A black eye and $250 closer to cures...

I've been inspired by my friends and coworkers to keep a training blog and chronicle my personal journey over the next few months as I train for the Moab Century Tour and fund raise for The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society.

I can guarantee you will be informed and inspired by the stories of hope and survivorship shared and I can also guarantee, I will still be flicted no matter what :)

This marks week three of my official training. Today, I am $150 closer to my goal thanks to Alisa and Mary Jo and today, I got a black eye while riding my bike.

"How..." you ask "did you raise $150 in a day?!"

Well, thanks to the advent of social media, I can ask early and often via facebook and Mary Jo (a 5-year cancer survivor and TNT full marathon alum) remembered my recent post about the "Century Calf Club."

Anyone donating $100 or more to LLS this season will be represented by their name or their honored hero's name on the back of my calf for the 100 mile ride! These amazing and generous folks will keep me pedaling up the hills of Southern Utah along Utah State Highway 313 and into Dead Horse Point State Park.

Oh, wait, you wanted to know how I got a black eye riding my bike?

I honestly think I must have a bullseye tattooed on my face somewhere because, no lie, a rock, a beetle, a small bird, OR something flew into my face and about knocked me off my bike. It hurt so bad, I saw stars, literally! I feel like someone was in a a tree with a bee bee gun aiming at my face.

Thank goodness my coworker, Andrew, was riding with me because I was so out of it after that, I don't know if I would have found my way home. Eventually, I found my way back home to a cool couch and an ice pack. What an adventure.

Good times and always flicted.

More adventures ahead, I'm sure!

Humor me and DONATE HERE!

Back to FInish Lines...

October 17th, 2011 - walked 26 miles and trotted the final .2 across the finish line at the Nike Women's Marathon. It was an awesome experience and the 5th in my Team In Training roster. The slogan from this year's race was "I Run to Be."

It's confused me ever since I heard it and now that I have necklace, that I wear often, that states this, I've spent every so often thinking about it. I think I am still confused since I don't know what I be these days.

There are so many things that I do all the time that I hope will help me be whatever it is I am supposed to be. Unfortunately, that is a bit of a mystery to me right now.

My work is more and more less and less satisfying. I am often tired and irritated with the eternal politics and red tape that is a part of every job. But, that hasn't stopped me from working many hours, late into the night and on weekends to strive to stay ahead and meet the expectations of those who are counting on me. So, I work to be...what?

My love life is no less satisfying. I continue to strive to stay positive as much as possible. I've spent a few months getting to know a few different guys who have been nice but not what I'm looking for. In the end, there is a voice in the back of my mind and in my heart that tells me I've found what I'm looking for but I am unwilling to take the risk and tell him how I really feel. The pain of unrequited concern is worse that any mediocre dating relationship. Unfortunately, it is hard for me to be happy with mediocre. I date to be...what?

Over the past ten months, since my last post, two friends from my past died unexpectedly within three weeks of each other. A former friend from my teenage youth group at church, died while trying to save his children at the beach. They survived, he did not. He was 37 and his widow, single mom of 4 and one on the way, is 35. Then, a friend from Durham, died at 35 after some routine surgery, of a blood clot. She would have been 36 today. Their deaths and funerals were unreal and difficult to digest. Seeing my friends and family mourn was also unreal and difficult to digest. I have cried many unexplained tears at their loss. I had lost touch with them and while I counted both as friends, hadn't spoken with either of them in years. Again, like in the past, regret is my constant companion now as I continue to think about their lives and the reasons why and how our lives drifted apart. I cry to be...what?

Ten months ago, I wrote the night before my knee surgery, that I had loved ones battling cancer and other illness. The same is as true today as it was then. Those same people are in the same struggle today as they were then, even more so. Whether in their lives of struggle to get well or the lives of those who have succumbed to illness, I am reminded that our earthly finish lines aren't always expected, understood, embraced or welcomed. Everyday, I wish I had a magic wand that could heal them and help them overcome their diseases so their lives can be full and long. But, no such wand is at my disposal and their suffering, no matter how unfair, schools them and well as me, about courage and stamina and hope. I hope to be...what?

