Sassafrass

Something humbling and lovely

Yesterday, someone Google searched the phrase

do helmet laws infringe on personal freedom of choice

and found 74,800 responses.

My post was number one on the list.

I took a deep breath in and felt grateful to see that. In other combinations of terms, my post is further down list. I am good with that and mostly pleased to see the pool of responses widening out beyond the conservative publications and big newspapers. Whoever searched this term was asking an important question and honestly, in a wave-my-hand-at-the-person-with-the-microphone-way, it feels gratifying to be one of the respondents.

When I chose to write about my brother's motorcycle accident and then was asked to cross-post it on another site, it was one part cathartic and one part goodwill. I talked to my brother about it and we decided it was important to put the story out there for many reasons, one of them to connect to kids writing paper, parents grieving, people on all sides of the controversy. Every single day, someone finds Sassafrass and that story from a search like this, and that tells me we were right to put my words on the screen.

There's a lot more to be written. If you or a loved one has experienced a brain injury, I hope you will leave a comment or share whatever you are comfortable sharing. If you found us from one of these searches, please feel free to speak up too.

Of course, one of the beauties of blogs is the ability to lurk quietly from behind your own computer. But know that the welcome mat is out to all of you wanting to read more about motorcyle helmet lobbying, traumatic brain injuries, the life that can follow or even just one family's trip from roadside through rehabilitation and beyond.

Today, for WhyMommy

Today, I will give my boy an extra long good-morning hug, even if he wiggles out of it and even if he doesn't savor the sweetness of the moment like I will.

Today, I will send out warm thoughts to all the inspirational survivors I know, to all the people who have hearts and courage and hope stronger than violence, illness, injury, circumstances way beyond anyone's control. And to those who have safely boarded their flight to the next plane, and the family members they've left to continue their work on this planet.

Today, I will take more than one grateful moment to lift up the blessings and turn away from the challenges.

Today, I will revisit some of the posts and blogs I've admired by women who've chosen to write with rawness and eloquence and sincerity about the truth of their lives, whatever their choices and journeys have been.

Today, I will seek out an opportunity to do or say something kind just because I see the opportunity.

Today, I will call one of the many friends I've been meaning to call but haven't made the time to call but really, really want to call.

Today, I will send all my healing energy to WhyMommy who is on a journey through cancer with more wholeness, grace and honesty than any mother with cancer would ever be expected to have.

I won't ask you to get on board with all of today's to-dos. They are my own personal missions in honor of WhyMommy and in gratitude for the life I have right now, in this moment, at this time, today. But please do join me (and many others) in sending a prayer, a comment, a blessing, a bit of the love you have to give WhyMommy's way as she undergoes a double mastectomy and as she looks toward many tomorrows.

I pray that God holds WhyMommy in the palm of her hand and that all of the goodness sent her way will lift up this amazing writer, mother, wife, woman and give her peace.

Two families you've got to meet

Now more than ever, I appreciate what it means to take a good, honest look at your family. And then, for whatever it is in its glory and challenges and smiles and jaws gritted in frustration, making a commitment to be the very best family you can be. I especially appreciate when that best family has room for all of the personalities and problems and possibilities of each person within it.

Maybe it is some of our hardest and most important work to look at the families we are in and commit to rising to the challenges together. The more families I meet through my work and play and neighborhoods and blogs and church and randomly while plying small children with overwhelmingly frosted seasonal cookies at Starbucks, the more I see that it doesn't matter at all who makes up that family or how they all landed together, but rather, how they choose to be and love together.

Perhaps the best of these lessons comes from the people I have the privilege of meeting on CarePages. I profile their journeys into -- and often, through -- life-changing illness and injury.  As a part of the profiles, I read their family websites, page through pictures and interview them. Inevitably, I hit send on my stories filled with inspiration and insights into how to live my own life a little more authentically, with a little more gratitude.

I'd love to introduce you to two families who have been through a lot in the last year -- the Greenbergs and the Knolls.

Both families faced medical crises suddenly and both relied on the strengths and gifts unique to their individual personalities and who they are together to stay focused, positive, hopeful and move every single day toward collective healing. They are amazingly articulate, funny, resourceful, humble, clever, centered and full of so much spirit.

Are these kinds of characteristics the cure for startling, serious illness? Of course not. But what I've also seen is that these characteristics seem to propel the person who is diagnosed forward while pulling their circle of loved ones in close. Thank God, for whatever reason, these families are thriving.

Today, Annie Greenberg, diagnosed this fall with sepsis following pneumonia, and Greg Knoll, diagnosed a year ago with a rare and unexpected cancer, are not just surviving but living well.

