Miracle

On Saturday, I was scheduled to give blood at the "Living Victoriously" blood drive being held in memory of my friend Vicki Miller who died last year after a true fight with leukemia.  I am no fan of needles--is anyone?  But I had been visiting Vic in the hospital once and someone came to take her blood and she cried.  The pain it caused her made me want to push the tech out of the way.  I wanted to fight him off her--mama bear style.  Instead I just sat in the corner and fought back my own tears while feeling helpless.

I'd donated blood in the past, including during Vicki's illness, but I had avoided it too often because of the discomfort it caused me.  Discomfort, but not pain.

Wuss. 

Vicki put a face, one I miss dearly, on the need to give.  She needed blood, she used the blood, she dealt with the pain of living with poisoned blood.  I'm guessing she hated needles more than could be measured.

Since I've become more aware and diligent in my efforts to give, I have hit some roadblocks.  Anemia and skinny veins are the biggies. Sometimes, the tech gets the needle in and nothing happens.  So a number of days before an appointment, I usually double down on red meat, broccoli, and vitamins.  On the day of the appointment, I fatten up my veins with lots of water.  Can't do much about the flow, but all those other thing have really helped.

This past week I did none of that.  I know I have an unopened bottle of vitamins, but I could not find them.  I've been eating healthier, and so red meat is something I haven't ingested in weeks.  Veggies and salad daily, but no broccoli in recent memory.  Saturday, I only had milk with my cereal and the water I drink while brushing my teeth.  I felt so unprepared.  I toyed with not going and scheduling another appointment.  Brad convinced me to go, to go to visit with Vicki's mom, my friend Helen.  To go in support of Vicki's family.

Halfway there, I prayed out loud, "God, I feel disappointed that I didn't work for this, I am placing it in your hands.  If they're able to get a pint from me, I'll call it a miracle." 

Miracle?  Gifted.  I walked out JOY filled.  This was not my accomplishment.

Thank you God.

Everything is in your hands.

Please, if you're able, give blood. The small amount you share will be shared with others whose faces you cannot know but whose lives you may save. 

"I just want..."

Last year I turned 50, and Brad had a party here for me. If you have never been to our home, you need to know our downstairs is pretty much all one room--fairly good sized--with a living room area, kitchen and two dining areas.

The room was full and loud, and so when my friend Vicki came, I sat down with her at the dining room table.  There was noise all around us, people laughing, talking over each other, and cheering for the Bears, but Vicki was quiet.  I caught her staring at me, and I said, "Is there something you want to say to me?"

She said, very quietly, earnestly, and with effort, "I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday."  I replied with a thank you, but I wanted to cry because I knew, by this birthday, today, she wouldn't be here.  I decided to wrap those words so tight to my heart, to concentrate on her voice sharing them, that I would never forget our brief but so important friendship.

It was the last time I saw her, she died two weeks later.  And as I type this, I cry like I couldn't that moment, but I smile thinking of her gift to me that day...

Tonight We're Walking In Memory of Vicki

It's not too late, it's never too late to donate:

 http://pages.lightthenight.org/il/WSuburbn11/EStewart-Seaman

"Just Keep Your Head Above"

     This song was particularly important to my friend Vicki.  I, too, have fallen in love with it.  Please, I know there a lot of blogs out there that link to the blogger's favorite songs, but if you're feeling at all down, or if you're feeling like a challenge is headed your way, please take a moment and listen to this song--even if you've heard it before.
      You will feel stronger, I promise.  And then, when you're done listening, do me a favor?  Say "Vicki Miller," out loud.  Lots of people are missing her still and always.

  "Vicki Miller."

