KSAs. Every year, you have an employee review and at some time, someone mentions them—knowledge, skills and abilities. Your boss tells you what you have, what you need, and what you better work on pretty darn quick or you’ll never make it to the “next level.” Every job requires different KSAs and we all have a different set of them. Some we are just born with, some we learn and some we build, often painfully. As I write during the Beijing Olympics, we can admit that there are a lot of people that know the sport of swimming, but few will ever be a Dara Torres, or a Michael Phelps.
And so it goes with love. Love is a skill. When given it is a beautiful gift and given freely, an act of profound grace, but most of all it is a skill. Everyone is born with an ability to love, no matter how wretched a human society creates, somewhere there is a heart of love. But unnurtured, it is a skill never acquired, or stamped out like unwanted embers that can cause too much damage. Therefore, people differ in their ability to love. It's like writing. There are people who are gifted storytellers and so there are people whose ability to love transcends art. People whose love fills a room and lights a night, people who love people and things without restraint. In other words, people who are truly gifted. But there are also brilliant technical writers—they are horribly unappreciated, because their gift is so precise and esoteric, appreciated by few, but necessary to many. And so there are people who love in the same way. People who care so deeply about society, or dogs, plants, or orphans, that they will dedicate their entire lives, fortunes and beings to improving the lot of the world. But most people are somewhere in the middle and most struggle in at least some aspects of it.
I started writing this several weeks ago, but couldn't figure out a way to get to the point. In the interim, I read The Shack, by William P. Young and as one of those Beautiful People, he made it all so clear to me. I started this post after hearing a very painful story from a cancer survivor who shared how she sometimes felt alone on her journey because others were uncomfortable and though they all meant well, all the trappings of manners and proper behavior and formality made her feel isolated. And what we need, all of us, is love, pure acceptance, especially when we are hurt, phsically, emotionally, or spiritually. And yet it's so hard because to truly open your heart to another opens yourself to risk--to hurt and disappointment. Consider this exceprt from The Shack:
Humans…have a knack for taking a verb that is alive and full of grace and turning it into a dead noun that reeks of rules: something growing and alive dies… If you and I are friends, there is an expectancy that exists within our relationship. When we see each other or are apart, there is an expectancy of being together, of laughing and talking. That expectancy has no concrete definition; it is alive and dynamic and everything that emerges from our being together is a unique gift shared by no one else. But what happens when I change that “expectancy” to an “expectation”—spoken or unspoken? Suddenly, law has entered into our relationship. You are now expected to perform in a way that meets my expectations. Our living friendship rapidly deteriorates into a dead thing with rules and requirements. It is no longer about you and me, but about what friends are supposed to do, or the responsibilities of a good friend.
And so, I endeavor from this day forth to try to live with expectancy and not expectations in all my personal relationships. I endeavor to assume that we all have good intentions for one another, but we are clumsy and unskilled in the ways of love and acceptance. Imagine how much better the world could be if we could all open our hearts and minds to the love of others! Don't treat love like they do our luggage on the trams and conveyor belts, treat all your relationships as if they provide the oxygen that sustains you, because in the end, they do! With love and acceptance, Lisa
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Friday, August 15, 2008
STRIKE OUT CANCER!
When our family has an occasion, we don't just have cake, we have Stacey Cake! For a while Stacey had to like get a job and take care of her family or something (really?) and she stopped making cakes! So, the Scribners stopped having parties because parties are not parties without Stacey Cake. I can't begin to describe to you the experience, I don't even like cake, but I LOVE Stacey Cake. I think Stacey's congregation is still scratching their heads about the time Stacey proclaimed loudly in the packed Christmas Eve service that she just loves that my husband starts salivating every time he sees her! She was talking about the cakes--I think, but who would know! She says she has a defective filter, I say without defective filters, what would we all have to laugh at? Anyway, we also have a hard time with parties because our boys have unfortunate birthdays. Bo's falls during the one week every year that Columbia (usually, including him) goes on vacation and Pierce's is in January right after break.
