Blind Faith...

I’ve always considered myself faithful. Not perfect by any means… but certainly faithful.

Like in my head… I’m standing on a cliff, my eyes pressed closed and I am going to leap from this gorgeous mountain into the depths of God’s purpose for me.

AND THEN…

I JUST WAIT.

And nothing seems to happen.

And then I wonder why God isn’t recognizing my surrender to Him.

And like an ocean pouring itself before me today… NO.

Cause I think I thought blind faith was asking God for a sneak peak of that jump. Let me just see what’s ahead… then I’m gonna jump for sure.

I tried something new.

I asked God to see myself through His eyes… and maybe that’s why the awareness came.

Because suddenly I saw a scared child. Not on a cliff… but with toes in a few inches of water… with a life jacket and eyes wide open.

And so then I asked another question.

WHY AM I TRYING SO HARD?

I could feel all my spiritual angst in a way I’ve never felt it before.

I pray for strength and then I resist it. I’m given purpose and then I doubt it. I’m trusted with gifts and then I hide them.

I shiver in fear at the edge of nothing when I am promised a leap of faith into everything.

I believe in peace. I do. Sometimes I even feel it.

NOT SEEING… I feel like I can breathe now. That’s the surrender.

That’s the exhale. That’s the movement. THAT IS THE CALL TO PURPOSE.

THAT IS THE OBEDIENCE TO THE CALL.

Peace does begin within. It is THE WAY. But you cannot will it… or find it. Or create it.

It’s in the HOLY BLIND TERRITORY of darkness.

God meets us in the dark, He transforms us but not while we’re wearing our floaties.

And when you trust God in the dark,,, He OPENS YOUR EYES…

And what He creates… you TRUST.

IT IS YOUR CALL …. IT IS YOUR PURPOSE. HE IS CALLING YOU…

We may not know the hour but we also don’t know the reason. We aren’t supposed to…

I’m READY.

AMEN

Humbling Grace...

We are only 4 days into the New Year and I am in so much need of His saving Grace. It’s actually quite humiliating and yet upon realizing my blindness I cannot help but take to writing.

I’ve completely failed Grace Girl and my spiritual connection this week. I have a weakness for seeking purpose. And in all the inspiring New Year’s post I couldn’t help but feel like I still don’t really do anything.

AND.

Instead of continuing to trust God’s plan for me… I tried to hurry and find one. I don’t have an amazing service.

I write.

I AM A WRITER.

I connect with my soul and words flow. And that’s it. It’s my absolute way of being.

I have nothing to offer. Not like others. It’s not about comparing… it’s just not my path. I want to forgive myself…I want to clean the slate on this day 4. I want to follow the passion the Holy Spirit gives me so freely.

God knows and so I don’t have to. I can give myself unknowing permission.

I know this won’t be the first time that I fall. I just didn’t expect it to be so soon or so obvious. My apologies.

The beauty of pain that it can be absolutely anything it wants to be. It knows no bounds and dreams of something everlasting. Its Evolution is practically poetic. And in this intimacy, there are no white flags. You are an echo of your former self with breath on borrowed time. You can close your eyes but at this point there is no separation of darkness and light. 

Sometimes I am standing so close to the edge that I can feel its breath upon me. It holds me, draws me near, beckons with its insatiable promises that this too shall pass. And in this ebb and flow - I feel only flux, only transition… that this moment is THE moment. Time will either continue to fall upon itself or spiral into my palms… if I allow it… and this, this will give me stillness… and time to survive. As I wrote when I was a child… Cancer cannot have me if it cannot find me… and in prayer, and in reflection… I was always floating in and out of time.

I guess the saying goes - If I knew then what I know now… only for me it has been much the opposite in life. I wished for years to have the wisdom that I had then. When your soul is opened to the angels you become suddenly aware that you are exactly where you need to be. And in this knowing, the construct of time is just a matter of your own breath.

I remember every moment of those years… I can play them, rather feel them – such that the permeability of life is as fluid and salty as the waves that washed upon me. I was a tenacious child, I still am. Nevertheless, this unwavering faith in my existence blessed me with the resolve that while death was prevalent on a floor with my peers… it simply was not my time – though I knew I would come and go from this existence and in doing so, I could eventually stay.

AND.

Here I am. Again. I trust in you. I give this to you.

AMEN.

Grace Girl Beginnings...

This is Grace Girl.

I was in my last year of treatment. The easy year. No more spinal taps. No more hospital visits.

It was celebration. I was FREE.

I was already sick again but I didn’t know it.

HMMM.

This photo always brings me to that moment. Her moment in time.

Bliss.

And… that’s God. Reality didn’t even matter.

This photo is all the presence I ever need to remind me of Grace Girl. It reminds me that we all have purpose… even when we aren’t sure what it is.

TODAY was a much different kind of celebration of 26 years post bone marrow transplant. My body is sore, tired, and just a tad miserable from the last chemo treatment.

Still, today is my day and nothing changes that.

BUT.

I did something else different today too. I decided that I am tired of reading about healing experiences that are already complete.

Even when the story includes the struggle and the journey… it still has an outcome with a big bow on it.

I am tired of chasing OUTCOMES.

Two year ago, I became a certified health coach with the Institute of Integrative Health because I wanted to include health coaching along with my lifestyle coaching.

AND… of course I did not give myself permission to take this sacred journey for my own healing.

My body is crying out for help. I think we tend to hear ourselves a little more this time of year.

We tend to listen to needs, we set intentions and we proceed with faith and hope in a very promising New Year.

I realize that I am extremely intuitive. We all are. That’s what we are referring to when we speak of being body, mind and soul.

I don’t know if i can heal my inflammation. I have a very diverse experience.

But, I am not going to wait six months to a year to share my story and clean up my mistakes. I am going to work with what comes. I will share my experience which may or may not pertain to what will work for you… hence the coaching. Nevertheless if anything is of any use I want you to have it now.

I was a bit weary at first today. It seems everyone wants to withhold information unless you give your email, download an e-book or take a webinar class.

Then I realized it was a blessing and an answer to a prayer. Because I was doing it again!!!

I already had answers and images in my head… but for some reason I felt the need to search the web for confirmation. I ended up in a maze of useless information and I was completely frustrated in the process.

Fortunately, I came back to my intention, focused my attention, and remembered my purpose.

AND THIS IS HOW I COACH.

