The Ultimate Jitterbug.

Gran. Her name is actually Martha Goodsell, but everyone called her Gran. And for those that knew my Gran, know that she took great pride in calling herself a jitterbug. She would shake her fanny and wave her finger singing "Doot doot doot." Her life motto was to never let the grass grow beneath her feet. Safe to say that in her 80 some years of life, that was truly the case. She walked 3 miles everyday (even after a serious accident in which she was struck by a car). She was always riding her bike all over town to deliver the church bulletin and some flowers to those that were sick or living alone. Gran had this heart of gold making everyone around her feel like a treasure. 

It was one of the greatest gifts of my life to live by her and Poppa. They were such fixtures in our daily lives, that I often yearn for those days we could run through the gate to the back door to see what treats she had on the kitchen table or what pies had been baked that day. Gran's sweet tooth ran deeeeeep. She always had the good stuff. 

It is a rare gem to find people like Gran. Her heart was always for others. She spent countless hours on the phone for the church prayer chain. She was always making some kind of pom pom bear or craft for the church bizarre (basically a craft fair). Gran (and Poppa) made Sunday dinners feel like an experience. She had this knack for being able to create this safe space of love with an ear quick to listen. Gran was always at every event from our school concerts, sports events, art shows, you name it. She was there with bells on (or so it seemed). 

Throughout high school and college, Gran was also notorious for slipping me a bit of "coke money." She always had a stash of cash in her china cabinet tea cups. Whenever I had a bad day and was telling her about it at her dining room table where she often sat (the same dining table I now have and spend countless hours with my own family and now serves as my remote office), the conversation would end with her sweet words and a bit of coke money. She was always telling me to go buy a soda or a sweet treat. When I would tell her that sodas didn't cost $20, she would tell me to buy a few or to buy one for a friend. That was Gran to her core. Always looking for ways to make me (and countless others) smile. 

When I was living on campus during college, Gran would call my dorm room often, She would leave these messages saying it was Gran (as if I would forget) and that she loved me. If my roommate answered, she would tell them the same. I must admit that I often took those calls for granted. Looking back, I am amazed at her constant dedication to make those calls so often. And that I was always on her mind. What a gift not only to me but also to my roommates who still recall those calls with Gran. 

As I get older, I find myself striving to be more like her. I am nowhere close. She set the bar so high but one worthy of trying to reach. I want a faith like Gran. I want to have the same heart for others. Her unwavering sense of spirit, witty humor and pizazz for life are definitely an inspiration. 

I hope someday I can be Gran to my grandchildren. I hope that I can share the contagious zest for life that she had on the ready. I hope that I can look fear in the face and keep going as she so often did. We all need a bit of Gran. Grab an extra dessert. Send a friend some coke (or coffee) money just because. Or better yet, go share that treat with them and remind them how much they are truly loved in (and out of) this world. 

3,653 Days.

Ten years. It is crazy to think it has been a decade. I need to let that sit for a minute. Today crept up on me. I mean, I knew the day was coming, but I think I was desperately trying to ignore it. It is hard to admit or even accept that 10 years ago today, I was diagnosed with Stage III Ovarian Cancer, and just a few weeks shy of the huge decade milestone (the day after we got engaged actually), I have learned that the jerk is back. My remaining ovary has joined the cancer party and got itself a tumor and has decided to party it up in there. Jerk.

So as we are in the midst of engagement bliss (no, seriously--this is such a great chapter), we are also facing some serious decision making for our future family. As much as we would love new dishes, towels and pots and pans, can we register for new ovaries? Eggs? Can that please be a thing? It is a strange dichotomy to be planning a wedding but also undergoing fertility treatments. I am trying to keep it kind of out of site, out of mind, but the fridge full of medications is not easy to ignore. Our hopes are to harvest my remaining eggs before having my remaining ovary removed, which also means surgery before the wedding. Not ideal, but it is the best plan of action as of now.