Swim

You've gotta swim
Swim for your life
Swim for the music
That saves you
When you're not so sure you'll survive
You gotta swim
And swim when it hurts
The whole world is watching
You haven't come this far
To fall off the earth
The currents will pull you
Away from your love
Just keep your head above

I found a tidal wave
Begging to tear down the dawn
Memories like bullets
They fired at me from a gun
A crack in the armor
I swim to brighter days
Despite the absence of sun
Choking on salt water
I'm not giving in
I swim

You gotta swim
Through nights that won't end
Swim for your families
Your lovers your sisters
And brothers and friends
Yeah you've gotta swim
Through wars without cause
Swim for the lost politicians
Who don't see their greed as a flaw

The currents will pull us
Away from our love
Just keep your head above

I found a tidal wave
Begging to tear down the dawn
Memories like bullets
They fired at me from a gun
Cracking me open now
I swim for brighter days
Despite the absence of sun
Choking on salt water
I'm not giving in
Well I'm not giving in
I swim

You gotta swim
Swim in the dark
There's no shame in drifting
Feel the tide shifting and wait for the spark
Yeah you've gotta swim
Don't let yourself sink
Just find the horizon
I promise you it's not as far as you think
The currents will drag us away from our love
Just keep your head above
Just keep your head above
Swim
Just keep your head above
Swim, swim
Just keep your head above
Swim

For more on the story of "Swim," click here.

In Her Shoes

This week, I wore these for the first time.  They're Skechers fisherman sandals. Soft, flexible, open in the back to give a hint to spring.  So comfy.

But to tell you about them completely I have to tell you about these...

and then these...

You see, the last two times I saw Vicki, I was wearing my brown Mary Jane heels. The first time, we went out to dinner, kind of a triple date thing, and I caught her looking at them.  She liked them, and I was flattered by that.  Even as sick as she was, Vicki had an elegance about her, she had a discerning eye, and she was 24, so I liked her liking them.  She said, "What size are you?  You look like my size. I have a pair of black shoes just like those.  I should give them to you."

That was hard.  I knew she was dying but we didn't talk about it that bluntly, although I guess you could say she was calling the leukemia out with those words.  At that point she could only wear shoes that would tie and fit her tightly, she was unable to feel her feet and other shoes were, well, dangerous.

About a month later, she came to my 50th birthday party.  She was much weaker, much quieter, but I caught her staring at my shoes as we sat together at the dining room table.  She offered her black Mary Janes again.  I said, "Sure," and told her we'd figure something out.  She told her mom they needed to find them.

Two weekends later, as Vicki was living her last days here and getting to know God, I was instant messaging with her mom while she sat in the hospital waiting room.  Helen and I were always open about Vicki's condition.  So I told her that I would love to have Vicki's shoes to wear to her memorial service, the one Vicki was planning with family and with a bit of Brad's help.

Her mom understood.  I knew she would. I think that's why we're friends.

Vicki died early that Monday morning, the story of her passing is Amazing...and that following Friday night, I went to her house, and her mom and I sat on her bed while I tried on Vicki's shoes.  In those moments, I wished I had done that in Vicki's presence.  It was a Cinderella time, each shoe fitting, each shoe more fun.  Helen gave me all the shoes she could find, and most were perfect. We delighted in it all, we laughed, and we cried.

The funny thing was, Helen couldn't find the black Mary Janes, at least not that night.  So I wore teal flats of Vic's when we celebrated her life on the day we thought we were meant to celebrate her 25th birthday.  Helen found the black shoes, the ones Vicki had so wanted me to have a week or so later.

Vicki was right.  They fit like a glove.  And I can't help but think of her whenever I'm wearing them. And I can't but miss her.  All. The. Time.

Linking up here today. Thanks Daenel.

If you'd like to learn more about my friendship with Vicki, click the "Vicki" tag on my labels below.
Or, visit the blog we've started in her memory.

Get a Giggle Friday

Two clowning on a bench.  

One is the man of my dreams...the other is a fashion don't.

Both have "hearts" of servants' gold.

The one with less hair was having a birthday.

On Sunday, we served dinner at Ronald McDonald House in memory of Vicki Miller.

We are blessed to have this opportunity to take care of others, but we miss Vic so much.