I read my past posts and I know in my heart what I'm missing and where my optimism has gone. Over the past few years, I've had a hard time understanding where my faith plays into everything. I've been angry at the proliferation of sadness and sickness and the lack of miracles in the lives of those that I love and in my own life. I've let that anger put a wall between me and Heavenly Father. I just don't understand. Recently, I've tried praying again and feel a bit better but I know that wall is really big and I've got a lot of work to do to take in down. I pray to be...what?

I run to be, I walk to be, I talk to be, I hope to be, I cry to be, I laugh to be, I long to be, I fight to be, I strive to be, I like to be, I scream to be, I drive to be, I work to be, I sing to be, I hug to be, I sleep to be, I listen to be, I pray to be...

Here's to the birds in our souls - keep hoping.

Ah...Tracy's pensive mood has returned. Late night, can't sleep, wish I could talk all this out of my head but instead, it goes to print. Amber made me promise to stop sending late night emails so instead, I've turned to late night posts on facebook and the like.

One of my favorite things to do when I can't sleep (besides write silly stuff on my blog) is to watch crime dramas on TV. One of my favorites is on USA, In Plain Sight (about witness protection yada yada). The show always ends with the wrap up scenes and a voice over of the main character, Mary Shannon, making some profound yet simplistic statement about life. Tonight, she said:

"We forget sometimes how much the world can hurt. It can hurt people we love, people we don't, people caught in the middle, even people who'd give anything if they could just never ever get hurt again. But sometimes the hurt cant be avoided, it's just coming at us and can't be stopped. It's in us and can't be seen or it's lying next to us in the dark, waiting. But sometimes it doesn't come at all. Sometimes we get this other thing that flutters down out of nowhere and stays just long enough to give us hope. Sometimes rarely, barely but just when we need it the most and expect it the least, we get a break."

It is really sticking with me tonight. Over the past little while, I've either become accustomed to or forgetful of the "hurt" the world can bring. I think I keep myself crazy busy to avoid it or somehow outrun it. Not that I'm unaware or ignorant of others around me, I've just gotten good at compartmentalizing my day to day existence and have become fairly routine in the ebb and flow of life.

Over the past few weeks, my routine has been shaken a few times and now I'm left in that moment of clarity when all is calm but I know the hurt is coming and it can't be avoided. From the peeps I love fighting the valiant fight against cancer and other illnesses, to my knee surgery tomorrow and from friends moving away to that one thing my heart wants most but is constantly reminded that I can't have, the pain is coming and it can't be stopped, like a freight train barreling down on me.

I agree with Mary's insights - so much of the hurt in this world is unavoidable, unstoppable, unrelenting. The immediacy of the pain brings up so many fears and questions that I have found myself feeling overwhelmed and out of control.

Time out. Deep breath. Closed eyes. Silent prayer. A few tears. Be still. The flutter of hope.

So thanks, Mary, for the reminder of the reality of inevitable pain but more importantly, thanks for the reminder about the importance of hope. Because no matter what the outcomes of any of these painful situations will be, the truth remains that the pain will come, I will feel it, and it will change me. But if I've stood still long enough to allow the gentle flutter of hope to stir in my heart, that change will include clarity, learning, strength, peace and love.

Here's to the birds in our souls - I'm going to keep hoping.

Emily Dickinson - Hope

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune--without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

Absences

Saturday, September 10, 2016

The deaths of loved ones and dear friends always provides blunt force trauma to  the fabric of my human heart. This original piece I wrote in 2005 was born while mourning the deaths of two close friends during one week. Over the past 11 years, I've experienced similar losses in short spans of time. This very week, 5 years ago, comes to mind. Two amazing volunteers I worked with closely died a week apart while volunteering with Team in Training. It created a rift in my heart that was almost unbearable. Then, just a short month later, my dear cousin and soul sister, Jennifer, lost her arduous battle to melanoma. As, Eliza Doolittle put it: it "done me in."

Those losses were profound and difficult, so much so that I've never written about them the way I wrote in 2005. Maybe because I'd already foreshadowed the grief I would feel when I wrote then, 

"My resolve is strong today and yet I know that there will be moments in the future when, in the throws of a painful good-bye, I will have my doubts about the prudence of my decision to  love so much. But I have to exercise my faith in the eternal beauty and purposes of love. It is worth it, it is."

