Becky and Faith

My dear friend Becky was my reason for visiting Norman, and I had a full week of spending most of the day with her. We watched the Food Network and movies and talked and napped and ate...mostly we ate.

Becky is sick. I knew that; I'd talked to her numerous times on the phone over the past few weeks, but the gravity of it couldn't sink in until I saw her in person. The cancer is affecting her nervous system, causing her weakness and pain. She can't walk without help, she tires easily, and her voice is being affected by the medications. It was overwhelming the first day, to see my spunky, feisty friend use a walker & keep a notebook of her many meds. After the initial shock of the first day, though, I was able to see that despite her illness, that the girl is still my Becky. There is a difference between someone who is 'being strong' and someone who is strong. Becky IS STRONG! She doesn't put up a front and act strong about the situation she's in, rather, she's got what it takes to face this trial full on and do whatever it is that Heavenly Father wants her to in this experience.

It was an honor to witness the solidarity of character that she possesses. And to see that she can be frustrated and scared, and struggle with her faith in this process, which doesn't take away from her strength, because is it part of her! Someone asked me at church how she was doing, and said she'd heard that Becky was struggling with her faith. I realized that some people want to see the stone-faced stance in someone who is going through a trial. But the REAL perseverance and growth that comes in a trial is to struggle (which some people, in their fear, hear as "lose") and become stronger in one's faith, which doesn't come from saying so, but from experiencing the spectrum of feelings and uncertainties and finding how to let God mold one's heart and will according to His plan. It's not something one can just decide and make happen. In that case, it's not real, but just another example of 'being strong'. I think this is part of what I have always loved about Becky - She's got faith, but that doesn't mean she can't experience the feelings and emotions that come with being mortal along with her faith.

The image that comes to mind is that of birth. A fetus struggles in the womb and birth canal, and gets worn out in the process, and cries and most likely doesn't want to progress to the next phase of the unknown world, but it's inevitable and, really, for the best to be born. We don't fault a child (or a mother) for screaming and wishing to not be in that situation, but because of it, one is made stronger and able to progress, either as a newborn child with his mortal life before him, or as a mother with the opportunity to love in a new, greater capacity.

Norman, OK 73071

I spent the first week of my break in Norman, Oklahoma, which is where my heart calls home. I know that place inside and out.

One evening I drove past all my old apartments and places of work and such; 'haunting' my old haunts. It brought back a lot of memories. That town is full of me and my life as a young college student just starting off on her own. I'm not exagerating when I say that for pretty much every apartment complex in the town, I could name someone I had known who had lived there. I drove through an intersection and had flash-backs of the time I was ticketed for 'running' a yellow light. I knew names of side streets before the signs were visible. I passed places I'd been on dates, restaurants that roommates and I ate at according to our moods, drove by the church, institute and university and had a FLOOD of memories rush into my head of people I had known and activities I had attended. It was fun to come back to a place that I loved and learned so much in, and to experience so many memories from a different perspective. It was drizzling that night the same way it did the first evening I ventured out to explore Norman after having moved into my dorm at OU, 7-1/2 years ago.

Next to people, the thing I miss most about Norman, and Oklahoma altogether, is food. There are so many restaurants that I love there that we don't have in Memphis. I spent most of the week taking advantage of the opportunity to eat the food I miss, like Ted's Cafe Escondido (went there twice), Taco Bueno (made three trips), Braum's (two runs), Jamba Juice (twice), and Pizza Shuttle & Mazzio's (once each). I didn't get to go to Hideaway Pizza or Toto's this time, and Tony Marbel's has closed down, but I think I got a good food fix. :)

Oh, by golly have a holly jolly Christmas, this year

The semester is over, and I'm a week & a half into my Christmas break. I love being a student if for no other reason than that my schedule is incredibly more flexible than when I worked 40 hours a week.


I finished this semester with three B's and an A, and feel quite satisfied with that. This semester was an exercise in easing up on my perfectionism and need to follow rules precisely. I didn't study for tests as much as I usually feel obligated to, didn't stress as much about assignments, and didn't go over my papers 10 billion times to make sure every word was perfectly suited and strategically placed to make me sound as absolutely astute as possible. I practiced letting go of a lot of stress and worry around my classes, and was surprised several times that I scored higher on things than I thought I would, sometimes just as high as I would have if I had spent all that perfectionistic energy on the assignment.

shorn

My roommate's dad shaved my head for me on Saturday. I keep startling myself when I walk past mirrors or reach up to scratch my head. And I can't keep from rubbing my head if I'm sitting talking to someone or watching tv. It feels so different. Becky's been on my mind more than ever the last two days. I've been wearing the head scarf that she gave me a few years ago, which is really special/significant to me. I was getting ready to go in to church yesterday, and the thought occured to me that I've shaven my head 'in remembrance' of Becky. It is a constant reminder of her in my life and a symbol to myself and others of the relationship I have with her. I wondered if I have the same kind of apparent 'remembrance' of the Savior in my life. I think I probably do, just not so starkly apparent to me, because they've become more of an integrated part of my life.

It's interesting, too, because my head leads me to remember Christ and His atonement more, also. I realize that my efforts to support Becky are so miniscule in the broad range of experiences she's going through with this. But Christ has experienced it all. I can't appreciate what's going on, but he can. It helps me see how much I can be an instrument in His hands in succoring the people in my life, but I can't help anyone truely without His guidance.

Coneheads

I came home yesterday to find the movie Coneheads in my latest Netflix shipment. I think it's a little ironic that the evening before I shave my head, I watched a movie about bald 'people' with oddly shaped heads.

