WOTY2.0: It's Time

Alas, the time has come.  My Mom used to tell me that the way to know you were officially old was when it felt as if you could no longer control the time.  When a day was a week, when a week turned into a month, when a month became an entire season, and then…a whole year passes by, all in the blink of an eye.

That might have been the only “Mom thing” she was wrong about.

You see, it’s not that the feeling isn’t accurate.  Most days absolutely feel like there is never enough time to get everything done, to fit everything in before crashing and rising to go grind again the next day.  But like everything, it’s all about perspective and purpose.  Are we stopping along the way to simply take it all in, to be in the moment, and give thanks?  What are we choosing to do with the same 24 hours we are each allotted?

In less than 60 hours, the LLS gala will be underway.  As you know, that evening is a culmination of an unbelievable amount of effort, dedication, and commitment by individuals in our community who choose to make a difference in the lives of others. 

That special and emotional evening is both a celebration and a reminder that each one of us has only a pre-determined amount of time on this earth.  And some of that time might be in sickness.  We were not put here with a promise of everything always being easy, or for our own happiness to trump that of anyone else’s.  Much to the contrary, in fact.  We were put here to be in relationship with God and one another, all the while giving thanks in everything (1 Thess. 5:18).

Everything.

The good, the bad, the ugly.  Cancer is ugly.  This we know for sure.

But what we also know is that there is hope.  Hope for each one of us in this (very) broken world.  Hope for an eternal life with newness, peace, and beauty far greater than any of our earthly brains can even begin to fathom (Rev. 21:4-5).

This campaign matters to me in ways which are inexplicable.  After walking through that valley all those years ago, I’ve come out on the other side not with a feeling of “Guess I just kicked THAT all on my own,” but rather an extreme sense of gratitude.  Of awareness.  Of purpose and perspective.  And most certainly, of hope.

It wasn’t instantaneous.  It was not in my time at all.  And it definitely wasn't on my own.  Things happen exactly when they are supposed to happen.  And I know, man do I know, that when it is one of the ugly things you didn’t see coming, it’s hard to keep the faith.  It’s hard to not get angry.  It’s really, really hard to have all this hope I’m going on about.

But let me tell you:  it’s worth it.  Every struggle, every uncertainty, every feeling of guilt not only for being a survivor while others were not, but the built-in guilt and shame we all collect over the course of time - someday, it all makes sense.  Maybe not fully, maybe not right this second, maybe not even ever to our insatiable selves' satisfaction.

Yet the older we get, the more retrospectively we survey, and the more we are unafraid to stay on the right side of that line we drew (and erased and re-drew and erased and...) the clearer things become. 

Time.  That’s what it takes, that’s what we have, and that’s what is here right now.

Please donate if you have not yet done so.  THANK YOU to all of you who have.  I have not given enough thanks throughout this campaign (add that to my guilt list, please), but know that we all – every one of us who are in this together – appreciate it immensely.

And so my friends, here’s what I will leave you with before the big night, because it matters:

Make the most of the days, weeks, months, and seasons of life with which you’ve been blessed.  There is always time to make a difference in someone else’s world.

Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer (Romans 12:12)

http://www.mwoy.org/pages/in/ftwayne14/ovalencicm

 

WOTY2.0: Remembering

Yesterday was a day of constant remembrances. 

What is it about memories that typically causes you to recount them in chronological order?  I could never recall any of the wars in order on a high school test unless there were like, 3 choices and one was the War of 1812.  Loved history - hated the conjecture and non-veiled politics my teachers threw in while thinking none of us would bother to raise a hand or roll an eye. 

But when it comes to all things mothering - in order, every time, every year on Mother's Day.

I remember the first time I saw my Mom cry when I was a little girl.  I remember the first time I heard her drop "the bomb" while driving to OSU for a college site-visit in a chaotic car.  I remember her crying harder than ever when it was time to leave me there for good.  And I can definitely remember her face the first time she saw me after finding out I was sick.

Last week our Boy of the Year, Caleb, was also sick.  In the middle of already being sick, he was admitted to a hospital in South Bend because he had a fever.  Without leukemia, not a big deal.  With leukemia?  Everything stops, everything gets monitored, and everything potentially changes.  Caleb's counts were high enough that thankfully, he was released and avoided a longer stay.

Cancer never bothers to check anyone's schedule.  It never bothers to ask "Is Mother's Day this weekend?"  No, it is not a considerate disease whatsoever.  And that is exactly why we have to do something to change its impolite course.

Olivia's daughter, Bell, is sick too.  She has this crazy cough that makes her sound like a 90 year-old man who has smoked hand-rolled cigs longer than he's been shaving.  So instead of golfing this weekend (with me and my "I'm not going to lose to one self-proclaimed Phil Mickelson"), Olivia was up all night with Bell...being the fantastic Mom that she is.

Mothering never stops.  Not when you're tired, not when you're sad, not when you need to get groceries, mow the lawn, or teach high schoolers about Emerson, Whitman, and Thoreau. 

It doesn't even stop when you're in the middle of raising money to find a cure for blood cancers so others don't have to lose their own Moms ever again.

We are 18 days away from the gala.  18 days left to make a difference.  18 days to help someone have the chance of becoming a parent, remaining a parent, or maybe, in remembrance of one.