Yesterday, two of my girls presented me with this gift.  I found that sweet considering I'd just posted here about gifts for teachers.  They know I like Charlie Brown and friends and baseball, so...

Charlie Brown up to bat.  I do like a smiling bald male...

Speaking of mine, Brad's still working on the downstairs.  Nail pops, casings, all replaced or repaired and patched. New can lights installed.  Somewhere, my knitting is to be found:

Can you see the drywall dust on the hardwood floor?  Like Easter basket grass or Christmas tree needles, it's EVERYWHERE!
But the room will be gorgeous in time. Painting has begun!
He's doing this while working on a few closings and communicating with new clients as well as dealing with his chronic back pain, so there's no rush from this side!

Thanks for stopping by!

Did you hop over from here?

Friendly/Family/Fun/Friday Photo

     Though I was sick (not contagious), I went to Ronald McDonald House again on Saturday.  We served brunch to the families there.  Afterward, I took this photo of the Clarke/Miller/Doolen clan visiting with the clown who hangs out on the front porch.  Who says clowns are creepy?
     We miss you Vicki, but your family is doing great things in your memory because you're still very much right here.

(Missing from this photo, Mac, Elle, Mel, and, well, me...)

When I'm sick...

     ...I think of Vicki. 
     It's been that way for a while now, since learning of her and then getting to know her.  When I am sick, worn out, dealing with this infection or that, I think of her.
     I also feel like a fraud writing about her when others who knew her better will read this.  I think of her often, but the last few days I can't get her off my mind.  I feel as though I'm carrying her with me.
     On Monday afternoon, I started to feel fatigued.  That night my ear started to feel as though someone was inserting a knife and twisting it.  So I called in and went to the doctor on Tuesday.  She diagnosed an ear infection and prescribed an anti-biotic and a decongestant.  I went back to school on Wednesday, probably too soon, but I decided to push.
     For the rest of the week, I've been pushing through tired, been aware that I am unbalanced (physically and somewhat emotionally), and just not feeling myself.  I went to lunch yesterday and had to ask my friend to drive, I was dizzy and discombobulated.  I told her to caution me if I started babbling, I was feeling so tired it was akin to intoxicated--but not in a fun way.
     Today Brad and I both had the day off. We had fun plans, but I had to cancel them. I knew I just couldn't hang out with him and do the things we'd been waiting for Saturday to do. And I thought of Vicki.  How she pushed through so much.  How she fought for normal even when she was feeling ten times weaker than I feel.  How much she accomplished in her life and in her relationships while dealing with great illness.
     As I went out for lunch and a quick errand with Brad today, I thought of this past summer and meeting her and her mom at Portillo's.  Today I felt so weak I had to sit in the car while Brad went into a store.  That gorgeous afternoon the three of us, Vic, Helen and I, sat on the patio at Portillo's and chatted about nothing much for a very long time.  Was she weary then?  Was she psyching herself up to continue with errands after lunch?  Was she savoring those simple moments?  Was it a push?
     This fall, the last two times I saw her were at a dinner out (followed by some Wii bowling at home) and at my birthday party.  She pushed herself to be with us.  Knowing that she really did treasure those times mattered to me.  Knowing that she pushed to be with us because we were important to her is something I will never let go of.
     I hope she knew what a blessing it was, IS, to know her.

Food for a Servant's Heart

     On Saturday, I went along with Vicki's mom and her family to the Ronald McDonald House that is nearby the University of Chicago Hospital in Chicago's Hyde Park neighborhood.  Helen had stayed there for over a month while Vicki was hospitalized in 2009, and she also had stayed for other, shorter times. 
     In effort to pay back or to pay it forward, however you like to look at it, Helen has gone back with her family crew twice now to serve brunch to the families in residence.  She does this to honor Vicki.
    Friday night, Helen and I made Valentine confetti and Helen dipped pretzels.  We put them in festive bags and her ten-year-old nephew Jake delivered them to the residents' mailboxes on Saturday morning. As people found them during the time we were there, I got the feeling some of these treats would be shared at the hospital.

