Do the Thing.
Yesterday started out like any other morning. A quick morning snuggle with Henry. Breakfast for Henry (hot chocolate with a Halloween straw, half a banana, and a small Kodiak pancake), tea for me. Feed the dog. Feed the tortoise. Then split to our own bathrooms to finish getting ready.
I walked into my bathroom, mindlessly scrolling my phone, enjoying a quiet me-moment for a nano second. A Facebook memory popped up.
October 5, 2020. I reread my post documenting a pinch-me weekend of traveling to the Preakness Stakes (the second leg of horse racing’s Triple Crown that follows the Kentucky Derby) in Baltimore, Maryland. At the time, Bob and I were shareholders in a racing partnership of three Arabian racehorses. Incredibly, all three were entered in the $100,000 UAE President Cup, a Grade 1 race for purebred Arabians that took place at the same track and on the same day as the Preakness Stakes. We had backside privileges, rubbed elbows with industry elite and celebrities, watched several of the most prestigious and lucrative horse races in the world from our owner’s suite on the rail, and, most importantly, saw our three horses, whom I loved dearly, inspire us with their incredible heart.
I smiled. Three years ago. Crazy, I thought, as I flipped the faucet on to wash my face.
I caught a look at myself in the mirror and paused momentarily. My face was tired. My head was bald. My fingers and toes were buzzing with the beginnings of neuropathy. My stomach hurt from constipation. It was all sort of a pathetic sight.
Who would have known I’d be looking at this reflection in the mirror three years later?
I sighed, indulging in a bit of momentary self-pity.
I looked down again at all the Preakness photos on my phone. A smiling, healthy me with dear friends and not a care in the world except planting as many kisses on soft noses as possible in a period of three days.
I can’t remember details from the trip, but I’m certain it was a scrape-the-money-together situation to buy the flight and pay for the trip and situate Henry and make sure Bob had what he needed and blah, blah, blah.
But we somehow pulled it off.
Man, I’m so glad we figured it out and I did this, I thought. I didn’t fully appreciate the simplicity of those times then, but I sure do now.
*****
My parents now live in Santa Ynez Valley. They built an adorable house on the back of my sister, Jamie, and her husband’s property, and reside only a mile away from us. A dream!
My Dad’s third cousin (and lifelong family friend) is currently in town visiting. As kids, my sisters and I would often play with her kids when we were little, but it’s been twenty-five years since I’ve seen her. So, I was excited to see her at a dinner Mom and Dad hosted last night.
After the scrumptious meal, Renee showed us photos of her girls’ families and their kids. (Henry also relegated us all to watching a few videos of his soccer goals and flag football touchdowns.) One of her granddaughters is also named Evelyn, and goes by Evie, too!
We wrapped up to leave when Renee told me that they pray for me every day. I thanked her.
“No, I mean, literally we pray for you every day. We always pray for ‘the other Evie’.”
It deeply touched me. How lucky I am to have intentional, daily prayer from friends I even haven’t seen in twenty-five years! In my deepest heart, I know it’s helping. I’m one fortunate girl.
*****
Our dog, Joy, is keenly aware of her potential window for a walk – after I get home from taking Henry to school but before I sit down with my laptop. In this small window, she always gives me her best dissertation on why a walk is absolutely necessary.
I gave in this morning, and off we went to our normal walking route… a bridle path on dirt that meanders through horse farms, beautiful estates, forest coves, and vineyards. Double bonus: it’s all fenced off with non-climb fence, which means I can let her off leash for the whole mile and a half. (This makes for a much more enjoyable experience for both of us.)
I rounded a corner toward the end of the walk and noticed the neighboring estate’s maintenance man tending to some landscaping. He is Hispanic with intensely kind eyes and a heartfelt smile whenever I see him. It had long been obvious he recognized my condition, and I’d often wondered what the source of his empathy was. A personal experience with cancer? Or was he simply a kind soul who was generous with his kindness? Who knows?
Today, he motioned to me.
You want me to come? Stop? Do you want to meet Joy?
Our language barrier left me trying to figure out his request.
He motioned to a big lavender bush between us and pulled out his shearers, gesturing to its beautiful smell and would I like some?
Si! Muchas gracias! (That’s about the extent of my Spanish.)
I watched him carefully cut a large handful, then handed them to me, accompanied by his kind smile.
I patted my heart and smiled. He gave me a genuine, long hug, put his hands together in a prayer formation, patted his heart back, and spoke encouragement to me. We locked eyes and I smiled my gratitude, not just for the flowers, but for his touching act of kindness.
What a kind man, I thought as I walked away. I felt myself tearing up a little as I looked at the flowers. What is it about the kindness of strangers that touches us so deeply? Makes us feel so seen? For me, I believe it’s because I experience God in that moment of exchange since God is Love.
I felt a blog forming in my head and snapped a quick selfie with the lavender bundle.
As I looked into my phone’s camera for the pic, I noticed my hat.
I was wearing my Preakness hat.
It hit me as this full-circle moment over the last 48 hours: The contrast of the Preakness weekend three years ago. Prayers over me from another little Evie in South Carolina. And now seeing God’s face and experiencing his love through a person I couldn’t even speak with.
It felt like a divine tap on the shoulder.
Hey! Evie! Let this be a reminder that all is ok. That I see you. That I’ve got this. That I am taking care of you. And that you are loved. All is ok. Rest in this reality.
My tired body and pulsating limbs soaked in this perfectly timed reassurance with each deep breath of the fragrant lavender bundle I held.
*****
Everyone tells you to just do it. Do the thing that makes your heart soar. What is that “thing” for you?
On the day I wrote that Facebook post, if you’d told me that three years later I’d be rereading it already five months into chemo, I would have laughed at you. Yet here we are.
This is my plea to lean into the things that make you feel most alive. Pull the trigger. Book the trip. Have the conversation. Take the time.
Do the thing. Because only now do I truly understand that it’s more precious and fleeting than we know.
*****
A few concluding thoughts for the week:
ONLY ONE MORE. It’s hard to believe, but I am down to my last scheduled chemo on Tuesday, October 17th. I may throw a party! Please pray my body and spirit remain strong.
I have an MRI scheduled for October 12th to make sure the chemo did its job. There is a term called “Scanxiety,” which, as it turns out, is a real thing. Please pray for peace prior to this MRI, as well as a clean MRI with no surprises.
My mastectomy is scheduled for November 15th. A month of radiation will follow in January. The reconstruction surgery will be put on hold until Fall 2024. And the hysterectomy will fit in somewhere within that timeframe.
As always, thank you so much for all the love and support in the form of playdates, help with Joy, incredible homemade meals, hugs, prayers, and encouragement.
With love,
Evie
