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December 2006 we found ourselves back at Maine Medical Center. Having developed an infection in her liver, Mom was in for an extended stay.  One week turned into two and although she felt better each day, her doctors did not feel good about sending her home.  So we made the best of it.  Reclining in the hospital sleeper chairs we would set up our portable Dvd player, watch White Christmas and talk about the Christmas pageant I was preparing for.  As Sunday School teacher I had been struggling to spend time caring for my mom and getting everything ready for the much anticipated annual event.  I would often bring costumes to the hospital to make alterations and embellishments.  I had delicately fastened a feather boa around the collar of my high school graduation gown for the Angel Gabriel’s costume and put it on to get my mothers opinion.  She smiled and complimented my work, then begged me to put on the rest of the outfit.  Relenting I placed the glittering vine crown on my head and slid my arms through the elastic straps of the wings.  Bright as ever, a smile spread across her face, “It looks wonderful!”  She decided then and there that she would be at the church that weekend.  I stood at the end of her hospital bed feeling a little silly, but glad that I could lift my mother’s spirits. In the end, she lifted mine.  With her usual sense of humor, she said, “Could you get me some ginger ale, but take that off first.  If anyone sees you walking around here [the oncology floor] like that they’re going to think you are here to get them.”  She did make it home that Saturday after making it clear to her oncologist that she would not be spending Christmas in the hospital.  Each year that we continue to reenact the story of the birth of Jesus, I am reminded of that Christmas with Dinah, and how despite what could be looked at as an imperfect holiday season produced some of my happiest memories.  

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There are many things to give thanks for.  Finally feeling better after a bout with the flu, strep throat, and a chest cold, is currently number one on my list!  Thankfulness is the number one lesson learned from my mother's illness.  Thankfulness for time, memories, laughter, and family.  Thanksgiving 2007, I spent the day cooking my first Thanksgiving dinner for my uncle, brother, and mother.  We gathered in the living room where my mother's bed was, set the table there, and shared our meal.  It was quiet and left me feeling immensely grateful for the experience.  My mother lost her battle with cancer early the next morning and I couldn't help but think that Thanksgiving was the most appropriate time for this to happen.  Each year I find myself not being sad, instead, I feel my spirit fill with gratitude for the privilege of being part of her life.  This is the link to the slide show played at the celebration of her life.  I find it uplifting to reflect on her life and all of the happy moments captured in these photographs.  Please enjoy, and have a Happy Thanksgiving filled with your own moments of thankfulness.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cm83F1e5M0I

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My mother was a veteran of the United States Air Force.  That is where she met my father who also served.  I remember learning this fact as a child. My first thought was, “wait, what do you mean she was in the Air Force, she’s my mom.”  A stay at home mom for my whole life, I guess I thought that is what she had always done.  The next thought was how cool that made her.  My parents had the strong work ethic and desire to help others that led them both to serve.  I watched my brother join the Marines, and was never  more proud of him.  Two years later, with the same desire to help others and to be part of something bigger, I joined the Air Force as my parents had.  It was ten years ago today that I arrived at basic military training.  Each day was a struggle, but more powerful than the physical exhaustion and pain was the immense sense of connection I felt.  To be doing push ups and practicing drills where my parents had felt sacred.  We are a family of veterans, we all have an understanding of what that life is like.  Each time I place my hand on my heart for the National Anthem I feel honored to be part of that tradition, and I feel closer to my family.  We are not only connected in blood, but also in service.

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28 years ago today I came into this world, and apparently I have been talking ever since.  At least that’s what my mom always said.  A few years ago I was looking through my rather sparse baby book and noticed that “everything” was scribbled in under the category of first word.  When I asked my mother what that meant she said from the moment I was born I was talking and I said everything.  Adorable as that explanation may be, I think it more likely that she forgot to write it down.  I am the second child after all, there are no empty spaces in my brother’s baby book.  That’s okay though,  while my first word may not be recorded, all the rest are.  While unearthing the relics of my youth, I also came across my dictionary.  Yes, MY, dictionary.  Not the traditional Webster’s, rather Calida’s, filled with my invented words.  Here is a selection of my favorite terms:

 Floop (v) - To hurt someone’s feelings. (ex)  You flooped me when you called me names.