Families are not perfect or infallible -- we all know that. We all know that very well. But in the critical moments, when the change slams down or creeps upon us, I really believe that who we are impacts how we get through.

I hope you will take a moment to get to know the Greenbergs and the Knolls, even if you just peek in on the photos that radiate all kinds of good stuff I imagine we all want to incorporate or emphasize or encourage in the families we have, the families we are and the families we so want to be.

Things happen. And often, more quickly than we could ever be prepared for or anticipate. Maybe the gift that the Greenbergs and Knolls offer, the one that stands next to seeing exactly what it is we can survive, is that we have opportunities right here and right now to look closely at our own families. While we can be quiet, while the year is new, while we are healthy and have the chance, maybe now is the best time ever to take the honest look and redefine or redesign our families to get through the big stuff and the everydays.

It is hard work. Believe me, I know. But Annie's smile and the way Greg looks at his wife and daughters tells me it is all so worth it.

You've got to meet this kid

Last month, I interviewed Cailey, a young woman with a very big life. She was born with a congenital heart disease and two years ago at the age of 13, had a very complicated heart surgery. Today, she is as I imagine she's always been -- bubbling with joy and laughter and introspection. As I spoke with her and her father, as I read her website, as I wrote a profile of her and even corresponded with her a bit by email, she inspired me.

In these tough weeks, Cailey's stayed with me. She doesn't settle into her difference or what she's survived. This is the life she is living and already, she is doing it fully. And that doesn't even include all the phenomenal dreams she's devising for herself.

There are people I get to write about who speak to my soul, even in a short hour on the phone. Cailey is one of those people and when you read just a bit about her, I think you will feel the same.

If you are the praying or good energy or warm thought or vibrations in the universe type of person, take this Sunday to send a bit of your own light up and out to Cailey.  Somewhere in Texas, I imagine, she's doing that for someone else, and wouldn't that make for a rich beginning to the week?

Deadlining

I'm frantically finishing up a story on an exuberant, hilarious teenage grrrl and I want to give this fierce, focused young woman my full attention today. But please, don't let me stop you from getting a dose of the good stuff. Do read this great article in the New York Times (the TIMES, people!) that features my inspirational friends Glennia, Stefania, Beth among them who are getting their blog on politically and getting a lot of buzz for their efforts. I am so proud of them and I know you will be impressed as well.

Meet you back here tomorrow.

Happy Blogiversary to me!

One year ago, I took a deep breath and brought Sassafrass into the world.

It felt like a big leap but, like the choice to try to become a parent, I gulped down a martini or two and got down to business. And much like the choice to try to become a parent, within minutes, I had a blog to baby to match the baby I blogged about.

Sassafrass wasn't my first foray into blogging. For nine months (coincidence? I think not), I blogged here. But somehow, it wasn't enough. I had more to say and I wanted my words to be completely my own.  After many words of wisdom and gentle nudges from a lovely and talented colleague (a thousand thank yous, sweet friend), I made this little corner of the internet my own.

Through introductions made by another gifted writer friend (a thousand lattes, mama), I got a job blogging here, writing this fun and fabulous feature. And when my original blogging job ended, I somehow stumbled into this gig with bloggers I've been oohing, ahhhing and lusting over for a long old time and which has been more fun and opinionated and snarky and gloriously cuss-word-inundated than I ever imagined while I was grinding away as a nonprofit (oh the pain in my eye!) grantwriter. After that, the opportunity to join other Chicago moms in a collaborative blog came my way and then the emotional and spiritual challenge of writing profiles on inspirational survivors of illness and injury.

The best part of this anniversary is the reminder that a life coach and friend told me when I came to her sobbing one session. I had a freelance position with a corporate firm that consulted to nonprofits and it was grueling, devalidating and high-paying work. I was miserable and I felt lost in a career I could no longer bear.

"Jessica," my life coach friend told me, "release the fist-hold you have on this. Release your tight grasp. If your hand is open, you have no idea what amazing things might fall into the palm of your hand."

It was great advice, and not only because she was right, but because she told me at a time when I thought blogs were for dorks and worth no more than an eye roll. While I can (ahem) joke about joining the dork ranks now, I do believe in my heart that this is a powerful tool, especially for women, especially for writers, especially for mothers. I never dreamed I'd actually have a career writing about anything I want. But here I am.

It hasn't all been roses and sunshine. I'd love more financial security and an office that is not also our dining room. I'd love it if I didn't have to depend on my husband's benefits. I sometimes long for regular hours that do not include midnight and I often wish I could see my coworkers in person more than once a year. But just when one of these things feels weighty or tiresome, then I read something hilarious by a fellow blogger, I get a comment that reminds me why I publish my random thoughts and tirades (fame, power, glory, sanity points and occasionally free shampoo samples), and I remember that I am in exactly the right place for the me that I am and the life that I have right now.

