s life in You’ve Got Mail… opening my children’s book store everyday after walking by rows of flower shops and buying a bagel from a street vendor. I want to be as plucky as Kyra Sedgwick in Something To Talk About when she defends Julia Roberts as only a sister can. When Meryl Streep opens the movie Out of Africa by saying, “I had a farm in Africa at the foot of the Ngong Hills,” I’m suddenly on an adventure that has swept me to a foreign place. I don’t think I watch movies as much as I put myself into their lives and pretend for an hour and half that anything is possible.

I just want to be entertained. I want to not be in my world for however long they can keep me in theirs.

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Ok, people… time to earn your keep. Go to the comment section and hit me with your best ‘C’ topic idea for next week!

Flashback Friday: Relay for Life

Since our local Relay for Life event is coming up, I’m going to use today’s Flashback Friday to republish a post I wrote about it last year. I’ve been involved in the Relay for many years, raising money for cancer research in different ways. I used to walk in the relay, I’ve sang at the opening ceremonies, made luminaries and donated canvases to raffle. Each little way of helping has been a privilege and as this year’s Relay is fast approaching, and my health is anything but fast improving, I’m not going to be doing as much as I’d like to promote the cause.

So the least I can do is promote it a little bit on here… you’ll have the opportunity to give if you’d like, but most importantly I’m posting this to bring awareness to the event, and encourage you to get involved in your local Relay for Life as well.

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Reason To Relay
[originally posted 6.18.2008]

When I was in grade school we had traveled during the winter to an away basketball game one of my siblings was playing in. While at the game, a huge blizzard had hit and continued to rear it's ugly head as a caravan of cars headed back to our hometown. You literally couldn't see your hand in front of your face it was such a complete and total white out.

As the caravan crept along my dad had to walk to the front of the line and sit on the roof of the lead car in order to tell them if they were still within the lines on the road. He sat, perched in the cold, until we came to a farm house he recognized as belonging to a family that went to our school. They weren't home, but the caravan of cars all parked at their acreage and we filed into the house (I have no idea how they got in) to wait out the storm.

The winds were so strong that Dean Dodds, who at my young age seemed like the largest man I'd ever known, carried me from the van to the inside of the house to keep me from getting blown backward. We made it in the house and it was nothing short of a modern day Little House on the Prairie. The men went to light the fire in the fireplace while the women went to the kitchen to see what could be prepared for food. The mood turned from ominous to fun once the large group of people got into the house and we played cards and listened to the grown-ups retell the happenings of the previous hours.

It was getting late and we were obviously all settling in to stay for the night, so mom took me to a back bedroom where we shared a bed with Dean's wife Doris. I had known Dean and Doris for as long as I could remember, but when I went in Doris had already taken off her wig and was propped up against the pillows in bed with just her handkerchief on her head.

It was the first time I saw cancer.

I didn't know why she didn't have hair; I didn't even know she was sick. I do know I probably stared longer than I should have, but Doris seemed unaffected and just smiled at me. I don't remember being scared... but we never talked about it at the time or after that. I think I later asked my mom why she had a wig and mom told me she was sick, but the word cancer was never uttered.

Back then it was still an unknown. It was still rare in my world. And now it seems to be as common a word to children as talking about a cold. I am sure there isn’t a person reading this who hasn't somehow been affected by cancer. My Uncle Bob died last year of cancer, my friend Mary Burns' husband John lost his cancer battle previous to that. And it is because of my friend Kelly's family that I am involved with Relay for Life.


The photos above are of Marv and Kaitlyn, Kelly's dad and daughter who have both died of cancer within the past five years. Kelly, her husband Nick and daughter Megan created a team called The Smiling Kate's, which I’ve been honored to be a part of. Their involvement in Relay started when Kate was still with us and they all worked together to raise money to fight this disease, as well as enjoy the camaraderie and fun the event creates. Back when I was more able-bodied I had the opportunity to sing at the opening of Relay a few times and it remains one of the most meaningful experiences I've ever had.

I am very aware of my shortcomings, so I can tell you unequivocally that I am the world's worst fundraiser. A natural salesperson I am not. My pitch would go something like, "If you don't mind, I mean... if you maybe have the ability to help, if it's not too much trouble..." You get my drift. Our local Relay is coming up, so here's what I'm going to do. If you have been looking for a way to help someone, this is an easy way for you to go about it. Click on this link and it will take you to my Relay page where you can donate. No pressure; just an opportunity.

And if you aren’t able to give financially, I encourage you to look at ways to volunteer your time for your own local event. It’s an amazing opportunity to come together for those whose lives have been touched by cancer, so other lives don't have to be.

