The Window

One day a woman woke up, made her morning cup of coffee and looked out her window across to her neighbor who was hanging her laundry out to dry. She commented to her husband who was quietly sitting at the kitchen table reading his newspaper, "Honey, I think our neighbor's washer must be broken, or that woman doesn't know how to clean her laundry!"

"Why do you say that?" asked her husband who didn't move an inch or look up from his paper.

With a crooked grin, his wife raised one eyebrow and said, "well just look, her clothes are fifthly and she just washed them!"

The next week, the woman woke up, made her coffee and positioned herself back at the window to see if this time her neighbor fixed her washing machine. And again the woman complained about her neighbor not knowing how to do her laundry or that their washing machine must be on the fritz and how they must not have enough money to fix it. And again the woman's husband never looked up from his paper to indulge in his wife's onslaught of how is the right way to clean one's clothes.

After a month of the woman taking her place at the window, spying on her neighbor and her neighbor's laundry, she was surprised on day to see that the laundry was clean! And not only clean but up to her standards of being clean! She was in shock! Someone must have told her that her clothes were dirty, no someone must have taught her how to do the laundry, or could it be that they finally could afford to fix their machine.

The woman couldn't wait to call her husband and let him know this new hot juicy bit of gossip! She quickly picked up the phone and called her husband and with a certain glee in her voice explained what she had saw. There was a pause on the other end. Was her husband not understanding what she was telling him? Her frustration with him increased and she asked her dear husband why he was not as excited over the news as she was!

There was a brief pause and then a large sigh. "Dear, I have listened to you talk about that poor woman for a month now. So this morning I went out and cleaned our window."

This was a story I woke up this past Sunday. I have a very bad habit of falling asleep with the TV on and this past Sunday I woke up to one of those church on TV shows. I listened to the story and then listen to the preacher talk about how we all have a film on our window that we need to remember to clean off.

This story stuck with me. I don't know why. I think because in my line of work I meet people who are very judgmental. "You're an artist so you must be off the wall, crazy, tattooed or have more piercings than the law allows." Or more recently, "oh your a single parent - couldn't keep the marriage together?" (no it wasn't said that way to me, but that's what it felt like on the inside). I'm not a product of divorce. And to be honest my friends that are going through divorce didn't DO anything to be there either. It's a fact of life that things happen and either way, what ever the situation, it's tough being a single parent.

We all carry around a window that has some sort of film on it and we need to make sure when we are talking to others we don't know - to make sure our windows are clean before making a judgement or making a comment. Every one's lives are different and complex more so than the next. Something I think most people forget.

Tests

Nine months ago I got a free upgrade (that I didn't really want and if you could really call it an upgrade) to a life I wasn't ready for. I talk about the mountains I have to climb and there will be some I hurdle over, others that take me a little longer to climb and some that no matter the grip I am never meant to make it over. This is something that I have come to terms with, or at least the best set of terms on "MY OWN TERMS" that I will allow it to be.

Life is different, to say the least. My choices are my own, for myself, for Ethan and the future that is set before us. I know that God will "test me" and while I'm not overly fond of pop quizzes, it's the way it is. Our journey in this life is filled with twists and turns, pot holes and sink holes, a gravel path and one made of asphalt; the important part in all of this is that we hold the wheel steady and keep going. Keeping one eye on the road and the other surveying our surroundings. It's a balancing act that I'm becoming quit good at.

Someone once sent me an email awhile back telling me what an inspiration I was to them. How I helped them through this blog to get through something similar, she had stage 3 liver cancer and was told the outcome was grim. I have to admit I was a little in shock that someone found me inspirational considering I feel like I founder more than soar; but then again, you all here have either Facebook'd, Twittered or sent me emails telling me the same thing. It's hard to see myself that way (my own personal flaw). When your the arms dealer to your own emotions through a blog that goes out to people across the US and even over seas, it's hard to see who you effect and on what levels.

This blog was started to get the word out about Christopher and has morphed into something that people find interesting, inspirational and book worthy. And no, I'm not going to write a book (at least not yet, not now, I have way too many things on my plate at the moment). I wanted to thank you all who have stood by side and gave me the inspiration to keep going. You all out there (friends, family and fellow blogger followers) keep me going. You are the positive outlook that helps make this journey seem easier than it is. Thank you. And for those going through something similar - I am glad that this blog is there for you to find comfort or at the least know that you are not the only one wanting to shout out at the heavens that "school is out for summer and we didn't sign up for summer school".

16 Months & 12 Inches

After we found out Christopher had cancer, after the initial shock of it all and we started to treat our new found journey with a new path. We changed the way we ate: less red meat, no processed sugars and way more fiber in our diets. We started working out again and most of all we changed the way we looked at things in our life. We wanted to take this new found information on cancer and that there were others out there going through the same things we were and do something meaningful with it.

One night Christopher put a challenge in front of me. It's no surprise as most of you who know me know, I change my hair when ever I can. I don't like to have the same hair style or color for more than 6 months. It's hair, it grows back. Don't like the color, that's what that stuff in a bottle they sell at Target is for. Anyway, Christopher asked me since I'm always growing out and then cutting short why didn't I do something with it other than just letting it be swept into a trash can. I have way more than enough hair for my self and it grows like a dang weed, so why not grow it out and donate it.

Interesting thought was the first thing that came to mind. So in good-ole-d fashion, on came the research. And I picked Locks Of Love as the place it my hair would go to. They take 10" of hair and make wigs for children and anything less that 10 is sold off to offset the cost of making the wig. It was perfect, the only thing - I needed 10 inches. I didn't think I had ever let my hair get to that point. But it was a good challenge and I was up for it.

My last "trim" hair cut was shortly after Christopher's first round of chemo (a July - this will come up again so remember it); it was symbolic that we started our journey on something new together. After a few months my hair got longer and longer; then it was time to get ready for the big cut. July (see it came back again) of last year my hairdresser and I sat down and choose October (2008) as the month that it would happen, by then I would have 12 inches of hair to donate. I was so excited of something so special.

Christopher passed away about 12 days before my hair cut. I almost didn't go. This hair was way more than 12 inches of long journey, a hard journey. Was to cut it off to say "eff-it" to what we had been through? I was numb from the whole thing, but I kept my appointment. After the first ponytail was cut, my hairdresser gave it to me. 12 inches. Like rings on tree I could almost see, "this is where we found out he had cancer, here was his first chemo, and here where we thought it would all be ok." I cried holding it my hands. What had I done? As I looked at my self in the mirror, I saw a different person staring back at me. My hair was my wall, a shield to hide behind and now there was nothing to hide behind.

But after awhile it was freeing. Knowing that our history is saved somewhere in a child's wig that gives them hope and happiness. So being July again (I told you it would come back), I made the choice to grow my hair out again. And in October 2010 I will donate another 12 inches of hair to Locks Of Love. This will be a cycle that will last awhile. My goal is to donate as much hair as Christopher was tall (roughly 6ft). This is something I know he would be proud of. So it begins, the growth spurt.