You are and always will be you. So there is no protocol other than being with your own intentions, self-awareness, and desires.

Tomorrow morning, if my body allows, I will be out to gather some nutritional supplies to begin my personal journey.

Because my next right step is to follow this aspiration while pursuing Grace Girl’s purpose. And I cannot possibly know what that is without the faith of moving forward.

Just take the first step. You don’t have to know the outcome… you won’t.

Listen to the small quiet voice.

AMEN.

Pale Pink...

It’s happening.

The face. The metamorphosis of steroids as I look into eyes that are not quite mine.

But unlike 26 years ago... this will not be a dissociation process.

THIS IS PRESENCE.

Hello old friend... I SEE YOU.

Yes exhausted eyes... but not an exhausted soul.

Yes a swollen face... but not a swollen spirit.

Yes wrinkled skin... but not a wrinkled heart.

I was 11 the last time these mysteries were upon me.

I had the faith but not the contemplative understanding for such SIGNIFICANT transformation.

I was also in an acute battle for my life. I was fighting a darkness that doesn’t exist except in the mystery of death. And I don’t mean that death is a dark enemy.

But the darkness is a blanket, so quiet, that you don’t remember your body anymore.

I’m no longer in an acute battle for my life. I’m making preventative life-altering decisions to live a fuller and more vibrant life.

And thus, retracing my steps.

The doctrine of flux... my absolute favorite philosophy my sophomore year of college. Most likely the reason I continued to pursue writing... though I had never stopped.

Flux reminds us that everything is constantly changing, that opposite ends meet up in a circle, and that everything is and is not at the same time.

It was also a call back to self. A call back to humanity. Flux let me exist.

I’m retracing these steps now because they are my next right steps. But that’s only because they are here now.

I’ve lived more years without cancer than I have with cancer. Still this is my present moment.

It’s my witness.

I didn’t have battle wounds with leukemia or my bone marrow transplant. Blood cancers are internal.

Then thyroid cancer left a sliver of a scar. Still with a line across my throat... it is a daily reminder of how fragile my voice can be.

I’ve never considered it a true battle wound.

And then this summer. Well it wasn’t even a thought of a decision to remove the breast cancer.

BUT.

Little did I know there wouldn’t be enough skin to ever really stretch my neck and chest as I did before.

AND.

This is because of how my body and skin developed from previous cancer therapy.

I love my little deformity. I feel the nerves travel a jagged line every moment of everyday. It’s a new reality.

But I’m free.

I’m neither trapped within or without my body. That’s been my life struggle.

We talk body, mind, and soul.

It makes for a nice deep breath, a wonderful healing massage, and even an interesting spiritual read.

BUT.

Do you live it? Do you love it?

My mantra helps me stay with my answer.

Pink is my zen, my prayer, my Hail Mary full of Grace...

Grace Girl is my walk of faith.

I’m praying more so I can worry less.

I used to pray with anxiety. I think I thought that if I could squeeze my eyes tight enough... my prayers may travel farther and mean more.

Now prayer feels like an endless stream for which I can only respond with gratitude.

These are not MY prayers. These are prayers that I am receiving.

I’m receiving so many prayers. I FEEL so much prayer!

The face.

Hello old friend... I SEE YOU.

THIS TIME.

I also hear you.

I also feel you.

I also know you.

I also have compassion for you.

And now that all this space has been held for you... it’s time to be the girl who just goes for it.

AND I AM...

Stay tuned.

AMEN.

#ThichNhatHahn_oldfriend

Closing Day...

I woke up at 4:44 this morning.

I can’t tell you what I was doing at 4:44 am, twenty six years ago, but I can say that I was in Milwaukee Children’s Hospital preparing for the most significant rebirth of my life.

I truly honor this sacred journey every year. Normally I would have my journals out with me and I would read what I was thinking at this moment 26 years ago. I am not able to do so this year - not in my packed up state of life. Those journals are tucked away for safe keeping.

And that is the best gift ever. Because this year, I am listening to God’s take as He shares the story.

I’ve always cherished the fact that my bone marrow transplant occurred during Christmas season. I’ve always known it was part of the miracle. Still, I think I let the details keep me from something perhaps a little quieter and maybe something I am ready for now.

Twenty six years ago I was fighting for my life with a very uncertain future.

Today, December the 26th I signed papers to close on my house… a different kind of uncertain future.

Tomorrow December 27th I receive chemo again. December 30th will mark 26 years post bone-marrow transplant. I think we think about dates a lot this time of year. I know that I do.

AND.

I always like to have a running start before the New Year. I am actually really exited for 2019. Not just for it’s possibility but because of my new understanding.

Today, I get to stop packing boxes. I get to live here now. I’ve been moving since July. Yes it was all part of the journey. The packing, the moving, the being in the present moment.

But just like I was ready to move on 26 years ago… I am ready now.

Yes. I am ready. And I am happy..

I will always cherish, honor and walk the sacred journey God led me through 26 years ago. In 7 days, He gave me new life. But I had to leave transplant if I was going to live that new life.

I was not to show my gratitude by staying in an isolation room being appreciative of the radical radiation and life-saving chemotherapy.

And so how are our day to day lives any different? We walk our sacred steps. We are on the journey. We are grateful for all its nuances… and we still move forward with inspiration.

Being in the moment; for me, is listening to that small quiet voice of God, the whisper of the Holy Spirit, the songs of the angels AND knowing that when I feel inspired to move - that the moment will carry me.

It may be a tiptoe, a climb, or a leap from a mountain. I just know that it has alway been the next right step.

Because isn’t that how we embrace gratitude?

AMEN

Girl Time...

One of Stella’s favorite past times is shopping with a mini cart at Fresh Thyme Market. I take her when I don’t actually need anything so as to not be overwhelmed with my list and her wondering eyes.

Fresh Thyme is her own little world of wonder and paradise. Last night, she was completely intrigued with the fresh cut Christmas wreathes last. What is that smell she wondered (confession…. we have an artificial tree). I may need some Christmas Spirit oil today.

Last night was not about her amusement though.

A thought was with me throughout the day… the kind that you wonder if its a sign, or maybe you are making it up in your mind? It was a very gentle thought, but it continued to manifest and permeate throughout the day. I just let it be. I didn’t try to do anything with it at all other than accept it was there.

This thought?

