My HALF Birthday: A Celebration of Life in the Face of the Unthinkable

Today is my half birthday. Monumental-in-my-mind. I'm fifty-nine and a half! Why go public with my actual, factual age? So many reasons! After yesterday. After Orlando. 

Every additional day of life is something to celebrate, something to cling to, something to appreciate and savor. I have been watching with glee as I have approached this personal milestone. And NOW, today, the day, one day after Orlando, after the unthinkable, following the unimaginable? I have reached this day of celebration. MY day. I am going to claim it. I am going to own it. I am going to share it.

You may not know this about me, but I am a TWO time survivor of early stage Breast Cancer. That has involved a series or biopsies and surgeries, and 36 trips to the hospital for 31 doses of radiation, culminating in a bilateral mastectomy and being scarred from armpit to armpit, {NOT pretty} complications from surgery that amounted to months and months and months and months of physical therapy to regain the use of my right arm and constant concern-treatment for lymphedema [also in the shallow end of the pool] and most recently being fitted for my own personal prosthetic silicone Barbie Boobies built-in-a-bra.

When I was awaiting my BC diagnosis, I was given a pamphlet about BCO (BreastCancer.org) and my sanity was restored. My first job was to select a user-name. I thought for about 59.5 seconds and said to myself, "Well going into this I have my faith and I just turned 50." So with that much thought that became my user-name: faithandfifty.

And amazing things happened.

I kept living. I met amazing women. I became part of their story and they became part of mine. Most notably there was the "Faith and Saint" story, but that would require a book. Short version: I have my own guardian angel. She is 'my people.' If you look closely at the photograph of the two of us in Chicago, she came to help me at a workshop and she wrote on her name tag, 'my people'..... because she wanted me to know that she had my back and that I had 'my people' with me. That seems like a long time ago and like yesterday all as one gooey mash up. She made me laugh. She made me cry. She made me laugh some more. 

So today is my half birthday. I have ALWAYS celebrated half birthdays! Ask my daughters about some of their HALF birthday celebrations. I've been known to make MORE of a fuss over a half birthday, when it is least expected, than an actual date-of-birth. So much more fun. And today it is mine. My half birthday. Fifty nine and a HALF. Claim it. Own it. Share it. Celebrate it.

On my next birthday, I will be SIXTY, I will become faithandsixty..... assuming those days continue to accumulate -- one at a time. Today. On June 13th, in 2016, on Planet Earth, it is all too easy to see how so very abruptly, one can no longer assume that one will have one more day. Orlando. Sandy Hook. Add to that the fickleness of a misplaced stop sign, a falling grand piano or cells that run amuck. There is no guarantee. There never has been. But on June 13th, there are glaring realities of the unthinkable in every.single.headline.

So it is with great exuberance that I implore you to join me in celebrating being alive! 

Take back the living of life from the hate monger. Take back life from the errant cells. 

I ask you to raise your cupcake, pick a daisy, watch the clouds billow, smell some lilacs, taste a fresh strawberry, salsa dance with abandon, watch your child splash in a puddle, quack like a duck, dart like a hummingbird, and go ahead and plant that tree, draw a doodle, finish your iMovie and get it uploaded, lick the beaters, exhale, sing in the shower, skip some stones, cry over a favorite classic tear jerker, go for the gusto, call your mom, fill out the forms, write the grant, fold the laundry, practice your saxophone, do a cartwheel, seek your scholarship, read a poem, open your own business, pack your suitcase, weed your garden, paint your nails, visit a cemetery, go skydiving, lick an ice cream cone, soak in the hot tub, fill your memory card, smile at a stranger, do the right thing, quilt a square, buy the ticket, pay-it-forward, tour a museum, laugh until it hurts, rewind, stroll, forgive, slam dunk, drink from the hose, open an account on Match.com or all of the above.

Feel free to leave a note below and tell me how you celebrated my half birthday. You have my permission to share at the hashtag:
‪#‎FaithAndFiftyNinePointFive‬ ‪#‎SorryNotSorryForTheLengthyHashtag‬

BTW: My best BCO friends have shortened my nick-name to faithie.

