Remembering

With opening of the expo looming, Tyler is stuck in Chicago, and I'm left with one less distraction from the emotional aspect of the days ahead.  Sometimes its a good thing that the events surrounding the 10k are so crazy because, like with the Masquerade for Massey, the 10k can bring with it lots of mixed emotions if I start to think about it for too long.

While today I am ecstatic to have raised nearly $19,000 toward my goal, and excited to close out a months-long celebration of 10 years in remission with some amazing people by my side, I also find myself thinking about those who we've lost.  One lady in particular.

Yesterday was my oldest friend's birthday.  Cara was born almost 6 months to the day after me, and we have literally been friends ever since.  Even though we haven't lived in the same place since high school, and although we've definitely had our friendship ups and downs (I mean - we've been friends for almost 34 years - so how couldnt we?), Cara knows me better than nearly anyone in the world.  She knows when something is wrong without even speaking to me.  She understands parts of my childhood no one else really can.  She is one of a handful of people who I know - regardless of when I saw her last - I could call and she would do anything for me.

Cara and I met because our dads worked together, and our moms quickly became best friends:

Thats my mom and Carla working the concession stand at one of Tyler's little league games.

Cara was basically the fourth kid in our family, since we spent nearly every.single.day together.  I am seriously hard pressed to think of a summer vacation day that Carla and Cara werent with us.

We spent a lot of those days with our moms visiting my Nana in Rhode Island

 Cara and me - Probably at my first communion 

Carla was one of those people you couldn't not have a good time with.  If she had her way, she would have rescued every dog on the planet.  She and my mom started a water fight in our kitchen once.  She would drive just about anywhere on 5 minutes notice - just to see what you'd find wherever you were going.

I think what I remember most about growing up with my mom and Carla was all the laughing.  Whenever Carla was around, the room was full of love and happiness.  Im not just saying that.  Its true.     

Cara with Carla and Bill

 

So its no surprise that when my mom was diagnosed with cancer, Carla stepped right up to help out.  In fact, I'm pretty sure that 99% of why I remember so few details of my mom being "sick" is because Carla helped to make sure my brother, sister, and I were impacted as little as possible.  Carla always took care of us - she was our second mom.

What was a surprise was Carla's own cancer diagnosis just few years later.  And the fact that her battle was so different from my moms.  Where looking at my mom's treatment and recovery, I would have thought science had cancer licked, watching the slow and terrible way that the disease ravaged Carla told another story.  And when she passed away from the disease, it made all to real to me the fact that cancer steals away from us those we need and love far too soon.

Every year during the 10k, I think about Carla.  I hold her in my heart as I run and her memory feeds my anger at cancer.  Because those aren't the only times I think of Carla.  There are so many questions that I have and that I know only she would have the answers to.  There are reality checks I know she would have given me that I had to figure out on my own - and in a much slower way - without her around.  Whenever I get to spend time with her grandsons, I think of how unfair it is that she isnt here to be with them - because that lady loved kids like no other.

I often wonder what her story would be if it were told today.  Would our new treatments and detection methods have allowed her to still be with us? 

Im grateful for Saturday's run not only for the chance to celebrate all the advances being made, or the folks who have survived, but also for the chance to celebrate the lives of those who went before us. 

I love and miss you, Carla.  I know you'll be with Ty and I on Saturday.

Family Ties

I mentioned last week that the good folks over at CBS 6 asked me to work on a project with them.  But it wasnt just a project about me, it was about my mom too:  

My mom survived breast cancer back before I could drive.  And back before I had any idea that one day I would wear the "survivor" label too.

The folks over at CBS asked if they could do a story about my mom and I, and what being tested for the BRCA mutation means to a family.  The story went live on Thursday.

I tried forever to embed the video here, but couldnt figure it out.  (Apparently nearly 5 months of blogging does not actually make one technologically savvy).  But you can watch it, and read the story, here. 

Courage

Wrapping up February also meant wrapping up my time with my first focus word of 2013:

Wrapping up my courageous months felt like a good time to throw a major fear of mine out there into the blogoverse (blogosphere?):

I am scared to death of becoming "the cancer girl"

Yup.  You read that right.

