Amazing Grace IX: Happy Days, Sad Faces

Since Grace told me last week that she wanted to write in my journal for this weeks visit, I thought I would go ahead and pick up a journal she could call her own.  After all, she expressed interest in writing in mine, so I thought maybe she was wanting to have one for herself.  It was not just any journal either, it was a pink one, with a little lock and key.  She would need a pen, so I went ahead an bought her a pink one to match the journal I picked out for her.  I have to admit, I was pretty excited to visit Grace this week, and gift these items to her.  I was anxious for the day I would get to read the entries Grace would be making in her journal.  We talk about so much on our weekly visits, I wondered what she would have left to write in her journal.

I always find the must colorful, prettiest gift bag I can each time I take something to Grace.  I try to match it with the gift I bring.  For instance, the jelly beans I brought in a bag decorated with colorful circles, much like the colors of the jelly beans.  I brought her veil to her in a bag designed to hold a bridal shower gift.  When I brought her some homemade cookies, I found a bag that was decorated with different types of cookies.  Today’s bag was decorated with pink on it, and it looked more like a ballet costume than a bag.  I thought it suited her perfectly, because my little angel friend was about as girly as they come, from her bossy attitude to her little giggles. 

She spotted the bag right way, as soon as I walked in.  She crossed her arms in front of her and gave me that look.   You know the look, the one you get when you are about to be lectured by an adorable bossy eight year old feisty girl.  “Jett, we agreed that you would not bring me gifts on our interviews days.  You are breaking our rules and it was a pinky swear.  Why do you do this to me?”  I’m sporting a serious eye roll at this moment, because I know what the next sentence will be that she speaks.  “What is in the bag Jett?”

I wasted no time handing the bag over to Grace, because I knew she would be excited to receive such a wonderful gift.  I knew it would be even more popular then the day I brought her a blanket my neighbor Megan had handmade her for me.  It was a blanket that had a huge picture of Barbie on it, dressed as a princess, that was cut and tied around the edges connecting it to a solid piece of pink flannel.  It’s the same blanket Grace sleeps with every night, as she tells the story, because it makes her dreams seem real.  Imagine my disappointment when she opened her bag and pulled out that sweet little pink journal and pen.  “Oh”, she says, “a book and a pen.” 

I reminded her of her statement last week, that this week she wanted to write in my journal.  “You don’t seem very excited about my gift to you.”   She is studying the journal, using the key to open it up, playing with the pen.  “Oh.  Well I like it OK Jett, but I still want to write in your journal.”  She continues to play with her new gifts, opening and closing the journal, taking the cap off the pen and replacing it again.  “I guess I do not know what I will do with this Jett, since you are telling my story.” 

I explain to Grace what a journal is.  I use the term diary because I felt that would better explain it to her.  I tell her that anything can be a journal, it doesn’t have to be a book.  It can be a tablet of paper, it can be done on the computer, it can be written on an old paper bag.  We continue talking about this for quite a while when she decides she wants to share a part of her daily life with me, that is ‘not so fun’.   This tells me two things.  1) Grace trusts me, which is important if I am going to tell her story, and 2) it will not be a pleasant experience and I need to stay strong.  She pulls her bag out from under her pillow and sets it on her lap.  “This is my carry all bag.  I bring it with me when I come here for appointments and treatments because sometimes we are here for hours and I need things to do.”  Grace rummages through her bag and pulls out a small compact monthly calendar book.  It is not something you would imagine Grace would carry, much less use.  It had a picture on the cover of it that looked like mountains in the background and water in front of the mountains.  “What is it Grace, what do you use that for?”, I asked.

“It is a journal of my days”, she says as she opens it to the current month and hands it to me.  She continues to explain it to me as I read her entries.  “The sad face is on the days that it hurts real bad.  The happy face is on the days when I don’t have to put a sad face in the box.”   I flip through the prior months on the pages before the current month.  It doesn’t take an accountant to look at each month prior and figure out that as the months have passed, there are more sad faces than happy faces.