Who knows what the years ahead will hold for me and for this growing blog o' mine? We will see. In the meantime, I will just keep typing away, occasionally pausing to open my hand, palm up. Waiting. Ready. Hopeful.

So Happy Blogiversary, Sassafrass. Here's to you, baby grrrl. 

Celebrate along with me! Here are a few of the places I'm blowing out candles and wearing a tiara this week:

*  Jillian (JILLIAN!) Michaels commented on my post about her here and on my interview with her here. If I had her phone number, I would be seriously dangerous, my friends.

*  My bit on The Nanny Diaries was posted here and picked up here.  And somehow, I am still on this list with some other wowzer bloggers.

*  My bit on closet country lovin' posted here was picked up by The Tennessean. Give it some cuddles, y'all.

Truly, I am humbled and thrilled each time I see these seeds blow out over the screen. Now, who can get us a table at The Melting Pot? I'm kidding. It's Applebee's or bust, sister friends.

Safely aboard

This morning, I led the prayer at my church. I love to do this because I love the challenge and the centeredness that comes in piecing together words into one prayer. Before I stood up in front of the congregation, my heart was racing with the normal nervousness of speaking your writing aloud, especially to a large group of people. And my thoughts kept turning over and over to Miles Levin.

And then I looked down at the bulletin. August 19th. I believe that it is his birthday. I felt like I'd been patted on the shoulder, reassured why I was thinking of this now-19-year old who has been writing about his journey through cancer for two years. When I stood up in front of the congregation, I asked them to pray for Miles and his many loved ones, especially his family, especially today, especially as he makes the transition into death. Whether I have his birthday correct or not, I remember reading that he really wanted to make it to that day, and that seems to count for much more than the number on the calendar.

It was raining hard and I got home, changed my clothes, kissed Lil E and Bruce and checked my email. And there it was. Miles died early this morning, released from the pain and the deeply emotional struggle with cancer.

I'd like to believe that this man's spirit is now free and I understand that his family must be overwhelmed with new pain and unspeakable loss. Surely, our prayers, warm thoughts and healing wishes can only do good.



If you'd like to read more about Miles, you can start here.

If you are the praying kind

There is much to write about our trip to Las Vegas and the boy and little life details, but that all feels quite small now.

For several months, I've had the privilege of writing Stories of Inspiration for CarePages, a resource that offers free websites to people who need to communicate with loved ones when someone is facing an illness or injury.

CarePages is a great site and I get to interview and write profiles of the people who are using their own online updates and photo galleries to keep loved ones and even strangers connected. It has been a good writing challenge for me, a powerful and exhausting emotional investment and a part of my professional and spiritual calling.

Of course, as soon as I read the pages and interview the moms of premature babies, the dads of very ill kids, the people recovering from intensive cancer treatment -- whatever their situations and stories are -- I am involved. This investment is necessary as I write about them, but even more, is just what happens among people put together like this. Their stories impact me and that is a good thing, a growing thing.

Last month, I wrote a Story of Inspiration on Miles Levin, a 19-year old kid with a rare form of aggressive cancer and a lot to say. He's kept a prolific and philosophical blog on his CarePage and out of that and the energy he's fed to the universe during his treatment and travels over the last two years, he's been interviewed by Anderson Cooper and guest-blogged on Anderson Cooper 360, covered by CNN and met Bob Woodruff.

He's received many accolades. His mother and father and sister have guest-blogged on his CarePage and their insights and activism have touched me. He's received more than 5,000 messages to date and has made friends with many of the people from around the world who post on his message board.

And now, Miles is dying. His mother often talks about the spaceship coming for him and it feels strangely and sweetly right. Because I interviewed his father and because of the timing of the story, I've never met or spoken to Miles. But I feel close to him, perhaps because of the way he writes, perhaps because I wrote about him, perhaps because of where we each are in our journey.

As this happens, I am full of gratitude and some grief. It is hard to face that things like this happen to people, let alone kids, let alone boys with floppy brown hair and soulful eyes that of course remind me of my own sweet monkey. I am also full of prayers for the whole family, that they may find what they need in this single moment. Peace. Silence. Reassurance. Laughter. Sleep. Memories. Comfort. Hope. Whatever it is, I hope it winds its way to their home.

And if you are a person who prayers or pushes energy out into the world or just takes a moment of silence, will you join me? Today, for Miles Levin and his family.