Greg and I have talked this one into the ground, but the fear still lingers in my mind.  I know speaking out about my experiences and circumstances is what I should be doing.  I have a unique position from which to speak to twenty-somethings about their own risks, the importance of their lifestyle choices, the care they need to take in listening to their bodies.  And I have a unique position from which to explain to people why their donations are so important to places like Massey.  After all, the odds are clearly in favor of my being the beneficiary of the work those donations make possible.  And I have a unique experience from which my passion for the subject matter is drawn.  And its a passion that I probably couldnt squelch even if I wanted to.

But as I speak more and more, and as I write more and more, and as I attend more and more events, people around RVA recognize me - and do so specifically in my capacity as "the girl who had cancer" or "the girl raising money for Massey" or "the girl who talks about the Massey Challenge".  Which is awesome.  So awesome.  It means something resonated with them enough that they remember.

But what about the other things that make me me?  Because, after all, part of what I love about Massey is the way its staff didn't allow me to lose those pieces of myself in favor of my cancer diagnosis.  They nurtured them instead - helping me study for the LSAT, reminding me that I would run again one day, discussing the books I was reading during chemo treatments.

So I find myself wondering, from time to time, if people will fail to notice those other parts - ones that I think are quite fabulous - because the word CANCER is obscuring all the rest.  The attorney, the vintage hound, the yogi, the dive bar addict, the flutist - will they all disappear into nothing in favor of my cause? 

I've often asked myself why I have been given the chance to survive when others have not, and I know part of the reason is so that I can spread awareness, create hope, and raise funds for research.  So maybe that means I am supposed to be "the cancer girl".  Maybe thats what its my job here to be.   

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Whats up next?  Patience.  A virtue I certainly could stand to have a bit more of.

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In other news - We're just $750 away from reaching 50% on the way to $25,151 - so close!  Want to help make that happen?  Donate now by following the link above.

Lessons From The Mat

As you guys know, I kicked off my 2013 resolution to bring more yoga to my life with Om On's 40 Day Challenge.  I was nervous taking this on.  I still consider myself a pretty new yogi.  My lacking morning person skills would make getting to daily 7am classes a serious challenge.  And I really wasnt sure if I could learn to clear my mind and be present in the way I thought doing the Challenge justice would require.

Well, our 40 days concluded last week and I am surprised how much I learned during those hours on my mat.  What can coming to the mat with the same 11 people for 40 days teach you?  Here's a peek: 

1. The Best Way To Guarantee You Will Fall Is To Compare Yourself To Others.

As a newbie yogi, its really hard not to be in awe of the folks who can get into some poses I never even knew existed before the 40 Day Challenge kicked off.  I'd find myself trying to sneak peeks at those who could get their bodies into configurations I never could - jealous of their abilities.  And then I'd fall over and out of the much MUCH easier version of the pose that I was in, and grow frustrated.  If I couldnt even do the starter pose, how would I EVER get THERE?

Until I finally realized that I was falling over and impeding my own progress by caring more about what others were doing.  And when I stopped, and started looking at myself and my own progress, well, lets just say I finally found myself hanging out in crow for awhile.

2. Failing to Acknowledge Your Weaknesses Can Only Hurt You.

Several years ago, I was in a car accident with a much-larger-than-me truck.  I was extraordinarily lucky and wasnt very hurt, but was left with a tear in my left shoulder.  On a scale of one to ten, it bothers me daily at about a three.  Nagging, but dealable.

I know as a result of the tear that shoulder is quite weak.  It annoys me when I golf.  When I kickbox. 

Rather that acknowledge this and take a pose easy here or there, I decided to power through.  Surely my shoulder could deal with all this yoga when I had only done a few classes before!

And it was fine.  Until around morning 33 when it wasnt.  And I was totally unable to use it for a couple days. 

Lesson learned?  Had I chosen to acknowledge that I might need to take it down a notch, I might not have been sitting totally out for a few days.  Theres nothing wrong with admitting you need a little more time, a little less intensity.  Know thyself. 

3. But Don't Let Those Weaknesses Hold You Back.

But even as we should acknowledge our weaknesses, its also good to challenge them.  That same injured shoulder had been my excuse for so long - surely it couldnt handle classes on back to back days; it wouldnt be able to withstand reaching into that bind; I would damage it too much if I attempted wheel.

And while I did learn that I had limits during those 40 days, I also learned that they werent nearly what I thought they were.

