Thursday, September 3, 2009

Remembering when...

It's been over 3 years now since I was diagnosed with breast cancer. I still run into women who've just been diagnosed and remember that when I used to work for the radio station, V100, I openly talked about my journey with "bc." Today, I met yet another woman who was diagnosed just a few days ago. It took me back to that time when I couldn't even say the word "cancer" out loud. That's where my soon-to-be new friend is right now. I remember once again that time when I was full of fear and could hardly contain my tears to get through the day. The year of 2006 was a journey of a different kind for me... I found the words, "4:00 Chemo" on my calendar and couldn't believe it wasn't something more like "4:00 Haircut" or "4:00 Meet Sandy for Coffee." My calendar looks normal now, but for still far too many women, their calendars are changing for the next year or so. I kept a journal on our radio station website during 2006 - both to keep my V100 listeners informed and as a therapeutic exercise. If you, or someone you know, needs to know they're not alone... you may want to read a bit of my journal. My entries during that time were just daily or weekly writings of my experience. It's not always pretty, and it's not always ugly - in fact, it's sometimes funny. Most of the people who read my journal at that time were not even dealing with cancer. I guess we all have things in common... enough to relate in even ordinary daily living. But if you are dealing with cancer yourself or in your family, check out this blog... and at the very least, you'll know you're not alone in your fears, questions, and wondering about your ability survive. Too many women die from breast cancer, but I'm proof that it is also a survivable disease. (Start reading from the first entry, 3/8/06.)

Monday, August 24, 2009

Maya Angelou

It is time for parents to teach young people early on that in diversity there is beauty and there is strength. We all should know that diversity makes for a rich tapesty, and we must understand that all the threads of the tapestry are equal in value no matter their color.
-Maya Angelou, Wouldn't Take Nothing for My Journey Now

There are some famous people who inspire me... and Maya Angelou is at the top of the list. I first saw her on a TV show when I was 14 years old. I was in awe of Maya Angelou and her wisdom. The words I remember most from that first encounter with her are, "We are all capable of great good and great evil." Before hearing that statement, I didn't really think that I was capable of great evil. However, I quickly realized had one single thing been different in my life or had I not been loved... I could easily have been responsible for great evil. There are so many layers of meaning to that simple phrase, but at age 14, it raised my awareness of how we are all essentially the same inside, but the conditions into which we are born and the experiences we have throughout life, shape our actions. We're all responsible for our actions regardless of life experience... but I've come to believe that some of us are gifted with a higher responsibility to make this world a better place. We are called to inject great good into the world. And it need not be a "good" that makes headlines. Another person at the top of my "hero" list is Mother Theresa, who says, "We are not called to do great things, but to do small things with great love."

Monday, May 11, 2009

2009 Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure

My daughter, Jill, and granddaughters, Tierra and Amaya, came to Charleston to join Ric and I in this year's race. Together we celebrated my having survived breast cancer! Three years now. Although he passed away last August, it turned out my Dad was celebrating with us too. As we were walking along, a pink balloon that was tied to Amaya's stroller came loose, and I could hear my Dad's familiar little chuckle as he said, "This one's for me!" He was letting me know that he was there walking with us. We watched the balloon as it rose up in the sky. We kept our eyes on it for a long time until it became the tiniest little dot. When it was out of sight, I knew it was still there... we just couldn't see it anymore. And that was the message my Dad had for me that day: "You can't see me now, but KNOW that I am still here with you!"

Monday, April 13, 2009

A Hatching at the Cochrans

I came home from work one day and found a bunch of weeds sprouting out of a shrub in front of the house. As I pulled out the long weeds, I also pulled out a little clump of dried grass. Oh, I wished I hadn't messed with it... perhaps a bird was beginning to build a nest. Ah probably not... it's too close to the ground.