Random Bits and Pieces

He was feeling a little neglected lately and wanted to pop in and say hi. Just trying to keep up his good standing as blog mascot. :)

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First thing first… we have a winner!!!! Random.org picked:

The NorEaster: "A life story in fifteen steps?"
Well, I'm glad we get to take a long walk with you on your blog, Sara! I don't know about anybody else, but I need your perspective. You are, in so many ways, my joy.

Congratulations!!! Email your mailing address to gitzengirl@gmail.com and I’ll get it shipped off to you. :)

And thanks to all of you for your always-kind words and support. It really does make a big difference having you all here.

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[no point to this photo, really… just thought he was cute…]

Here’s the part where, after a series of serious posts, I stick in a random blog-upkeep note for you all [after having distracted you with a cute puppy photo]. Awhile back I implemented a new commenting system that overrides the normal Blogger comments you were used to. It’s had a few hiccups, as all things do, but for the most part I’m liking it a lot. Some of you have had questions about how to comment with it, so I thought I’d take a quick minute to talk you through it.

They’ve expanded a few things since I first installed it, so where it says “Guest” … you can either leave it as Guest or click the drop-down arrow for choices of how to sign in. If you have a Facebook account, Google Friend, Twitter, Yahoo, Open ID, Blogspot, etc., it allows you to sign in through any of those accounts. I think that should import your avatar from that account as well, but you’ll have to try it and see. If your avatar doesn’t show up, you can add a photo after you sign in by clicking on the blank face, if you choose.

Whether you sign in or not, the important part is the next three fields. Your nickname is how I’ll know it’s you. If you have a blog or website you’d like to put in the URL field [always start with http://], a link to your most recent post will pop up under your comment so that other people can easily get to your blog as well.

And finally, you want to put your email address in the last field… no one can see it [not even me], so you won’t be getting random people emailing you or anything. If you notice in the comment section, each comment has a button under it that says “Reply.” The button is so I can reply to each of you directly, and you can all reply directly to each other’s comments as well. This is the main reason I changed the comment system… I like the idea of having a conversation within our little community. But the only way you’ll know if someone has replied to your comment is if you leave your email address, then the reply will come to your inbox and you’ll know I or someone else had something to say to you!

I know, I know… long explanation just to tell you how to comment, but since there were questions by some, I figured there might be a few more who were confused. The big test will be whether or not I’ve just confused you even further! [It’s been known to happen…]

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Can you tell I feel like I used up all of my words in my first three posts this week? Yep, my brain is pretty random today. I’m also fairly sure it’s been completely taken over by the steroids… I’ve been trying to write out my grocery list for the week and it’s getting a little embarrassing.

Normally I just copy and paste my list, as I pretty much eat the same old boring things each week. A little rice, a little meat, some fruit… the basics. I’ve been trying to eat those things all week and none of them are sitting well with me.

But these things sound divine:
Lays Potato Chips. French Onion Dip. Powdered Sugar Donuts. Glazed Donuts. Marshmallows. More Potato Chips. Did I mention French Onion Dip?

So, if this turns into a foodie blog, it’s totally not my fault. I’m blaming it on the steroids. Tune in next week when I give you step-by-step instructions on how to squirt Hershey’s syrup directly into your mouth and call it lunch.

Riveting stuff.

HDG: Attitude of Joy

This was a topic suggestion for Monday’s alphabet-sponsored post:

"attitude" I would like to talk to you about how you keep such a good attitude. Is it something you just are or do you work at being positive? And how do you achieve it each day, moment, etc. And do you ever find yourself in the dark place of a bad attitude?

…so, I thought I’d make it into a Hump Day Giveaway post!

I love the movie Out of Africa. The woman Meryl Streep portrays is Karen Blixen, who wrote under the penname Isak Dinesen. This is one of her observations about life in Africa in the early 1900s:

"Difficult times have helped me to understand better than before how infinitely rich and beautiful life is in every way, and that so many things that one goes worrying about are of no importance whatsoever.”
– Isak Dinesen

I couldn’t agree with her more.

That’s not to say it’s always simple to be happy and have a good attitude. Not all of life can be looked at through rose-colored glasses. I will admit I have a natural tendency toward that, which is great. But with the way my life has played out there came a point in time when I made a conscious decision that I wanted to choose happy. I wanted to choose gratitude. I wanted to choose joy. I wanted to spread that around as much as I could.

I sometimes feel like lamenting. I usually choose to move on instead. That isn’t always easy, but it has become second nature over time because life left me with little other choice. And like the quote says, difficult times allowed me to realize that worrying about what can’t be changed is really so very unimportant. In that difficult stuff, the stuff where abilities and things are stripped away, I’ve come to see how much of that I never really needed to begin with. I miss it, I loved it, but it was just window dressing on my life. And now when I get small glimpses of those moments, they are treasured and not taken for granted.