Thats true in so many others parts of life too, right?  I never thought I could raise $5,000 in six months.  Never mind $10,000 in that time.  Or half of it.  I was too shy, too soft-spoken, too nervous.
Amazing things happen when we acknowledge our weaknesses but work through them anyway.  Things we never thought possible.  

 4. Maintain Your Pedicure.
 

For realz.  No one wants to see your raggedy toes.  Especially not yourself while you're hanging out in Ragdoll. 

5. Sometimes The Hardest Part Is Just Getting Out Of Bed. 

And thats okay.  We all have those days.  I had plenty where I am pretty sure if I wasnt positive that the rest of my friends in the Challenge would notice me missing I would have just hit snooze and not bothered.

And I would have regretted it.

I dont know how it is that I forget this when that early morning alarm goes off - but nothing seems as bad once you're watching the sunrise.  Especially when its over a city as pretty as Richmond.

 

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PS - Did you know its HDL, Inc. Massey Challenge Day over at the Ukrops Monument Avenue 10k Facebook Page?  

 

 

Might I suggest you celebrate the day in one of three ways?



 

     1. Head over there and check out the great info they're providing about the Challenge!

 

     2. Sign up to accept the Challenge yourself here.

 

     3. Not up for fundraising yourself?  Click here to simply make a donation to support the groundbreaking work happening at Massey!

Resolution Rehash

Today is Ash Wednesday - kicking off the Lenten season.  But before I get into what I've chosen to give up for the next 40 days, I thought it would be a good idea to check in on those resolutions I proclaimed back here.  Because accountability and all, you know? 

1. Make time for date night

Well - I failed miserably at this in January.  Like - the flat on your face kind of miserably that makes you want to go back into your blog post and delete the fact you ever mentioned it.

But, I would never really consider something like that . . . right?

A lot of my deviation from this resolution found its root in awesome stuff like this:

Our internal launch of the Challenge at Massey

But even though its usually good and fulfilling stuff occupying my days, I know I need to focus on this resolution more.  I am happy to report that February has gone much better - possibly even in the 4-hours-per-week realm that I am hoping to reach.  And I have to admit, I feel a whole lot more balanced when I clear my schedule for this particularly important person - me. 

2. Make yoga a priority

I've rocked this, if I do say so myself.  Ive missed very few classes in the 40 Day Challenge (and even made them up where I could) and participated in one Saturday afternoon workshop.  A girlfriend and I are scoping out yoga retreats to participate in later in the year.  And Im already working on a schedule that will get me on the mat more often than not during the week after the Challenge wraps up tomorrow.

I might even me a super awesome yogi like these folks one day.

3. Reassess my habits 

This has been difficult, but has gone very well.  While I didnt stay 100% dry during the last 40 days, I significantly - SIGNIFICANTLY - cut down the amount of drinking I have been doing.  And Ive had the chance to really examine why I might drink at times where I would be better off not doing so and the way alcohol impacts my emotional and psychological states.  Its been deep.  And I have to admit, its getting easier to trade in that nightly wine glass for the likes of this guy:

Why, yes, that is a vintage HDJN mug.

4. Bi-Monthly Words

I didn't declare this one in the blog back in January.  But I've alluded to it enough that I feel like it deserves space here.  During Advent I spent time reflecting on the traits, qualities, and themes that I hope to be able to look back and know my life encompassed.  From that list I selected six to focus on this year.  Up first in January and February is Courage.  And while its made me grossly uncomfortable at times, I feel like I have been living much more courageously - taking steps, or even just considering future ones, that in the past I wouldn't have been brave enough to even mull over.  And that discomfort actually feels really good.  Contemplating this theme on a daily basis has really helped me to feel as though my life is being lived in a more purposeful fashion. 

Source

So there you have it - the current status of stuff I'm working on.  And the list will be added to today.  As strange as it seems, I'm looking forward to yet another 40 days on the journey toward a more purposeful life. 

World Cancer Day

Your regularly scheduled Monday mantra is being interrupted today for the sake of something more important - World Cancer Day.  Although this day would be important to me regardless, the focus of World Cancer Day 2013 really struck a chord with me:

                    World Cancer Day 2013 (4 February 2013) will focus on Target 5

                  of the World Cancer Declaration: Dispel damaging myths and

                  misconceptions about cancer, under the tagline “Cancer - Did

                  you know?”. World Cancer Day is a chance to raise our collective

                  voices in the name of improving general knowledge around cancer

                  and dismissing misconceptions about the disease.

