the wisdom of Wendy

Everyone should be so lucky as to have a Wendy in their life. My Wendy ... her name is, well, Wendy. Wendy and I grew up together. Literally. We've known each other for as long as we can remember. We became best friends when were still little. We grew up at the same church, attended the same high school. watched countless hours of Anne of Green Gables and The Twilight Zone. We ate too many cookies, stayed out too late, and had general revelry and good times together. Our ways parted a bit after high school, as I stayed here and she moved to Berkeley. Then I moved to China and she moved to San Francisco. She finally moved back down here, but got a job in LA. Its amazing how far Los Angeles can be from La Habra. Then I got married and started having babies, and we lost touch for a while. However, in the last year and a half or so, we have made more of an effort to reach out to one another, and our friendship has begun to grow again. Though our friendship has had its ups and downs, I am so grateful for my Wendy. There's just no one like a lifelong friend.

A few days before my surgery, I had a chance to spend an afternoon with Wendy and her mom (a second mom to me growing up). It was lovely. We had chocolate chip cookies and ice cream shakes (comfort food, of course). And we sat and chatted the afternoon away. Did I mention it was lovely?

During the course of our conversation, I got to sharing with them some of my fears about the coming months, with surgery and chemo and trying to manage my household in the midst of it all. I told them I really hoped I would be the brave girl with cancer. The girl who doesn't mind her flat chest, her bald head, her Frankenstein-like appearance (please don't correct me about Frankenstein being the doctor, not the monster ... just work with me here). I want to be the girl who doesn't complain about losing key parts of her femininity, knowing it was necessary to save my life. I want to be the fun girl who wears Sydney Bristow wigs, gets matching head scarves for her kids, and stares down chemo like its nothing more than a hangnail.

But I'm afraid I'm going to be the scared girl who wants to hide in my room when my hair starts falling out. I'm afraid of being overcome by sadness as treatment goes on and on and on. I'm afraid I will ask too much of my husband, be too short with my kids. I'm afraid of being angry, of pushing people away.

And then Wendy said the wisest thing. She reminded me that I am allowed to be all of those girls. Some days I will feel brave and head to Target with red hair and a flat chest and not care one whit. Some days I will need extra time in my room to let my emotions have their way. All of that is still me. And all of that is OK. It really is. Cancer is a huge deal. And its going to bring out the best and worst in me. I suppose most of all, I want to be the girl who simply embraces each day, whatever it may bring. It has been so freeing, realizing, remembering, that I am who I am, and who I am is exactly who God has made me to be. And together, we can do this.

Really, you should get yourself a Wendy.