When you wonder: "what can I do?", here's something

"I wish Opa could come back", Jilly said the other day at the table where we were seated coloring pictures.

"Yeah, me too." Both Belly and I nodded our heads and kept coloring. Jilly says things like this all time.

"Are you going to die, Mommy?" This time I put down my crayon and looked at her.

I always dread this question. I want to say, "NO! I'm going to live a long, long life and die when you are an old, creaky woman".

Except, what happens if I DO die? A car accident, a hair dryer falls into the bathtub, Freddy Krueger. . .all the creepy ways. Or, maybe just an illness like the cancer that took my father.

I tell her the truth---that I don't know when I'm going to die, that no one really knows. She should make sure she loves the people around her as much as she can because we don't know.

Then, jokingly, I tell her not to worry and that I'll do my best to live until she's super old.

This conversation came back to me this morning as I was catching up on Lisa's blog. Yes, we all know we are going to die, but she KNOWS. She's had to tell her two girls, the worst possible thing a mother must have to tell her children. You must check out her story and feel inspired by her strength and grace.

Her story has made me even more committed to a group I joined as a volunteer last year. The groups is called Chemo Angels, but before you click away with the thought that this must be the most depressing group ever, let me tell you about them.

Chemo Angels matches volunteers with a person undergoing chemotherapy. Volunteers can choose to send this person cards or small gifts to let them know that someone is thinking of them.

I chose to be a "Card Angel" and at least once a week (twice is preferred), I write a short note in a card and send my "angel mail" to a woman who doesn't know me. I know only a few things about her: her name, age, type of cancer, her favorite color and that's about it. I send her drawings from the kids, stories of our week, a few photos from our vacation, always ending my cards with a note of hope.

I never expected to hear back from her. This is a one-way relationship---think of yourself as bestowing little bits of hope and kindness to someone who may be scared and sick. I once received a note from a coordinator to tell me that L. was getting my notes and loved hearing about the kids.

Then I got a note a few weeks ago that made me cry. It was from L. telling me her doctor had pronounced her "cancer free".

I plan to send her cards every now and then, even though she has officially "graduated" from the program. But I'm also about to sign on for my next patient. I'd like to get a parent of young children this time, so that the kids can send notes to the family as well.

It's not enough to bring back my dad or to save Lisa's life, but it's something I can do while I'm still here.


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Chemo Angels is free to join and raises money in very quiet, no-pressure ways. If you cannot volunteer your time, please consider making a donation so that their work can continue.

And, if Lisa's story touches you, please consider donating to her family's fund. The last thing they need to worry about right now are medical bills.