In reflecting on the past decade, I am thankful for all of you that have lent support in these years. For those that sported teal proudly on this day to show your love and to also bring awareness to this silent beast. Each year has been a mixed bag of emotions. Early on in this battle, my support system was small and sporadic. I spent many days (and months) in a fog, feeling ashamed for a diagnosis in which I had zero control. Today, I am fighting my battle with an army. I am blessed by those that have been added to my life to make this journey a joy. I am not fighting this battle alone or behind closed doors. I get to warrior on with battle scars to show that I am a survivor. This jerk doesn't get to win.

We are getting married in April (eeeeeeek!). I get to live a dream. I have the most amazing partner to share life. I will wear my wedding dress even if I am fresh from surgery and my body is not the ideal shape I had hoped for such a day. Who cares? Instead, I am going to focus on God's blessings, all of the good vibes, light, and the love around us. I get to dance with my favorite human surrounded by my village of people that I love and adore. I can't wait.

I am sure that there will be some rough roads ahead with this pending fertility process (while wedding planning). But joys. I will count it all joy.

And to you cancer, I hate you. Your party is almost over. I will conquer it so that a new party can begin.

xo.

Rest Required.

So I am now in the cancer recovery zone from my surgery and barrage of doctor appointments. With an unexpected turn of being put on disability, I have been forced to rest from Dr. K for a few weeks. With skyrocketing blood pressure and the reopening of two incisions, I am now taking in the doctor's orders and find myself now at home most days, watching Netflix and writing, but also pouring my energies into resurrecting my need to create, draw, and paint. Alas, the birth of Paper Velveteen.

On a few attempts, I have tried to pursue my dreams to be an illustrator and children's author, but it always seemed as though life got in the way. Though that dream has evolved some, I am allowing my brush to do work once again. My new space has also been inspiring to do so along with the undivided time to devote. My work desk sits under two windows which gives so much natural light. As well, I find myself having dreams of new ideas, which is welcomed after weeks of restless sleep due to incisions, stress, and other such worries. (Still feels strange though not being in the office each day.)


It feels good to be back in my creative element. To listen to the still, small voice telling me that I can do this. That I can create something from nothing. That dreams come true with some ingenuity and hard work. And they aren't to be ignored.

So with that being said, I am in need of prayer as there are still some changes that need to be made. Some healing that is still underway. And a small dream starting to ignite into something quite undefined at this point.

Looking forward to this next chapter once again. After all, isn't this to be the year of adventure?!

p.s. If you are not yet following, give @papervelveteen some love. And please, tell your friends! There is more to come!

{The epic logo of Paper Velveteen was designed by the one and only @hat_daddy. Thanks, homie.}

2016: The Year of Adventure.

I had no idea when the year started with a pending motto, that my declaration for 2016 to be The Year of Adventure that it would mean that my adventure would begin with some major unexpected news.

Almost to the date of my January 30, ovarian cancer-versary (the diagnosis date of my Stage III ovarian cancer), that I would once again be marking a new cancer-versary date on my calendar: January 6, 2016--Melanoma. I don't know if I am even ready to claim it, but I am now battling skin cancer. This is going to be a roller coaster of new emotions and battles. A bit of background to all of this...I had not been feeling well and I had taken a bit of a sabbatical from doctor visits as it gets tiring being their pin cushion. I got my new insurance underway and made the trek to my childhood doctor, Dr. Longnecker. He is good. He knows my family, my health history, and I trust him. Little did I know that the visit would uncover many looming medical conditions.

"Your life is an occasion. Rise to it."

I am not yet ready to go in to detail of all of it, but the main concerns focus around the confirmed melanoma diagnosis and pending tests for breast cancer. If I am a cat with nine lives, I am looking at borrowing a few as I am running out.

Where this all stands...I have an emergency appointment with a melanoma specialist on Tuesday, January 12. Surgery is most likely to happen then to see if we can clear the margins. I am going to have my entourage with me to help me hear the important details at the appointment.

What I have learned in this thus far...I have the most amazing support system in place. Jack is my superhero. I am forever grateful that God has blessed me with the very best man to be my partner in all of this. Family has rallied around in love. I have friends that are my prayer warriors, cheerleaders, partners, and advocates. I work with incredible people that are holding me up in love, prayer, support, and positive energy.