But Stacey is back in business, and Bo's tenth birthday was last Thursday--he was at the Little League game in Indianapolis, so it wasn't a bad day, but he didn't have a party or anything. So, next weekend, Sunday August 24th, we want to invite EVERYONE to come out to Town & Country Lanes on Providence to have Stacey Cake and maybe bowl a few with Bo. We have reserved 4 lanes, but if you want to bowl, let us know and we will reserve more. We could never have made it through the last couple months without all the support--every single letter, phone call, prayer and positive thought that was delivered when we needed it most. So this is one small thing we can do to say thanks! Especially if we don't know you, come out so we can meet you and say thanks in person. I can't begin to tell you how much I have come to appreciate some of the people who have sent e-mails or stopped into the store to give me positive energy. And to be honest, though there are a lot of people who tell you horror stories of energy suckers and people who say the most inappropriate things, Columbia gave us NONE of those. This is a birthday party, but the only gift we want is your presence. Bo has more material stuff than any boy should really have and we have no more space for anything, and without a safe place, the dogs will eat it. The best gift he and the rest of us can have is to know how many people are in his corner and to be able to say thanks in person!
So remember:
Bo's STRIKE OUT CANCER! Party
Town & Country Lanes
1508 North Providence Road
Sunday, August 24th, 2:00-4:00
RSVP if you want us to reserve lanes, otherwise, just come so we can say thanks! With love, Lisa
But Stacey is back in business, and Bo's tenth birthday was last Thursday--he was at the Little League game in Indianapolis, so it wasn't a bad day, but he didn't have a party or anything. So, next weekend, Sunday August 24th, we want to invite EVERYONE to come out to Town & Country Lanes on Providence to have Stacey Cake and maybe bowl a few with Bo. We have reserved 4 lanes, but if you want to bowl, let us know and we will reserve more. We could never have made it through the last couple months without all the support--every single letter, phone call, prayer and positive thought that was delivered when we needed it most. So this is one small thing we can do to say thanks! Especially if we don't know you, come out so we can meet you and say thanks in person. I can't begin to tell you how much I have come to appreciate some of the people who have sent e-mails or stopped into the store to give me positive energy. And to be honest, though there are a lot of people who tell you horror stories of energy suckers and people who say the most inappropriate things, Columbia gave us NONE of those. This is a birthday party, but the only gift we want is your presence. Bo has more material stuff than any boy should really have and we have no more space for anything, and without a safe place, the dogs will eat it. The best gift he and the rest of us can have is to know how many people are in his corner and to be able to say thanks in person!
So remember:
Bo's STRIKE OUT CANCER! Party
Town & Country Lanes
1508 North Providence Road
Sunday, August 24th, 2:00-4:00
RSVP if you want us to reserve lanes, otherwise, just come so we can say thanks! With love, Lisa
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Life Expectancy
We are still struggling with the finality of waiting. Our last doctor visit was on Friday. The head and neck specialist cleared us from any worry about a possible primary salivary tumor, and Tuesday we had our end-of-therapy visit in the oncology clinic. So now, once a month until they take it out, we have to visit for maintenance of the port we do not seem to need. They will also do scans and blood work quarterly for a couple years, then with less frequency after that, but at least annually for the rest of his life. Not so bad, but why does it FEEL so bad? Why do we seek closure when in life there is never closure? and what is closure? When do you know you are done?
When I was preparing for surgery, our neighbor--I've spoken about them before, that would be Kerry, the babysitter who raised my kids, Steve and Nancy, the parents and Kevin, ever-present role model for my boys and the one who all his life so patiently tolerated playing basketball with my little Bo--Steve gave me the book Life Expectancy (Dean Koontz) to read during surgery. Could he have known that this story might frame the rest of my life?