From here.

Most of you know by now that one of the things that motivates me is the desire to motivate others to help fund cancer research - and to recognize that it doesn't take large donations do to do that.  Every bit helps - be it $1 or $5 or $10.  When pooled together, those small donations make an enormous impact.  And will find the cure for cancer.

But another reason why I basically strip emotionally and healthfully buck-naked for all of #RVA is to help dispel the myths surrounding cancer.  Because there are still way too many.  So lets take a look at the four myths being focused on as part of World Cancer Day 2013.

Source

Myth 1: Cancer is just a health issue.

No.  Just . . . no. 

(Hang on, I have to get my hysterics under control before I continue.)

Its a financial issue.  How are you going to pay for your treatments?  Even with VERY good health insurance, it was just four years ago that I finally paid off the debt I accrued from co-payments and prescriptions.  Even today, each MRI and CT scan has to be budgeted for - WITH VERY GOOD HEALTH INSURANCE.  That cap on pre-tax health care spending accounts?  I blow through that like a Kardashian at Fashion Week.

Its a self-image issue.  "You don't look as much like a skeleton as I thought you would."  "Why, thank you . . . ?" (Yes - real conversation).  Will I still look like me through treatment?  After?  Will people wonder about my radiation tattoos?  Will i always notice them?  What about the surgery scars? 

Its an issue of how you see yourself fitting into society.  You might die.   You could have died.  What do all these people who havent experienced this know?  You are bald but didnt choose to be.  Who are these people to worry for hours about hair color?  How can you ever just be and fit in?  How can you ever be "normal" like everyone else again? 

Its a psychological issue. There is no such thing as "just a headache".  An extra-tiring run means you're headed home to fully examine all of your lymph nodes.  You see things in a way that few people can understand and when you find someone else who does you LATCH ON.  Tight. 

Myth 2: Cancer is a disease of the wealthy, elderly and developed countries.

I was 23 and pretty fresh out of college when I was diagnosed.  I was 22 when I first developed the symptoms that would lead to that diagnosis.  Cancer can happen to anyone.  Any where.  At any time.

Myth 3: Cancer is a death sentence.

Im still here.  Lots of people are still here.

Have we lost people?   Yes.  Too many.  And its awful.

But every day - and with every dollar - we make progress toward making the number of those we lose shrink right down.

Until one day it will be zero.

Cancer is not a death sentence.  And some day, it wont even make death a possibility. 

Myth 4: Cancer is my fate.

According to one of my oncologists, if it were statistically possible, I would have greater than a 100% chance of developing cancer again. 

BUT CANCER IS NOT MY FATE.

It is no one's fate. 

Why?

Because we can run, and practice yoga, and play soccer, and swim.  1 in 7 cancers can be prevented through a healthy and active lifestyle.

Because we can choose what goes into our bodies and what doesnt.  Im not perfect at this.  But I try.  And each time we pass up that 2nd beer or that drive through window, we tell cancer it wont be that easy to get to us.

Because we have the power to carry our end of the research bargain.  Researchers are 1/2 of the equation.  We are the other.  Its up to us to make sure they have the funds to continue to work on finding better treatments - and a cure.  Your $10 donation, partnered with hundreds of others' $10 donations - they have the power to ensure that we see that cure in our lifetimes.

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Want to do something help the fight in honor of World Cancer Day?  You still have a few hours to snag an "UNDER SURVEILLANCE" shirt - $15 from each sale benefits the groundbreaking research happening at VCU Massey Cancer Center.  Click here to get one before its too late!

9 Things Most Cancer Patients Wish They Were Told - Pt. 1

Sometimes I stop and think about all the changes that my grandparents have seen in their lifetimes.  I mean - they couldn't even fathom the internet, and even for me it seems so long ago that we had to wait for the paper to arrive in order to look up movie times back when I was a kid.  But things change fast - especially these days.  One reminder of that for me is the wealth of on-line support for cancer patients these days.  When I was diagnosed 10 years ago, my ill-advised internet searches turned up little more than horror stories posted on message boards that few people had ever heard of.

(I hope you heard that in an "I had to walk up hill to school both ways" voice,

because I totally wrote it with that voice in my head.)

One of the groups that I love for their spirit and enthusiasm is Fxck Cancer.  You can find them here, telling cancer on the daily just where it can stick its threats.