“What are the days on your calendar that you put a red X in Grace?”  I asked.  “Those are the days that I have visitors.  Not nurses or doctors or people I do not know.  Every red X is a day that I was visited by someone that knew me before I had cancer.”   Flipping through the pages of the months, I take note, that the red X’s started out strong, and the current month of March, had two red X’s, and here it was the 21st of the month.  “Who were the red X people that came to visit you this month Grace”, I asked, not sure she would remember who had come to visit her.  “Uncle Ronny.  He is my mommy’s brother.  He used to come up almost everyday when I first started coming for treatments.  Now he comes one time each month.  The other X was Marcy, she is our neighbor and she does not drive but she brought a taxi to come see me and she sat with me almost the whole four hours I was here that day.”

“What are the days you put a green dot in the bottom corner?  There are lots of those days marked.” 

“Those are the days I see tears in either my mommy or my daddy’s eyes.  On those days I am extra strong and I try to smile a lot.  My heart hurts on those days, because I know when I go to heaven, I will take a piece of their hearts with me, and they will keep me in theirs forever.  I do not want them to be sad when I leave forever, I want them to remember my smiles.”

“Every so often there is a name written in a square Grace, who are those people?”

“Those are the other kids that were here with me.  I write their names in the square of the day I last saw them.  Sometimes I ask the nurses what happen that I do not see them anymore.  They never answer me, they just look away and talk about something else.  But I know.”

“Jett?  Can I hold your journals and you can tell me about them like I told you about mine?”  I carry two journals with me on Wednesdays.  One is a daily journal that I carry that has dates on the pages, where I can jot down things in a moments notice.  The second one is my Grace journal, and there are more blank pages in it then ones I’ve written on, however, there are pieces of paper stuffed into the book that will one day, hopefully far far away,  will tell the story of Grace, as she moves from earth to the heavenly sky’s of Boston Mass.  I hand Grace my daily journal.  No one has ever laid a hand on this journal besides myself.  I guard it with my life, because it not only contains my days agenda, it also contains some of my most inner thoughts, along with a few words that probably shouldn’t be read by anyone under the age of 18.

Grace takes my journal and slowly opens it, clearly hesitating for whatever reason.  “Open it and read it Grace”, I tell her.  She opens it to the current date, which is marked with a bookmark with a saying on it that reads : “Courage is not the lack of fear but the ability to face it." -- Lt. John B. Putnam Jr. (1921-1944).  

Grace reads the pages backwards, asking an occasional question to better understand how I work my daily journal.  When she reaches the front of the journal, she realizes that it began on the first day of Jan of 2012.  “Did you do this to a journal last year Jett?  Can I read it?”  She asks, but it clearly sounds to me like a demand.   “Sure you can, I will bring it with me next week.”  I tell her.  “I would like it more if you could bring it to me tomorrow Jett, so I can read it before you come, and ask you questions when you get here next week.”  Again, it’s clearly a demand, and I let her know I will drop it off tomorrow.  I don’t really worry about the contents of the journal, because its more a log of my daily goals and accomplishments than anything else.  There is some colorful language, because there were days when I just had to vent in the written word.  I make a mental note to let her mom know about this, and gain her approval.

“Grace?  I think you should use your new journal and write a little note to your parents in it every day.  It will be something that they can treasure for a very long time.  You can tell them something everyday that you think you would like them to remember about your time with them.”

She picks up her new journal and smiles at me.  “I think I will do that Jett.  I think I would like them to know some things they do not already know.  Do you think you can go to the waiting room and ask my mommy if she will give you a dollar and you can buy me a coke?  I would like a coke please.”

I leave to go get Grace a coke and stop to visit with her mom for a few minutes.  She so kindly waits each week and lets me visit with Grace.  I noticed a couple weeks ago that she spends time writing in a journal of her own.  I never ask her about it, mostly because sometimes when people journal things, it is not something they care to share.  And each time I’ve seen her write in her journal, she closes it and slips it into her bag as I approach.  I tell her that Grace wanted a coke, and we both laughed because we both know that Grace owns me.  I do everything she wants me to do.  Her parents kid me about it a lot, telling me that it is like Grace is my older sister and she orders me around like its her job.  I don’t mind, really, because she’s kind enough to let me into her short life.  I get the coke and go back to the room where I find Grace holding my daily journal in her hands. 

“I am tired Jett, and I would like to rest now.  Do not forget you will be coming back tomorrow to drop off your other journal to me.  You can trust me with it, and I will take good care of it so nothing happens to it.”