That prudence of judgement has been tested mightily over the past months. Late last year, my sister's closest friend and partner in crime passed away suddenly. It was tragic and difficult for us to comprehend. Grieving with family and long-time friends was surreal and hearts are still raw. Her departure and absence will continue to change us in ways we don't even understand. And yet, the ferocious love she gave and received from those who knew her made a positive impact in the world that can never be undone.

This afternoon, I will join my closest friends to celebrate another beautiful life, Mina. She lost her battle to cancer at a painfully young and beautiful age. Her absence is felt starkly because she was so vibrant and bright. Her dear family and friends will feel her loss always. I stand a few paces a part from those who knew her best and loved her most. But, I feel saddened by her absence and grieved for my friends who've lost so much.

What is to be done to fill these spaces? Nothing. 

Their absences will remind us forever of their life and their love that they offered to those of us willing to embrace it. M. Scott Peck was right, the price of love is inevitably pain. In my opinion, that pain, while so very bitter and agonizing, is also the sweetest pain there is. It signifies within our physical beings that hearts were connected, love was shared and souls were enlarged. We must love on.

Wednesday, May 19, 2010

Five years ago, I wrote this after experiencing some great losses in my life. Events in the recent weeks have reminded me of these feelings and I feel the need to repost this.
Five years of loving and losing has proved my original conclusion about life and love and like I said five years ago, what sweet irony. Here's to more living and loving and losing.

Sunday, November 20, 2005

Live Fully or Don't Live at All.

I hate goodbyes. I hate them. I don't hate much but I hate goodbyes. And no matter how people try to soften the blow by saying, "I'll see you later," or "Until next time," that doesn't matter. I hate goodbyes. It's an enmity grown out of my aversion to change but the fact remains that I hate goodbyes.

Those of you who have known me for awhile will agree that some of my strangest behaviors stem from not wanting to say goodbye. I'm usually the last to leave any place: home, work, church, parties, hanging out with friends and pretty much anywhere people are gathered. I get nervous and jittery and act like a stand-up comedian. I perpetuate crazy games that take forever like Life and Phase 10. I say stupid things at moments of departure. I give cheesy cards. I choke and tear up. I give really awkward hugs that catch people off balance. I've even been known to mess up a kiss on the cheek by planting my lips on some random place on the other's face, like the corner of their lips, their nose, their forehead or even their eyelid. It's truly a disaster.

Let's be totally honest, though. All of this is another way to say, I'm selfish. In so many ways, I like my life the way it is, status quo. I like to have my friends and loved ones close by, not more than an arms length or a short drive away. Mainly because I need every one of them so much. In my mind, I don't exist in this world without them. My relationships with others are what has brought me here and what will help me tomorrow and in the future. Without my friends and family, I would be nothing. My love for each one of the people in my life is one of the things I treasure most. I feel so blessed to be able to love so many people. Sometimes I think my heart will burst because I love people so much but it never does, it just keeps stretching, making infinite room for as many as will accept my care and concern.

Departures really throw me for a loop. And I mean departures in the general sense, whether someone has moved across the street or the country, or someone has branched out to other relationships that I am not a part of, or even those that die. It's hard for many reasons but one of the main reasons I am saddened by these changes is that I have a hard time showing these people how much I love them. A day or a week or a year goes by, and I haven't called or emailed. I haven't gone to visit. I haven't sent Christmas cards. I haven't sent birthday cards to them or to their kids. I haven't hugged them and said, "I love you." When people are in close proximity, it's easy. I don't love those that go any less, in fact, I think I love them more because our relationship is perpetuated in my memory and usually, those memories are good, whether or not they are completely accurate.

But according to the Counting Crows (one of my favorite bands), "The price of a memory is the memory of the sorrow it brings." I have to agree. Love and all similar connections require a hefty price. M. Scott Peck, in his book, The Road Less traveled, calls these things, "love's risks." He says of these risks:

If you move out to another human being, there is always the risk that that person will move away from you, leaving you more painfully alone than you were before. Love anything that lives and it will die. Trust anybody and you may be hurt; depend on anyone and that one may let you down. The price of (love) is pain. If someone is determined not to risk pain, then such a person must do without many things; having children, getting married, the hope of ambition, friendship - all that makes life alive, meaningful and significant. Move out or grow in any dimension and pain as well as joy will be your reward. A full life will be full of pain. But the only alternative is not to live fully or not to live at all.