     Helen has the gift of hospitality, and the residents were grateful for her menu choices:  platters of bacon, sausages, egg casseroles, waffles and muffins made on the premises, breakfast breads and fruit salad.  Her whole family worked so hard.  We were thanked by the folks, told it was the best they'd had, told it was so good to have a warm breakfast.  People seemed humbled as we took their plates to wash.  Some, especially siblings, were happy to give up this chore, others told us we'd done enough and they'd clear their own dishes.
     It was a mostly quiet room.  I didn't talk much to the people staying there expect to offer food or say good morning. One woman was seeing where her husband had been staying, "For a time." It was the first time he'd been able to get her to leave the hospital.  One man liked talking about the construction of the kitchen we were all standing in.  But one woman asked where we were from.  She seemed interested in what got us serving there. I told her about Vicki, about Helen and Jim's hope to start a foundation, "Living Victoriously," to help other college aged women and men with Leukemia.
     This woman, listened, and she told me her son's story.  He is 17 and missing his senior year of high school. He will live, as he is recovering from an accident that happened last summer. He was standing on the side of a highway, checking a trailer he had been pulling and he was hit by another teen driver who was texting and driving.  Her son was flipped up over a guard rail and fell 40-50 feet to a road below.  She told me, "Everything was shattered, not just broken, but shattered.  But he had no brain damage, and he feels blessed to be alive."  They hope to go home in March. 
     We both marveled at the facility in which were standing, and she told me, "You know, in our little town, I work at a McDonald's.  And all those years I watched people put their change in those little boxes, I never gave a thought to what these houses were like. I never imagined I'd be here.  But I'm thankful for their change, now."
     That was the mood of the morning, the prevailing feeling.  Though some parents looked exhausted, they were thankful. Though some had to be invited more than once to eat they were thankful.  We were thankful to be afforded the opportunity to serve.  I look forward to being so blessed again, and soon.  

The house chapel window

A chapel chair

And you know this guy, the clown who doesn't know enough to come in from the cold!

This is the house, obviously not a photo snapped by me since there was about two feet of snow surrounding the place. It is truly beautiful. 

I gave...

     Know this:  I started this post at 9:03 on Saturday morning and my appointment to give blood was at 11:00.   So essentially, I wrote in the past tense in the present for the future.  Does that even make sense?
     I figured this post's title would either lead to an "I gave!" or  an "I gave it my best shot."
    Anyway,  I spent this past week taking horse pill sized vitamins with iron--sometimes even more than one a day in case I forgot if I'd already taken one. I would like to say I ate healthier, but I also say I avoid spreading non-truths, so we'll just let that one potential lie lay.  I spent this morning drinking water, lots of water, so much water I had to stop (only) walking on the treadmill to pee.  Twice.  But, you see, someone told me that being hydrated helps the techs find the veins.  And I wanted my iron rich bloody veins to be found.
     Also know this:  I am not bragging.  Giving blood is something almost everyone can do. It is not a unique act.  It is something I've been successful at in the past, but not so great at most recently.  It is something more people should do.  It is something I should try to do more often.
     The last time it didn't work out, I cried.  I was so disappointed.
     Later...
     Today, I cried from joy.  My iron was SOLID, but my left arm's vein collapsed after the needle was inserted.  So I asked them to please try my right.  They triple checked with me that this would be okay, and after some time and two supervisors' visits and work--they got it flowing.
     And that's when I cried.  Joy, relief, but mostly from memory.
     In September, I stopped in to see Vicki in the hospital.  Her port was infected, so when the tech came in to draw blood, he had to stick her.  She was so weakened then, tough Vicki, she wept. She hugged her moose stuffed animal and wept.  The tech was good at his job and sweet, but I wanted to push him out of the way, I wanted to rip his hands off her.  I wanted to stop her tears.
     My few sticks today were nothing in comparison.
     Thank you to the professionals of Heartland Blood Centers.
     Thank you God.