There are ways that you can take care of yourself besides the chemo and following orders. These are part of your mission, not the mission or journey itself. YOU ARE WORTH TAKING CARE.

This was the thought that came to play yesterday.

My usual thoughts?

This is a chemotherapy plan to prevent secondary cancers. Just stick to the plan. Get on auto pilot and just go. There isn’t time to be with this experience, just get out of it. Just push. Just get going and don’t stop. You don’t have time to heal. This is survival.

Hmmm.

My mind is constant narrative. It’s a Kate Winslet type voice - sometimes overly sensitive and intrusive with self-reflection, perfect hesitation and confidence.

What if, I thought, I take Stella on a girl time excursion… and I let myself experience the same wonder? Food worries me. It’s been a high anxiety subject for me since my first experience with cancer.

Its true that we are resilient as children, but it is equally true that we are sponges, soaking in our experiences as truth rather than potential circumstance.

My truth became that decisions were a matter of life and death. And it was true for me. It was my truth and my experience for three and half years. In fact, every decision played into my existence. Every single one. Mind you, this was not without a complete belief in prayer and miracles and absolute spiritual surrender.

i didn’t and couldn’t eat much for three years. The miracle anti nausea drugs offered absolutely no relief to me. Mostly I could get by… but not after transplant. I was required to eat on my own before I could leave the unit.

But that’s when it happened for me. The association. Food was life or death. I had to make a decision. I got out, but not without major complications.

I can’t tell you how many times people laugh at me when I am trying to make a decision… “It’s not like it’s a matter of life or death”

I laugh as my entire body is flushed with this universal truth. I try not to lose my ground. I repeat it silently.

And then I think, yes, but then it could be. It could be life or death.

Food is an industry. And that makes it challenging for someone like myself. With all the food philosophies and sources, everyone is willing to overwhelm you with conflicting messages. People are more than willing to give unsolicited advice and share why a certain nutrition will or won’t work for you.

DEEP BREATH.

I asked for a sign. I don’t always do this but the message was still coming in so vividly. I was seeing actual products I needed to help me in this journey. Some of which I had never seen before. They were just being nudged into my presence. But we have all been in this place of doubt. How do I know if this is God or my own active imagination?

So I did it. I just begged.

Okay God, if this is you… I’m going to need you to be super clear. I want to know without a doubt that it’s you. I’m tired of guessing.

I don’t normally demand clarity from God, but then, this prayer was also a surrender. With all of my heart I just knew I needed help.

A few minutes later, My mom returned home from Christmas shopping, and I put my prayer aside. She shared with me that she found the most perfect present for Stella.

Waiting with anticipation she pulled the most beautiful, sparkling cross from a beautiful little box and I stared directly into my answer.

HI GOD.

Now for the fun part. You may think that with a sign like that, I was able to walk into Fresh Thyme, grab the items in ultimate excitement and begin my nutrition journey.

NO.

My heart was beating so fast as we walked into the store. I quickly began to see what I needed. The first item went into my cart. Then I took it out. Then I put it back in. Then I took it out and read it. Then I imagined all the unsolicited advice.

Then I looked at Stella who was being unusually patient. You need that she said and she wondered off with her mini cart. I dropped it back in and followed her.

NEXT SIGN.

You may think the shiny cross would have provided all the courage I needed for this journey but God knew i needed just a little more.

I was completely doubting my ability to finish the journey and seriously contemplated abandoning my cart and fleeing the store. Just then, this little stuffed animal llama practically jumped into Stella’s cart.

Awe Mama… it’s a little Llama.

Stella doesn’t know that LITTLE LLAMA is our Grace Girl project together. It’s her Christmas gift.

Of course this little llama had to come home with us, maybe more for me than her and we are lovingly calling her Dalai because in addition to our faith we need reminders to be kind and compassionate with ourselves so we can be that with others.

And maybe some of you can relate to this and maybe it seems completely foreign. But that was my next sign and strength for nutrition as part of this journey.

We continued around the store and I knew exactly what I needed. That said, muscle memory is real. Each item went in, and then out, and then back on the shelf, back in my hand, and finally in the cart.

ITS NOT LIFE OR DEATH. IT’S KINDNESS. IT’S COMPASSION.

We made it to the register but I am not sure I could have finished the journey without Stella. It was definitely meant to be girl time. At first, I didn’t think she had any idea what was going on. She is the child who rarely listens to a word I say, she is too stimulated and excited for anything other than the present moment.

Last night she seemed to have an intuitive space.

I am excited to GRACE GIRL my life… it’s not about surviving. Cancer is no longer a protocol.

I never ever imagined breast cancer or any secondary cancers in my life. I figured my childhood gave me my one and done pass from such an experience. With the total body radiation I had, and the board held on my behalf… secondary cancers are a possible reality.

Of course this isn’t about cancer.

It’s about LIFE. It’s not a protocol. Or a to do list.

There is so much that I DO WANT TO DO, but not as a checklist, not as a measure. I just have so much PASSION. And I just want to use it!

AND. I’M AFRAID. AND I’M READY.

My dear friend sent me a text yesterday that sums up the mantra and prayer I want to live by in 2019. And of course that starts now.

Fear is not from God. Remind yourself to whom you belong!

I am going to inscribe this on everything that I own and I cannot thank you enough for the message. It’s everything I need.

Cancer… I am not who you think I am.

Amen.

Gifting Glory...

I don’t believe in coincidences. There are too many blessings in life for me to think anything happens by chance. My last post was about feeling bloated and uncomfortable as I continue to swell.

And this is about letting go.

I received confirmation of my house closing today. It sold a few weeks ago but I will be free of my home as of December 26th. I haven’t felt this way through most of 2018. It’s felt like one big time line of loss.

Letting go can be fun, when it’s a CHOICE and a FREEDOM.

I remember when I first purchased The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up: The Japanese art of decluttering and organizing by Marie Kondo. I completed the entire method, but I was a little confused by my joy at times. I purged many items but I kept a lot as well. At the end… I didn’t notice or feel a significant change.

And perhaps that was because I didn’t understand my JOY IN RELATION TO MY PURPOSE.

In learning that I was going to lose my house this year I felt loss. I try to see the silver lining in life, but I still felt loss. I still didn’t like it. I moved from a two-story, 4 bedroom home into two single bedrooms for Stella and I within my parents’ home.

I realize that it is a journey. And. I’ve been on this journey before.