If you haven't read it, on the day he is born, Jimmy Tock's grandfather predicts that he will have to endure five terrible days. As the first one nears, his family strategizes how best to protect him. Should all be with him, should they lock him in the house alone? Ultimately he chooses to go about his day as normally as possible since he reasons, if he is to have five terrible days, he must survive at least the first four. The day is terrible but he also meets the woman he marries. So was it terrible, or just inconvenient? The other days come and go, and they are all terrible, but all-in-all he has a great life.
The only certainty any of us have is that one day we will all die. Sorry if that's morbid, but gosh this whole blog is pretty drab! If you were told that you would die in a plane crash, would you choose never to travel? If you knew that one of your children would have to endure cancer, would you choose not to have any? If life were like a game show, would you take the so-so outcome, or keep playing for the chance to win a million? We have to choose to go for it, ultimately, there is no choice. We can't hole up in our houses and wait to die, life is a gift and we have to accept it--even the terrible days.
So at some point soon, I think we will accept waiting and we will put out of our minds that something terrible might happen, but I am pretty sure it will be at least a year from now. The uncertainty of the metastasis is still such a huge dark cloud that no one knows how to process. One of our consulting oncologists finally said the other day that "naming it at this point is academic" but it is clearly malignant with an ability to spread. We will discuss the possibility of a second-look with our surgeon and hope that we have a great year with no new findings.
Expect life, every day, and accept life in all it's wonder and magic--it's all we get, but an amazing gift if you use it to its fullest! Have a great weekend, Lisa
When I was preparing for surgery, our neighbor--I've spoken about them before, that would be Kerry, the babysitter who raised my kids, Steve and Nancy, the parents and Kevin, ever-present role model for my boys and the one who all his life so patiently tolerated playing basketball with my little Bo--Steve gave me the book Life Expectancy (Dean Koontz) to read during surgery. Could he have known that this story might frame the rest of my life?
If you haven't read it, on the day he is born, Jimmy Tock's grandfather predicts that he will have to endure five terrible days. As the first one nears, his family strategizes how best to protect him. Should all be with him, should they lock him in the house alone? Ultimately he chooses to go about his day as normally as possible since he reasons, if he is to have five terrible days, he must survive at least the first four. The day is terrible but he also meets the woman he marries. So was it terrible, or just inconvenient? The other days come and go, and they are all terrible, but all-in-all he has a great life.
The only certainty any of us have is that one day we will all die. Sorry if that's morbid, but gosh this whole blog is pretty drab! If you were told that you would die in a plane crash, would you choose never to travel? If you knew that one of your children would have to endure cancer, would you choose not to have any? If life were like a game show, would you take the so-so outcome, or keep playing for the chance to win a million? We have to choose to go for it, ultimately, there is no choice. We can't hole up in our houses and wait to die, life is a gift and we have to accept it--even the terrible days.
So at some point soon, I think we will accept waiting and we will put out of our minds that something terrible might happen, but I am pretty sure it will be at least a year from now. The uncertainty of the metastasis is still such a huge dark cloud that no one knows how to process. One of our consulting oncologists finally said the other day that "naming it at this point is academic" but it is clearly malignant with an ability to spread. We will discuss the possibility of a second-look with our surgeon and hope that we have a great year with no new findings.
Expect life, every day, and accept life in all it's wonder and magic--it's all we get, but an amazing gift if you use it to its fullest! Have a great weekend, Lisa
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Membership has Its Privileges
Needles freak me out. It still amazes me that I do my own weekly allergy shots, though it amazes my family even more that I can spend more than 30 seconds inserting each needle... I am a huge advocate of natural childbirth and the Bradley Method, not because I am an idealistic and informed parent, but because I am a certified wimp. Stick a needle in my spine, or tough it out, the choice is obvious to me! We had our Bradley class reunion when our kids were a couple months old. Pierce was an award winning projectile spitter, and not even close to sleeping through the night, so I had no great observations or experiences to share, I could barely remember how I got to the meeting. But one of the Dads remarked that having a child was amazing to him because he received automatic free admission to a club he never even knew existed--the Dad's Club. He was right, the Mom's Club is just as rewarding. Then, I started a business and I learned what it means to receive a Gold Membership to the owners' club.
