Twelve.

Today marks my twelfth cancer-versary. TWELVE years ago, a phone call from my doctor, diagnosing me with Stage III ovarian cancer, forever changing my life. That moment will never be lost in my memory bank. In the first year, there were so many days and moments to process emotions and to get my game plan in place. However, every year after, I have chosen to "celebrate" this day. In some ways it feels like an additional birthday as it is a reminder of another year that the cancer has stayed at bay.

I used to do a little campaign to friends and family on this day to wear teal (#fortheloveofovaries). Scrolling through my Facebook memories, it has been a sweet reminder of so many that have walked in this journey with me. The countless folks that wore teal, or sent photos of something teal, or inspirational quotes. The power of those gestures will always spark a feeling of such joy, strength, and encouragement.

And so today, once again, I set aside some time to think, reflect, and count my blessings. I choose to see this day as a day to stand in solidarity with those fighting in the cancer battle and to honor those that have passed on fighting the good fight. I think of the caregivers. I remember the doctors. And I pray for the families that have lost loved ones to cancer. I know your pain. There aren't words to take that pain away, but I can tell you that cancer can't ever rob you of the memories you shared with those loved ones. Honor them by keeping their stories alive.

Rather than let cancer rob me of joy, I have continued to allow it to be part of my story as a survivor, but survivor's guilt is real. There are often more questions than answers. And the emotions are still a constant navigation.

It seems like yesterday, I was recently engaged and trying to get a fertility plan in place. And so this year takes on new meaning in my cancer journey as I stare at my newborn on the baby monitor while I jot down these thoughts. There is a physical reminder that sleeps in the next room adding another chapter to my continuing story. I guess sometimes things do go as planned (or even better than the plan). This newborn I was told would most likely never come to be, is here and healthy. This miraculous gift of motherhood, I will never take for granted. This baby boy is yet another reason to never give up hope and to know that stories often take unexpected turns that can lead to some of the most rewarding and precious chapters.

So here is to year twelve. For the love of ovaries and another year with gratitude.

Reset Button and then Reset Again. Then one more time.

Oh balls...it has been one heck of a wild ride since leaving my job weeks ago. And just when I thought I had it all figured out, I have had to hit the reset button not once, not twice, but three times until I could finally get it right. It is no accident that in the last few weeks I have learned that I've been running 100 mph for so long that now everyone seems snail paced.I have also learned how to check my ego, how to value my worth, and that the grass is not always greener. But through it all, I am strong and I am finding my groove again.

I am thankful that I have met some amazing people along the way in the recent journey. Genuinely good people that I wish nothing but good on. This is more about learning that since leaving the teaching profession, my heart has not been settled. As I was so heavily involved with my kids as a teacher and coach, I have yearned (without realizing), that I find such joy in helping people. It is in my nature to serve and support. I have a need to be needed. The dichotomy comes in my creative brain that thrives in chaos. It has created such a challenge professionally as I find that one is sacrificed for the other. In a perfect and hopeful world, both will find equal place.

What I have learned in recent weeks is that the man I do life with is incredibly patient, kind, supportive and all things good for me. As I tend to find myself on the roller coaster time and time again, he stands by while I loop around one too many times without an I told you so on his breath (though I think he keeps those thoughts quietly in his back pocket). Bless him for enduring. And for his bouts of humor.

I have also learned that I'm impatient and often in the worst ways. I knew this about myself but have had to finally admit it begrudgingly. It does cause for a few eye rolls.

I am learning that doing life with intention is not easy. Life is messy. Sometimes life sucks, but life is also beautiful. There is a lot of hurt in the midst, but I have hope in the healing. Life can be chaos, but there is calm before and after the storms. I color in chaos.

In putting down roots again, there is vulnerability. True commitment stays, even when things get ugly. You can't run or hide when things get tough or uncomfortable. I want to be in it for the long haul. I want moments of joy to be etched in my memory bank as a well of resource when there are moments of drought.

For the most part, I am back in my own skin. My body is still somewhat tired (especially after starting Pure Barre, but I'll save that for a future post) but my soul is reenergized. Travel has done my heart well. I've spent time in Idaho with some of my favies and also took a long overdue vacation with an open ended agenda. It was an incredible coastal trip with my favorite companion. Lots of outdoor adventures, food indulges, and some great wine with amazing weather in the quaintest cabin made for moments to treasure along with the rocks and shells we brought home.

All to say, I'm indulging in my art again, getting healthy, cooking a lot (and actually well!), and enjoying the company I keep. Like the year I moved 8 times, and the year I went through meeting a ton of new people in my relationship transition, this Year of Adventure has led to significant professional change(s). But like the other changes, I'm finding myself in an even better place than I would imagine as it is opening the future for good.

So I will keep on dreaming. I will take the risks. And live just on the outskirts of my comfort zone. I will breathe deeply. I will look for joy, even in the desert moments. I encourage you to do the same. Trust me. It's where you find the treasure.

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.

HardKore Rap (That's hardkore...with a K).

As I have 12.5 days left of my teaching career (not that I am counting), I am looking back on some major highlights (I will ignore the lowlights) of my career as a teacher. In all honesty, those that are teachers may understand that teaching is like starring in your own reality show. It is not that we are the stars, but we get to have this recurring role in a constant comedy act/drama/telenovela of entertainment in which we actually get paid. Certainly not the pay of A-list celebrities, but more like the pay of an "extra" that you have to search real hard to see in the shot.

In my last 14 years...

I have been told that my hair looks real nice, "like a Laker girl." (I will take that as most of those women have great hair.)

I may or may not have removed all of the chair and stools from a classroom and saran wrapped them together. Outside. In a pile. With a colleague that will remain nameless.