I take my journal and put it back into my bag, put on my jacket to leave, and give Grace a hug.  “Thanks for showing me your calendar Grace, it takes courage to share your personal things with others.”  She hugs me back.  “Thank you too Jett, for having courage to let me read your personal things too.”

One last lecture about breaking one of our pinky swears regarding me bringing gifts to Grace while we are conducting our weekly interviews and I am on my way.  I get to the door, knowing we are not done yet.

“Jett?”  I hear her tired voice say.  “Yes Grace?”   She hesitates a moment, “I like my journal, thank you.”  See me smiling.  “You’re welcome Grace, I hope you find things to write in it everyday.”

“Jett?”  she calls out when I exit her room.  “Yes Grace?” 

“I think we both are good about being afraid of things, and not hide it.”  She says.  “We have courage Grace, and we have each other.  We are going to be alright.”  I tell her.

I leave and think about Grace’s calendar.  How she has already begun to journal her story before I even knew her.  I realize that I will never know everything about Grace to give a true and accurate story of her fears and the courage she has to face them.  I wonder what my calendar would look like if I put a green dot on every box that I have witnessed someone I love cry.   I wonder how many names I would have written in the boxes representing the last time I have seen someone.  I wonder if I would have more happy faces then I would sad faces and if my good days would be better represented than the sad ones. 

Life clearly is not valued by those of us who do not face the ‘advantage’ of knowing our time here is limited and will soon end.  We do not think in terms of days of tears, days when our friends will no longer be here, days we see our loved ones cry.  We call it life, and move on.  Grace knows it is life, and she moves on.  Us looking for a better tomorrow.  Grace hoping for one more day. 

On Friday I took out my daily journal, as I do every morning.  I go to my bookmark and turn to the page.  It is already on the pages I will use for today.  On the left side of the journal, Grace had written in big bold ink ‘DON’T FORGET TO BRING ME YOUR JOURNAL’.  She had also put a happy face under her entry in my journal.  I think she was letting me know, no matter how much it hurts today, she is going to have a good day. 

:-)

Amazing Grace VIII: Jelly Bean Friendship

Each time I visit Grace, I stay a little longer during our visit.  I don’t worry about overstaying my welcome, as Grace does not hesitate to tell me it’s time for me to go.   The last few visits, she has encouraged me to stay longer.  I don’t mind at all, it gives me more time to spend with my little friend and document more of her journey.  I know our days are numbered, currently by the week, but soon it will be day to day.  Grace does not hide this information from me, and her parents do not hide this information from her.   So we enjoy every moment we have together,  so we can record in writing her journey in life.

Grace guides me in writing the journal of her journey, carefully telling me what not to publish while she is still with us on earth,  which gives me many words to put in to print once she leaves us, but remains in our hearts.   I bring the articles to her to read from our prior visit.  She is my biggest critic, but she gets that luxury because it’s her words I am relaying, it’s her life I am revealing.  “I really wanted you to write more about our time spent playing with my barbies Jett.”  I respond.  “Grace, do you really think people want to read about the 20 minutes of the time we spent playing barbies?”  She giggles, as any little girl would.  “Well maybe not, but I want the world to know how you used your girl voice when we played.”   I can only shake my head, and include that conversation this week, because leaving it out will result in a lecture about how I am supposed to let her tell her story through me, and leaving out the fun stuff for her is against one of her conditions in the interview portions of my visits.   Are all 8 year old girls this bossy? Or am I being somewhat bullied?  It makes me laugh, because I am totally being controlled by this little girl, and I love every minute of it.

As easy as it is for me to talk to Grace, it’s difficult to keep control of the interview portion of my visit with her.  During our last visit,  we spent a few minutes talking about the best candy in the world.  Like either one of us has the expertise to determine that, but we know what we like.  STARBURSTS Grace blurts out.  SIXLETS I trump her with.  LAFFY TAFFY she says.  BABY RUTH BARS I state.  SKITTLES ORGINAL she says.   ANYTHING REESES I tell her.  I see a pattern here.  One of us is addicted to chocolate, the other is fruity.   This is usually at the point when we have our best friend conversations.  When we find out just how not alike we are.  We spend so much time talking about the things we have in common, that when we find out how much we are different, it opens up a whole new path to building a stronger friendship.