They kind of rock.

In the last month they have been running a series through Instagram and Twitter on called "9 Things Most Cancer Patients Wish They Were Told After Being Diagnosed".  I've enjoyed following it and reflecting on their thoughts.  I thought I would repost them here for all of you, with a few notes from me on my experience.  1-5 are here today.  Ill bring you 6-9 later in the month.

My relationships definitely changed after my diagnosis.  Most for the better.  I was amazed by some of the people who I had not been close to before my diagnosis who reached out and supported me in ways I couldnt have imagined.  And there were people who were already close to me who stepped up in crazy amazing ways.

Oh dear, how true this is.  Particularly the part about losing your old self and never being the same again.  This is a post of its own.  Because its really that true.

Yes.  I didn't want to give into the fear for a long time.  But when Dr. Ginder had to tell me the chemo wasn't working as we hoped and that I needed extra rounds, I finally broke down and cried.  Know what else?  The fear doesn't go away.  I see Dr. Ginder next week and I'm already nervous.  And thats 10 years later. 

A lot of my friends didnt tell me they were scared until all was said and done.  I think just as there are things about surviving cancer that they will never understand, there are things about what it was like for them that I will never understand.  We experienced the same world in two very different - equally difficult - ways. 

While I never let myself believe that cancer would kill me, I learned quickly at 23 what mortality is.  Its changed the way I live my life.  The way I think.  The way I act.  The choices I make.  Its given me a love of life I never had before I had to look that reality in the face.  I am mortal.  Tomorrow isnt guaranteed.

Cancer gets a well-deserved bad rap, but as I've said before, its got its positives too.  From each of these five truths I have taken life-changing notions that have placed me where I am today.  And for that, I would have to tell cancer "thank you".

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And don't forget to come say hi to me tonight at Ellwood Thompson as Yoga Source graces us with a yoga class to benefit the Massey Challenge!  Get centered and do good tonight at 7pm.  See you there!

Why I Run

Confession time here, folks.  I am not a good cancer survivor.  I'm an even worse BRCA1 carrier.  I couldn't tell you what fruits or vegetables make up the dirty dozen.  I reuse disposable plastic bottles.  I don't sleep enough.  I drink far too much.  I don't do self exams.  Line me up against all the other women in the world who are trying to reduce their cancer risk, and I assure you I'd be woefully inadequate.

(This is something I'm pretty okay with - I'll fill you in on why as the new year approaches). 

I'm headed home for the holidays on Friday and there are three things I can guarantee will happen.  1 - I will locate the hidden stash of Ho Hos in my moms house and go to town.  2 - Paula will order something with "gobs and gobs of molten lava cheese."  3 - Jan will ask me why I run.

Me - I'm going for a run.
Jan - Why?
Me - What do you mean why?
Jan - Why do runners run?  I have never seen a happy looking runner. Stay home with me and eat this cheesecake.

He's right.  I probably dont look happy while I run.  I'm slow.  And the first mile always, ALWAYS, sucks for me.  But after that first mile, I tend to settle in and enjoy lots of things about my runs.  Here's my

All-Time-Top-11 Reasons Why I Run 

(Yes, its 11. Stop picking on my list)

11. I love the view of my neighborhood from my sneakers.  And of all the other old 'hoods I run through both at home and when I travel.  I never fail to notice something I would have missed in the car.

(crazy old sign-post marking the street where I grew up)

10. Because my happiest places are outside.  Running gets me out there when my career keeps me from places like this for too long:

9. I like to think my long runs give me extra stamina when I end up on a stage.  Which happens more often than you might believe.

(Rocking out with the Remnants)

8. Running gives me a space to think through my cases away from my desk.  And if I can get through an oral argument during mile 3, I'm usually confident it'll be cake standing still in a courtroom.

7. Ill admit it - I run because I like to drink beer.

(And someone put an amazeballs brewery essentially in my backyard)

6. And because I like to drink wine.

(Acacia - October 2012)

5. I also run because Tim really likes to cook.  And I really like to eat.  And Tim really likes to use butter.

(Bacon-Wrapped-Turkey?  Yes, please)

4. I am one hell of a sensitive girl, and running helps me to process and let go in ways I probably otherwise wouldnt.

3. I have some crazy- athletic friends.  Running lets me feel like I almost have enough cred to hang out (and sort of keep up) with them

(Although maybe I shouldn't worry about that, since we're all good at acting like idiots)

2. Because for a year, I couldnt.  In the months leading up to my Hodgkin's diagnosis, my endurance was quickly ripped away.  And during chemo and radiation I was lucky to make it through a stroll in the market.  Every time I run today, whether for a mile or a 10K (I swear someday Ill run longer than that!) I remember the time when I couldn't run and I am so.damn.grateful.