Last Thursday, my parents came down to take me to an appointment with my doctor, Annie. I’ve been having a hard time with my lungs, and while I used to just have problems reacting to the air when I went outside or opened a window, I have now started having reactions to the air on people when they come into my home. After a couple of instances in a row, I couldn’t get my breathing back to normal and needed a chance to talk with her about my best plan of action.

Of course, going to the doctor meant going outside. I knew this was not going to be a good thing for me. I was preparing myself for a rotten couple of weeks, reacting to the air, having to go on steroids, breathing treatments that make me feel awful, burning eyes, ears, throat. This wasn’t going to be fun.

But I was going to go outside. I was going to feel the fresh air and soak in the rays of sunshine that have alluded me for so long. I knew it was going to be awful for my body, but I also knew those fleeting moments could be great for my soul if I just took the time to savor them. Thursday was a gorgeous day here in Iowa. The temps were in the 70s, the sun was shining, a fresh breeze was blowing. I looked out that window all morning, telling myself that this would be worth it. It would be a hard few weeks, but this was my one chance to be outside and it was a perfect day.

As Dad walked with me out the door of my building to the waiting car, the sun went under the clouds.

Humph.

I laughed, said isn’t that just my luck, and declared that the sun better shine when we got to where we were going. We drove to the lab where I would need to have blood work done, the sun shining on the way. Dad pulled up to the door and the sun hid behind the clouds again… playing its game of hide and seek. As we walked into the building, a woman with her four little girls were walking ahead of us… the girls had an abundance of braids in their hair with at least 30 brightly-colored clips each. The mom excused herself as they were blocking our way and I commented on how lovely their hair looked.

She began to tell me, in the short walk down the hall to the lab, how much she loved doing their hair. She had been in prison and her oldest daughter had to learn how to tend to the little ones, but she was glad to be doing it herself again. They were on their way to the surgical center where her baby was in surgery and we wished each other luck. Mom looked at me as we parted ways with the family to go into the lab and said, “I didn’t know it was possible to learn a whole life story in 15 steps.” I didn’t either, but it was so nice to be out… to engage.

Leaving the lab and showing up at my doctor’s office was the same story… I couldn’t catch the sun if my life depended on it. I was trying to enjoy it out the car window, as I was enjoying the trees and the grass and roads I used to drive down everyday. And even though I was a little concerned that my glaring white skin would sparkle in the sun like the vampires in Twilight, I wanted to feel the sun on my face more than anything else that day.

By the time I got in to see Annie, I wasn’t doing well. My voice was going, my breathing was bad, my pain was increasing by the minute. It had been awhile since I had seen her [I’ve been going mostly to my rheumatologist now] and she hadn’t realized how much my life had changed in the last year. We talked through my prognosis, my medications, my options of what I could take to help with my lungs and the accompanying symptoms. We talked about some heavy topics and laughed about dumb jokes. She hugged me three times and we both knew, after 15 years of treating me, I wouldn’t be coming in to see her again. She would make my medical decisions, but it would be through home nursing now so I won’t have to make an extra trip out of my house again.

As Mom and I walked into the parking lot and dad pulled up with the car, I stood outside the door and decided I wasn’t getting in until the sun peeked out from behind the clouds. Mom and I talked about the perfect temperature and refreshing breeze. We talked for a moment about the things we discussed in Annie’s office, and I told her that no matter how life progresses for me from this point out, it was ok. I was good with it, that God and I are good about it.

Then the sun came out.

And Mom said she thought God was good with me, too.

So, the honest day-to-day stuff you were asking about: my body isn’t doing very well. I'm in pain. I’m not breathing well, my eyes and ears and throat burn. The steroids and breathing treatments bring their own host of issues that leave me feeling unwell. I’m very tired.

But all I can think about is that woman and our brief chat as we walked down the hall. I’m hoping whatever got her into prison is something that is behind her in life, and that those braids in her daughters’ hair will keep her wanting to be home with them. I love that I had a chance encounter with a stranger and engaged in real life for a moment.

I can’t stop thinking about how blessed I am that Annie has taken care of me all these years, treated me with respect and love and will continue to have my best interest at heart, even from a distance.

I can close my eyes and feel the breeze, feel the sun on my face and see the bright orange color that rests on the inside of my eyelids when they are closed and facing the sunshine. I can smile remembering that, for a few fleeting minutes, Mom, Dad and I sat in those patio chairs I’ve been longing to relax in and ate McDonald’s french fries just because we could… the damage was done and we were determined to take our moments.

I have a lot of things that aren’t going right because I left the house on Thursday. Those things will take awhile to leave my system. But I choose the joy. I choose the conversation, the relationships, the breeze and the sunshine.

And especially the french fries. :)

I choose the joy. When something is going badly and I’m dwelling on it, I think instead of something for which I am grateful. I swear to you, it’s as simple as that. You just have to decide today, and again tomorrow. And before you know it, you’ll have an attitude of joy more than any other attitude you have at your disposal.

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