Why I hesitated

Dearest Reader,

Thank you for responding as you did to my last post. I received quite a bit of feedback on it, all telling me to write my story, and to share it, and I was very flattered. Before I get going again though, I really need to get something off my chest, and I need to do it on here, on this blog, because that is where it all started.

Late December, 2009, I wrote a blog post about a preacher praying for me in Indiana. This can be accessed by clicking on those underlined words you just read. Reading it back, it is a very well written post, not that I want to toot my own horn, but I'm really captivated by the story and the detail. A talented writer wrote that, and to think it is a work of non-fiction as well! Amazing.

Anyway, this particular post caused me a lot of trouble, and upset a lot of people in my family. Most of the involved people have apologized for their involvement, have been completely forgiven, and any issues concerning them have been resolved. Some members of my non-immediate family did get really upset though, and words were said that were hurtful, tears were shed, and it was just a big ugly mess.

I still am not really sure what happened.

The thing that scared me the most about the whole thing, and the reason why I hesitate to write at times, is the power. The power that words have, that words that I typed have. It is power that I don't want. I don't want to have the ability to do anything that would make people that frustrated and upset. When I expressed this to Mom the other day, she said, "But you do. You do have that power."

Upon reflection, I don't know how right she is. It was their choice to get upset, my words didn't force their reaction. Maybe I say that because I so don't want the responsibility that would come with all that power, but maybe it is true. I don't know. I just never realized that people could get so upset over words, words that weren't meant to upset at all, and it scared me.

I want this blog to be a safe place for me to write my memoirs, my thoughts, my opinions, events as they happened from my eyes. Nothing on here is meant to condemn people. These are just records as one person sees and experiences them, and are not meant to be taken personally in a hurtful way. If you want to use them personally, fine, go ahead, but don't let them hurt you. You do not have to read any of it.

That's what I have to say about that,
I hope to write more in the future,
Miss E.

Back in the Groove?

Dear Reader,

I have decided to resurrect this blog from the dead, at least temporarily. Mom is to blame mostly, she keeps telling me that people miss it, I'm such a talented writer and that I should really consider writing a book someday, etc. Mom has a way about thinking more of her offspring than anyone else.

Anyway, I do not post here without news to share. There is actually a lot of news. Most of you know I had a busy senior year of high school, lots of school, and then a sickly spring time, which I am still recovering from. Currently I am preparing for college, which is very exciting and nerve wracking at the same time. Then there is news with Mom, which is somewhat exclusive as she hasn't really told people yet.

Yes, it is that time again, that time of the month (or what ever time period) that most all sane people dread... Mom just got diagnosed with cancer, again, for the 7th time now. It is still the same Ovarian Cancer, sprinkled here and there. Most of you know it metastasized a few diagnoses ago. There isn't much else to say about that, but here are some interesting things that she and I were talking about today:

1. Neither Mom nor I know anyone or have heard of anyone who has her type of cancer and has survived it/lived with it for as long as she has.

2. Neither of us know of anyone who has a medical history similar to mine either. I couldn't think of anyone I've ever met who had their transplant at an older (above 6 years old) age who is still alive, or anyone who is still alive who got their graft (i.e. their bone marrow donation) from an adult, unrelated donor of the opposite sex who is still alive either.

3. Our story is pretty amazing when we think about it.

4. Scientifically, it makes just about zero sense that we are still alive. What science cannot explain, can be explained with the supernatural... or not at all, which is unacceptable for me. So therefore God must be intervening to keep us here for some special reason.

It seems like maybe we were given such a story to share it. So maybe, we should put it out there for people to find. I hope that doesn't make it less special, or less amazing, or less mine.

Feel free to send me your thoughts on this,
It is nice to be in touch again,
Miss E.

Dear Reader,

I know it has been forever, and I've really thought about letting this thing die, and probably will, but one last post...