1. Because it puts distance between me and cancer.  Its the one thing I know I'm doing to tell cancer to back the fuck off.  In my mind, each mile increases the space between us.  And while I dont generally advocate running way from problems, a second cancer diagnosis is one problem I'm happy to high-tail it away from. 

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Don't forget to make your last minute 2012 donations!  Its easy - just hit that button up there.  Every dollar helps us move even closer to eradicating this crazy disease.

Being A Survivor

Its about to get heavy in here for a minute or two.

I debated writing this.  Partially because its just plain hard to write this kind of stuff down.  And partially because admitting to some of it feels a bit like I am letting people down.  But I really want this blog to be a reflection of life as a survivor - and this is just part of that.  So buckle up kids.

In many, many ways, Saturday night was amazing.  The most amazing night of my life.  But in many, very unexpected, ways, it was crazy hard.

Survivor guilt is real.  And for every moment I looked around that party and felt so grateful for my life, and for being in remission, I couldn't help but think of those who didn't win their fight.  Two of my very best friends have lost their mothers.  One of my closest friends lost her best friend.  Another her mother-in-law.  Why do I get to survive when these amazing women didn't?  And why were we too late in this battle for them to survive?  And why do I get to rejoice when so many have to cry?

Its a heart-wrenching way to feel.  To feel like your happiness comes at the cost of others'.

And its just damn confusing.  Like you want to laugh and have your heart fall out at the same time, in the middle of a dance floor.

Being a survivor is scary too.  Once you've dealt with cancer, a headache is never really just a headache.  And being tired is never just fatigue.  The question "is it back" is always there somewhere.  Even if you think its buried well beneath the surface.

But when I received my BRCA1 diagnosis, that fear escalated.  Don't get me wrong - I don't walk around feeling like I have time bombs strapped to my chest.  But I do understand the risk I'm taking by not having a mastectomy.  Greg and I have talked too often about how likely it is that mine will be a shortened life.  And in weeks like this one - when I have a mammogram and MRI scheduled for Thursday and a follow-up with Dr. Bear the next week - the fear can be down-right palpable.  Because I am all too aware that if I hear that I have cancer again, I'm hearing it from Dr. Bear.  And every time I see him I will be scared that that is what I will hear.  

I feel badly admitting that to anyone - but especially here.  Because I do have faith in the research being done.  And I do believe we are on our way to a cure.  But cancer has changed me - in good and annoying ways.   And Saturday night brought strong, deep reminders of both.

But I wouldn't change that.  For anything. 

 

One Thing I Know For Sure

Last night was the Masquerade for Massey.  I've spent the greater portion of today trying to get my head around that.  And around what that means to me.  And once I do, I will deliver a full report.  And lots of pictures.

But there is one thing I know for sure already. 

Loren and I can still rock out some Ice Ice Baby just was well as we did when we met 13 years ago.

Maybe better.

Returning

I'm packing my bags and getting ready to board a plane out west later today.  Greg and I are going to tackle the Grand Canyon in part to celebrate my birthday, and in part to help me put a bit more closure on the last 10 years. 

I can remember so clearly how difficult it was for me to make my back up and out of the canyon the last time I was there.  How frustrated I was with how difficult it was for me.  How insurmountable the goal of reaching the top seemed at moments of that day.

I had no idea that three days later I would find that second swollen lymph node, or how completely my life was about to change.

I am both excited and nervous to go back to that place.  To one of the very few places where I have a distinct and clear memory of life before cancer.  I know it will be emotional.  I know it will be hard.  I know in some ways I will probably find myself grieving the life that was left behind when that trip in 2002 came to an end.

But I also know that I will celebrate where my life has gone.  The last 10 years have been crazy.  They have been heart-wrenching at some times, and soul-filling at others, and always, always full.  There will be so much to reflect on and rejoice in when I return to that place.

Nothing about my life today looks as it did back then.  But the way it looks today is pretty darn sweet.