It is no question that once again, God has my attention. That just when I felt like I was on the mountain top, I find myself in a new valley. I have to believe that this will be another miraculous victory. And I also have to believe that it is just another chapter in my story. It won't end here. I am coming back with a vengeance and ready to chase new dreams after we tackle this big bump in the road. Though it may not be the adventure we had planned, we are taking it on to be the best adventure yet.

Prayers welcome. Medical updates to come...

Un-school.

It is my second year of un-school. I survived my first summer with a full-time job. Yes, you read that correctly. I have never worked a real full-time job during the summer in my entire life. It is not a solicitation for sympathy, but a statement of fact. So after 17 first days of school as a student and then 14 more as a teacher (yep, that is a total of 31 school year photos), I see all of the "first day of school" photos all over social media and for a split second, my former life comes into focus. And do I miss it? Nope. Not one ounce. Don't get my wrong, I treasure my years as a student and as a teacher, but the freedom in this life is astronomical.

Grandpa.

In the recent passing of my last grandparent (rest in peace, dear Grandpa), thoughts of my upbringing and family come in to conversation, particularly when it coincides with a rather recent dating relationship as you learn about each other in the various lie aspects. The reoccurring theme for me in conversation is realizing that in my nature, I have been quite a people pleaser, which is ironic being that I had/have such a stubborn streak. It all ties back to life as a teacher.

Growing up, I wanted to be a lot of things. I know there was a time, though brief, that I wanted to be an astronaut. I was told that girls can't be astronauts, so there was that (Where was my girl power then?). And then when I wanted to be a doctor, I remember my grandpa asking me if someone came to me with a face gushing blood, could I stitch them up? So ended my medical career before it could even begin. And as I knew that it was in my nature to teach, a job fair at Biola where Whittier Christian was in attendance, I had a conversation with some of the folk and weeks later I was setting up a classroom. I had become everything I swore I never would.

And though I have reflected on life as a teacher in past posts, I am now celebrating one full year in this new life commemorated in my first annual review yesterday with the owners of the company I now work. I know that in the past, I have had a few asses for bosses that destroyed my sense of being and then some that I cherish for the way that they built my spirit. This was evident in my feeling of the review as I walked in feeling no hesitation as to my value. I was not nervous. I was not apprehensive. All to say that I obviously work in an environment that helps me thrive. I am able to feel empowered and encouraged in who I am. There is a dynamic that is a valued nucleus. And more importantly, I am not following the path of familiarity or what is considered safe and stable. I can have my hair purple. Not worry about any visible tattoos. To not feel stifled in creativity. I have spent the last year and some by finally chasing my own dreams.  Not the dreams others have dreamt for me. This chapter has given me strength to not let others dictate my dreams. It may come across in a form of rebelliousness, which is not intended (though we all have a bit of that in our nature, perhaps). Rather, I think this is more about freedom. I am free to embrace the person within and not feel shame. It is awesome and exhausting all at once. It is not something I can shut off.

My second year of un-school photo.
In New York.
For work.
Nope. Can't complain.

There is a positive energy to fill my world and yours. God is still at work. One is never too old to chase dreams. One is never too old for a do-over. Or a second chance. Go get 'em, kids.

So here is to my own second official year of un-school. Cheers.

Theme Park For Sale.

Since my accident a few weeks ago, it feels as though the theme park has been busier than ever. The carousel of chaos continues to spin. The roller coaster dips are getting more intense. And the nausea from it all is in full effect. Thankfully most of the physical wounds have healed from the accident, but there are wounds of the heart that are now surfacing.

After what I consider to be a moment of cheating death yet again after the car accident, I had the come to Jesus moment when I could quickly look at my priorities and figure out what truly mattered. Similar to life after cancer, but this was more of a flash bang. What matters most is people. Loving them. Enjoying them. And treasuring them. Because time on this earth is short and you don't always get to cheat death. Sometimes heaven calls those we love home and it just seems too soon.

We don't always get enough time to love. A former student of mine went to be with Jesus this last week after a motorcycle accident. In his early 20's, he was called home. I remember vividly his mannerisms. He drove me crazy in the classroom. But students like him were my favorite. They made my job as a teacher challenging and entertaining. I used to call his name out constantly in class. And in an instant, he is now gone. His parents made the brave decision to keep him on life support until his organs could be donated. What an incredibly selfless moment that must have been. Heaven got an angel that will surely keep heaven on its toes. What a gift.

