Day 153 - Cancer . . .

So,  I'm sitting in church this morning, nJoying the sound of all the children around me (our church is the most relaxed Episcopal church I have ever been to), proud that I have made it two Sundays in a row, feeling everything I feel when I sit in this welcoming old Nave, and it is time in the service for the Peace. Generally,  you stand at this point,  turn to your neighbor, family, friend or total stranger, reach out for their hand and say "Peace" or "Peace be with you" . . . hopefully you get the picture. So,  here I am, reveling in myself, and I turn to greet the parishioner behind me, only to find that one of my friends (at least I have always thought of her as a friend but we had not been in contact for a long time) is that parishioner and she quite obviously has cancer. Her head is covered with a decorative cloth (I'm sure it has a name), she is much thinner than the last time I saw her and she is smiling with a confidence and courage that is radiant. The first thing I say is "how are you?" in a ridiculously cheerful tone. UGH! She replies that she is okay with a kind of grace befitting this holy room. I turn back around feeling awkward and clumsy and sit down with a thud.

The rest of the service is a bit of a blur. I participated mindlessly, with all my years of practice getting me through. All I could see when I closed my eyes to pray, was Cindy's smiling face, under that wrap, that I don't know what to call (kind of bugging me now . . . ) Before communion, I turned around to ask if we could talk after the service. She graciously accepted.

I am ashamed, and grateful at the same time, that Cindy did her best to comfort me as she shared her saga with me. She was diagnosed last summer and had literally been battling through chemo and radiation. She showed me the angry radiation burn on her left collar bone and continued to try to lessen my anxiety as she revealed snapshots of the last six months. Her beautiful teenage daughter, Kate, stood silent, but smiling, in tow. She listened patiently and nodded or smiled when I would glance in her direction. All in all, the conversation only lasted a few minutes. We said our goodbyes, made promises to see each other and stay in contact (Promises I nTend to keep!) and I left. As today has progressed, I can't stop thinking of either of them, standing there in that peaceful place. We were surrounded by Gods love. I still feel it.

I plan to reach out in a few days with a note to both and perhaps some nGage bracelets. I am once again reminded that this journey is full of messages and lessons of loss and love, of pain and purpose. I have not been nTouch with Cindy. I have not been the kind of friend I think I usually am. I did not notice that someone I know, that lives a few blocks away, was fighting for her life. This isn't about me . . . it is about what I choose to do each and every day. It is about why I started this BLOG. I'm grateful for the reminder.

Be nTouch EVERYDAY!

Thinking Pink for Cindy