I had one room in transplant. Just one. I had to find a way to contain all the inspiration I needed into a single space. I had to create a living, breathing space for healing. And I did.

And this is the same. And in all the things we think we need in life, we need so few. And it’s amazing that I have practiced letting go for months now. So much that I am finally down to the last few boxes of donations.

I cannot help but think how appropriate this journey is for us during this time of Advent. I feel like God is blessing us with this parallel experience. I don’t know what we need or where we are going. Our future is more uncertain than the stars. We have nothing to guide us other than our hearts and a leap of faith.

The ebb and flow of swelling and letting go is significant for me right now. AND… its a reminder that we have everything that we need when we recognize our blessings.

You can let go of anything you want to let go. ORGANIZATION ISN’T A SECRET.

FIND SPACE AND BREATHE.

I’m not saying loss isn’t real. I want a home. I pray it’s being prepared… and when it is, I will be ready.

Till then… I’m following the star of WONDER.

BODY + SOUL STORY LESSONS:

• I AM understanding what brings me JOY BECAUSE I AM PRAYING TO UNDERSTAND MY PURPOSE.

• I AM understanding that I do not want to be a slave to anything that I own.

• I AM understanding that the items I packed are GIFTS OF GLORY… the beauty of that which we need for the journey we are on.

AMEN

Conscious Kindness...

I never thought I would post anything this honest and yet I find myself thinking that, very rarely, do we experience anything in complete isolation. So then maybe you can relate.

I’m going to share what I have learned about being consciously kind to my body in a moment that health and wellness is at peak attention.

I have a desire and wish to take care of myself, to feel good, to have energy, and to love my experience of life.

And sometimes, despite my best efforts. My body takes revenge. Or something like that.

This isn’t true for everyone. I have friends who have a very ideal response to normal healthy directives. That is, they eat well, exercise and have very optimal energy and wellness results to say the least.

THAT IS NOT MY EXPERIENCE.

I have what they call Late Effects from my childhood chemotherapy, radiation and bone marrow transplant. I don’t have a thyroid.

I have a diagnosis of postural orthostatic tachycardia, high blood pressure and high cholesterol… other than that, it’s all undefined symptoms of a very aged nervous system.

That said, you don’t have to have any diagnosis to understand what I am about to describe.

Our miracle bodies don’t always act or respond how we think they will. We are not in complete control. We are living miracles. We are unique. We are creations.

And sometimes… We make NO SENSE.

My first experience with postural orthostatic tachycardia was in New Orleans. We were walking around the cobblestone streets in extreme heat.

The skin on my legs turned into leg warmers. I kid you not - I had at least 8 ripples from my shin to my ankles. My legs were huge, swollen and felt like they could burst. It was also my first experience with pitting edema.

I know that cobblestone is not my friend.

Nevertheless, yesterday was a fun family Christmas celebration in the Streets of St. Charles.

I knew what I was in for… or more accurately, the visceral experience to come. I walked those cobblestone streets with Stella and my family. I let go of expectations and enjoyed the moment.

I let myself be.

I used to think if I was just good enough I could prevent all of this from happening. And while a healthy diet is important to me… it has yet to change my universal physical experience.

Last night I did something new. I decided that no matter what happened in my sleep - I would be kind to myself in the morning.

I would accept myself no matter what.

And I woke up to a COBBLESTONE FACE.

I’m not kidding. I looked like I was beat up with water balloons. Medically, it’s called moon face but it was a Picasso moon at that. I looked at all three of my chins… my brutally swollen abdomen, and my heavy laden legs… and then I wondered what I could do differently.

How could I change the story?

I decided to wear kind clothes. I offered myself relief and compassion for a journey that my body endured. I gave myself permission to RECOVER. It will take a week or more. And that’s okay.

I used to fear being judged. If I were healthy and well… I wouldn’t look like this. I wouldn’t need a week of kind clothes. I could maintain an appearance. I wouldn’t morph into a stranger of myself overnight.

God doesn’t decide how SACRED we are by how our bodies respond to food, exercise and life. I have exercise intolerance. I used to judge myself for that… like it was a mind over matter issue.

It’s not. It just is.

I am going to sleep with a cobblestone face. It’s a lumpy hot mess. And if God can love this piece of art then I think I can too.

This isn’t about accepting flaws… although I like that idea.

It’s about understanding that being consciously kind is a very HOLY PRACTICE. I used to think that being holy was never seeing yourself as good enough… BUT WHAT IF THAT’S WRONG?

WHAT IF WE JUDGE OURSELVES WAY TOO HARSHLY… LIKE ALL THE TIME?

BODY + SOUL STORY LESSONS:

• Compassion of self brings our life to the light… that is my ultimate prayer

• Being afraid of what others think keeps me in the dark and separates my body + soul

• Conscious kindness is a practice that connects me with others in a sacred journey

AMEN

Christmas Miracles...

A homily last Sunday had me thinking…

I’ve kept everything I have ever wanted to experience at a distance. I kept myself away. I’ve hid my passions and my purpose in sacred places… away from my heart and even further from my soul.

I’ve perfected the not me and grown into an absolute abstract of what I don’t think I’m allowed to believe.

To WONDER.

I am a quester. I quest. And my quests, of course, are in seeking something I feel I have lost. I let go of the loss. It’s how I stay present. But, what is the presence of loss?

It’s this.

It’s never knowing, not even a little…

I didn’t know I could still BE.

I went to sleep as this began to surface in my soul.. so it’s no surprise that the Holy Spirit decided to wake me at 2am. His voice is like the tiptoe of a whisper and while not quite a lullaby - I recognize it by its divine gentleness.

This permeating WONDER that He speaks of… it’s aligning with my soul.

Speaking of soul and leaps of faith… I am even co-hosting a Christmas Party of WONDER though I’m not exactly sure what that means for the guests. I just know that it IS.

CLARITY

Oh I love clarity. I rarely experience it. Though I have. I often make the mistake of trying to clarify what the Holy Spirit is showing me… you know, try to make sense of the divine.

I’m letting that go just this once for something else to happen.

26 years ago I was on my deathbed. Since then, Christmas has always had an extra meaning for me. Not that it’s about me, it’s just another experience of what has been my ultimate quest thus far.

AND.

I had all the clarity, the feeling of knowing, the unconditional love, the this is my actual soul experience of life. I wasn’t here in the same manner but I didn’t go to a light or completely leave.