Those of us that are indeed "people of faith" MUST use the sorrow of yesterday to shine the light of the rainbow prism into the midst of that greatest darkness, and reclaim today, by the grace of God. We can not wait another day. We must act today. 

We simply must rise up, shoulder-to-shoulder and reclaim this moment by sharing our story, by sharing the ugly details, and share our own story of triumph over sorrow. We have to cast away that sorrow..... and get to the happy ending part, where the rainbow rises above. Where good triumphs. Where the promise reigns supreme. We must live a life where we do indeed love our neighbors as ourselves. Everyone on the block. All of our neighbors. 

The rainbow that is within reach, shining at the very heart of the intersection of darkness and hope must be carried forth into the grocery story, the roller skating rink, the elementary school classroom, the farmer's market, the neighborhood cook-out and the sanctuaries that are found in churches, synagogues and mosques alike. We must, as people of reason and hope, as believing believers unite against the darkness of hate and evil. We simply must rise up and overcome. We must speak up. We must stare down. We must be both brave and child-like. We must hold hands together and sing a new chorus of KumBaYa. Literally. #KumBaYa.

We simply must use our circle of influence for the good. We must use our social media, we must use our platform, we must use our connections to proclaim, "I am going to live this day as though it were my last. I am going to use my God-given gifts to do all that I can, in every way possible to contribute to the column that will be remembered as being good, positive, right, worthy, supportive, contributive and encouraging." 

Sign me up. I have been given one more day and I am here to celebrate it. Will you join me? 

Image from article at Hope for the Broken Hearted

My Saint Pat, or Pat Saint or Guardian angel Saint, didn't get to live a full fifty nine and a half years here amidst the effects of gravity and aging. She didn't get to be a grandmother. She didn't get to see Molly graduate from college, or Luke fly off into the big world. She got to watch down instead from heaven and send her greetings on the wisp of spring's gentlest breeze and the turning of the brown dirt into a cascade of rainbow-like flowers instead. 

She lives forever in my heart and I cannot possibly imagine what heaven was like yesterday to open the gates to so many in such a sorrow-filled way. I can only imagine that Pat was there to get recruits for her angelic choir ensemble and regaled with tales of Heavenly hi-jinx. She reminds me daily of her transcendent journey.  

I took that picture on Easter morning at the cathedral in Milan, Italy. 

I can only imagine that it something akin to the tears cried by angels yesterday. 

Light your own candle against the darkness. 

Sing your own song. 

October First: Pink, Tshirts, Surviving & Breast Cancer

October has returned. The sea of pink washes in. 

I am now 7.5 years into my pink journey. 

A lot happens in 7.5 years. 

I am a very fortunate person.

I am surviving. 

Despite a second diagnosis of Early Stage Breast Cancer, 

my story continues. 

My Komen t-shirt from 2010 made a recent reappearance on FB. 

I promised my sistahs that I would find the shirt, 

and answer some questions.

This is the back of my t-shirt from 2010. 

I've been able to track that much down from my blog article. 

The names on the back are those of my friends at Breast Cancer dot ORG. 

Fellow survivors below the logo. 

Angels above. 

Truth of the matter? 

There are more than a few who have earned their angel wings

 since printing their names on my shirt.

Time marches on. 

Are we any closer to THE cure? 

Scrolling over the photos and seeing some one now in heaven

brings me back to reality. 

I am indeed fortunate. 

Early stage. 

I still have the shirt.

There is still room at the bottom to add more names. 

There are always more names.

There are more and more names.  

That's me by the way. 

"Faith&Fifty"

I was fifty when I was diagnosed. 

Do the math. 

Five of our seven grand-children were born since my first diagnosis.

That's a lot of life and love that I have been graced to experience.  

The shirt below is the one that I am wearing today. 

In honor of Pinktober.

I think that it has the best message ever. 

The depth of the black is all too appropriate. 

HOPE.

HOPE.

  HOPE.  

Triumph over Train Wrecks: The Brady Bunch Revisited

TWENTY YEARS! TWENTY YEARS!! TWENTY YEARS!!!

"The Brady Bunch: The Nineties. Scaled back." 

