Relay for Life

This past weekend I participated in Relay for Life. Relay for Life is done all across the country over various weekends in the summer, where teams of people gather and for 24 hours, they walk or run, raising money to fight cancer. It was fun. And inspirational. And during the Luminaria Ceremony, heartbreaking.

I met Jennifer Manullang years ago when I was doing Pampered Chef. She is so fun and funny and I feel really blessed that we've stayed in touch over the years. She's lucky because if I didn't live on the other side of town, I'd probably bug her. A lot. I just really adore her.

In 2009, she learned she had a tumor near her spine. Lymphoma. She blogged about the tumor, which was the size of a FREAKING ORANGE, HERE.

I saw her twice in 2010, both times because she came to my book signings. I was touched and honored she did that when she most likely wasn't feeling that great, as she was doing chemotherapy. I continued to watch for updates on-line, cheering for her as she fought hard to kick cancer's ass.

And kick its ass she did. I can remember crying tears of joy when I read it was official. Her cancer was in complete remission.

It came at a time when I was praying hard for my dear friend, Lisa. At that time, we didn't know her diagnosis. But things were getting worse. It would be a couple of weeks later before her diagnosis would come  - pancreatic cancer.

2011, as most of you know, has been a really sad year for me personally. Lisa lost her life to cancer on February 23rd, and in May, Bridget Zinn lost her battle as well.

When Jennifer asked me if I'd like to be a part of her relay for life team, I knew it was something I could do to honor my friends. First of all, I wanted to honor Jennifer and how hard she fought. She is now a survivor, and a shining light in this world and proof that cancer doesn't always win. And of course, I wanted to honor my friends who are no longer here. To say - I miss you and I will never forget you. And whenever I can, I will do what I can so we can find a cure for this terrible disease.

Jen did a complete recap of the day HERE. I'm snagging a couple of pictures (hope you don't mind, Jen!) in case you don't have time to click over. There was a Western theme going on this year, so Jen gave our team the name, The Hoe Downs. Or, you know, The Hoes for short. hahaha

Some of us hanging out in the Hoe Downs tent

the track lined with luminaria bags, most with names honoring those affected by cancer

I had told myself I wouldn't get emotional during the Luminaria Ceremony, but I quickly saw it was impossible not to. So many people remembering their friends and loved ones who lost their lives to this terrible disease. I found the bags I had decorated for Bridget and Lisa in the dark, although I hadn't found them earlier in the daylight hours, when I looked for them. It might sound strange, but it felt like Bridget and Lisa were there with me.

Anyway... thanks SO VERY MUCH to those of you who donated money for this worthwhile cause. The overall total for the North Clackamas Relay for Life was over $44,000. The Hoe-Downs brought in about $10,000 of that. All money that will go to cancer research.

If any of you have a chance to be involved in a Relay for Life event near you, I highly recommend it. It's an amazing thing - seeing all those people gather and give, give, give of their time and money.

Thank you, Jen, for letting me be a part of your team. Hoes for the win!!!

The loss of Bridget Zinn, cancer, and sadness

For Bridget's 33rd birthday, I gave her this Lord of the Rings action figure. I told her Eowyn reminded me of her - beautiful, strong, courageous. I often imagined Bridget, battling the big, ugly monster cancer with her sword, fighting so very hard, but always with a smile on her face.

Ask anyone what they loved about Bridget and you will probably hear many wonderful things. However, all will say her bright and sunny outlook on life, even in the midst of horrible, difficult, painful stuff. Truly, that bright and sunny outlook rarely wavered.

I want to share with you something she wrote on her blog back in 2010. I remembered this post, went looking for it, and found it. You can find the entire thing HERE.

Bridget wrote, "I'm lucky that my 'neutral' is happy. It makes everything a whole lot easier and I realize that a lot of people have to work to get there. I don't know if I was born that way or if it was a product of reading too many Zen Buddhism books at a young age -- I remember being so blown away by the Eternal Now, but then thinking, hey, if it's always now, I don't have to wait until later to be happy. Because there is no later. It's always Now, so unless circumstances overwhelm me otherwise, I'm just going to to always choose to be happy Now."

So you can understand why those of us who knew Bridget are reeling after her death on Wednesday, from complications due to colon cancer. We are going to miss this bright and sunny young woman SO very much.

And many of us are reeling AGAIN. Because of cancer. Again.

Talk about putting things in perspective.

Get a bad review? At least it's not cancer.

When your son drops your laptop and breaks it? At least it's not cancer.

Frustrated you're not losing a few pounds along with the inches when you're working out so hard? You are healthy and alive and thank God you do not have cancer.

In December, my friend Lisa and I got together for coffee, just a week or two before she was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. At the time, they thought she had developed pancreatitis. She was getting used to the idea of a life of on-and-off pain, of having to be careful about the kinds of things she ate and drank. I commiserated with her, imagining a life of avoiding certain foods I loved, like chocolate and other things, and most of all, feeling so bad for her that she had to figure out how to live and work and write around the pain.

She looked at me and said, "At least it's not cancer."

And that's the thing. It can change on a dime. All of it. Any of it. For you, for me, for anyone. All we have is now. And so we think, I better make the most of it.

It's hard though, isn't it? When the sadness is so overwhelming at times.

In a note Oprah wrote on Facebook yesterday, she talked about a passage from Mark Nepo's Book of Awakening. The passage is called "Being Sad."

"The best thing for being sad, replied Merlin, is to learn something. ~ T.H. White

The idea here is not to divert the sadness, but to give it a context from life other than what is making you sad. Just as ginger can lose its bitterness when baked in bread, sadness can be leavened by other life. When feeling the sharpness of being sad or hurt, it helps to take new things in. This pours the water of life on the fire of the heart. So when exhausted from expressing all that hurt, listen to music you've never heard, or ask someone to tell you an old story from before your birth, or take a drive down a road near a ridge you've always meant to look out from. Look with your sad eyes on things new to you that will give you something to do with your sadness. Your sadness is the paint. You must find a canvas."

So that is what I am doing. Looking for the canvas.

For those of us who write, certainly, the pages we write on will be our canvas at times. It is a good place for all of that emotion.

Bridget, of all people, wouldn't want us to be sad for long. After all, she'd be the first to tell you she had a good life, even it was much too short. She was loved and she was happy.

In fact, I think it's safe to say, she would want us to be happy *now.* I'll try, Bridget. For you, I'll try.