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.