We read amazing insights of clarity for those who pass this life, leave us with final thoughts and soothe our souls. There are also those with extreme afterlife experiences who tell us about heaven and all its glory.

Neither were my experience.

I feel like, instead, I was to share the hope and promise of here. Right here. But how?

WE HAVE PURPOSE. HERE. ALSO.

Life is a miracle too.

The chemotherapy I am receiving, while not nearly as strong as 26 years ago, is still impacting my life quite significantly. And, as such, I received a blood transfusion on 12.12. to help with some of these effects.

I haven’t had a blood transfusion in 26 years. I found it so profoundly simple and life-giving.

It reminded me that I have a physical body with function and purpose and that while my goal is heaven MY HEART STILL BEATS HERE.

My heart still belongs to God… that doesn’t change because I put on a cute sweater, grab a cup of coffee, promise Stella money for a candy cane fundraiser, and lose my phone for an hour.

THAT’S LIFE. AND I LOVE IT. (#MOSTLY…lol).

You can expect a slight shift in my posts… I will always post HS inspirations, but it’s time for A LEAP OF FAITH.

It’s time to ACT. As a writer, it’s suggested you don’t tell the reader what to experience… you create the experience. That’s the miracle of good writing is that its not the words at all.

And for my pace… expect it to be quick, as an empath… once I have an experience it seems to manifest completely!

Amen.

Stella's Mama

The truth is that no matter how much we want to control our health or prevent bad things from happening in our life, we just can’t.

That said, to use my daughter’s words, we do have “great opportunity” to take care of ourselves. And maybe I haven’t always done that.

But, I don’t think that we create our own illness. That is a belief system, it’s just not mine. I feel like it assumes that we are in complete control of the chaos that is life.

I feel like if I were to take this belief system into my heart - it would change everything I have ever believed about prayer, about humanity, about existence itself.

Maybe if I were only looking at myself… maybe if I was focused solely on me… maybe I could find myself accepting this belief…maybe.

But then I look at the world. And I cannot possibly fathom it.

That said…

I do believe in prayer. I do believe in accepting graces. And… I do believe in our stories. I believe it’s how we are all interconnected. Because we all have stories.

Your story unfolds everyday and enriches someone’s life.

Your story is your body, mind, and soul narrative. It’s the depth of your voice. It’s the tone of you.

I don’t believe we are in complete control of everything in life.

We CAN tell our own story.

I am Stella’s mama.

Everything in my life aligned for this.

She is the miracle of my story.

God called me so near to her that for 5+ years I ended my practice to be only with her. In this next experience of life, letting go of cancer, I realize I am not only meant to share this story, but to practice it as well.

I realize that Stella’s mama is Grace Girl.

I’m not even entirely sure what that means. It’s a process not an end.

Amen to listening to the Holy Spirit… and Amen to following a path not quite set.

Amen to surrendering to such path… and one really, really big and HOLY AMEN.

Battle Wounds

What is the poetry of your closet? That is, do you find self-expression in your wardrobe?

I’ve gone back and forth on whether I should care about being comfortable in my closet. And then I discovered something else. I know why most people in my life cannot relate to my connection with textiles.

If you understand, if you connect with this poetry I speak of, then you know. You have experienced being uncomfortable in your own skin. And in being uncomfortable in your own skin, you know the discomfort of being uncomfortable in your clothing.

I have a love for fashion, but I am not talking about fashion.

I used to think that when others didn’t understand my message - the message was wrong. I have believed this for twenty five plus years.

Then I realized maybe the message isn’t wrong, maybe it’s just not their message.

Here’s why.

It makes perfect sense to me that clothing can be protective, integrative, and grounding. It makes perfect sense to me that the connection we feel to our own skin and how we express it in dress is an art form. It’s a creative process for how we not only heal, but in how we live and connect with others.

And so, maybe my message isn’t wrong. Maybe if clothing is superficial for you, maybe you’ve never been stripped of it.

One can always, always argue that true self expression comes from within. True.

But when you are dying… and even fabric hurts your skin, and your eyes don’t express your true self anymore, and you are left with only the quiet breath of your soul…as you are told to say your goodbyes -

You have to reconnect to this world.

And so clothing is not superficial to me. It’s a gift. A reminder that I am here in soul AND BODY.

My love for styling is the narrative of my healing. It’s practice. I’m grateful for this life. I love bringing comfort to the everyday experience. I love helping others embrace their same passions.

The next time you find yourself wandering if your passion is superficial, look a little deeper. Maybe it’s the reason you are here. Maybe it’s part of your purpose.

I love beauty. I seek it. In all forms. That’s what I know, from when I was alone, with the breath of my soul.

Amen.

Happy Birth Day...

I want to drift off to sleep… only there is more. An answer… to who is Stella’s mama. And while it is not complete, I feel it surfacing and swelling, literally.

And as I am tuning into this swollen pregnancy type belly, emerging with some discomfort - I am reminded of a unicorn painting experience Stella and I are sharing this weekend… on the 18th.

Until now, I had not thought about the date, only the day, Sunday. And on November the 18th, Stella’s baby brother, Rodger Carlton would be celebrating his birthday. I can’t say I forgot the date was coming, I was avoiding it.

I didn’t find this unicorn painting class, a dear friend sent me the link and I felt drawn to sign us up. But not because it was unicorn and not because of the date. My first thought was this is chemo weekend.

You will need a ride. You may not even feel well enough. But then all the fear went away. I understood we were MEANT to take this class.

It’s only since I am understanding that her experience of unicorns is the miraculous that the date is revealing itself to me. There are two unicorns in the painting. A mother and a child.

Stella does not only have a brother… she has a sister as well. She would be the middle child. She is the baby sister and she is the older sister.

Grace Girl, Stella’s Mama, mama of saints… who is she?

Who am I?

Who are you?

It’s okay that we don’t know. The answer isn’t important. It’s about the quest. It’s embracing our humanity, and divinity in the everyday miraculous.

Gianna and Roger both make their presence known but in very different manners.

I always sense Gianna in the sacredness of numbers. Yesterday while at the hospital for chemo, I heard the baby lullaby play over the speakers three times.

I will explain the significance.

My water broke on Mother’s Day while I was pregnant with Gianna. She was just 17 weeks gestation.