I'm at school now! Well actually, not now, in the sense of the immediate present, because it is summer, but if it weren't summer, I would be in school! I'm actually a senior now, and I did the second semester of junior year in the IB program. My first day of school was January 4th.

While I was at school, I picked up a best friend, and before long, he asked my dad if I could be his girlfriend (before he asked me of course).

Mom keeps geting sick all the time. She has cancer for the 5th time now, and has been needing much help, but I am taking good care of her.

Brother is older, more manly looking, and hairier. He is into philosophy and theory, and I think if he could choose any job in the world he would probably want to be a professional thinker. Such a nerd.

Dad is working his butt of as usual, and all is fine and normal. A great summer, and a great rest of my life is a head. Thanks for reading.

Miss E.

The Peace

Hi Reader,

I know I haven't written in a really long time, over half a year, but I knew that when I did write again, I would have feel the need to write about a certain person, and I didn't know how to say the news. However, I have given it much thought, and I think I found a good way.

My friend, though I only met him 2 or 3 times, I would venture to call him such, is not on earth anymore. On September 18, 2010, Iron Man went to be with the Father. Everyone who knew him (or knew of him) knew he was ready. He relapsed again, and he had already had multiple transplants in a short time. His cancer was strong, of course it was, because it was his, and he was strong.

His service was beautiful, my mom and I went, it was a 3 hour trip there and back. There were 3 members of hospital family that came besides us. I was a little disappointed, I thought more would come. I know others loved Iron Man, they talked about him with it in their eyes. I think many people do not understand how important funerals are, for the family, and for yourself. It puts things at rest in your mind, and helps make you wise.

Iron Man's sister sang a song just for him, "Hero," and she sang it beautifully. Iron Man was a hero to everyone. There was music, nobody gave speeches, and those that knew Iron Man well did not cry, they all knew where he was. I think they were thinking of him, or at least trying to. There was a girl whimpering and sobbing behind me, so my thoughts were cloudy, but I didn't cry too much. I knew Iron Man was happy, so I was trying to be too. One of my favorite parts of the funeral was when Iron Man's mother, Big Wig, walked in.

Iron Man's service was held in his high school gym. Iron Man hadn't gone to school for years, but he did love school, not in the way I do, he loved being with his friends, and living. I like that too, but I also like the education part a lot. Anyway, the people occupied one side of the gym, and sat on the bleachers, family sat in folding chairs on the gym floor. When Big Wig walked in everyone in the bleachers bolted up like they were stuck with a hot poker. The bleacher packed with people all showing that respect at once, for Iron Man's family, I liked it.

Anyways, I wanted to tell you about the best thing ever.

When I was younger, maybe 10 or 11, I experienced something I can only call "the peace." It comes sometimes in the hospital at night. You can not tell when it comes, once it came when I was crying. The nurses are still there and there is beeping in the distant, but somehow things seem quieter. I've felt it before, in church, during the part of mass where people are coming back from receiving the Eucharist. There is a song we sing then..

"Surely the presence, of the Lord is in this place. I can feel his mighty power and his gra-ace. I can feel the touch of angel's wings, I see glory on each face. Surely the pre-esence, of the lord, is in this place."

In the hospital, I thought it felt like prayers. The prayers of the parents, families, patients, even employees, running over my body, through it, filling me with warmth. Now, that I think about it with church, and put the two together, I think it is the angels, who carry the prayers and deliver them to Jesus. It is that piece of heaven, of God, that they bring with them when they go places, the feeling of eternal safety, happiness, and love. I wanted to have it forever, so I made a memory, just as I had made when I felt it in church, often I felt it inside of me, and it was gorgeous and great.

I'm not the only one that's felt it either, Mom has, and the few parents I have asked about it have also, some employees too. It is real.

Iron Man is experiencing "the peace" constantly right now. He has such a strong faith... I hope, one day, you will feel "the peace" too, and focus on it hard, and make a memory of it. Don't let it pass over you, or shrug it off, because you won't see its beauty. And who knows? It might just be a hero sending you a message.

Love, Miss E.