Another dear friend was called home in the last few days which has also caused the tears to flow. She was one of the dearest, most loving women that was always caring and smiling, despite the pain she quietly carried. I can't thank her enough for entrusting me with her deepest secrets, but also allowing me to share in mine. To be completely honest, she walked with me in some of my darkest valleys. My calm in the storm. There were nights she would stay on the phone with me until all hours of the morning until my heart was calm enough to sleep. In a moment, she too is gone. I know her sadness all to well as I have been there. The pain she carried was too heavy to bear. I get it. I don't want to believe it, but I sadly understand. She died to what I believe was a broken heart. I wish I had known her pain had grown so incredibly deep. She hid her hurts from others so well with her love and her smile, but I can't help but wonder how I could've talked and listened to her this time until the pain had subsided. Her two boys were her entire life and love. And they are left to pick up the pieces. My prayer is that truth is understood and that those boys know how much she lived and loved for them. I could only hope that someday I could be half the mother she was with such love and devotion.

Heaven now has two incredible angels that were called home too what I think from earthly eyes, was too soon.

It makes me wonder why He took them home, yet I continue to get extra lives. It is becoming more evident that there is a calling on my life that I just don't yet understand and a job to do that perhaps I am not yet aware. But that doesn't mean the earthly pain goes away with losses like these. It is apparent that my life as a teacher is not a finished career as many of the students and families are still very much part of my story. I cry out wondering when the spinning will stop. I often pray to God asking Him when will the good parts will happen. Just when I think I have it all figured out, there is another dip in the ride. The pain gets exhausting. The carousel continues to go around and around.


I do, however, see God answering prayers. In my own situations, God provided a "new" car to me after I was so discouraged thinking I would be hoofing it. And you know, the car He provided is perfect for me. Money was provided in ways I could not have imagined. I had good advice from some dear people that guided me to this decision as I was struggling to figure out what Ellen wanted instead of listening to all of the other voices. And not only does my new ride exceed my checklist with features I didn't think I could afford, it was exactly $1 under the budget I set for myself. Answered prayer.

The relationship roller coaster has been my ride of choice over the last decade. And though the ride has had different names and faces, I somehow find myself in the same peaks and dips that result in pain. Obviously relationships are going to have their highs and lows, but I find myself in a state of nausea and white knuckles all too often. I wonder if I am the common denominator to it, or if this is just part of my story. Perhaps it is a combination of both. And someday I will tell my story and be able to say that it was all worth it.

My heart continues to ache. My eyes are swollen from the tears that have been shed. And it is supposed to be my birthday weekend. It is apparent that my birthday will look much different than I anticipated. I will make the most of it. I will look for reasons to celebrate. I will look to love those around me. At this point, it will be friendships, tattoos and wine as part of the festivities. But most important, I will love. I will seek ways to find joy.

I also know, that beyond my birthday, I have a theme park for sale. As much as I love excitement, thrill, and adventure, I am not sure I can continue to endure the roller coaster rides. I prefer something that looks more like the swings, even if they are the ones that go around in circles as it lifts you higher so you can dangle your feet.

"Be still and know that I am God." --Psalm 46:10

And for those that are on the roller coaster, I want to share a song by a band called Gungor, "Beautiful Things." It plays on repeat for me.

EGBOK.

Crash Landing.

April 4, 2015. I think I may have used yet another life early that morning. In fact, I used it for the scariest moment of life yet. Ironic that it was the early morning after Good Friday? I think not. There were some definite connections made there in the reflections.

I was on my way home. It was a bit later than usual. And I was on a toll road I had not traveled. Unfortunately, as most know, I am geographically challenged. And as I was confused in my sense of direction, glancing at the GPS for a split second to decipher the 241 and the 261, I looked up to swerving which sent my car rolling. I rolled what I think to be 3 times, landing upside down in a ditch. By God's grace, not only was I alive, but my cell phone had landed right in front of me. I immediately dialed 911 after I was able to get my seatbelt loose. I then kicked out the passenger door as the driver's side was jammed shut.