My parents rushed me to the hospital and my doctor wanted to get me to the OR immediately. I hesitated and asked if amniotic fluid could build back up? I was not having contractions and she still had a heartbeat. My doctor was so concerned about me but said he would admit me to the hospital, keep a close watch, and if we had to go the to operating room he would do what he could.

And I prayed. I just prayed. And I was weak, but I just prayed. And a few days later they let me go home as my amniotic fluid had surrounded my baby once again.

Within hours of returning home, the contractions started. I was so confused. Why had God answered my prayers and given me a miracle just to take her away?

All I could think to ask in this state of debilitating pain was for a sign from the Holy Spirit that He was, in fact, present.

And then it came. My beautiful healthy girl, who was simply too young to live, was born at 1:23.

They didn’t play the lullaby over the intercom for her. They quickly hung a sign on my door. Everyone who entered had a lowered head. It was somber. Painfully somber.

I think this is why she appears to me in numbers. I see 1:23 everyday. She also comes in 333 or 3 or multiples of 3. Sometimes she comes as a rose or the color of pink. But I just know.

Roger appears in animals mostly. Especially cardinals. And I know it mostly because of how strangely the animal is behaving.

Roger was born at 20 weeks. I will always remember them preparing me for his heartbeat. While Gianna had a heart beat until she was born. Roger was born with a heartbeat. It didn’t last long, but they wanted me to know that I just needed to hold him. That he was, in fact, still too young to save.

I didn’t ask God for a sign during his birth. I just couldn’t believe it was happening again.

Stella was at home with my mom and that made the experience different as well. I could not fall apart.

But it’s like I forgot how to pray. It didn’t seem to matter. Two precious babies left this earth whether I wanted them to or not.

My mom picked me up from the hospital and we returned to my house. There at my window was the most red cardinal I have ever seen in my life. Stella saw it and started cooing and singing. And it stayed. It just stayed all day. And even though I didn’t have the heart to pray I just knew it was him. And he continues to appear and let his presence be known in cardinals.

And sometimes as a deer. One time I was watching a deer in the yard and I didn’t want to scare it. I quickly paused. It sensed my presence nonetheless, so I figured it would run away. Instead, it approached the stairs to the deck. I moved toward the glass sliding door and that deer walked up the stairs onto the deck. I moved closer to the glass. It walked up to the glass window so I sat down. And it just stayed there with me for what felt like hours. It may have been moments. I am not exactly sure. But I knew it was him.

Tomorrow we will celebrate your birth days… we will celebrate your miraculousness.

I love you.

Amen.

#15... Mary as the Ultimate Wonder Woman

Our passions have messages that we are drawn to honor. They are not trite. I am learning this.

My daughter loves Wonder Woman - along with unicorns, rainbows and glitter.

I feel like as a mama, i am always trying to keep these passions in balance. Like, is it okay that she is so in love with unicorns that she would write that the thing she is most grateful for in life is a unicorn? And then she would write that word on a pumpkin for all to see? Is it okay that her heart is so full of love for a unicorn?

And then it dawns on me… well actually it’s not quite dawn. The Holy Spirit has me up at 1 am to consider this.

I planned to write tomorrow if possible, but then I do not plan my blog posts. Usually I feel inspired to write on the day of my chemotherapy. Last night I did not hear the Holy Spirit speaking, so I went to sleep. But…

Back to unicorns.

Why is the Holy Spirit speaking to me about unicorns at 1 am? Maybe it is to experience Stella’s love of unicorns. Then again, I’m suddenly being drawn to think about unicorns while I have an intense feeling the miraculous.

Stella can ask me 1,000 questions in 1 minute. And those of you who know her, know this isn’t an exaggeration. Okay maybe a tiny one. 100 questions in 1 minute. And if I am practicing patience - I feel a deep understanding within her. Why? Because the questions she asks brings my attention to an experience of marvel and inspiration.

She honors a deep belief system. I have to be with her to realize this. I have to embrace her story. I have to get on her unicorn and glitter level. I have to find my inner wonder woman moment.

When I am with her, I feel all the miracles.

She is a story teller, not always in words, but in her experience of the world. She will ask me if Mary and Wonder Woman are friends. She will say the Hail Mary and ask why prayer cards don’t have more glitter on them.

I don’t feel like a hero. But Stella does. And she explains, in her own words, we are all heroes because we are all miracles - we inspire one another. She understands that we are called to be heroic. I am learning this from my child.

She is most grateful for unicorns because they are fluffy, glittery, shiny and colorful… and for Stella… that is how she feels the miraculous.

It’s no “wonder” she shares a passion for Mary the Mother of God and Wonder Woman.

Don’t worry dear Mama… I hear in my heart.

I picture her nightstand with her rosary and her unicorn stuffy. And I smile.

And even though I do worry… about being good enough as a mom, and a woman and a person…

I still smile.

I feel like the Holy Spirit is sharing her gift of discernment with me. Our tiny precious children have gifts of the Holy Spirit and I want to embrace hers.

This is a very long intro into my experience of treatment #15.

What is treatment #15?

Treatment #15 is who is Stella’s mama.

And why do I smile?

I smile because Stella calls me mama.

Yesterday she asked me how long she can call me mama… like can it be forever?

Grace Girl isn’t the girl going through cancer… again.

Although, this is very much a part of Grace Girl.

She is who I aspire to be. She is affectionate, loving and grateful. She leads with her heart. And perhaps feels more than she wants to feel, at times.

And so I ask myself, who is Stella’s mama?

Let me be clear on one thing. This is NOT a question about a role. Stella’s mom is not a role I play.

We share in the divinity God gave us by being obedient to and and by answering our call in the way our soul manifests here on earth.

I am Stella’s mama. Who is she?

Amen.

Survivorship

And in giving myself that very permission I am also reminded of how I used to run across the street. Not like a joyful skip. Like a run for your life don’t be in the way kind of a run.

Sometimes it’s not easy. Sometimes I feel like I can’t take up space. It feels like the world could just fold upon me and snap - I’m lost. Gone.

As a survivor, I constantly have to remind myself that I can take up space - actual physical space, conversational space.

But then, it also feels like don’t press your luck, don’t be found. But then I was found anyway. So i don’t think that should be my prayer anymore.

I don’t write about my life because it’s all that interesting. I write about my life because it’s my story. The only one I have. It’s the canvas from which I draw all my pictures. It’s the center from which others experience my soul. And of course… this is all true for you as well.