And now, though I am not one of the lucky ones that has been chosen to take on cancer myself, as a parent of a childhood cancer recipient, I get to belong to the Cancer Club. You can look down on it and be sad for all it's members, but I am so privileged to have come to know all the members and hear all their stories. And it doesn't stop at cancer. People who have cystic fibrosis and even mental illness or fibromyalgia all belong to the same club--the one that no one really wants to join. One of the benefits of membership is getting to know people at a level you were never privileged to reach before.
Sharing a journey through fear and sickness, uncertainty, unwavering faith and bottomless doubt molds and changes you in ways you never expected and opens you to insights and relationships you never imagined. One of my customers today shared a brief part of her cancer journey and reinforced one of the reasons I write--to give voice to the majority of members who are unable to share their perspectives for countless reasons, but whose stories deserve to be recognized. She also shared a part of her daughter's battle with situational depression and how it has changed her life, all for the better, in my mind. It is true that what doesn't kill us makes us stronger, if we are smart enough and brave enough to embrace it and learn from it.
This is a rambling post, but what I wanted to say was thanks to all the people who have enriched our lives with their knowledge and experience and who have been brave enough to blaze the trail before us. We appreciate the soldiers who fight for our freedom, and our ancestors who gave us life, we should also remember, every day, the medical pioneers who endure tests and treatments and unimaginable agony so that they can continue to enrich our lives in every capacity from teachers to nurses, realtors to electricians, salesmen to engineers and scientists. There are so many members of the cancer and other medical maladies club that we owe a great deal of thanks, so this post is for them, thanks for being strong! With love and respect, Lisa
And now, though I am not one of the lucky ones that has been chosen to take on cancer myself, as a parent of a childhood cancer recipient, I get to belong to the Cancer Club. You can look down on it and be sad for all it's members, but I am so privileged to have come to know all the members and hear all their stories. And it doesn't stop at cancer. People who have cystic fibrosis and even mental illness or fibromyalgia all belong to the same club--the one that no one really wants to join. One of the benefits of membership is getting to know people at a level you were never privileged to reach before.
Sharing a journey through fear and sickness, uncertainty, unwavering faith and bottomless doubt molds and changes you in ways you never expected and opens you to insights and relationships you never imagined. One of my customers today shared a brief part of her cancer journey and reinforced one of the reasons I write--to give voice to the majority of members who are unable to share their perspectives for countless reasons, but whose stories deserve to be recognized. She also shared a part of her daughter's battle with situational depression and how it has changed her life, all for the better, in my mind. It is true that what doesn't kill us makes us stronger, if we are smart enough and brave enough to embrace it and learn from it.
This is a rambling post, but what I wanted to say was thanks to all the people who have enriched our lives with their knowledge and experience and who have been brave enough to blaze the trail before us. We appreciate the soldiers who fight for our freedom, and our ancestors who gave us life, we should also remember, every day, the medical pioneers who endure tests and treatments and unimaginable agony so that they can continue to enrich our lives in every capacity from teachers to nurses, realtors to electricians, salesmen to engineers and scientists. There are so many members of the cancer and other medical maladies club that we owe a great deal of thanks, so this post is for them, thanks for being strong! With love and respect, Lisa
Gentle Giants
Sports confound me. I am not an athlete and I don't really "get" sports and physical competition--give me math team and physics olympics any day, but I just don't understand fan behavior and mentality... However, since I live in a sports town with three boys, I have learned to appreciate them as best I can. While I will never understand the offsides rule, the strategy behind a good batting lineup, or instantly recognize a zone defense, I have definitely come to appreciate the human side of sports.