When I tell the most truncated of all versions, I refer to the Brady Bunch. I explain that we were indeed the down sized version for the '90's, of that societal break-through phenom sitcom. You know. The one with the happily ever after every single episode. Two of each: me with two girls, he with the two guys. Alas. No house-keeper named Alice. Down sized for real in that department. We have a whole lot of happily ever after, too. Not always neat and tidy in the half hour episode, but we work our way around to happy. 

Here we are TWENTY years later. Two decades. That's a LOT of water under the bridge. A lot of stories. A lot of moments. A lot of graduations. Weddings!!! SEVEN WonderPeeps for our whole tribe!!!!!!! Milestones big and small. Sunsets. Travels. Train wrecks. Paper cuts. Adventures. Twenty years is long enough to fill your heart to the brim with joy beyond measure. In our case, twenty years is long enough to have experienced every.possible.emotion more than once. 

Where to start the reflections. Let's start with the beginning . 

It was TRULY TRIUMPHANT that the two of us ever met in the first place. I owe much to my family and friends of those early '90's who supported me during my single parenting era. We won't go into the train wreck that brought me to that time period. Those of you who lived through it with me remember all of the details all too well. If you weren't around at that point in history, the saga is worth a novella. Maybe someday I'll write it under a pseudo-name and have a NYT best seller on my hands for the various plot twists, political intrigue, theological tremors, legal maneuvering and the like. Let's just get to the beginning by saying that my sweet friend Kitty talked me into going to a singles dance. I got an orange dot on my name tag as a 'first-timer' and that set the wheels in motion. We danced that night. Our 'we' began that very night. The rest is history as they say. 

The fact that the two of us ever made it to our first actual 'date' is a giggle worth retelling. My dear sweet husband of twenty years, back-in-the-day, called me at work to let me know that he had the calendar wrong when he had invited me to the Broadway Series musical. Our theoretical first date was in jeopardy. Before it even started! The thing that rocked my world? In our three 'singles dance' Sundays in-a-row? I had never given him my last name -- nor told him where I worked specifically, let alone my phone number!!!!!!!!!!!!! To say I was a basket case when he called is no embellishment for theatrical sake. 

Turns out that in addition to all of his other qualities? The man is a detective. Apparently he had listened to my every utterance over those three weeks of dancing. He had strung together various clues. A phrase here. Another, weeks later. Apparently I had mentioned enough tidbits, higgeldy and biggeldy, that he was able to ring the phone on my desk in under 100 misdirected phone calls -- that each led closer and closer to my cubbyhole of the time. My 'office' was in the supply closet. When I heard his voice on the other end of the line? I was so filled with angst I could have walked on the ceiling! In fact, I may have!! He is persistent my husband. Unrelenting.

Of course at the time I jumped to the conclusion that he must be some sort of movie-of-the-week stalker and I acted every bit the part of the wack-doodle fem fatale under shadowed surveillance. {{{Those were the days. Insert soap operatic theme song.}}} How on earth he ever persevered beyond my initial cra-cra-crazy phone reaction is beyond me?!?!? The man has patience. It is a triumph that he didn't bolt in the opposite direction as fast as he could fly that brown 182 Cessna. We made it to the Palace Theater on the 'actual' night of the tickets. I drove myself. I met him there.... just in case the stalker thing had any merit. It would be another month of weekly dances before I could conjure up an image of me going on a 'car date.' Did I mention that the man has patience? Those were emotional days, but there was a hint at happily-ever-after, even early going. I smiled a lot.

Back to the Brady Bunch analogy. His boys were full grown already. Shaving. Driving. Higher level math. Men. One already off to conquer the world in college. I've never trumpeted the role of step-mom. Technically, I suppose I am that. In truth, I am just ubber fortunate to have two more caring, creative guys in my life. Men who are kind, solid and supportive. Just like their dad. 

When the two of us started getting serious -- when I finally 'believed' him about his being part Sherlock Holmes -- he stole my heart when he said that he intended to step into active parenting with my girls. He said, "You can count on me to get them through braces and wisdom teeth. I'll buy their prom dresses." What he left out is that he would coach the teams, drive to music lessons, supervise the science fair projects, host the slumber parties, make the Sunday morning waffles, teach us to ski (well, some of us) negotiate the driving lessons, fly the plane to spring break beaches, trek cross country for auditions, hold on to the teetering bride walking down the aisle -- over the bridge, as well as help me pack my suitcase to live on the futon couch across town for months-on-end in anticipation of the Twinzees arrival to Earth, while their daddy was deployed...... in addition to a few hundred thousand other specifics. He signed up for thick and thin, even before the vows were uttered. 