This week I brought a box of jelly bean that when you taste two or more beans together, they create a whole new flavor.  We open the box, using the instructions given, to pick a flavor we think is interesting and grab those jelly beans to make that flavor, and see if we can taste what they say we should.  Two blueberry and one buttered popcorn is a blueberry muffin.  We agree.  Two rootbeer and a cream soda is a rootbeer float.  We both agree.  We tried several different recipes and we agreed with all of them. 

It was not the taste tasting that I enjoyed in this little project we created.   It was the silence we shared after we choose, picked, and tasted the combinations.  It was those 30 seconds after we both popped the jelly beans into our mouths and savored the flavor.  It was sitting there waiting for the beans to mix in our mouths forming the flavor we were anxious to taste.  It was 30 seconds or so of forgetting the reason we had become friends.  It was the brief moments in this project that took both of us away from the treatments, the pain, the frustrations of dealing with the part of Grace’s journey in life. You can only eat so many combinations of jelly beans before your taste buds give out on you.  We were at that point and decided to put the box away, so we were not tempted to keep going, ruining our experience.

“Jett?   What do you think about when everything is quiet in your life and your mind is not busy with anything?”   I remind myself that I need to be honest with Grace, not revealing things she really does not need to know, but also not hiding my life experiences from her.  It’s only fair, because she is revealing so much of herself to me, I need to give that back to her when she requests it.  “Well Gracie,  my mind is always busy, even when I am not.  I am always thinking ahead of the things I want to do, the things I have promised others.  I probably spend more time trying to uncluttered my thoughts than actually experiencing quiet times in my mind.  What do you think about during quiet times?”

“I think about God and heaven a lot.”  She says softly.  “I am not afraid to go to heaven.  I know only my spirit will go up to heaven.   My dad told me that there is not enough room in heaven for all the bodies to go with the spirits.   That is why I do not care that I am not as pretty as other girls.  My dad tells me how beautiful I am but I see how other girls look, and I see how I look, and I know he is talking about my insides and not the outside.”

“Gracie, you are just as pretty as any girl I know.  I see the scars from your surgeries, and I see the absence of your hair.  I see how tiny you are from all the things you have going on medically.  But not once have I ever thought you were less than a pretty girl.”  I said these things and I meant them, but by the look on Grace’s face I could tell she was not convinced.

“Grace, did you know that you can look into someone’s eyes and you can see what emotion they are feeling in their hearts?   When I look into your Mom’s eyes, I see how much she loves you.  I see how much she wishes she could take away all your pain, all your cancer.  When I visit with your Dad and look into his eyes, I can see how troubled he is about what you face daily.  I can tell he loves you so much and how much he already misses the years he will not get to share with you.  Look into my eyes Grace, and tell me what you see.”

The silence while she studies my eyes is golden.  I look back into her eyes because I know she will ask me what I see in her eyes.   Anyone that would happen to walk into the room at the moment would think we were having a no blink stare down.  

“You are sad.  You are tired.  And I can see me in your eyes.  That is what I see.  What are you seeing in my eyes Jett?”  Told you so, shaking my head.  She cannot refrain from taking over my interview of her.  I answer her.  “I see a very strong person who does not fear the world.  I see someone with this huge heart full of love who always makes room for more love to be put inside of her heart.  I see a beautiful soul through those sparkling eyes that accepts God’s plan for her.  I see God’s Grace in Grace’s eyes.”

“What does that mean Jett?  God’s Grace?”

“So that being justified by his grace we might become heirs according to the hope of eternal life. “ [Titus 3:7]

I tell Grace, as quoted from the Bible.  “I know this quote well, because when my brother was dying from lung cancer, a special friend to him used to lay next to him and read the Bible to him.  Joey was intrigued by this bible verse quote, and his wish was that when he died, he died by the Grace of God.  You cannot earn the Grace of God, it is something God gives you.  When you strengthen your faith and live under God’s laws he will grant you his Grace when you get to his Kingdom and you will live eternally in his house.”

“Maybe next week you can read some of the Bible to me.  Maybe I can go to church with you soon and know what it is like for you to be there.”  She forms this into a question but I know she is adding attending church with me to her bucket list.  I am happy to share this part of my life with Grace. 