In large part, thanks to Tommie, I have especially come to appreciate the dedication it takes to be an athlete at the collegiate level. I admit I was one of those people that thought "seriously, athletes have tutors, and that is fair why?" And of course you get the occasional Ricky Clemons who completed, what was it, 40 credits in one summer and bragged that he NEVER read a book in his life (Fortunately our new basketball coach would never stand for such nonsense!)... But Tommie taught me how much REAL athletes, who are dedicated to their sport, sacrifice. They spend hours on the road, missing class and homework time, to travel to events. They practice, often four or more hours a day, have team meetings and doctor and rehab appointments to fix ailments that would render most of us bedridden, and do their own fair share of recruiting and community service work on behalf of the university. They need tutors like most of us need help with laundry or cleaning or maintaining our cars. There just isn't enough time in a day to get it all done.
And we were recently the beneficiaries of some of that community service. Thanks to Gary Pinkel and the strength coaches, Bo was able to attend a training session for the MU football team. I stayed home with Pierce who would rather sleep late than do just about anything, but Bo had such an awesome time, I wish I could have been there. He was able to witness at least one athlete accomplish a new personal best, received posters with autographs of most of the team, and have what amounts to one of the best days of his life. Follow that up with a day at the field with the 11-12 Daniel Boone All Stars that adopted him, and he was in y chromosome heaven.
So, while I will never know a Hail Mary pass or an end-run when I see one, I appreciate Coaches Pinkel and Ivie and all the others like them who bring honor and dignity to their sports and help grow wise and honorable young men who will shine even more brightly off the field as they ever do on it. And, I appreciate the student athletes who work harder than most of us can ever really know to be the best that they can be in heart, mind and body. Life is full of heroes, gentle giants and brazen children who enrich our lives every day and we appreciate each and every one of you for all you give to those who seek hope. Thanks a million, Lisa
In large part, thanks to Tommie, I have especially come to appreciate the dedication it takes to be an athlete at the collegiate level. I admit I was one of those people that thought "seriously, athletes have tutors, and that is fair why?" And of course you get the occasional Ricky Clemons who completed, what was it, 40 credits in one summer and bragged that he NEVER read a book in his life (Fortunately our new basketball coach would never stand for such nonsense!)... But Tommie taught me how much REAL athletes, who are dedicated to their sport, sacrifice. They spend hours on the road, missing class and homework time, to travel to events. They practice, often four or more hours a day, have team meetings and doctor and rehab appointments to fix ailments that would render most of us bedridden, and do their own fair share of recruiting and community service work on behalf of the university. They need tutors like most of us need help with laundry or cleaning or maintaining our cars. There just isn't enough time in a day to get it all done.
And we were recently the beneficiaries of some of that community service. Thanks to Gary Pinkel and the strength coaches, Bo was able to attend a training session for the MU football team. I stayed home with Pierce who would rather sleep late than do just about anything, but Bo had such an awesome time, I wish I could have been there. He was able to witness at least one athlete accomplish a new personal best, received posters with autographs of most of the team, and have what amounts to one of the best days of his life. Follow that up with a day at the field with the 11-12 Daniel Boone All Stars that adopted him, and he was in y chromosome heaven.
So, while I will never know a Hail Mary pass or an end-run when I see one, I appreciate Coaches Pinkel and Ivie and all the others like them who bring honor and dignity to their sports and help grow wise and honorable young men who will shine even more brightly off the field as they ever do on it. And, I appreciate the student athletes who work harder than most of us can ever really know to be the best that they can be in heart, mind and body. Life is full of heroes, gentle giants and brazen children who enrich our lives every day and we appreciate each and every one of you for all you give to those who seek hope. Thanks a million, Lisa
Saturday, August 2, 2008
The Beginning, the End, THEN the Middle
Back in the day when I worked a real job and went to see those motivational speakers organizations always enlist to help "energize" the troops, I saw a woman speaker who carried around two pictures of her son. She would talk about how if only you could know the end, it would make the middle so much easier. The first photo showed a boy with a guitar and a complete 70's, early 80's punk outfit, black clothes, zippers, chains, makeup, piercings and everything. The "now" photo showed a proud man in a military officer uniform. I always read the first couple chapters of a book, then the last--my justification is so that I know what to read for and I can see if the author makes any mistakes. Of course they really don't, that's what editors are for, but I just have to know.