So we integrated the four. The big brothers they never had. 

We went camping. Our reconfigured crew. Camping evolved into white water rafting trips of adventure and excitement, over the years. We emerged victorious from rivers and rapids. We laughed around campfires. We made s'mores. We sang. We skied: water and snow. The guys bench pressed the girls to the ceiling and then drove them to get ice cream at the corner shoppe.... all was well with the world. The early years. Sitcom worthy. 

Strangely enough, March 25th is another significant anniversary for me. Today also marks the seventh year of my first surgery for Breast Cancer. Train wreck time. Marking me as cancer free right?  BTW: That's when you can judge the strength of a marriage: in the hospital. Seeing specialists. Meeting your oncologist together. In the grand scheme of things that first cancer, while no waltz in the park exactly, was certainly in the shallow end of the pool. Even the 33 trips to the hospital for radiation were a mere footnote compared to the gore and discombobulation and drains and disfigurement and complications of my bilateral a mere three years later. Can you say physical therapy? For months on end? Yet my sweetheart has continued through it all as a rock. My rock. The foundation. 

Twenty years of marriage today. Seven years cancer 'free' today. Yet. The really SIGNIFICANT part of the story is the last 17.75 years woven right in with the marriage and the parenting and the cancer and the weddings and the WonderPeeps. That is the TRUE gift that he has given me. The one that will amount to my legacy, my contribution. Most likely, it is the actual reason that you know I 'exist.' 

It was my honey's idea to 'quit-my-day-job.' It was his entrepreneurial insight that led me to leave my full time administration position to evolve into myself. To stretch. To grow. To imagine. To dream. To create. To go places I never dreamed possible. I have done it all under his direction, his support, his encouragement, his cheering. His vision has always been larger than my own. He believed in me from square one. He convinces me that I am capable for the next quantum leap on the horizon, whatever it entails, before I even grasp what it is. 

Yes. He said yes. Yes. Leave your administrative salary with benefits. Yes. We will pay for health insurance for you as a self-employed individual. Yes. Go on that trip to Europe, I will stay here at home and make certain that their high school responsibilities are completed in your absence. Yes. We will take out a second mortgage on our house -- so that you can bring that first book to life. Yes. I will stand by you as you choose not to have reconstruction surgery, despite the expectations of society, because I understand you want to get back to your life as directly as conceivable. Yes. I will rearrange your flights so that you can get to Children's Hospital as quickly as humanly possible, no matter the expense, to be with "Little Red". And last weekend? Yes. I will walk back to our hotel room, a mere five city blocks away, to get your fuzzy pompom scarf because you forgot it and it gives you confidence and I know you're running on empty right now. Yes. Yes. Yes. He is a man of yes, my husband. He is a problem solver this guy. Our married life has not been without problems. He comes up with a solution and we are one step closer to the happy ending of the episode. 

Twenty years is a delightful moment in time. A blink and a lifetime simultaneously. Every couple that goes the distance has stories to tell. We are no different. I am still 'in love' as much as those first few heart pounding months, but now also at a level of maturity and gratitude beyond my earlier youthful capability and understanding. He goes the distance every year, every month, every week, every day. He is always the unsung hero as I sing in the spotlight. He got me there. Literally. He drove me there or scheduled the flight. He carries the boxes of books. The heavy, heavy boxes of books. He picks me up. I like to think that we make a good team. Truth be told? He does ALL of the heavy lifting and holds me together when the going gets rough or when technology is involved or when we're hungry. Have I mentioned that he cooks 95% of the food we eat? Yes. He's a keeper. 