Grace is tired and lets me know it is time to end our visit for the day so she can get rest.  She reminds me I still need to take her skating.  She reminds me I still need to introduce her to my dad, as well as some more of my friends.  Grace adding things to her bucket list lets me know she is staying strong and making plans to keep our time together going.  This makes my heart feel good.
We continue our ritual of our pink swear moment.  We hug tight.  We say our so long for now.  I head to the door, knowing Grace will stop me one more time with instructions for our next visit.

“Jett?” 
“Yes Grace?”
“Leave those jelly beans here.”

How does she do that? I laugh.  I was going to eat them on the ride home.  I turn and walk them over to her.  I hand her the box.  She does not crack a smile.  At least not while I am walking away.  I turn to say so long again, and catch her grinning from ear to ear.  She gets me every time. 

“Next week I want to write in your journal.”  She firmly states.

“Goodbye Amazing Gracie.  See you soon.”
“Goodbye Jett”

Amazing Grace VII: The Circle of Life

I was extremely happy to find my amazing Grace feeling stronger when I visited her this past Wednesday.  I try to remind myself it’s temporary, her looking stronger than the last time I had visited with her.  I try to remind myself to enjoy our visits without the fear of this being the last visit.   It is hard though, the more I get to know Grace, the harder I pray every morning and every night, that today, is the day someone finds a cure that will save Grace and allow her to live a long, healthy life.   I remember that same prayer routine when I watched my brother go through his treatments, only to lose his fight in the end, to a disease that takes the lives on average of 1500 USA citizens per day, with another 3400 USA citizens being diagnosed with cancer. 

I really never know what I will get out my visit to Grace.  I always hope to find her upbeat, healthy, and winning the battles she encounters each day.    I just never know what will be waiting for me from the little girl who is spunky and full of mischief.  The last time I visited Grace when she was feeling well she had ended our time with a request that I teach her dance, so that she will be ready to dance with God when he calls her home.  Grace has a way of ending our visit with that one statement that keeps me thinking of what question I will ask her on our next visit.

That is the rule, even though our friendship started with me conducting an interview with Grace about her fight with cancer, she limited our visits to two interview questions, one she would ask me, the other I would ask her.  The rest of the visit is just a lot of fun.  Like many friendships developing, it is exciting to get to know one another, through just talking away and realizing what you have in common that connects you to someone, is just as interesting as what you do not have in common that holds the friendship together. 

Prior to my weekly visit to Grace as she received her treatment,  I took my 5 year old nephew Jimz (Jimmy) and my 1 year old niece Ola (Olivia) to visit Grace.   Our visit lasted about 20 minutes due to Grace feeling tired and weak, still trying to recover from a very rough week of headaches and tired and achy bones.   Meeting my family is one of Grace’s bucket list items.  Her reasoning is, she would like to meet the people she will be guiding from the clouds.  Keeping them safe and on the right path.  Jimz and Ola were two of the people I was counting on Grace guiding, and I wanted her to know what she was getting into with these two, because when they are together, they rule the world.

Jimz was very perceptive that something was wrong with Grace and did not hesitate to ask her all the questions he had for her.  Grace, for being eight, answered his questions eloquently and fitting, for his small age.  Ola’s vocabulary, not being much more than ‘cookie’ and ‘cheetos’,  limited their conversation greatly.   I think Grace liked that Ola would just sit next to her and be happy.  They ‘talked’ about Ola’s hat and purse, with Grace complimenting her on her selection and Ola smiling, as if she understood she was being complimented.

Our limited time today did not give them much time to bond, but I feel Grace was happy to meet two of the many important people in my life.  They all hugged and said goodbye.  Jimz even went back to kiss Grace on the cheek and tell her everything will be alright, you will feel better soon.   I thought to myself, does he feel something I cannot?   Does he get this?  Or is he wishing her well because he knows when he is sick, everything eventually does become alright?  

Thoughts linger constantly in my mind, on the circle of life.  A life is created,  a life is taken away.  An old man lives to be 100, a young girl will die before she turns nine.   A sibling dies before they live.   A baby is born to fill a void.  Dying of natural causes sounds like a better alternative than fighting to live.  A life cut short.  A life too long.   Who are we to say who stays and who goes?  Who are we to question why they are here or why they are not?  We don’t pick our date of death.  We don’t have the luxury of deciding when we would like to arrive on earth, and when we would like to exit it.  We don’t have a say in how our story and journey will end.