Tonight, I really f$%^ed up. Excuse the profanity, but when it's big, it's just big and Stephen King says you are supposed to write like normal people would speak and I didn't just "make a mistake." I was excited to escape and read a piece of fluffy teen lit--The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants--so I suspended "the rule" and just read from beginning to end and now I can't sleep. WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME THAT A 12-YEAR-OLD GIRL DIES OF LEUKEMIA? Sorry if that just spoiled it for anyone, but I think it's best to be prepared for things like that! Like I was told the movie It's a Beautiful Life was a wonderful love story. THE MAIN CHARACTERS ALL DIE IN CONCENTRATION CAMPS--not a great love story. Pay it Forward is not a heartwarming story about helping your neighbors--it's about a KID WHO DIES! Things like that are just plain sad and to a person in a fragile emotional state, they can be downright devastating--you can not spoil a sad ending, people need to be prepared. Why do they feel it is important to warn people there is sex or violence, drug use, or profanity? Profanity, really, who needs to be warned about profanity--how can a person be more offended by a few f-bombs than the sad and random expiration of a precious life?
So now, two nights in a row I am up in the middle of the night. Before this journey began, I could probably count on my fingers the numbers of times I have faced insomnia, but lately I spend a lot of time awake in the quiet time. While we still have no written report, we did get a phone call tonight that the doctors at MSK are not recommending any additional treatment at this time. They recommend we watch and wait, then treat any potential recurrence. So, here we are stuck in the middle and that terribly uncertain sentence feels like the worst punishment of all. Give me stress and deadlines and crises and I can function, even thrive if it's work related. Give me someone else's tragedy or pain and I can make the best of it and help them through, but stick ME in the middle of something scary and I don't even know what to do. Of course I never knew that about myself before, but now I do, I just plain suck at it. How can you feel angry and scared and helpless and frustrated, depressed and manic all at the same time and not explode? Well, apparently, I can't, so I read the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants and cried, and cried and cried, without really knowing why.
I cried for all the brave little people like Bailey and Bo who face death with no fear. Bo told Jay that he isn't afraid to die, but he doesn't want to die with tubes in him. I cried in relief that at least right now, Bo won't have to face chemo. I cried in fear that by not treating him, there is cancer roaming around in his little body searching for the next best places to relocate--his kidneys, his brain, his spinal cord? I cried in frustration that maybe we STILL don't have the right answer and we should look harder. I cried in anger that we spend more money building technology to blow stuff up than we do trying to save and build people. I cried in helplessness because no matter how much I cry, there is nothing else I can do to write his ending the way I WANT IT, and that no matter how happy, ordinary or painful it is, we have to read the whole book, no skipping ahead. So after I write this, I will go to sleep and I will wake tomorrow and start living our new life. And we will not live in in the shadow of cancer. Since we can't know the ending, we will enjoy it, like a good book, savor and love every minute of it, and take in all the good stuff, so the sadness pales in comparison to the happiness. Sleep well, always sleep well, so you can take full advantage of every day.
Tonight, I really f$%^ed up. Excuse the profanity, but when it's big, it's just big and Stephen King says you are supposed to write like normal people would speak and I didn't just "make a mistake." I was excited to escape and read a piece of fluffy teen lit--The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants--so I suspended "the rule" and just read from beginning to end and now I can't sleep. WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME THAT A 12-YEAR-OLD GIRL DIES OF LEUKEMIA? Sorry if that just spoiled it for anyone, but I think it's best to be prepared for things like that! Like I was told the movie It's a Beautiful Life was a wonderful love story. THE MAIN CHARACTERS ALL DIE IN CONCENTRATION CAMPS--not a great love story. Pay it Forward is not a heartwarming story about helping your neighbors--it's about a KID WHO DIES! Things like that are just plain sad and to a person in a fragile emotional state, they can be downright devastating--you can not spoil a sad ending, people need to be prepared. Why do they feel it is important to warn people there is sex or violence, drug use, or profanity? Profanity, really, who needs to be warned about profanity--how can a person be more offended by a few f-bombs than the sad and random expiration of a precious life?