I am the luckiest of women. I adore this man. I am honored to be his wife. Truth be told you can see a difference that twenty years makes. He's lost a tad bit of his hairline. I've lost my breasts. The parts of us that make us who we are, beyond those outward appearances, have only grown better over time. We still fit. He touches my shoulder and I quiver. That much is EXACTLY the same. [I have to stifle myself from audible sighs in public preschools and I'll stop there to keep this rated PG.] We have traveled to Europe together! We stumbled into the annual "Liberation of Verona" parade in Italy together. That's the coliseum in the background. That whole afternoon was another 'God thing' event unfolding. Sort of like our coming together from the very beginning.

We have just recently beheld the grandeur of Sedona with friends. 

Thanks to Jennifer of Simply Kinder's generosity, we got to take a VORTEX Jeep ride. 
He smiled softly, watching me go bonkers in the happiest of manners.
He knows I get excited. 
He likes when I laugh. 
We sometimes laugh until the tears spurt out. 
He is hilarious to have at a cinematic comedy. 
His laughter is truly contagious and spills forth with enthusiasm and zeal.

Twenty years is both the blink of an eye, a drop in the bucket and an eternity all wrapped up simultaneously. My parents are on the verge of sixty years. Now that's something to marvel over. They are a good example for us. I think it is safe to say that we won't hit that watershed. I don't know how many would have bet we'd see the twenty year mark. Quite honestly, I'm pretty certain we had our doubters.

 I knew. From the very beginning. I knew.
I didn't exactly know the specifics. 
I did know that we'd make a good team. 
A team for the long haul. 

What do you do to celebrate twenty years? We looked it up. Traditionally twenty years is all about 'fine China.' Contemporary gift lists suggest platinum at the two decade mark. We have chosen to give each other an enclosed lanai and have ordered custom upholstered furniture for our glorious, albeit tiny, new setting.

Here's what 'we' chose.
Yup. He's sweet like that. 
He appears to be involved in the decision and then leaves it totally up to me.

In honor of our continued marital union, I had the thought to put my little Teachers Pay Teachers store on sale.... you guessed it. For TWENTY percent off! Come celebrate with us. It was in the midst of another train wreck that I wrote the song, "You're Wonderful" which is now used at end-of-the-year events from coast-to-coast. It will be featured at graduations, moving-on-up ceremonies, and Mother's Day extravaganzas far and wide. The digital files come complete with the pdf of the sign language chart included in my picture book version. 

If you've never heard it before..... take a look at this flip-to-gram movie version.

You can listen in on the sound-track of this 'instant classic' with kinder illustrations.

Or if you need something more 'patriotic' for you EOY event, consider "Red, White and Blue." 

In any case, what I know for certain? 

I am willing to do the work to bring my projects to the wider world. 

I have the great good fortune of being graced with a help-mate straight from heaven to do so. 

Here's a wall we saw in Flagstaff that captured my attention and the quote suitable for today. 

  

Butterflies, Birthdays & Breast Cancer: Resurrection

My heart is full. 

There are times when I walk into a school and I am literally brought to my knees. Seeing these symmetric butterfly paintings inside the front door of the building where our WonderTwins attend kindergarten, was just one of those such occasions. Seeing all of this color in the dead of a gray winter day last month took my breath away. Behold. 

The power. The simplicity. The exuberance. The bold strokes. The design. The sweeping colors. The thickness of the paint. The emotions. The pages filled from edge to edge and beyond. The symmetric mirror. The attention to detail. The POLKA DOTS! Of course you know that these projects 'spoke' to me because of that final detail. THE DOTS!!!

If you're brand new here, you may not be aware that I have a 'thing' about black and white and polka dots. Seeing these superb projects, with all of their dots was something bordering on the holy for me. Not to be sacrilegious, but holy without capitalization for certain. I kid you not. I walked in the school's front door and immediately had tears in my eyes. Here's what the entire floor to ceiling bulletin board looked like. Stellar.

Today is a milemarker in my world -- in my life. Today is my daddy's 85th birthday. Those of you that know me, may remember that I chose Jan. 15th as the date for my bilateral mastectomy surgery, for the 'solution' to my second diagnosis of early stage breast cancer. So that means today is the fourth anniversary of my being cancer free -- for the second time. Cancer-the-sequel. 

Cancerversaries are sobering to say the least. Are ya happy? Are ya sad? Are ya somber? Are ya mad? Probably a taste of each. I will choose the glass half full metaphor. I will raise my metaphorical cake to dad and to life..... to longevity and to opportunity, with a grateful spirit. A grateful spirit capable of weeping over butterflies.