During the first week of November (2005), two very important people in my life passed away. On November 5, one of my friends and former college roommate, Shelley Windsor, fell while rock climbing in Arizona and died. Then the next day, Roger Miller, the bishop of my church congregation, passed away after a brief battle with lymphoma. Both lives were vibrant, brilliant and well lived.

Shelley was a loyal friend, a true outdoorswoman, full of energy, never quitting, always frugal, dedicated to the gospel of Jesus Christ, humble, patient and kind. The short year we lived together at BYU was full of college drama and fun times. She was the even keel that many of us, like myself, needed. She was always reasonable, fair, open and honest. Even though that moment in my life is long past, it remains part of my favorite times for many reasons and Shelley was a part of that. I was fortunate enough to know her and I feel very blessed.

Her death was sudden and unexpected. Attending her viewing and funeral was painful and surreal but because I know she lived a full and faithful life, the pain is certainly lessened. Yet, I have regrets about the sparse contact I had with Shelley over the past few years. I kept up with her through others and the occasional mass emailing. I am saddened that there are things that I didn't get to share with her or say to her. I hope we can catch up someday. 

Bishop Miler had an awesome impact in my life over the three years I knew him. I remember a certain point in my past when I got very caught up in my own inadequacies and heartache. Although I spent many moments in prayer, I felt as if the heavens were shut for some reason and I was left to bear those burdens alone.

One Sunday morning, Bishop Miller shook my hand and asked me how I was doing. I told him "fine." He then asked if I would come and talk with him some time that week and I agreed. At the appointed time, I went to his office and he invited me in. We began the meeting with a prayer and then he sat back in his chair and asked me how I was doing. In that moment, the doors of my broken heart were thrown opened and I was able to share with him the heavy burdens I had been carrying for so long. He reminded me that any place worth going was always uphill and that I was loved and appreciated by many, including my Heavenly Father. Never once was he too busy to listen or treated my burdens as if they were too small to worry with.

And while I know with all of my heart that I will see both of these dear friends again, their absence makes me sad. I feel like this life will be less enjoyable because they are not here to enjoy it with me. I briefly mention these two loved ones here because their absence has been felt so recently and yet there are others whose absence is just as stark and painful. I ask myself often, "What am I going to do? How will I ever survive? How do I show them that I love them now and always?"

Again from The Road Less traveled:

The essence of life is change, a panoply of growth and decay. Elect life and growth, and you elect change and the prospect of death. If we can live with the knowledge that death is our constant companion, traveling on our "left shoulder," then death can become . . . our "ally," still fearsome but continually a source of wise counsel. With death's counsel, the constant awareness of the limit of our time to live and love, we can always be guided to make the best use of our time and live life to the fullest. But if we are unwilling to fully face the fearsome presence of death on our left shoulder, we deprive ourselves of its counsel and cannot possibly live or love with clarity. When we shy away from death, the ever-changing nature of things, we inevitably shy away from life.

In some ways, words have never rung more true to me. In my aversion to change and goodbyes, I have to ask, am I shying away from life? In all honesty, I have to admit that yes, I am. I have more than once allowed a precious opportunity to show love and grow closer to someone to pass because of my fear of the unknown, but perceived painful, ending.

Of course I believe this situation in my life can be remedied. But what sweet irony! 

The way to remedy my situation is to bear the full brunt of the thing I hate. And in doing so, I must embrace the poignant lessons that endings teach. I have to love more people, more fully, more readily, more often and when I'm faced with the inevitable good-bye, I have to be willing to push onward and look heavenward for the comfort and understanding that only a Parent with an Eternal Perspective can give.

My resolve is strong today and yet I know that there will be moments in the future when, in the throws of a painful good-bye, I will have my doubts about the prudence of my decision to love so much. But I have to exercise my faith in the eternal beauty and purposes of love. It is worth it, it is.

The busy day and the squeaky boot

One day, that's all it took. I decided to reconnect with my flicted side, and WHAM, there it was :)

Today was an insanely busy day. Besides the fact that it was a Monday, I had to be at the office at 6:30 AM to prepare for a call at 7. Of course, my sleep was restless, waking often to make sure I wouldn't miss my alarm. Ugh - I hate that.