So now, two nights in a row I am up in the middle of the night. Before this journey began, I could probably count on my fingers the numbers of times I have faced insomnia, but lately I spend a lot of time awake in the quiet time. While we still have no written report, we did get a phone call tonight that the doctors at MSK are not recommending any additional treatment at this time. They recommend we watch and wait, then treat any potential recurrence. So, here we are stuck in the middle and that terribly uncertain sentence feels like the worst punishment of all. Give me stress and deadlines and crises and I can function, even thrive if it's work related. Give me someone else's tragedy or pain and I can make the best of it and help them through, but stick ME in the middle of something scary and I don't even know what to do. Of course I never knew that about myself before, but now I do, I just plain suck at it. How can you feel angry and scared and helpless and frustrated, depressed and manic all at the same time and not explode? Well, apparently, I can't, so I read the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants and cried, and cried and cried, without really knowing why.
I cried for all the brave little people like Bailey and Bo who face death with no fear. Bo told Jay that he isn't afraid to die, but he doesn't want to die with tubes in him. I cried in relief that at least right now, Bo won't have to face chemo. I cried in fear that by not treating him, there is cancer roaming around in his little body searching for the next best places to relocate--his kidneys, his brain, his spinal cord? I cried in frustration that maybe we STILL don't have the right answer and we should look harder. I cried in anger that we spend more money building technology to blow stuff up than we do trying to save and build people. I cried in helplessness because no matter how much I cry, there is nothing else I can do to write his ending the way I WANT IT, and that no matter how happy, ordinary or painful it is, we have to read the whole book, no skipping ahead. So after I write this, I will go to sleep and I will wake tomorrow and start living our new life. And we will not live in in the shadow of cancer. Since we can't know the ending, we will enjoy it, like a good book, savor and love every minute of it, and take in all the good stuff, so the sadness pales in comparison to the happiness. Sleep well, always sleep well, so you can take full advantage of every day.
Friday, August 1, 2008
Tommie Lee, Tommie Lee, if I jumped that high, I would...
End the RHYME any which way you want, but that was the cheer my guys wrote for Tommie, my college student who is leaving me today. I'm still a bit teary. Tommie is a girl by the way, in Texas they can name girls that and no one thinks it's odd. Everywhere else, people think she is of the masculine persuasion, but that's okay, it probably opens more doors than it closes, especially since she is an athlete--a pole vaulter, hence the cheer.
Super Suppers opened on Valentine's Day, 2006. By the time May rolled around, I was tired--I won't even elaborate, but there must be a poet somewhere who could come up with a brilliant metaphor for the depths of weary that come with starting a business. I was sitting at my desk when a cute coed opened the door. I thought, "what could she possibly want to sell or have me donate to, I have already chased away 10 other people today and given all the money or food I can spare." I also thought I might just lock the door, curl up in the corner and cry or take a nap. But she smiled and said "Hi, my name is Tommie Lee and I worked at Super Suppers in high school and I was just wondering if you might need some help." Well, if I hadn't doubted my ability to bend over and get back up, I would have bowed down at her feet. I think she started that day, and besides the parmesan debacle, she has never done anything to cause me a minute of stress. She watches my store, my kids, my dogs and my house. She has not managed to teach Pierce his math facts, but I can't seem to teach him much either, he only learns what he wants, did I ever mention that he takes after me? Despite that, she will be a marvelous math teacher at her student teaching assignment in Kansas City.