Bloody well fine...

     One week from today, I am scheduled to give blood.  I don't say that to get a pat on the back.  It's definitely something I should try to do more often.  Notice, I used the word "try."  If I'm not iron poor, I have a cold.  If it's not right after my period, it's right before my period.  Last summer was my most recent attempt, and I passed all the pre-tests but they couldn't find a vein in one arm and didn't want me stabbed in the other.
     Um, I came to be stabbed, stab away.  But they would not.
     I have a good friend with leukemia and I have a good friend who died at 24 from leukemia, so I tend to have an emotional reaction when I can't help by donating.  This blood drive is in memory of Vicki, my good friend, and so I am praying I can donate.
     Her dad Jim said if I drink more water my veins will be more evident.  So I plan on showing up for my appointment water-logged.  I've been taking my multi-vitamin with iron and will make sure to continue through Saturday morning.  I hope to have a dinner of red met and brocoli the night or two before.
     Any other tips for me? 
     Oh, and if you live locally (Chicagoland area) and you'd like to join us in memory of Vic, that would be so cool:
     "Vicki's family is hosting a blood drive to give back to Heartland Blood Center. Last year Vicki needed platelets at least twice a week and blood transfusions twice a month. We are having a blood drive at Lemont Calvary Church on Saturday, Jan. 29, 2011 from 9 am - 2 pm. Please join us and help support Heartland. Tell your friends and families too! Please click on this link to access our event web page and schedule your appointment time: http://iwebb.heartlandbc.org/pls/iwebb/adrv?pdz=75038&pdr=DRV2011132."

21 months in three minutes...

     Two days before going to church the other night for this video shoot, I had sent the video's producer, Julie, a four page written version of this story.  I didn't know how to summarize it, so much has come from Mac's ask for prayer.  Friendships, restored faith, fund raising, fiber...and most importantly Vicki's salvation.

     For those of you who prayed during those 21 months and for those of you who knew Vicki before that and so prayed longer, we didn't get the big earthly "YES!" we asked for.  But I have learned God sees healing differently than we do.  

     Vicki is healed, we will see her again.

     And that's the point of this "summary," edited so carefully by others. Vicki is pain-free, we are the ones who are hurting;Vicki is in Heaven, we will see her again.  Joy exists even in despair.  Hope holds firm in a promise that endures.  God uses people in ways they never knew they could be used.  

     He is among us.

Remembrance

     A few weeks back, my facebook friends Pam, Mary and I were on-line discussing the number of ornaments we have on our trees.  Brad would tell you I have a story for every one of ours, but that's not really true.  Just some have stories.  Mary mentioned her sister has given her a heart ornament every year since their mom died.  That reminded me of my "Mom" ornament.  It never belonged to my mom, I bought it in remembrance of her.
     My mom died on Thanksgiving in 1991.  Mac was five, so during that December I made a few trips to Toys R Us to shop for him and my two nephews.  Each time I went in, my eye was drawn to a temporary display holding a porcelain ornament that read, "Mom."  My mom would have liked it, and I ached for her each time I saw it.  After Christmas I went back to shop for a nephew's birthday gift, and sure enough, among the January wreckage sat that ornament at 75% off.  So I bought it.
     I think of my mom every day, but each year, I have looked forward to hanging that ornament.
     A few years ago, my friend Chris's mom died on Christmas Eve.  I felt compelled to go to Hallmark and buy her a "Mom" ornament, knowing she'd understand.  She "got" it, and she will tell me each year she thinks of her mom and of me as she hangs it.
     The day before Vicki died, I promised her in a note I would stay friends with her mom. She never read the note, but I will hold to my promise. So after reading Mary's facebook comments and remembering my mom and Chris's mom ornaments, I decided I would get Helen, Vic's mom and my friend, an ornament.
     I liked Mary's idea of a heart, a heart each year.  I thought about making one, but before going on-line or to a craft store for inspiration, I found this at Hallmark.