When I came home from work the next day, the weeds were back in the shrub! Once again, coming out of the inside of the bush like a fountain. What in the world is going on? I looked inside to the center... and there was a perfectly formed little nest. Built in ONE day!
Well of course we know birds build nests. But to see this one up close and to know it was built in a day, I marveled at the handiwork. It was perfectly round inside, and the grasses were tightly woven. I couldn't have done this with my own two hands and a pair of tweezers and glue! Yet this little bird gathered the materials and put it together in a day's time. Some would say, oh it's just instinct. Instinct? I can buy that. But the wonder of it is that God created the instinct in the bird! Thinking about the intracacies of it all boggles my mind. But then, rather than a God whom I could easily figure out, I would prefer to have a God that can boggle my mind. Mmmm... I wonder what kind of bird? Why build the nest so close to the ground? Will the eggs/babies survive with cats roaming the neighborhood? We'll see... I know there's some reason this little event is taking place in my front yard.
Surprise! When I came home today, I looked inside the nest... three little eggs. I also heard some squawking above me on the roof... the mother. None too happy to see me peering into her nest. I quickly moved away. Of course, I came back later and snapped a quick picture.

The mother is small, brown on top, with a brown & white striped belly. Either a wren, or a finch, but I think she's a song sparrow. I'll try to get a picture sometime. I shared my little bird story with co-workers today. Susan remembered a time a dove built a nest on the soccer field where her son played. Rosie said, "Did she miss the instinct class where they were told not to build a nest on a soccer field?" At any rate, the team made a concerted effort to avoid the nest while practicing... they even alerted visiting teams about the nest... and all the guys played soccer around it! Imagine... all those high school boys looking out for the bird and babies. I think all life forms can teach us something. Perhaps this was a time for the boys to let the soft places in their hearts to be nurtured. I wonder what my little bird is here to teach?

I always look in the shrub now when I come home from work. Today there was one more egg... 4 in all now. The mama watches me closely whenever I look in her nest. I'm pretty sure she's a sparrow. She looks like the pic in my bird book and the description of the way sparrows build their nests fit. Except, I still don't know why they build so close to the ground.

A week or so ago 2 or 3 of the eggs hatched. The tiny little birds were curled up together and I just couldn't tell how many there were. I was so surprised to find myself a little grossed out at the way they looked... no feathers, kinda shiny... looked more like snails... yuck. I tried to take a picture, but the mama was squawking like crazy. I decided not to disturb or frighten her. The picture here was taken about a week and a half after they hatched. They're cute little things now! Still tiny though. At least one egg didn't hatch... sad. I still can't tell how many birds or eggs are in there, and I don't want to poke around too much to try to find out.
Yesterday, Ric and I came home and the young guys that we've hired had mowed the yard. We panicked for a moment, because we forgot to tell them to be careful around the nest. They're still safe though. I had to chase a big cat away this morning. Sure hope these little critters make it. Mama continues to watch my every move.

Yesterday (5/12/09) when I came home from work, I checked the nest as always, and two of the cutest little birds were looking right at me! The changes were amazing... lots of feathers now... just adorable. I thought, "Soon we'll be seeing them learn to fly." I was going to snap a picture, but went inside, got distracted, and forgot. This morning Ric and I looked in at the nest and... the birds were gone! We agreed that they were not yet ready to fly. The mama and papa bird were above us on a wire... quiet... no chirpping as usual. Ric's first thought was that a neighborhood cat got the birds. But the nest itself was not disturbed. It seems like a cat would have just destroyed everything trying to get to the birds. The nest was in the same place in the bush, intact, with the egg still inside... the one that never hatched. We looked all around for signs of the birds elsewhere, but didn't see a thing. When I came home from work later, the first thing I did was look inside the nest, hoping they had somehow returned, but still, just the empty nest, with the one unhatched egg.
Mysterious. The little "decorative" weeds the mother had placed on the bush when she built the nest were still there. All seemed undisturbed, except for the fact that the baby birds were gone. Now the parents were gone too... no sight or sound of them either. I've searched all around the yard, but no sign whatsoever of our little sparrow family. What could have happened? Where could they have gone? I feel sad.

(5/14/09) Well, I think my story has a happy ending. It occurred to me to google song sparrow's nesting habits, and I found that "the young will leave the nest about 10 days after hatching, barely able to fly. The parents will feed the young for another 20 days. Within a week the first egg of the next brood will be laid." So... since the nest and shrub did not appear to be disturbed, I'm guessing the little tikes just left the nest and are safe somewhere, with mom and dad bringing them food and little baby bird toys...

