From August 13, 2019
Hi Friends --
It's the night before the first day of school for my two high schoolers. This means all the required reading and writing assigned for the summer got crammed into a mad dash sprint over the past 48 hours -- I adore the thrill and agony of a teenager's fabulous procrastination brain. We're also brimming with new binders and notebooks ready for another backpack's worth of good work and study for the year ahead.
It's also the night before Foxy 4.0. Another trek up the mountain, steady progress along the long trail toward healing, and new chapters on the other side of the summit. My visit with my oncologist today included all kinds of encouraging news from data gathered from my blood. We'll take a look at new scans toward the end of the month to take a look at Foxy's handiwork.
Oh and tomorrow is my daughter's 14th birthday. Abundant living abounds.
Speaking of the abundant life, I experienced the most glorious outpouring of love, heartbreak, and gratitude at my dad's memorial service over the weekend. More than 600 treasured friends gathered to pay tribute to my dad, and then in the hours following I experienced a continuous stream of support as good friends pivoted from sharing condolences to expressions of generous care for me.
So just think of this -- an ongoing set of moments from hundreds of friends sharing a whisper of love, a reminder that prayers are offered daily for me, and shared tears as we held the fragility of life together, even in the briefest of conversations. I found a level of gratitude I'll likely never learn how to properly describe.
But the truth is what I experienced is the glorious legacy of my dad. He loved all those hundreds of souls so very well, and now I'm being loved as a result. It's as simple, and as miraculously grand as that.
For those who would like to catch a glimpse of how I tried to capture my dad's goodness, I'm including a link to my dad's service here in my post. My sister and brother were the real pros at his memorial, so I attempted to simply find a way to describe how beauty can move through seasons of terrible. My dad taught me more about beauty than anyone ever has, a legacy lived through those he loved well, now guiding me through each step up the mountain.
My bit begins around 15:40. https://vimeo.com/353409505
Ok more work, and books, and teachers, and beauty ahead. Let's go.