Tiaras

Becky had a head fetish while we lived together, too. When she was having a bad day, or even just when she wanted to feel special, she would find her tiara and wear it around the house. Tiaras are the instant anti-depressant. They just transform everything and make it better. We would sometimes clean the house or watch movies while both wearing tiaras. They became a sort of trademark of our apartment. Once I answered the door wearing mine when our friend Mike came over to visit, and he gave me an odd look, but when I explained the ritual, he was behind it all the way.

I still wear mine occasionally when I'm having a bad day, and I fully intend to bring it to Oklahoma and have some bald-and-beautiful tiara time with Becky :)

Support

This morning Becky called me while I was getting ready for work. She told me she'd gone ahead and shaved her head yesterday. She starts radiation on Monday, and they're going to give her a tatoo to mark where they will be focusing the laser. She said "I have a question for you, and I understand if you say no. You don't have to answer right now, just think about it. Would you consider shaving your head in support of me?" I knew my answer as soon as she asked. I said "Yes, I will do that!" then, knowing she wouldn't take the answer right then, added "I will definitely consider that," and we talked about the possibilities of my coming out there for a few days.

I couldn't concentrate for very long at a time at work. I spent the morning mulling over the idea of shaving my head as a way to experience a small part of what she was going through. The significance of the Atonement of Jesus Christ stuck out boldly in my head. He's experienced EVERYTHING, even Becky's cancer. I can't do that, but I can give my hair up for a few months, like she's doing, and share a small part in her experience. It hit me that for the past week I'd been thinking of her cancer as a life and death scenario. Either she was going to get through this or she might not...but considering the reality of the fact that she'd shaved her head made things a lot more real. This isn't an 'I make it or I don't' kind of situation. It's a million little different things that she's going to endure. It's the diagnosis, and seeing the progression of the cell growth over just days on two different MRIs. It's losing that beautiful hair. It's wearing bandanas and scarves. It's headaches and fatigue. It's wishing that the people around her would just cry with her. It's starting radiation therapy. And steroids. And medications. And then Chemo. And...and...

This is a trial with - only God knows how many - different tiny experiences. Something to endure through. And all I can really do with her is cry and pray and shave my head. But not the really scary stuff. I can't even fathom what it's like for her.

A few years ago, Becky came home to find me talking on my phone, with a turtleneck sweater wrapped and tied around my head in a somewhat turban-like fashion. I had absentmindedly worked it up so that it would stay on my head while I carried on a conversation and cooked some dinner. Occasionally, I'd turn up with my hair tied up in a dish towel, or something, and she'd laugh at me and point out the headpiece I'd forgotten about. We decided I had some kind of subconscious obsession with things on my head. A few weeks later, she gave me a large green and gold-ish cloth for my birthday. It was my very own head wrap. I wore it several times, out around the city, to church, or just to lounge in in the house. I loved it. I haven't worn it in a few years, but when I see it in my drawer, I always smile.

This morning the thought crossed my mind how full circle this situation has come...I have an opportunity to put the headwrap to good use, and as I wear it on my bald head, I get support the woman who gave it to me all that time ago.

She called me again after lunch to tell me that if I could work it out, she really wanted me to come be with her. I said I would, and that I was going to shave my head tomorrow.

In Shock

"My dearest friend Becky has brain cancer." I don't know how many times his thought has run through my head in the past week. I haven't known what to do with it, but to cry when it hits me, talk to people I trust when I'm feeling scared, pray, and take deep breaths. She called me on November 30th to tell me the news. I spent the first week of December trying to figure out how I could change my flight plans to accomodate a week in Oklahoma and a week in California, instead of the originally planned 2 weeks in CA. I want to be there for her. I want to support her. I want her to know I love her and can't stand that she's facing yet another physical trial.

We lived together for two years while I was a student at the University of Oklahoma. This girl is my 'kindred spirit', to quote Anne of Green Gables. She is spunky and moody and full of love and every other emotion, and loves to drive and sing to India Arie and Tori Amos and Fiona Apple. She feels things very deeply. She loves Jack Black. She has the most wonderful dark brown curly hair. She paints. She decorated her room with stars and christmas lights. She drinks Coca-Cola - the REAL thing, not diet - and leaves half bottles of it on counters and side tables all over the house. She can have an incredibly perceptive conversation about life or ghosts or why she doesn't believe something is right, and leave me pondering for days. This girl is amazing.

And I spent the past week worried I wouldn't get to see her again. I realized while setting up my Christmas tree on Saturday that this will be the fourth Christmas I've spent in Memphis. A tad over three years, but four CHRISTMASES that I've missed us being integral parts of each other's lives. On Tuesday I woke up with the dread that she might leave before I spent more time with her. My first thought of the day was "I don't want the next time I see her to be at her funeral." That scared me silly. Wednesday night I was with a group of safe, nurturing people. I mentioned her situation, and someone caught on to my sad and anxious energy. He talked with me for a few minutes, and asked if I was ok. I crumbled and cried in his arms for several minutes. "This isn't supposed to happen to someone so young!," I kept thinking. I called her on the way home and left a voicemail about my tentative plans to come be with her.

Deep Breath

I found out this evening that one of my very dearest friends has brain cancer. I'm scared and angry and sad and concerned. I hate that she has had so many physical trials, and that she's got another - a crazy-scary one - to deal with. I hate that I can't be there to be with her. I want to support her, but I don't know how to except for praying. I can't imagine how she and her family and husband are dealing with this. I'm very confused and bewildered. If you read this, please pray for Becky and her family that they will be supported in the very best way possible through this trial.