I know someone with cancer.
You just thought to yourself, "me, too," right? Because any more we all know people affected by this nasty, vast, diverse, gigantic disease called cancer. At this point, I have lost two aunts to cancer and have a third who has battled it and won. There are countless others in my extended family and circle of friends, but the three closest family members are my aunts. One we lost more than a decade ago, another only half a year ago. It is devastating. It's devastating to lose anyone close to you, and there are so very many nasty, slow killers out there besides cancer, but it's the one so many have personal experience with.
My old friend, Robin, is now affected by this. It's the kind of thing that, even though we are separated by hundreds of miles and our lives are not intertwined like they were in high school, I am still left reeling. It's that moment when a cause becomes your cause. Keira is not my daughter, my niece, my cousin. She's not a little girl I teach, coach, drive in carpool. My kids aren't friends with her, nor do they have play dates with her. They don't know her siblings, sit in a classroom with her, go to Sunday School with her. In fact, I only know her because I know her mother. I love her mother. And because I love Robin, I love her kids, her family.
I have seen and read the outpouring of prayer, love, support. I am so thankful so many have rushed to her side, and for those who were already at her side and have drawn in even closer. The thing about friendships and family that are spread out over miles is that we cannot be there for each other like we can for the people who live next door to us. I love Robin, and I can send financial and moral support, and will do both, but I am depending on the people in her every day life to prop her up. To do the thing I can't - to BE there. And I am so grateful to the many who are doing just that. To her newest best friends who have stepped into a place I once filled, to her close-knit family who have always been there for her.
The thing I have learned about living far away from family and friends is that I'm not the only one. There are people next door, across the street, at Mr. Huck's work, in my MOPS group, all around me, who are dealing with this stuff. And somewhere, far from here, there are people who love them, desperately hoping and praying for their neighbors, their kids' friends' families, their co-workers to fill in the gap. To do the being there they cannot do. I rely on people in Longview to do that for my sister and her family. I rely on people in StL to do that for my parents and my brother. I rely on people in Houston to do that for Nathaniel's family. So, I pray this will be another reminder to not only hold dearly my own family, but to keep my eyes wide open for those I see every day who need me to BE.
If you feel compelled to help with Robin's daughter, Keira, please visit her facebook page #KEIRASTRONG, her Caring Bridge site "keirastout", or https://www.giveforward.com and search Keira Stout (No Stout About It).
And you can honor Keira every day by building relationships with and loving on the people around you who need you to be there for them, the way we all want our relatives near and far to be loved on by others when we can't. I want to hug and console and speak words of wisdom and comfort to you, Robin! But while I can't, I will thank God for those who are and I will honor Keira by doing it for those I can. "I have a lot more things to tell you, but I'd rather not use pen and ink. I hope to be there soon in person and have a heart-to-heart talk. Peace to you. The friends here say hello. Greet our friends there by name." 3 John 1:13-14 #KEIRASTRONG
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