EMBODIMENT OF HOPE

Emily Dickinson has always been one of my favorite poets, but I can honestly say that I never truly understood the depth of emotion in her poems until Cara got sick. I remember my professor talking about hope, "shifting and fluttering and changing inside you as your life changes." How beautiful; how true.

As a college student I didn't understand the true depth of the word. Hope is defined as, "the feeling that what is wanted can be had or that events will turn out for the best." I only understood that definition because to me, hope had to do with getting into my first choice of school for student teaching, or that I would get a good grade on a paper.

I now realize that hope is a word that has become overused in our culture to the point where the deeper/truer meaning of the word no longer carries any weight. We "hope" we don't run into any traffic. We "hope" our child doesn't have too much homework or that our favorite contestant progresses on "Dancing with the Stars."

To a cancer family, hope means so much more.

Hope is the light in the darkness that keeps the horror of what you are facing away.

Hope is what gets you through long, long nights in the pediatric cancer ward listening to machines beep the seconds of your child's life away. Hope is that there are still peaches available in January that taste like peaches so your sick child will actually have something to eat that they are craving.

Hope is waiting to hear their voice after surgery.

Hope is that they will still have some semblance of a normal childhood.

Hope is that they will not succumb to secondary effects of their life saving treatments.

Hope is knowing there are still options available.

Hope is every wish and prayer within your heart, even the ones you cannot frame into speech, going out to the universe and begging for more time.

Hope is all of the things you planned to do "later" or "someday soon" or "when I'm done …" that you so desperately want right now.

We forget what hope truly means in a life filled with important things of no true importance. The day Cara was admitted to CHOP I spent a ton of time, way too much time, focusing on my job. I stressed about who would grade my papers and how much time my colleagues would have to take out of their days to cover for me.

I had just finished a 30-minute phone call about work, when one of the nurses asked me if I had videotaped Cara yet. I was confused, why would I video tape her the night before surgery? Her response changed my life and changed my perspective on what was important.

"Because it may be the last time you hear her voice for a while. You just might want to get her saying, 'I love you.'"

There was no bigger slap in the face that I could have gotten. I just lost 30 minutes of time with my daughter that I would never get back. Thirty minutes I could have been talking to her, holding her, listening to her.

We need to stop allowing the trivial to gain so much importance in our lives. While you may be hoping that you can get tickets to a concert or that you can make it to a friend's party, cancer families everywhere are hoping for more time.

Now, when I find myself starting to get caught up in life, annoyed by the trivial I stop and I think about what is important. If, like three years ago, my life got turned upside down, would what I am upset about now truly matter? Would this time be wasted or am I doing something meaningful?

Don't wait to take your child to the park, don't put off that trip to see your parents, don't hold back from telling those who mean something to you just how you feel.

As horrible as our journey has been, I am grateful. I know that sounds strange … to be grateful following what we went through, but it is true.

Cancer stripped away all of the fluff in our lives.

I learned that I was stronger than I ever thought it possible to be. I came to realize that what is important in my life has nothing to do with success or money. I found my true faith lies not in a building or a belief system but deep within myself. I discovered who my true friends are and that it is possible to let go of those who are there only when it is convenient for them.

My children became less concerned with things and more concerned with each other. They developed a bond that is incredible to see and the love they show each other cares nothing for what other people think.

Cara is living each day in a way that is meaningful for her. She is focusing on tomorrow and not dwelling in yesterday.

If that's not the embodiment of hope, I don't know what is.