Maybe certain circumstances make you more aware of this phenomenon. I can think of the ellipses that bring me closer to this center.

One such circumstance for me began at age 9, with Leukemia. It’s not that I linger there… it’s that my center was drawn from there at one point.

And when the Holy Spirit wakes you up in the darkness of morning, you pay attention to where you are drawn.

I used to avoid it. I felt it was an issue that I could not move past.

Until.

Until I realized there are moments we are given.

There are moments we are given to remind us that we are held.

And in these moments, these precious little moments, we remember that maybe we are precious also.

That we are drawn and created on purpose.

And then I don’t have to run across the street - trying to survive.

We all have centers to which we are drawn. it’s okay to be drawn to your center… the points from which you are drawn will draw others.

I am drawn to contemplative prayer when I reach my center. But then i thought I shouldn’t reach contemplative prayer and that I should meditate or be quiet. I didn’t trust that my center knew and understood itself.

I used to think that contemplation was overthinking. Contemplative prayer is not overthinking.

In fact, I looked it up.

According to Christian practice, contemplative prayer is practice that aims at “looking at”, “gazing at”, and “being aware of” God or the divine.

Further, the Catechism of the Catholic Church explains that it is part of three major expressions of the life of prayer.

I mostly never look up what I feel I know intuitively. Only that in this case, I found myself truly resisting contemplation - even though I am drawn to it, like the air I breathe.

The catechism of the Catholic Church states that:

the Christian tradition comprises three major expression of the life of prayer: vocal prayer, meditation and contemplative prayer. They have in common the recollection of the heart.

You are never in God’s way.

Amen.

"The Woman I Want to Be"

I never get dressed without a Hail Mary full of grace; to armor myself in her warrior strength, to be a part of her tribe and to know fully well – body, mind and soul that I am clothed in her faith, dignity and love.

I fall into a meditation of pink. Pale pink is my Zen, my prayer, my Hail Mary full of Grace.

And in this prayer, comes another layer. Often its Pink with Just Like Fire as I embody the essence of the Holy Spirit and I embrace for how such passion will fill my day. Sometimes it’s Human by Christina Perri as I am feeling the ultimate balance between my frailty and raw compassion. Knowing… that I have, in fact, fallen with my cross and must surrender to the graces abundantly present. It can be Girl on Fire by Alicia Keys as I know God is filling me with the strength to do something that will require me to take a leap. I have Fight Song by Rachel Platten, Praying by Kesha and so much inspiration that fills my heart, but there is always a sacred song.

This is more than a playlist… the Holy Spirit is always speaking and always, ALWAYS preparing me with the radiance to face my day.

And I layer and layer until I feel fully dressed in Spirit and set to embody the call… whatever that is for the day. I am always obedient to the call and rarely in complete understanding of it.

My body is the only vessel I have for carrying my soul, so every element is essentially the art of my prayer. A prayer for which I intentionally devote to the Holy Spirit… as I pray this love will radiate.

Fashion is not what I wear, it IS “the woman I want to be,” As Diane Von Furstenberg so beautifully and eloquently describes. I don’t dress for trends, I dress for the mission I want to embody, for the woman I want to be. Every piece is dedicated to its own inspiration.

In the case of my daughter, perhaps it is - though she be but little she is fierce, or she believed she could…so she did – because she too needs to be clothed in the graces and intentions of my prayers for her.

Tomorrow I am already feeling Still I Rise by Maya Angelou… and for me personally it’s from a universal brokenness. I am not broken, Cancer does not own me. I am Stella’s mom. And as such… Still I Rise.

And speaking of Cancer, I have to go back to how this inspiration began.

It all started with a red polka dot shirt, that my parents – so very brilliantly, felt divinely called to purchase (they didn’t say they were divinely called but I am sure of it now). I was in isolation for my bone marrow transplant. After a request for some non-hospital pajamas they returned with my “red blood cell shirt.” A red polka dot shirt for which I could fall asleep, rest, and heal all while the shirt did the work, the “ mission” of making healthy red blood cells.

Ahhh I got this. I felt it in every cell of my body. I could breathe. Yes. It was something that made complete and absolute sense, finally. It worked by the way. Also as a side note I realized the first dress I ever modeled was a red polka dot dress, so maybe I was already being prepared for this mission. Who knows?

While I used to only understand this art of prayer in terms of my own practice, my heart now wants to share this practice with others. If you have ever stood in front of your closet and wondered what to wear - I would say that you are asking the wrong question.

What is the poetry of your closet, what are your battle wounds, what does the Holy Spirit want you to shine on the world today? I’ve learned you need to be the woman you want to be. No one will ask you to be her… except the one who created you, but you have to listen. You have to breathe… and MOSTLY you have to be present, here.

amen.

3:33 AM

Tones like a

cat. a. lyst.

Such hmmnns

The way it

wavers

Like its

Transcending

impending

sounds

As It

listens

And it breathes

With its

hmmm

And

Sighs

As it

Imprints ... this

Story like

hmmm

With its

Passage

And it’s

Unfolding like

Ahhh

I am on day 3 of 4 days of steroids post this chemotherapy round. This does not seem like a very significant experience… unless you are very sensitive to the effects of steroids, which I am.

Fortunately, I am on half the dose I received last session… so while I am awake and able to write a poem at 3:33 - I am not feeling the need to crawl out of my skin.

I am still relaxed, still able to breathe, still able to create. All for which, I feel heartfelt gratitude.

While I feel very hopeful for the lesser dose, I have to keep mindful, present, and mostly PRAYERFUL that I stay in the moment and with the experience.

When I allow the Holy Spirit to be my guide, I feel peace. I feel the love, the prayers, and the positive thoughts from everyone in my life… as it channels into my soul, as a source of strength and inspiration.

I am strong. I am a warrior. But not because I try to be. It’s an acceptance in my heart. It’s a lesson from my parents. A lesson I didn’t always appreciate or even welcome.

Patience.

Patience with myself is like my experience of God in poetry. And maybe that is my call for writing. It is a sacred patience and quietude in my heart.

4:03 am

Amen.

#16... Introducing Grace Girl

There are things in life that you expect will happen, things that will surely happen, things that will likely happen, things that may happen, things that you don’t expect will happen, things that just can’t happen, and things that surely won’t happen.