At 5:30 AM, I decided that there was no reason to try to sleep anymore so, I dragged myself out of bed to get ready. I don't care how attractive you are, it's hard to make yourself up at that hour, but I tried. I threw some snacks in my work bag for breakfast and hurried to the office.

Then, on my way to work, I realized that I had forgot my phone. Rats! One of the busiest days on tap and I had forgotten my dang phone! Because I was leading the call at 7, I couldn't turn around and retrieve it so I made the executive decision to go phoneless - it was unnerving.

At work, I prepped quickly for the call and before I knew it, the call was over and I had another hour to prepare for the next meeting. I had made a "to do" list the night before and I quickly scratched off the last minute details. I finished my list, prepped my out of office email and bolted out the door on my way to Staples to pick up an easel pad for the group to use.

I got to Staples without incidence and continued to follow the directions to the meeting. To my dismay, the directions to the building and parking were not very clear. My heart sank since I had been responsible for setting up the meeting location as well as connecting my colleagues coming into town with these directions. It took me two trips into garages that I had to back out of before I found one to park in.

Once parked, I grabbed my bags and the new easel pad and walked a block to the building where the meeting was being held. I quickly realized that it was going to be an ordeal getting our entire group up to the conference room as the building was secure and we had to be escorted by someone with a badge up to the room. While slightly annoying, it wasn't the end of the world and we only had to make a few trips before the room was full and the meeting was underway.

I felt such great relief once the meeting started since everyone had found the building and we were off to a great start. I sat back in my chair and listened a bit. I had chosen a seat on the corner of the table, so I placed my papers and things on the table, crossed my legs and was settling in. Unfortunately, the room was a bit small for our group, so we were all crowded around the table and my leg was resting against the leg of the table.

While getting comfortable in my seat, I leaned to my left to tuck my skirt under my leg and my boot rubbed up against the leg of the table.

You do the math:

Fake leather + rubbing against a metal table leg = farting sound.

Seriously! Did I have to be leaning to my left when the sound was made!? Really!

You just never know when the next moment will be a moment of embarrassing hilarity or a ready made serving of humble pie :) Eat up, Trace!

You won't do anyone any good...

"You won't do anyone any good pretending to be less than you are."

Some random time ago, I heard this somewhere and I wrote it down. I've been planning on writing about it forever but to my dismay, I haven't had anything to say about this or anything for a long time.

I'm tired of not having anything to say. In 2004, I started this blog. I loved this blog and I poured my heart and soul and many hours of late night musings into it. Many people used to read it and I loved that I was not afraid to write things down and own my opinions, ideas, joys, heartbreaks and all the things that make me "flicted."

Did I really have more to say in 2004 than I do now? Hell no.

I've always had plenty to say. My silence is a reflection of my fear and it sucks. I hate fear. It steals the shine off of life and it sucks the joy out of moments that should be savored. I took a risk and I got rejected. I got my heart broken real bad and I've been pretty trashed on the inside ever since but so what? Like I'm the only one who's ever been trashed, really?

I hear every voice of every coach I've ever had, and my dad, "Suck it up Trace."

I'm ashamed of myself and like that cheesy quote I led with, I won't do anyone any good pretending to be less than I am. I am flicted and I love that about me.

So, it's time to revive The Flicted Friend.

I need to open my eyes again to the amuzing moments and the little life lessons learned in my life and I need to share them. Not because everyone needs to read them, but because I need to share them.

Join me, if you want. Catch up, if you must. Read on, if you like. It will be flicted, I promise.

Chances

Thank you Five for Fighting.

You ask, "Is there a better bet than love?"
I say no.

You say, "Chances lost are hopes torn up pages."
I say I've got the pile of shreds to prove it.

You proclaim, "Chances are only what we make them and all I need."
I say just give me a chance and AMEN.

