Tuesday, March 16, 2010

A man named Jake

This is another post I wrote over a year ago. I don't know why I never posted it, but you need to read about Jake. People like Jake make the world a better place.

There used to be this man named Jake. My mom knew him from the tiny mill town in South Carolina where she grew up. As a little girl, she looked up to his teenage daughters. She actually named her dog after his daughter Patsy. (It was a chihuahua. Yes, a chihuahua named Patsy.) That's about the nicest thing a little girl can do for the teenager she idolizes. One day, about five months ago, Jake's daughter (not Patsy) went to visit Jake in the hospital. When she got to his door she stopped in her tracks. Jake was on his knees. Praying. Praying out loud. Praying something along the lines of "God, I have this friend Ray. His daughter Jan has a daughter with cancer. I want you to heal her." He was praying. On his knees. Out loud. For me.
Praying for me to be healed while his own body was being consumed by cancer.

Not long after this, Jake died. I thank God for Jake. He put his own needs aside to pray for me. That's just about as selfless as it gets--to put someone else's health needs over yours when you are dying. I just hope there is a little bit of Jake inside of me, that I might consider others before myself.

I'm thankful for everyone who has prayed for me. If you've uttered even one little prayer on my behalf, thank you. I'm grateful for you.

Saturday, March 13, 2010

can't go back

I wrote this post a LONG time ago but never published it because at the time I wasn't fully convinced the last line was true. But now I know without a shadow of a doubt it is completely true. The only thing that is no longer the same as when I first wrote this post is I don't have cancer-filled dreams anymore. Thank God for that.

The day I learned I had cancer was a day that my changed my life. Changed. I have been waiting since October to feel like myself again. To think as clearly as I used to. To have as much energy as I used to. To interact with my friends the same as I used to. To not be tormented by cancer-filled dreams at night. To go a single day without being reminded that I have cancer.

But I've come to accept that I will never be that person again. I can't go back. I am forever changed.

And I think the change is for the better.

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

Zac's Story

This is one of the most inspiring stories I've ever heard. How does it resonate with you?

The Story of Zac Smith from NewSpring Production on Vimeo.