Operations (n) - Uncooked corn kernals. (ex) Put the operations in the boiling water to cook for dinner.

Glitter (n) - Litter, trash in the streets. (yes I know this one is kind of obvious, but the world would be so much sparklier if it were glitter)

I have no idea where these words came from, considering they emerged from my vocabulary before the age of five, I am guessing my imaginary friend Anarinnah may have been the source.  So it doesn't really matter where the words came from or which came first.  She always encouraged me to think and live expressively, and for that I am grateful.  Thanks Umma!

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Preparing to go to the VA hospital for an endoscopy on Monday, I slipped on a pair of hot pink socks with squirrels on them.  Something I was not looking forward to, I thought if I had to go through this, I was doing it with happy socks on.  When my mother was about a month into her treatment she underwent a procedure to implant a port which would allow for direct intravenous access for her medication.  This was one of the first of many procedures and time spent in hospitals.  The night before, I was giving her a pedicure.  Feeling like there was little I could do for her, this simple act made me feel like I was doing something to make her day a little better.  So when the time came to paint her toenails I suggested a bright pink shade called “All Rose Lead To Rome.”  She balked at the suggestion and initially refused, “no one will see it”, I argued.  In the end she relented and I carefully painted each nail with the electric hue.  You couldn’t help but smile at those hot pink toenails.  The next day in same day surgery the nurse came over to help mom get ready, “socks need to come off” she gently ordered.  Mom gave me a “you have got to be kidding me” look.  With a little laugh I slipped her socks off revealing her fancy feet, to which she received rave reviews!  That morning could have been somber, just another reminder of the realities of our new life, but instead it was a morning filled with laughter, smiles, and even a few compliments.  One lesson learned through that experience...it doesn’t matter what you are going through, there is a way to find humor, there are still opportunities to be happy, even in the face of something scary.  I remembered this as I was wheeled into the procedure room with my hot pink socks peeking from under the sheets, “those are happy socks”, remarked one nurse.  Yes they are!

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A handful of my friends and family members are getting ready to have babies!  It is a time full of anticipation as I wait for the next call to tell me there is a new life in this world.  My good friend just had her first child, a little boy.  As I looked (in awe) at the pictures of her cradling him right after his birth, I find myself thinking back to the first pictures with my mother.  I am nearing my own birthday in a few weeks.  I used to get flowers for my mother on this day, a thank you for the gift of life.  This is not an original idea however, my father used to do the same for his mother.  When I learned this I fell in love with the idea.  Over the past three years I have been trying to find a new way to honor her.  I originally thought I would donate blood, after all, it is the blood in my veins that allows me to celebrate another year.  However, after the last IV I needed took the aid of an ultrasound and two nurses to gain access, I was told this was not a good idea.  So I continue looking for a way to honor the life I have been given and the mother who nurtured me through the years.  In the meantime, perhaps sharing our story and living each day with joy in my heart is a good start.  

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My mother always told me that pennies lying on the ground are sent from loved ones in heaven.  A little hello when we are sad, just to let us know they are still there.  I adopted this tradition and now when I pick up that simple coin I think of my mother.  When I was 22 she was diagnosed with a rare incurable cancer.  We had two years together after that devastating diagnosis,  in the fall of 2007 she slipped away from this world into her next journey.  I often find pennies now when I am sad and need her, or when I have good news and want to share it with her.  Whether she is leaving pennies for me or not, she gave me the gift of memories.  Finding a penny is a reminder of all of the joy she brought into my life when she was here, and the joy she continues to send me every time I think of her.