The truth is that I have "lost" many of those that started out on this cancer journey with me. Gone are some of my strongest heroes, my staunchest allies and my shining, dearest friend. That's where the somberness plays a part in the day. 'There but for the grace of God go I" rings in my heart today. I am blessed beyond measure to be here. To type. To play. To listen. To see. To paint. To quilt. I am the fortunate one. I get that. 

So four years later, its a GREAT, GOOD thing to share my 'surviving' with my dad's party. The man who gives me roots. The man who holds me up in prayer. The one who is always steadfast in his faith, trust and belief. It's a good day to share. To think that he shares the ACTUAL date-of-birth with Dr. Martin makes it all the more humbling. Here we are together, in his office. A bygone era. The era of black and white. That skinny tie and my charm bracelet could be styling today! His chin is hair free! If we knew then what we know now? 

My aches and pain will apparently be with me all the days of my life. So be it. That's a small price to pay in exchange for living: For spending time with my WonderPeeps and the occasional peanut M&M reward for work well done. For a glorious sunset. For a spirited encounter with a new challenge. For new opportunities on the horizon. For invitations beyond my wildest dreams. For the appreciation of the spirit of creativity in our unfettered youngest and in our oldest, too. A very small price to pay. The butterfly speaks to me of resurrection. Of new life. Of birthdays and beyond. It's a WONDERFUL Wednesday to be of this world.

How I wish I could wax poetically about the inherent beauty of EACH and every butterfly. I am hampered by my humanity. How to articulate? How each is incredibly delicate and yet filled with wonder and marvelous of its own accord. Suffice it to say that these students are fortunate to have an A.MAZ.ING art teacher. One who gets it, who cares, who displays incredible work with professionalism and tenacity. It is no small thing to put up a display of this magnitude and have typed labels for each student's work. Trust me. I know. 

To life. To art. To living. To coming out of your cocoon into the bright shining rays of the day. To explore with wet wings, flying higher. A gift. Cake. Butterflies. Cancer. Children's art. More butterflies. Polka dots! Here's to another year for all of us. 

Kindergarten in Heaven: Tribute to Super Hero Carter

Childhood Cancer and Carter: On the death of a child

What do you say in the face of the unthinkable? 

What do you say in the midst of heartbreak beyond all understanding?

How does your faith lead you through times of crisis?  

This is the first image of Carter that I shared on FB less than six months ago. 

At the time Carter exclaimed, "I look like Spider Man"

and he became a superhero in my heart forever after. 

Carter didn't get to start Kindergarten this fall. 

Science-on-earth failed him. 

All of our prayers have helped sustain his faith-filled parents, 

but those prayers did not turn back the outcome of the beast.

The predictions of his medical team were accurate.

Carter gathered his angel wings this morning at 2:30 a.m. 

Cancer is brutal. 

Brain cancer in a five year old is well beyond horrific.

So what can we say? 

What can we do? 

How do we behave as we wrestle with the reality of unfairness of this scope? 

In this era of cyber-connectedness, we can reach out to one another, 

offering prayer, consolation and support. 

From around the world caring individuals added their voices of encouragement 

to Carter's family, during these their darkest hours.

Images of happier times remain to act as anchors.

This morning when I learned the finality of Carter's story 

from his great-aunt Janet, 

(my fellow breast-cancer-surviving-cyber-friend,) 

I promised her I would attempt to put some words together.

It didn't start out as a poem. 

I certainly don't think of myself as a poet, nor a philosopher and certainly not a theologian. 

But knowing that Carter's parents are faith-filled Christians..... I began. 

I gave myself permission to express our heaven 

as a place ready to celebrate Carter and childhood alike.

Quite by accident a phrase had obvious meter and I turned on a dime. 

This simplistic sentiment that follows is the outcome.  

Is it too simplistic? 

My most sincere hope is that my humble rhyme buoys up the family,

I pray it doesn't disparage the depth of their grief. 

Their emotions are many and will continue to roller-coaster 

over the days and weeks ahead.

I can't begin to imagine their sorrow.