Understand that i am playing with fallacy. I’m creating philosophical chaos and making my own heart and mind battle it out. Years of studying philosophy just to play with it so coyly… but I’m inspired to share a story, so it’s allowed.

I am allowed.

My professors always commented on my fearless approach to the unknown and the untraveled.

I don’t think I have a fearless voice because I have an amazing understanding of the unknown. It’s just that my whole life seems to be composed of the unlikely. My whole life seems to be the experience of this can’t happen, until it does.

I AM beginning to be aware of this pattern. It is at the beginning of every prayer I say.

It’s something like this…

Hail Mary full of Grace, please integrate this intention for me before I fall apart.... but please oh please allow my story to continue unfold.

And please help me to be a part of the story unfolding - but please do not let it be a story unraveling.

Many, many times it feels more like a story unraveling.

I’m going to speak about my professors a lot. And that’s because along with family, friends, life and doctors - they were a huge part of influencing how I thought about myself - and MY STORY.

the Story of my life. And well, the part about - I get to tell it.

Like no matter my story, I still get to give it voice. I create it. And collectively, it is.

My writing and even my story telling is much more like a Monet. And not that I’m comparing myself to Monet.

That said, at first glance, my writing may be blurry and you may not know what you are looking at. I’ve tried to write with another voice.

I’ve tried to paint a picture with words of sail boat when I want to convey a sailboat.

But then I lose all the inspiration of my poetic heart.

When I speak words in the voice of my heart….

I still see water. I still see the white fabric of a vessel. I still see a vessel itself. And it may not be as clear, but oh do I feel it. And I want to explore it. And I am the warrior captain.

I am beginning to know the difference between an aim for realism and an aim for Impressionism.

If you intend realism and miss your mark - you don’t just fall into impressionism.

It just doesn’t work like that.

However if you very intentionally design your work as abstract - because it’s how your heart creates, then my dear, you will still have your clarity. It just may not make sense until you’ve provided a framework for those who experience your art.

All my poetry professors gave me the same feedback in terms of my style, that I am an imagist.

I never considered my style, because I write from intuition. My voice is just composed of images, it’s just my natural tendency.

That is, I never tried to be an imagist. I just am.

My parents are both story tellers and imagists.

I heard my mom’s story telling in her art and my dad’s story telling in the way he taught me to play soccer. And really the lessons were both the same - being an artist and an athlete that is.

Be PRESENT in the story.

And THAT IS why I was 100% prepared for cancer at age 9 even though… I never saw it coming.

I just knew I had to be PRESENT in the story.

And that is THE STORY OF MY LIFE.

And now with this new cancer… it’s no longer a story about cancer. Now is the time for something else.

Now it’s time for me to trust the Holy Spirit and give Grace Girl her story.

Now is the time for Grace Girl.

#17... The Countdown Begins

My first chemo session (for this particular cancer) and counting. I have exactly 17 sessions. Side note: I love the numbers 7, 11, 17 and 21. My double mastectomy was on 7/17 and I have exactly 17 sessions. Its also exit 17 to get to the hospital. I would say that Holy Spirit is definitely letting me know that He is right here during all this. Just in case I should happen to forget.

And so let me share my thoughts for this first session and how I am embracing this culture yet again.

It is with a new sensibility… I have to believe,

have faith… that trust can feel like something new.

That I.

I can be something new.

The Holy Spirit is the forefront of my life. Filled in with people. I am the leftover space but not because I don’t matter.

I am the canvas and the Holy Spirit is my guide. I am filled with the presence of who I am in my life. The life that God created and I participate within.

As long as I show up, I exist. And the more I give of myself the more I embody this present soul life.

With the Holy Spirit as my guide, as well as the focus of my life - I am able to fulfill the gifts I was given unconditionally.

Mostly I never understood them. I didn’t even know if I should try to understood them. Only that the more I listen, the that I hear.

I just know that I’m here. I just know that I’m showing up. I just know that I’m praying for this holy, holy, grace so that I recognize the Holy Spirit always at my center. The Holy Spirit always as my foreground.

Because. Then I feel my soul. And then I can connect to my body. And then I exist.

Amen.

Displaced and Erased

I don’t know. Not exactly sure the first time I felt it, but it was early, maybe even before I had cancer. But for sure then. My whole life I feel like I have been in the wrong place at the wrong time as well as in or out of my body at the wrong time.

It’s as if I displaced myself and never quite knew how to go back. And so while I have always felt internally exiled - this is my first experience of an actual physical displacement - in the form of losing my house.

And never… never… did I want my daughter to feel the rejection I have coped with my whole life. And so hopefully she will not. Hopefully family will safeguard her heart from any such feelings of loss.

Today was a struggle. Today felt like defeat. Even when you know you haven’t waved a white flag - you can still defeated. Even when you know you will never give up - you can still feel defeated.

I can do it. I can do it. I can do it. But I’m only human and I bleed when I fall down. I’m only human. I crash and I break down. Your words in my head, knives in my heart…. I can turn it on. Be a good machine. I can hold the weight of the worlds… I can do it. I can do it. I’ll get through it… I can take so much. Until I’ve had enough. Christina Perri

And so after years of feeling displaced I just became erased. It didn’t happen overnight. It was just years of slowly decompiling myself.

But I look at her and the story is there. I’m not erased at all. Not even a little. And thus the inspiration.

I look at her and I see I am her warrior, a rising warrior, a light warrior and Grace Girl.

She is a wee warrior and a mini grace and she is fierce. She is everything.

Hail Mary full of grace….

Amen.

Training Day

There are a lot of things in life that I would love to train for, chemo just isn't one of them. And I'm scared, because I already know what to expect.  

I can taste the saline in my mouth. I can feel the exact pattern of the alcohol swab as it sweeps across my chest. I taste it mingling with the saline. I see the neon yellow chemo and the unusual mauve rounded tub for when I vomit. I hear the crinkling of hospital bed paper as the I.V. drips while we wait for a bed upstairs. I sense my brain going numb and my toes tingling. I feel everything, I feel nothing. 

I've trained for this my whole life and yet I'm scared. I don't want to shut down again. I don't want to hide or disappear. In fact, I was finally emerging. I was finally showing up. I don't ask why me because I never have. I ask now what? I ask what now?? 

In the words of Diane von Furstenberg... Who is the woman I want to be? That is what I am going to train for. That is my practice. And the chemo is there. But I'm not training for it. It just is. 

The girl in the mirror... we meet once more.