A cop was doing a traffic stop on the overpass above and heard the crash. He was with me within the minute. He found me gathering my belongings from the freeway as things were everywhere.

I can't say that the officer was kind. Or helpful. In fact, I found him to be rude and annoyed. And the highway patrol was no better, which is unfortunate as I am usually a big fan. It wasn't until after I passed the field sobriety tests that they were nicer.

All to say, that after my car was loaded onto the flatbed of the tow truck, the one officer said to me that I was lucky to be alive. He said he has seen many accidents and not only should I be thankful to be alive, but how in the world am I walking away from this?! Grace.

I was able to walk away on my own accord. I had cuts on my hands, feets, and lower back (and later found glass in my head), but other than my cuts, scratches, and bruises, I never once blacked out. I did not break one bone (that I know of). And from the looks of it, my whiplash and pain is minimal too, considering.

There are answers I wish I had about why this happened as I seem to always have a story to tell. It is yet another challenge to overcome. And I liked my little car. It was special to me and had a sweet memory of my dad and I buying it. But in the midst of this crash, what flashed before me was those that I love. Cheesy as it may be, I was reminded again that I am on this earth for a purpose. That I have such an amazing group of people that love me and I love them. That I am not alone, despite the years I felt alone in a crowded room. I am very much surrounded by people that care. People that notice me. People that reach out. Love. Pray. Support. And cherish. I have relationships that matter. People that make me a better person because they are in my life. And hopefully I return the favor.

It was in the moments after the accident, that in my gut reactions of who to call, that I quickly learned my list of priorities. Friends have taken my broken pieces (not the broken car) and hugged me so tight that I am hopeful that there really are good people out there. Especially the good ones that bring out the best. I still struggle to build trust as my track record in dating is still questionable, but this is part of the process. I have to believe that good things might actually happen eventually and that it isn't always going to be a nauseating roller coaster that I am tired of riding. Happiness and joy in life is found in who you build it with. And I get to build with some incredible people.

Having said that, my job on this earth is far from done. I want to be a daughter. A sister. A colleague. A friend. A roommate. A someday wife and mother. I want to keep living life to the fullest. I want those around me to know how much I love them. They are my world. And I will spend my days spent with those I love. Doing what I love.

In the aftermath of the accident, I love that two of my dearest friends teared up when seeing me as they were both just so happy I was in their presence. Those are the people I want to hold dear. I love that Jolie and Michelle came over to inspect me. To hug me. Then to help me clean out my glass filled, beat up car. That Julie had me for dinner just so that I could be at "home." And to have some joy in being with her family and the little ones I love.

I am now faced with the aftermath of the serious accident. My car is totaled. Trust. But I have been given a car to borrow in the meantime. Grace. I am in pain. But someone graciously scheduled and paid for me to have acupuncture. Healing. I am sad. Yet the outpouring of texts, calls, Facebook comments, and messages have given me joy. Love. I am in the market for a new car, which is stressful, but I have a dad, a boyfriend, a friend, and a boss all wanting to go to battle to help me get a good car. Faith.

It goes without saying that on Good Friday, Jesus died. He died for a specific reason. I am the reason. So are you. He died because we are not perfect. We have made and continue to make mistakes. We screw up daily. But, He died for love. And in His death, there is also resurrection. Three days later, He arose. And we can now live in His grace and forgiveness. Because He lives, we can face tomorrow. Even when it is overwhelming, scary, or thrilling.

All to say, I am a cat on borrowed lives as I think I used the 9 surviving a black widow bite and cancer and now this. The night of the crash, I can be thankful that Stella was not with me. I can be thankful nobody else was involved. I can be thankful that I walked away. I can be thankful that I get to see another day. I can be thankful my phone landed right in front of me so that I could call 911. I can be thankful that I do not have lasting physical scars from the accident. No broken bones. I can be thankful for so much in all of this. And again, I know that my job on this earth is not yet done. And for that, I can wake up and give thanks. The theme for 2015 is "Let's Be Rad." Can't say how rad this is, but I have faith that good will come of it.

God is good. Even at 2am on a toll road in Irvine.