Their faith an anchor. 

Their friends and family a safe haven through the storm.

Here is a FB message left in response to my 'poem.'

I think the heart-felt truth makes it important to include here.  

Very well written. The reality is that the family of course will wish he was going to Kindergarten here and in their arms. To come home with excitement and stories. They will return to a room with all his things. Toys he will never again play with, clothes that he will never wear again, and dreams he will never achieve. They will always wonder what he would have been. There will always be a missing piece.

They will love to hear their son remembered. Perhaps one thing each of us can do is in tribute to their son, to do a special act of kindness today. Maybe it is dropping an argument with a colleague, or being nice to someone you don't get along with. Helping a stranger. Also keep in mind there are many kids fighting cancer in your neighborhood wherever you live. Consider donating some mylar balloons to the pediatric oncology floor of your local hospital in his honor.

Sorry this is a topic that is very close to me, and though the family knows their child is with our Heavenly Father, sometimes it is heartbreaking to continually hear they are in a "better place". One parent recently brought this concept home to me by saying, granted their child is in Heaven, but would you allow one of your kids to swap places with their child? Every parent wants their child with them. To watch them grow up. To kiss the boo boos. To wipe away tears on the first heart break. 

To see them graduate, marry, and make their way in this world. In short, to see them live their life. 

Yes. This loss of innocence renders hearts into pieces, 

as long-held dreams are shattered. 

Seeing an empty place at the table will be a daily reminder, months, years, even decades from now.

How do we celebrate life in the midst of death?

Others before us have pondered. 

There is a time for everything,
    and a season for every activity under the heavens:

    a time to plant and a time to uproot,
    a time to tear down and a time to build,
    a time to mourn and a time to dance,
    a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
    a time to keep and a time to throw away,
    a time to be silent and a time to speak,

   a time for war and a time for peace.   ~~ Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

I have also gathered several of the uplifting thoughts from our earlier 

cyber prayer circle, to house them here together.

These sentiments are just a few of so many added from around the globe.  

"Who comforteth us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort them which are in any trouble, by the comfort wherewith we ourselves are comforted of God." -- 2 Corinthians 1:4

 Psalm 23:4 -- Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and staff, they comfort me

 Isaiah 40:11
He will tend his flock like a shepherd; he will gather the lambs in his arms; he will carry them in his bosom, and gently lead those that are with young.

Many Sweet Angels that go before Carter are Opening their Arms Wide, waiting to Surround him in much Love & Care! Fly Free Soar High Little Carter while We surround Your Parents & Brother with the same!

 Prayers For Cárter and his Family are being sent from Puerto Rico. We must stay strong in our faith. All is in His hands and He will do what is best.

Jesus loves me this I know. For the Bible tells me so. Little ones to him belong. We are weak but he is strong.Yes Jesus loves me...the bible tells me so....

Jeremiah 29:11 For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. 
Please know that you will be with Carter again in a heavenly future. May God hold you in his hands and comfort you.

 Much love to all of you..from South Africa

Thoughts and prayers of comfort to Carter's family as they begin their journey in the days ahead without him in their arms. There can be no greater sorrow, than the loss of a child.

Praying for the peace that passes all understanding. I'm so sorry for the pain that surrounds this family but I pray that this child's life will serve a greater purpose shown to his family and their sweet memories will be sewn into their hearts forever.

May the Lord bless you and keep you, may He make His face to shine upon you and be gracious unto you and may the Lord's peace be with you now and forever. I pray that He takes you into His arms and gives you a freedom from this hurt. May the Lord be with your family and friends and help them to know that the pain is over and an eternity of joy awaits you.  

- Asuncion, Paraguay

Dear Heavenly Father, As you begin preparing Carter for his journey toward his eternal home, I ask Lord, that you begin to place the right people to surround his mom, his dad, his brother and other who will support them not only during this moment but throughout the years to come. I pray that the family feels your presence and knows that you will hold them when they can walk no more. Lord, watch over them and may you give them a gift of peace in knowing that Carter will be flying over them daily as "their " Guardian Angel. Lord we as this all in your sons precious and holy name, in Jesus name I pray AMEN

 “Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." Matthew 11:28 Prayers for those left behind that the healing of their grief will be swift! Prayer of thankfulness & joy for Carter's triumphant entry to live with the King of Kings!