Saturday, March 14, 2009

Just a Tree

Across the street from where I live was an empty wooded lot, with many tall trees, some probably 80 years old. Someone is now building a house there. I was hoping that they would conserve as many trees as possible, and I think they are trying to do that. I came home from work one day and some small trees and two large trees were down. Although it was a bit sad, I reminded myself that some of the trees would have to go to make room for the new house.

The next day I came home, and workers were in the process of cutting down one of the huge trees. Seeing the tree in the process of being cut down was a little more troubling to me. It was on the corner of the lot and I was thinking to myself that it wasn’t it the way of anything. Why was it necessary to cut down this one? I couldn’t dismiss my feelings of sadness this time, because I was seeing the tree alive and standing tall, and knew that shortly it was going to be lying across the ground.

It's a living, thriving tree...

I tried to push away my feelings of sadness for the tree, and found myself intrigued with how the men would bring this giant tree down. I went inside my house and kept returning to the front window to check the progress. It was a slow process... after all, it was nearly three feet in diameter at the point where the tree was being cut. I had been going back and forth from doing chores inside our home and looking out the window. Each time I returned to the window to look at the tree, I felt a little more connected to it. I kept telling myself, “Jeanne, it’s only a tree.” However, another part of me was saying, “It’s a living, thriving tree, and its life is about to come to an end.”

I noticed the worker doing the sawing seemed to fit the stereotype of a lumberjack... hard hat and red plaid flannel shirt. As I focused on him, feelings of anger toward him were surfacing inside me. “He’s just doing the job he was hired to do,” I tried to convince myself.

What kind of a man...

By now I was feeling sorrow for the tree. The man would saw for a while, then drive wedges into the cut with a hammer. Over and over... saw and hammer, cut deeper and insert bigger wedges and hammer harder. I was amazed that the tree did not move. The sawing and the wedges were widening the gap at the base of the tree, yet it did not move. I positioned myself right up against our picture window and looked up for the first time. As the chainsaw was cutting into the tree, I saw the high branches moving... trembling. Trembling! Oh my, this beautiful tree is feeling the pain of the cut... it knows its life is almost over. I quietly said to the tree, “I’m here with you. It’ll be okay. You’ll go back to the earth, and help make more beautiful trees.” I knew it heard me, but the branches still shook. I knew then I would stay with the tree until it came down. It was hard to bear though. I couldn’t stop crying. I was both sad and angry, shouting “What kind of man can do this for a living!”

He knelt down...

Well, immediately God showed me what kind of a man could do this for a living. The lumberjack stopped his chainsaw and I heard him call to his co-workers. “Okay, this next cut’s going to be it! Make sure you’re all out of the way!”

He then removed his hard hat... walked around to the other side of the tree... and knelt down on one knee in front of it.

He remained in that position for some time. His coworkers quietly went about their jobs, holding cables, moving out of the way. After what must have been three or four minutes, the man stood up, looked up at the big tree once again, put his hard hat back on, and went back to doing the job he was hired to do.

He did his job well, continuing the process of alternating sawing and driving larger wedges into the tree so that it would fall in the correct direction. And then the moment came. TIMBER! With a loud crash that startled our quiet little neighborhood, this magnificent tree, which had lived on this street for some 80 years... was down.

My lumberjack immediately removed his hard hat again... walked around and briefly knelt down once more in front of what was now a large tree stump.

My God gently said to me, “Jeanne, this is the kind of man who can do this kind of job.” Yes, a man who has reverence for all forms of life... a man who does his job with the utmost skill... and with utmost love.

The first lesson I recognized in this experience is not to judge other people... I can never know all that is in the heart of another. I also learned that when you ask a question in earnest, seeking the truth... God will answer. In this instance the answer came immediately. Perhaps most importantly, I learned – actually remembered what I already knew – that the earth is alive. There’s not anything that’s just a tree, just a mountain, just a river... it’s not just a butterfly on the other side of the world... it’s all alive. As our feet touch this earth and everything that’s in it... all things and all people are connected.

As I shared this story with a group of co-workers, one of them told me, “Even as that grand tree was falling to the ground, it was giving you a beautiful story about life itself.” Yes, the tree had purpose in its last moments and you and I are blessed to be the recipient of its wisdom.