Tommie is just my latest example of how things just work out. I always tell Jay that I never make decisions, as Paolo Coehlo says in my favorite book, The Alchemist, and to paraphrase my favorite writer, Ralph Waldo Emerson who said it first--when you seek your destiny, the universe conspires to help. Jay finds it frustrating that sometimes I don't even like to talk about making decisions because I think it's pointless. When something is supposed to happen, and when the need is greatest, things just happen, regardless of how much you plan or strategize. I have never yielded a great employee from an ad--I don't know why I still place--they always just appear.
And so we are still waiting and I am feeling a little desperate, but even Tommie is gone now. It has been two weeks since we sent out the material for a treatment recommendation and we still have not heard. I hope it's for good reason and the time invested by the doctors at Sloan Kettering will yield a recommendation without doubts. Or maybe, for some other reason we are supposed to be using this time for something valuable--but that's hard when the worry leaves you sleepless.
But it never ends, does it, losing sleep over your kids? Tommie's parents are here helping her move, then they will go back to Texas and no doubt lose a few winks of sleep thinking about their little girl in a new place with a new job and new friends, hoping she is happy and healthy. My hope is that I get to raise boys that will someday be loved and appreciated as much as I have loved and appreciated Tommie--that is success. Not money or possessions, but living a life and growing lives that enrich the lives of others. So far, so good, and hopefully this experience is only one part of Bo's contribution to humanity. Thanks to all the great parents out there, Lisa
Super Suppers opened on Valentine's Day, 2006. By the time May rolled around, I was tired--I won't even elaborate, but there must be a poet somewhere who could come up with a brilliant metaphor for the depths of weary that come with starting a business. I was sitting at my desk when a cute coed opened the door. I thought, "what could she possibly want to sell or have me donate to, I have already chased away 10 other people today and given all the money or food I can spare." I also thought I might just lock the door, curl up in the corner and cry or take a nap. But she smiled and said "Hi, my name is Tommie Lee and I worked at Super Suppers in high school and I was just wondering if you might need some help." Well, if I hadn't doubted my ability to bend over and get back up, I would have bowed down at her feet. I think she started that day, and besides the parmesan debacle, she has never done anything to cause me a minute of stress. She watches my store, my kids, my dogs and my house. She has not managed to teach Pierce his math facts, but I can't seem to teach him much either, he only learns what he wants, did I ever mention that he takes after me? Despite that, she will be a marvelous math teacher at her student teaching assignment in Kansas City.
Tommie is just my latest example of how things just work out. I always tell Jay that I never make decisions, as Paolo Coehlo says in my favorite book, The Alchemist, and to paraphrase my favorite writer, Ralph Waldo Emerson who said it first--when you seek your destiny, the universe conspires to help. Jay finds it frustrating that sometimes I don't even like to talk about making decisions because I think it's pointless. When something is supposed to happen, and when the need is greatest, things just happen, regardless of how much you plan or strategize. I have never yielded a great employee from an ad--I don't know why I still place--they always just appear.
And so we are still waiting and I am feeling a little desperate, but even Tommie is gone now. It has been two weeks since we sent out the material for a treatment recommendation and we still have not heard. I hope it's for good reason and the time invested by the doctors at Sloan Kettering will yield a recommendation without doubts. Or maybe, for some other reason we are supposed to be using this time for something valuable--but that's hard when the worry leaves you sleepless.
But it never ends, does it, losing sleep over your kids? Tommie's parents are here helping her move, then they will go back to Texas and no doubt lose a few winks of sleep thinking about their little girl in a new place with a new job and new friends, hoping she is happy and healthy. My hope is that I get to raise boys that will someday be loved and appreciated as much as I have loved and appreciated Tommie--that is success. Not money or possessions, but living a life and growing lives that enrich the lives of others. So far, so good, and hopefully this experience is only one part of Bo's contribution to humanity. Thanks to all the great parents out there, Lisa
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