 Prayers for Carter's family, & friends as well as for his lil body to finally be pain free & resting comfortable!

There is a beautiful song by Chris Rice with a verse that says "Fly to Jesus and live..." Jesus is there, Carter, when you are ready...

 I join your chorus of prayers for Carter. I pray for his family and friends. I also thank God for his young life and all who have been touched by his struggle to remain with us on a physical plane. Now is the time for us to prepare our hearts and minds to receive God's precious "kindergarten angel".

 For to his angels he's given a command 
To guard you in all of your ways; 
Upon their hands they will bear you up, 
Lest you dash your foot against a stone. And he will lift you up on eagle's wings, 
Bear you on the breath of dawn, 
Make you to shine like the sun, 
And hold you in the palm of his hand.

I pray that little Carter's body rests as his spirit soars on in the kingdom of Heaven.

 romans 12 :15 Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn.

Praying! We may not understand why things happen the way they do or why He doesn't answer our prayers the way we wanted Him to do. But Jesus is there. He is waiting with open arms to welcome Carter into the kingdom of Heaven and He is waiting with open arms to wrap His loving arms around the family to give them comfort. This is a wonderful uplifting song to remind us that Jesus is always with us, always listening.

May The Lord give Carter's family peace and comfort them with the loving embrace of friends. Lean on our faith.

I Carry Your Heart With Me-E.E. Cummings.
i carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart)
i am never without it(anywhere i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done by only me is your doing, my darling)
i fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart) 

Sending prayers and love to Carter's family.

Jer. 29:11 For I know the Plans I have for you says the Lord. Plans to prosper you and not to harm you...to give you hope and a future. Soon the Lord will be wrapping His loving arms around Carter. We don't understand it - but there's no better place to be.

Psalm 46:10a

Almighty God, and merciful Father, to whom alone belong the issues of life and death: Look down from heaven, we humbly beseech thee, with the eyes of mercy upon this child now lying upon the bed of sickness: Visit him, 0 Lord, with thy salvation; deliver him in thy good appointed time from his bodily pain, and save his soul for thy mercies' sake: That, if it shall be thy pleasure to prolong his days here on earth, he may live to thee, and be an instrument of thy glory, by serving thee faithfully, and doing good in his generation; or else receive him into those heavenly habitations, where the souls of them that sleep in the Lord Jesus enjoy perpetual rest and felicity. Grant this, 0 Lord, for thy mercies' sake, in the same thy Son our Lord Jesus Christ, who liveth and reigneth with thee and the Holy Ghost, ever one God, world without end 

So we that remain must move forward. Putting one foot in front of the other. Giving our very best of our selves is the offering we share on this community altar that is life. At this exact same time last year I shared from my pulpit here of the loss of our village's teenage Bo, as he too lost his valiant fight to cancer. On that occasion I was prompted to create this piece of art as my reflection. [You can click the pic to read some of Bo's story.] There is now a foundation in his name, with the simple name "Go Bo." What good can result from super hero Carter's brief life? Time will tell. 

My own favorite scripture passage in times of the unbearable, 

"We know that for those who love Him, for those called in agreement with His purpose, God makes all things work together for good." 

It's hard to imagine how the loss of a child could possibly 'work-together-for-good.' My imagination is not that strong...... but my faith trusts in these words. This promise. This reality that I have experienced first hand. 

I have other articles here on my blog, dealing with my own travels thru early stage Breast Cancer diagnosis. Not once, but twice. Those are housed in this conglomeration. 

Just this weekend there is a RoundUP of blogger's articles as they have dealt with/confronted cancer in their own family. I refer you to "Life Happens, Then you Write."  You will be able to read other first-hand accounts from across cybersphere. 

If you are in search of 'consolation' for any reason..... not necessarily cancer related, but when you are going through an especially difficult challenge, I have two earlier articles here entitled,
BLUE CHRISTMAS and BLUE CHRISTMAS Re-Run 
that are a genuine effort to offer encouragement in the face of difficulty. 

I will get Carter's tribute into pdf format just as soon as possible, for your ease in printing. 

-- Debbie --