Nothing like failing a challenge when you’re not even 1/3 of the way through it. I’m going to chalk my NaBloPoMo failure to the most disruptive week around here for a long time and then get back on my horse. I’ve taken the last couple of days to contact and visit with family, which are things I don’t do often enough, so I figured the blogging could wait. My cousin’s funeral is this afternoon. Thank you all for your kind thoughts.

I had the pleasure of attending a tour of the Ronald McDonald House of Central Ohio the other night. Through all of my son’s hospitalizations and surgeries, my husband and I have always been close enough to home that one of us could sleep in our own bed. For those who can’t, RMH Charities provides comfort and necessities. It is a truly amazing place and with a new expansion, the Central Ohio facility will be the biggest Ronald McDonald House in the world!

One of the things I found out is that the house depends heavily upon volunteers; cleaning, cooking, maintenance, stocking the supply shelves…you name it. There are rooms for 80 families each night and it costs RMH $100 per night, per family, to provide services. Though they ask for a $20 donation per night, the average amount received, per family, is $4.80.

They can use your money, your time or your talents, and I can assure you, it is a worthy cause. It’s hard to have a sick kid and the kindness and special touches from Ronald McDonald House goes a long way to making a difficult situation bearable.

While we were there, they asked us to decorate handprints for their annual “Give a Hand” fundraiser to benefit RMCH and other charities for children. From now until November 20th, at participating McDonald’s restaurants, you can purchase a paper hand for $1, $3, or $5 and the proceeds will go toward helping families in need.

This was the awesome design of the guy sitting next to me. It was this tie-dye looking, swirly, artsy thing. My phone didn’t do it justice, but it was really cool.

After I got black marker around the edge of my palm and my fingers when I traced my hand, I went with a more simple design. I am not so crafty.

Either way, it was a great experience. To know that this massive endeavor is run with such heart and love, made me really happy.

See? My hand was right!

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I don’t have a title for this post, because this post isn’t going to say much and if it does, it will be incoherent. Fair warning.

It’s been a pretty messed-up week, with my cousin’s death, my son being bullied, the craziness of the election, and realizing that my patience and tolerance-levels have come to an abrupt halt.

One good thing is that I’ve found the need to kick and hit things, so I’ve ended up at the gym four times this week. Unfortunately I found myself in the cabinet tearing into bags of chips with more frequency, too.

I can tell you that I’ve seen a lot of changes in myself recently; some good, some bad, but all growth and possibilities and dealing with pain just makes the possibilities even better.

Through the craziness, one thing is clear; I have great friends and a wonderful family. I have fabulous readers, many of whom I’ve never met, who reached out to me to say they are here. It makes my heart hurt in so many lovely ways.

And, knowing that people are (mostly) kind? That is what gets me through to Day 9.

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A few weeks ago I found out that my cousin was very sick. We are the same age (which is to say pretty young…ahem), so it was shocking to find out that cancer had been ravaging her body and taking a silent toll. Within a very short time, we went from being ready to help her with her fight to realizing that there wasn’t a fight to be had.

This afternoon I went to say goodbye. I parked my car and took a long, heavy-footed walk through the hospital; the kind that makes you feel like the corridor is shrinking around you and all the people you pass are going about business that has no place being had when someone you love is dying.

Her ICU room was full of friends and family and we took turns stroking her hands and holding cold washcloths to her hot skin. We laughed, we told stories about her 80s hair, we cried and prayed. I looked on while my aunt told her it was okay to go.

I watched her husband take her face in his hands and kiss her forehead. Today is their 9th wedding anniversary and he made sure her wedding rings were in a bag, tucked under her hand; too swollen, now, to wear them.

Although my heart is heavy and my mind is fuzzy, I am coherent enough to realize that I was given a gift tonight. It was a privilege to be there in that room with so much love and be with her before she leaves this earth. You know how everyone always says that life is precious? It is. When you see it at its last, it’s like a big, neon, “LIFE IS PRECIOUS” sign in front of your face.

Because you aren’t likely at someone’s bedside, I am flipping on the neon sign for you. Hug your loved ones, tell your friends you love them, don’t put off anything.

Live.

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Last weekend my daughter’s volleyball team played for the league championship. I’m going to be completely honest here and tell you that we were pretty certain they were going to lose. That’s just the kind of parents we are.

Although they had improved a lot during the season, many of them had injuries this year and a lot of them had never played together before. It was quite a ragtag group who had just barely mastered the art of bump, set, spike. Our expectations were so low that my husband actually stayed home (at my request) so our son didn’t have to get up too early.

But, instead of a loss the parents witnessed a win. The championship win, like with a trophy and medals and stuff. Excuse the blurry, enlarged thumbnail photo of my kid, but I had half a team to cut out of this.

I can’t really describe what it was like to watch those girls give it everything they had, despite their reputation. My daughter dove, slid and even bled a little; when all she really had to do was show up, and her teammates did the same.

I don’t frequently learn valuable lessons from teenagers, but I did on Saturday. I can’t tell you how often I feel like I’m trudging along, not making progress, and losing. My weight, the bills, my son’s health and emotional issues, the bills, the bills, the bills, my insomnia, my dirty house, my writing…just everything.

What I realized from that ragtag team is that there is always a chance that I can come out of this on top; that if I dig in and fight hard, everything might turn out in my favor. It’s an uphill battle, but I can’t just give up.

There might just be a trophy waiting for me at the end.

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