A Gracious Hug

This past week, I was reminded once more of why I want to be a writer and what the purpose of my writing needs to always be. I was asked for the second year in a row to write several articles concerning breast cancer, particularly breast cancer survivors.

 It was right around this same time last year that my eyes were first opened to the notion that my writing, however I continue pursuing it, must ultimately do something good for the people and world around me. I can’t think of a more beautiful way of fulfilling this purpose than by sharing the stories of women who have suffered through and endured the ordeal of cancer.

The second lady I interviewed was named Sandy. She had shoulder length curly hair and a bright smile to greet me when I first walked up to her in the middle of the crowded seating area at Starbucks. Although it was painfully awkward, I had to start the interview off by asking her if she could tell me about her experience with breast cancer. She explained to me that she had first noticed something was wrong on Christmas day, 12 years ago. She would come to find out that she did in fact have breast cancer.

One of the more inspiring parts of her story to me was her explaining how proactive she became about her treatment right from the beginning. She carefully did her research and ended up selecting a doctor at a clinic in Portland. As a precaution, Sandy also made the difficult decision to have a double mastectomy. She would later have reconstructive surgery.

But at the end of all of it, Sandy walked away from the experience appreciative of how it had changed her life and made her a better person.

As I was wrapping up my conversation with Sandy and preparing to leave, she politely thanked me for taking the time to meet with her. And then, much to my surprise, she asked if she could hug me. Over the past four years since graduating college, I have interviewed dozens of people for all kinds of stories. But never once has anyone ever asked to hug me as their way of saying thank you for my work. I hadn’t even written the article yet, but here was this woman wanting to hug me in appreciation for something she hadn’t even seen. Of course, I told her she could hug me. And so we stood there embracing each other right there in the middle of Starbucks. It only lasted a second or two, but it’s one of the few hugs I know I will never forget as long as I live.

What I have come to learn is that there isn’t a single person in this world who doesn’t have some story to share. As a writer, I have to pick and choose which stories I bring to life on the page for others to read. And that is one of the greatest blessings of being a writer—being able to share the stories of others who either lack the strength or the skills necessary to share it themselves. After all, even one of the greatest books ever written—the Bible---wouldn’t be around if there hadn’t been writers daring enough to record the stories of God’s work.   

Even though I learned a year ago that I needed to do something good with my writing, it wasn’t until that moment when Sandy hugged me that I finally understood why. Moments like that make what I do worth it. That is the kind of reward that no amount of money could ever match.

Tomorrow I will be walking in the Race for the Cure with my grandma. I will be walking not only to support Sandy and all the women and people whose lives have been forever changed by breast cancer, but also as my way of saying thank you to the cause that helped advance me one step farther down my journey as a writer.

 

Never Grow Up!

Last week I had the wonderful pleasure of flying down to Florida and taking in all the sights, sounds, and tastes of DisneyWorld. While I have been to both there and DisneyLand before, the magic that seems to abound throughout those parks never ceases to amaze me.

As I walked along, chomping down yet another Mickey shaped treat, I couldn’t help but smile at all the little girls dolled up in their princess dresses and tiaras with glitter sprinkled in their hair. I didn’t see one of them that didn’t have a smile beaming across her face. There were the little boys, with eye patches on and scruffy pirate beards painted along their face. All of them looked more than ready to set sail with Captain Jack Sparrow on the Pirates of the Caribbean ride.

And it’s not just the little kids who felt the need to play dress up. Everywhere I looked I saw teenage girls and grandmothers alike sporting Minnie Mouse ears or tiaras. And dads walked hand in hand with their little princesses while wearing Goofy or Donald Duck hats. That’s part of the magic of Disney….every girl, regardless of age gets to be a princess and 50 year old men are proud to be seen in their Goofy hats, complete with floppy ears and buck teeth. 

Disney truly is a place where dreams come true and you can just exist in a happy moment--carefree of any worries back at home. In essence, you get to slip back to living like a kid and forget that minor detail of life about growing up.

I took away a lot of memories from my five days spent in Disneyworld but perhaps the most tickling moment came on my final night there. I was browsing through a store in Downtown Disney with my mom when I glanced down and saw a wicker basket filled with small, rectangular pillows. I bent down and picked one up only to see that it had the simple phrase, “Never Grow Up,” embroidered on it. I smiled remembering why that phrase has such significance in my life.

The first time my parents took me to Las Vegas I was approximately 10 years old. One afternoon we were passing through the casino of the Hilton Hotel on our way outside. I was almost to the door when a man stepped out in front of me from a craps table he was dealing on. I looked up at him as he placed a pair of red craps dice in my hand. I was carefully balancing the dice in the palm of my hand when he looked down at me and said, “Kid, never grow up.” That was all he said. I said thank you for the dice and my parents finished escorting me out of the casino.

I don’t know why, of all the thousands of people streaming in and out of the casino that day, that that man picked me out of the crowd and handed me those dice. And even though I knew what he told me was important, I wasn’t entirely clear about why until years later when, eventually, I did start to grow up.

Seeing that pillow in Disney brought that Vegas memory flooding back into my mind. I slung the pillow under my arm and toted it over to the register to pay for it. It was one memento from Disney that I knew was well worth the money.  The sad reality is that all of us do, in at least one sense, grow up eventually. But I’ve come to see that that youthful state of mind that revisits anyone who’s gone to DisneyLand/DisneyWorld doesn’t have to go away. We just forget that it’s there.

I believe that an occasional visit to either of the Disney parks is a must for every single person. Because I think it reminds all of us of what it’s like to be a kid and have fantastical dreams and feel free to imagine we’re the princesses and pirates we grew up reading stories and watching movies about. As the saying goes, growing old is mandatory, growing up is optional.