Some days I question my motivation for blogging. In my more honest moments, I’ll admit there’s some self-serving here in the restaurant of writing life—the immediate gratification of seeing my words in print without having to beg an agent or editor or publisher to read them first, the comments that are encouraging, and the awareness of my family and friends knowing that on any given day they might become subjects for the next day’s posts that keeps them wondering what they should or shouldn’t say next (smile, I’m kidding).
I’ve truly enjoyed being able to use my blog to post author interviews. As a writer-in-training, I learn from them and have a legitimate reason to pry into their personal and writing lives!
My students have also provided fodder for blogs and encouraged my blogging–by the way, Seth and Jacob, your names are now on my blog–and, quite a few of them, have their own blogs.
I’ve also had chances to explore and write about my struggles, share them, and discover that we are not alone on the ship of life; we’re just in different cabins. All we have to do is open the doors and find a place to meet.
What all this is leading up to is, until this morning, I had not considered that as a community, we who blog can reach out to help others and to witness God’s grace. I’m not advocating taking on a “cause of the moment” or even that my blog would become a public venue for solicitation. But when I read, as I did this morning, about Heather, my soul is stirred to help as I hope yours will be as well.
If you click on the “For Heather” button above, you will be taken to BooMama, whose site on any given day is,well, so funny, I’m warning you NOT to read it if you’re in the process of eating or drinking because your keyboard will suffer. Her post today, though, is explaining why and what she’s coordinating-with the help 0f others-for Heather.
Do I know Heather? No. I know of her because she is one of the designers for Swank Designs. I’ve cruised their site because many of the eye-catching blogs I visit are designed by Swank.
Heather’s daughter, Emma,was supposed to die before she was born, recieved a heart transplant at five months, and was diagnosed with autism and Transplant Related Coronary Heart disease at age five.
But that’s not why I’m writing this about Heather. Just recently, Heather was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor.
My mother died at the age of 56 because her lung cancer had spread to her brain. She lived less than six months from the day the doctors found the tumors. She was two years older than I am now.
During one of her many hospitalizations, my mother-after one of her restless naps-sat up erect in her hospital bed, leaned toward me and said, “Tell me about yourself. Tell me who you are.” At first, I thought she was asking me to share those buried parts of myself that we’d never shared as mother and daughter. But then I could see, by the expectant look on her face, that she did not really know she was talking to her only daughter. Over thirty years had been stolen from the memory of the woman who had given me life. And so I introduced myself to my mother, “My name is Christa.”
I know this all too well.
Heather and her husband Mark are leaving April 25th for her appointment at the Mayo Clinic in Minnesota. Donations are to help offset whatever costs they may have, in whatever way possible.
These words and the video that follow are from Heather’s blog: This is my heart, guys. This is my heart.