Lighthouses

The first team training went exceptionally well. Everyone was friendly, nervous and excited about this experience we're embarking upon and I think that together we will do great things. My body was happy to be back in the water, though my lungs were less enthused. Building up stamina will be my greatest challenge this summer.

  

The morning after practice, I awoke feeling slightly sore but somehow stronger, more accomplished. My phone was blinking with new emails and I saw that I had received my very first donation; not from a badgered friend or family member, but from a stranger. A friend had passed along my blog, and her friend, a four year survivor of non-Hodgkin's lymphoma appreciated my efforts and decided to chip in.  The rest of the day I felt like nothing could bring me down. Her generosity toward a stranger reminded me how closely we're all connected, by friends, by love, by diseases and challenges.

  

In the days since, I have been visiting my family by the ocean. Our small town has a very tall lighthouse which strangers can never seem to find (hint: it's at the end of Lighthouse Blvd.) For me, the official start of summer is the first time someone asks for directions to the tallest structure in town. If they're nice, I tell them the truth. As funny as it seems to have to show someone the way to such an obvious landmark, we all need help finding the clear path some days.

  

The weekend was mostly lovely, but I had some seriously rough emotional waters to navigate.  There were moments when I felt all was lost. In those moments, I relied heavily upon my own lighthouses, my family and my dear friends. I thought of my first donor, a stranger who believes in me, and felt certain that even in the darkest days I will somehow make it safe to the other shore.