Did you know that "Jesus and his resurrection was boss?" (You do now, and you also know that resurrection is a vocab word.)

Dutchland is NOT where Dutch people are from. Certain students thought that was the case. Dutch people are from Holland (the Netherlands), but according to my former History student, those people are Hollish. And when I jokingly told the story to my colleagues and said some smart remark about her History teacher, I realized that yes, I was in fact said teacher.

Maturity: to not laugh at a stupid word like sex. (Yes, I did get that definition on a vocab quiz.)

Awkward moments abound. Come on, this is middle school. How can there not be a plethora of those?! I wish I could tell those stories too, but I am working on boundaries.

I have gone through stock in purple pens.

I have had my room littered with hundred of copies of the scientific drawings of the male and female sex organs. Copies of which I still find in my files to this day...years later.

There was once a wonderful persuasive essay written about why I should change a student's seat. The essay was quite effective as she did have a new view the next day in class.

I have learned how to do the Harlem shake. (There is a YouTube video to prove it. Ask my volleyball team.)

There have been wacky days, color days, dress up days. I have been Dorothy from Wizard of Oz, a daughter from Sound of Music, Rosie the Rivoter. I have dressed in duct tape. Had a skateboarder jump over me. I have shared my cancer journey in chapel.

I have been a Crusader my entire teaching career as it was the mascot of both schools.

Kids have molded and shaped me as a person. It is amazing that as I am supposed to be their teacher, yet it is I that gets to learn.

I have graded thousands of essays. Judged many speech meets. Had hundreds of parent conferences. Sent too many emails. Been yelled at. Loved. Appreciated. And blessed.

Worked for 6 principals (Mr. Peters, you are the reason I taught. You truly are a hero of mine). Served under 5 superintendents. Had many secretaries (All of which I adore and seem to keep the school in one piece--what a gift each of those women are to the staffs they have served!).

I have listened to many accents (including those of Duck Dynasty, robot sounds, teacher impressions--I guess I wave my hands a lot when I teach) as I witnessed many kids act out their vocab homework every Wednesday. French Fry Debates have packed on a few extra calories each year as it is key that I test the product (I still have my favorite fries--Fronks). The Grendel trial has been exciting.  Some natural born lawyers in those classes of mine.

Volleyball games, practices, and teams have been a chance for me to know students in a completely different element. We have been able to win championships and sportsmanships. We have seen a few seasons that we were just excited to be .500. Coaching has been incredible.

It has been a wonderful experience to know these kids. To be in relationship with them as teacher and coach. Mentor and friend. To see them succeed, graduate high school, finish college, get married and even start families. A few of my former students are even now on their third kid. (Amazing how that happens as I am 24 years old, according to my students...God love them.)

And this week, as we wrap up a track season (of great success), my Boys' Volleyball team plays for a championship (Come on, boys!) and we have our 14th and final French Fry Debate, I am reminded by my student (Bling, Bling Big Ed as he has asked me to call him), school is serious business. I am proud of each student. Proud of their work. Efforts. Joy. And perseverance into this journey as they become the person God has created each of them to be. School is hardkore with a "k." Call it skool, if you will. And when things get tough, it is so much better to break out in rap. Being a student can bring out the thug life, in your school uniform, of course.

             

Goodbyes.

I am not good at goodbyes. And after an email from a friend, some of this is getting a little difficult to digest, like the beginning of goodbyes. I am starting to say them. It isn't like I'll never return to L.A. or that this is goodbye forever. Just the "goodbye for now" is harder to say.

After this weekend, it got real. Clearly, I need to sip on the juice of joy, but that it is not always easy. I was at Opening Day for the Dodgers vs. Padres. I was torn as to which team to root for (though I am always Dodger blue at heart). Walking in to Petco Park for the first time was an adrenaline rush for a thousand reasons. This. Is. Real.

The other side of reality is hitting me. I will not be returning to the cozy classroom I have called my home for the last 9 years (or better yet, teaching for 14). There is a bitter taste still sitting in my gut over that. I am leaving my home in which I have lived all of 8 or 9 months, (which was, looking back), a big kickstart to this process of change. But what I leave is bigger than all of that. I am leaving a comfort zone. For the last (almost) 36 years, I have been in a 15 mile radius of a safe, familiar nest. And now I am moving 100 some miles away. Am I excited? Of course. Anxious? A little. Sad? Definitely. Ready? Yes.

But there is so much I am going to miss...

-The familiar smell of the grass on the fields I line each week.
-My own space. 
-The daily hilarity of my students (on that, I could write my own book).
-The laughter and daily joys of my colleagues.
-Starbucks Thursdays with Kim.
-Knowing how to get places (though I still get lost in my own neighborhood).
-Coaching.
-The Dodgers. 
-Being able to meet up with friends at the drop of the hat.
-Having dinner with my mom any day of the week.
-The Warehouse family.
-Grill 'Em All.
-Stella's babysitters. 
-Crying in church next to Robin and PK (almost a weekly occurrence for me still).
-The suburbs (though the city life excites me).
-Clifton's.
-The relationships with other schools and ADs.
-CR on Wednesday nights.
-Coincidental run-ins.
-Going to Julie's for dinner to party plan with her and Jessica (but this WILL still happen).
-My shops I love to frequent.
-Doing laundry at Jav and Stephanie's (though I think this will still happen from time to time).
-Plenty of parking.
-L.A. life.
-Jolie and dates with her cuties (I love being their Tia--and still will be).
-The Lakers (though this has been an embarrassing season).
-My closet.

The list will go on. I am sure I will add to it. So don't be insulted if you aren't on the list. It is just hard to say goodbye and some things I am just not ready to accept.