      It says, "Mother and Daughter, friends of the heart."  Somehow, it seems just right, even the blue of the heart.  I haven't given it to Helen yet...but when I do, I am hoping she will understand.  I've written this to tell her first.

Love

     Two Saturdays ago, Vicki asked to see Brad.  She was in the hospital, and she had some questions about God.  She had some other things she wanted to talk about, too.  When he went over, her family left the room, and the only person left with them was her boyfriend Adam.
     They talked about many things, her pain, her faith, how to pray, and her hopes for her memorial service.  At one point, Brad told me, Adam got in her bed with her.  Vicki was talking about how she felt she had missed out on things.  Life things.
     Brad tells me he paused, and he looked at Adam who loves Vicki so much, and said, "You haven't missed a thing.  Do you know how many people look for love like yours their entire lives and never find it?"  He tells me she smiled at that.
     I don't know how many Vicki stories I will ever tell on this blog from here on out.  But I will tell you this.  The love she and Adam shared was simply inspiring.  Earlier this summer, Vic told me she wanted Brad to marry them one day.  When I told Adam this last week, he said they had hoped to when she moved to hospice--had she lived long enough.  Adam's mom called Vicki her daughter-in-law during her talk at the memorial service.  Adam relies on his "family," Vic's parents.  And they rely on him.
     All because of the love they shared.
     Brad tells me witnessing Adam's love for Vicki caused him to quietly commit to me more deeply. His saying that was like a renewal of our vows.  I wonder how many others have done the same thing just from knowing Vicki and Adam.
      Nothing is greater than this.

(Photos swiped from Adam's facebook page.

I am blessed to be able to count him as a real friend;

he won't mind my thievery.) 

Can't seem to get it "on paper"

     There's so much I want to tell you about Vicki, but I just can't get it on paper (so to speak) yet.  I thought by now I would have worked out something nice, something that would leave you knowing her like I know her. Something that would have left you thinking, "Wow, what an amazing person she must have been."  But I just can't.
     Yet.
     On Saturday, we told stories about her at her memorial/birthday celebration.  I got up without nerves and spoke, but I didn't say the right things. 
     I guess I wasn't ready then yet, either.
     I will say this. Someone told me the other day that it was good to see I had a sense of humor again (like a week's mourning was enough). I was kind of surprised by this statement, because having a sense of humor has been what has helped me through this so far. I'm sure many those who love Vic would say the same.
     She wanted us to laugh. (That past tense, that's what's hard.) So we do.

Today

     Today was meant to be Vicki's birthday celebration, and instead we are having a memorial celebration for her.  I thank you all for your comments, emails, and prayers.  Her family and friends are sad, but they are joy-filled too, and that's what we hope to focus on today.
     Peace to you.

Forward for a day or so

     Adam and Vicki at Mac's party, 7/11/10

     If you visited here in the last day, you know my good friend Vicki died early Monday morning after accepting Christ late on Sunday.  She was 24, this weekend would been her 25th birthday. She had dealt with leukemia and its horrific side effects for three-and-a-half-years.
     I spent Monday crying, thinking of her and family, and just feeling more joy-filled and sad than I expected.  A strange jumble.  Generally, inarticulate.  Her boyfriend Adam described it as having a box of Scrabble letters in his head.  Good word picture.
     I know I will write more about Vicki in the upcoming days.  But for now, later today, I am going to post the posts I had planned.

My friend Vicki

     My friend Vicki is dying.  I just want you to know that.  Tonight, she accepted Christ, and I am so overwhelmed I cannot believe how God works.  I have been praying for this news for 21 months, and now I have received it, and it's so good--my feelings reach beyond my ability to tell the story.  In time, I will tell you more about Vicki, but for now...now I'm tired and amazed.

     We received a call shortly after 1:30 this morning (Monday) from Adam, Vicki's loving boyfriend.  She died.  She is finally out of pain and in His arms.