Or do we?

Amazing Grace VI: An Angel's Journey

We have a routine, Grace and I, when I visit her weekly.   I pondered straying from that routine so I wouldn’t lose nerve to ask Grace the question I needed to ask, so I could relax and be done with it.  As I walked into greet my little friend, I thought it best to stick with our routine and not stray from the known.  We always had our fun visit time first, before we ended with our interview.  I suppose it worked out well that way because we both were relaxed and comfortable as we got down to the agenda of writing more Grace’s short time here on earth.

Today she looked well rested.  I noticed immediately the absence of the usual hat Grace wore.   I’ve rarely seen her without some sort of hat on her head.  Without one was yet one more reminder of the things she has gone through thus far in her journey in life. I struggle with this today, as I see this beautiful bald little eight year old.  It does not make me question my faith at all, but it leaves me questioning my maker about the reasoning behind this horrible hurdle in our lives we call cancer.

Grace notices this in me and is quick to remind me that our time together is for smiles and laughter, not sorrow and pain.  “Don’t think about it Jett, it was just hair. It’s much easier to be bald than it is to have to take care of it everyday.”   Suddenly the only thing I noticed about Grace from the neck up is that big beautiful smile. 

We chat a bit about what has been going on in our worlds since the last visit.  Grace fills me in on her daily routine in life.  She is eager to hear what I have had going on the past few days.  Full of questions about the life of a 19 year old college student.   It’s as if Grace is trying to absorb as much as she can about the life I live that she will not ever get to experience.   It isn’t long before I realize she has turned this visit into the story of me, verses the story of her.   Makes me shake my head.  I tell her that perhaps in heaven she can get a part time job as a reporter, or a journalist, to go along with the job she will apply for as Angel Guide when she gets to heaven.  “There’s no news in heaven Jett.”  she says rolling her eyes.  “You already know everything so you do not have to read about it.  There’s no need to announce births, even though there are babies in heaven.  The grandmother’s take care of them.  There’s no announcements when people die.  They are already, well, dead.”  I stand corrected, again, as she out smarts me.

I have to know.  I have to ask the question that I probably already know the answer to.  There is no stopping me.

“Gracie”, I ask, “Do you ever get tired of the fight?   Do you ever think about just giving in?  Do you ever feel like it’s time?”

“It’s not a fight Jett., it’s a journey.  If I think of it as a fight, its hard, because I know I will not win.  I trust my parents that they are truthful to me about what the doctors say.  This is my journey in life.  It is what God wants from me.  I am the lucky one you see, because I get to know when it ends.  Most people never get to know how close they are to the end, until the end gets here.  There are lots of people who do not get to be OK with their hearts before their journey ends.”

Silence

“Jett?”  Grace asks.  “Do you ever think about giving up on your journey?”

Silence

“Jett?” She asks.  “I want you to answer me, truthfully.”

“Yes Grace I do think about it sometimes.  I get angry.  I get sad.  Sometimes my heart hurts real bad.  Sometimes I just want to cry.  Sometimes I want answers on why things happen.  Sometimes I want to go away and see if starting over gets any better.  So yes, there are times when I would like to give up.”

“Well that is just stupid and it makes me mad that you think your journey should be any easier than anyone else‘s.  Sometimes you have to think about the happy things in your life and put the sad things away.   God knows where he wants all of us and he puts us where we are supposed to be.”

Silence

I look at Grace, laying in her bed, and for the first time ever I see anger in her eyes.   I feel compiled to apologize to her for not being strong enough to accept the path I am on.  I didn’t intent to make her mad, I tell her.  But she did ask me to be truthful.  I tell her how much I admire her faith in God and her strength in accepting the ground he has laid in front of her.   I tell her that it amazes me that such a young person can hold so much more faith in God than someone my age.  She smiles at me.  I smile back.  And I lay next to my little angel and we hold hands, and there are no words spoken.   I feel her squeeze my hand with her tiny hand, remembering her words in a prior visit regarding how neither one of our hands will ever grow any bigger.   I squeeze her little hand back, and I hesitate to let go, because I don’t ever want to forget how that felt, to lay side by side, with an angel, for fear of never getting this moment again.