Please don't forget. 

http://www.mwoy.org/pages/in/ftwayne14/ovalencicm

A Closet Romantic

Our church is partnering with the Fort 4 Fitness this September in an effort to save girls from human trafficking in Thailand.  We do this as part of a project called Destiny Rescue.  What an important mission.  I cannot imagine the lives these girls would have without intervention.

I was asked to write a paragraph (I think a means one...hmm) answering the simple question of "Why do you run?"

The following is what my fingers just typed before asking my brain for any permission:

Why do I run?  That question is like answering my favorite poem:  Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s Sonnet 43.  How Do I Love Thee?  Let me count the ways.

Running is my constant, my respite, my "me" time.  It is my friend, my solace, my peace in the face of all life’s adversities, even the unintentional ones.  It frees me from monotony and the mundane, for no run is ever the same.  Some are easy, some are not.  Some leave you smiling, while others leave you bruised.  Some leave you feeling capable, while others leave you feeling humbled by ineptitude.  It keeps me fit, healthy, and strong, reminding me that I’m tougher than certain situations and unclarity would lead me to believe. Running brings me a joy that can only be understood if you compare it to an instant transport back to the innocence of childhood.  Because truly, that’s what it is – time spent in complete honestness and goodness, whether alone or side-by-side in total camaraderie with those who are on the same path…both literally and figuratively.

Running is my forever.

 

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.  

 

--EBB

 

 

WOTY2.0: Sometimes There Is Crying in Baseball

Under the heading of "time flies when you're having fun"...we are in Week 7 of the campaign.  Seven.  There are many updates I've been remiss in sharing, so hang and I'll take you on a frenetic update ride.  Let's go.

Three weeks from Friday is the gala.  Three weeks.  Have you purchased your tickets?  Seriously, don't make me go into sales mode to get you there.  It's an incredible amount of fun, the auction items are super cool, you get to dress up and make your 1980's prom-self (and probably your forgettable date) jealous, and well, the bar is open and open late.  All that aside, the most important reason you need to be there?  The cause.

Two nights ago, there was a collective event at Club Soda.  Non-candidate specific.  And do you know how much was raised by our Fort Wayne contingent in the course of a three-hour event all in the name of eradicating cancer?  Over $11,500!  That's pretty spectacular, as was the company. 

Speaking of the attendees on Sunday, Gianna was also there.  That was rough.  She was clearly under the weather, her vibrant smile hidden beneath a signature sparkly hat.  With her hand clutched to her Dad's, Gianna's little head hung low as she walked.  She's doing much better now; however, let me tell you - in the midst of dinner and a lot of laughs amongst friends, seeing that stops you mid-sentence.  Nothing causes instant cessation faster than watching a sick child and trying to make sense of it.

Cancer stops everyone mid-whatever.  Mid-car ride, mid-parenting, mid-phone call, mid-life, or sometimes mid-pitch, like OSU freshman baseball player Zach Farmer, who was diagnosed with AML (acute myeloid leukemia) last week.  His season suddenly looks very different.

Earlier today, cancer halted me yet again mid-work day.  As I was walking a thousand miles an hour down the hallway, our Admin Assistant answered a question for me and followed it up by asking one of her own:

"Can I ask you something personal?"

<nodding as my face lost all coloring>:  "Of course."

"When you were sick, did you have a tumor?"

<knowing what was about to happen>:  "Who has cancer, Sarah?"

She went on to tell me the story.  Sarah's forever best girlfriend called her the day before in utter hysteria, explaining that her husband - the love of her life, her guy, her person, her one - has Hodgkin's Lymphoma.  I could tell Sarah had been crying; I'm sure her friend had been crying even more.

We went on to discuss the general disease, the typical prognosis, treatment, etc.  Sarah understandably wanted to know so she could be in a position to help and comfort her best friend.  The part that she was struggling with the most was not knowing how to counsel her regarding the emotional and relational toll it was taking.  (We all do a bang up job with that stuff through our own volition; cancer doing it as a solo act infuriates me.)

Apparently, Sarah's friend's husband was in the anger stage.  Anger.  That one is something else.

You want to help with this campaign but don't know how?  Start by upping your compassion.  And I don't mean for "just people with cancer."  We all have something.  Some ailment; some sickness; some thorn in our side with which we struggle.  Let people be angry once in a while.  Everyone's "place" has been arrived at through completely different means.  Our journeys are unique; our relationship histories even more so. 

To watch someone you love battle cancer and yet be so completely defenseless is no small emotional undertaking. 

When you are unable to step up to the plate and pinch hit for your loved one as so many family members and friends long to do, it DOES make you angry.  When you are stuck in a hospital room for 7 weeks while your 2 year-old daughter is learning how to do first time things in this life that you should be showing her - it makes you angry.

When your wife, your husband, your brother, your sister, your high school "did THAT just happen?" buddy, your childhood friend, your own child, or...or the only mother or father you'll ever have is sick and you can't do a thing about it - it makes you ridiculously angry.  And a whole lot of other emotions.

So let's channel that anger at the right target together, just like the OSU baseball team is doing. 

"The team as a whole is obviously concerned about their brother, but we will forge on in our mission."  -Coach Beals

Forge on, everyone.  It matters.

 

CAMPAIGN TOTAL RAISED TO DATE:
$108,369.83