Our visit and interview comes to an end when the nurse arrives to administer another treatment.  I kiss Grace on the top of her head.   She tells me she will call me on Friday to make plans to come and visit me at my house on Saturday.  She touches my face.  “Jett, if I can shave my head, the least you can shave is your face.”  I give her a super huge major eye roll.  “Ok Gracie, I can do that.”  After all, she could of told me I had to play Barbie dolls with her again next week.

“Keep working on your journey Gracie”
“Quit fighting yours Jett”

I just walked away a little more wiser.  I’m getting used to that concept.  I will miss it when I no longer have it.

Amazing Grace V: An Angel In Training

Little Miss Grace was not doing well last week after her treatment in yet another attempt to relieve the pain from another tumor applying pressure in her head.   It was the week I was going to teach her how to dance.  Today I sit and wait for my visit with her, wondering how will I teach her to dance,  because I for sure know she is going to make me, make up, for that lesson lost last week.  I’m not even going to try to talk her out of this because there is no way it can be worse then the 20 minutes of barbie dolls she made me play with her two weeks ago. 

I have visited Grace several times this past week, most often I have found her sleeping, resting comfortably, recovering from a treatment that her parents told me would probably be mild compared to treatments that will come along in the near future.  Aggressive.  It seems that using the phrase “aggressive treatments” would suggest Grace is winning the war she is facing with cancer.  I am reminded of the conversation her father had with me this past week, telling me to not be fooled by the phrase, because no matter how many battles Grace wins, cancer is certain to win the war.

In the seven weeks since I first met Grace, we have bonded in an unusual way.  I first heard about Grace and her journey through a buddy of mine.  His mom and Grace’s mom have known each other from before Grace was ever born.  He thought I might be interested in her story, not as a journalist, but as someone who lost a brother to lung cancer five years ago.   I have been mourning Joey’s death since the day he died and this is what my buddy felt I needed to get some comfort in my loss. 

I first met Grace’s Mom, explained to her I am an inspiring journalist struggling with the loss of my mom, as well as my siblings, one of them taken from me by cancer.   I felt she should know both facts about me, since I was going to ask her if we could see if her daughter was interested in helping me journal her journey through this life, into the after life.  Grace and I took to each other well, both understanding our roles in this relationship, with her being in control, and me being bossed around by yet another female in my life.   She made it very clear this would be the story of her life, and not the story of her demise.   I would tell anyone interested in hearing the story of who she is, and when she leaves us, the story of who she wanted to be. 

There is not a lot of wiggle room in separating those two stories, because I think who Grace is, is who she will be in heaven.   I enjoy every second I get to converse with Grace as she shares her thoughts with me.   She absorbs so much about life, given she has only lived it for eight years.   She is very spiritual, and believes in all her heart she has gained a spot in heaven.  Not because she is fighting this fight, but because she has a lot to offer the rest of us once she is above us.  Grace is applying to be an angel guide.  She does not see how God can deny her that job.   Personally I had no idea there was a job market in heaven, never had that crossed my mind.  It leads me to believe, once again, Grace has more knowledge about this than the rest of us.  She tells me an angel guide’s job is to make sure the people she is assigned to look after, stay on the right path in their journey to God.   Apparently, according to Grace, I need a lot of help in that area, and that is why God brought us together.  I can only shake my head when she laid that line on me, she continuously tries to push my buttons like that.  It makes me smile though, because she’s probably closer to that truth then I am.

Today as I prepare to visit Grace, I have a tough question to ask her.  I know her question back to me will be equally as tough.   I know we will both answer them truthfully.  I know it will not damage our friendship.  I know I will walk away with a clear picture of why we are on this short journey together.  I know we will smile as we say goodbye.  I know that Grace will get the last word.  I know she will ask me to come back again.  I know I will say “you bet Gracie”.  I know she will instruct me as to what I will be doing for her next week.  I know I pray it is not to play barbies.  What I do NOT know, is will this be the last time I visit my Angel Guide …

I love you Gracie, more and more with each passing minute, and when our minutes are up down here on earth, I will keep loving you more and more as you guide me through my journey from your palace above.