Five for Fighting - Chances
Chances are when said and done
Who'll be the lucky ones
Who make it all the way?
Though you say I could be your answer
Nothing lasts forever
No matter how it feels today

Chances are we´ll find a new equation
Chances roll away from me
Chances are all they hope to be

Don't get me wrong I'd never say never
Cause though love can change the weather
No act of God can pull me away from you
I´m just a realistic man
A bottle filled with shells and sand
Afraid to love beyond what I can lose when it comes to you
And though I see us through yeah

Chances are we´ll find two destinations
Chances roll away from me
Still chances are more than expectations
The possibilities
Over me

Eight to five, two to one
Lay your money on the sun until you crash what have you done?
Is there a better bet than love?
What you are is what you breathe
You gotta cry before you sing

Chances chances

Chances lost are hopes torn up pages
Maybe this time

Chances are we´ll be the combination
Chances come and carry me
Chances are waiting to be taken
And I can see

Chances are the fascination
Chances won't escape from me
Chances are only what we make them
And all I need

The past 2 years - 2 steps away

It's hard to see the fear inside
As I walk away from you
And distance overcomes the miles
As slowly I pull through
And I cannot reach the world today
Cuz I'm suffering from you
And the more I think, the more I cry
As I walk away from you

I'm two steps away
From loneliness

I'm awake
From the mess we made
I'm alive
And I'm feeling incomplete

I don't understand my life
Or the version that chose you
And the warring hearts and winter came
Now there's nothing left to do
And I cannot reach the world today
Cuz I'm suffering from two
And the more I think, the more we die
As I walk away from you

Two steps away
From loneliness
I'm awake
From the mess we made
I'm alive
And I'm feeling incomplete

I'm two steps away

I'm two steps away
I'm two steps away

Two steps away
From loneliness
I'm awake
From the mess we made
I'm alive
And I'm feeling incomplete

I'm two steps away

- Patti LaBelle
Timeless Journey

My roommate, my friend, my hero.

Diana is my roommate. She's a great roommate. She's never loud, she isn't too messy, and she lets me watch NCIS marathons on Saturday afternoons. She also has amazing taste in clothes, just like me.



Diana is my good friend. She listens to me and cares about my life. We laugh a lot and we've certainly had some great adventures together.

Diana is also my hero, defined as someone who is admired for their brave deeds. I admire Diana for many or her brave deeds like working with the teenagers at church, always being honest with others and helping those in need.

Recently, Diana faced a personal fear of something new and unknown and joined Team In Training. Not only will she complete her first 10K in October, she is also raising $500 for The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society.

I am so proud of my roommate, my friend and my hero, Diana. No brave deed goes unnoticed and while I'm sure that Diana would humbly decline the title of hero, I'm sure those who are battling blood cancers would want to cheer her on.

I hope you'll help cheer her on, too.

http://pages.teamintraining.org/nca/MC10K09/ddelamare_LTN

www.teamintraining.org

I love my job. I can't think of anything that I would rather do than my job. Call it whatever you want, but I've definitely drank the Team In Training Kool-Aid and I am trying my best to share it with others.

This summer marks the five year anniversary of Roger Miller's lymphoma diagnosis. A few short months later, he passed away. As the leader of our congregation, his absence was felt on so many levels. It had only been two months since he had given me some of the best advice I had ever heard, "Anywhere worth going is always uphill" and there we all were, struggling uphill through grief toward understanding.

I stumbled upon LLS and TNT quite by accident a few months later and it all seemed so clear. I was going to complete a triathlon and I was going to do it in memory and honor of a man who I knew would always inspire me to keep going uphill. I joined the Team and became a part of a family of amazing athletes who strive for cures, one mile at a time. I was nervous and overwhelmed and so often afraid of failure but the coaches and the staff were always there to encourage me in my uphill battle and help me toward my personal finish line. Less than a year later, I found myself crossing the actual finish line of the Disney World Triathlon, having a new sense of self awareness and more confidence than I had ever felt.

It is one of my greatest blessings to spend my time and energy with such an amazing group of talented professionals, volunteers and advocates as we all work together to cure cancer, improve the lives of patients and their families and help as many as will break through the tape at the end of their own uphill climbs.

GO TEAM!!

I'm fresh out of answers and good jokes.

I hardly blog anymore. It sucks really. I used to really enjoy looking at my life and laughing at the funny things that happen to me and how they relate to principles that seemed important. Not so much anymore.

I can't decide whether it's because I've become so cynical that I only see cruel irony instead of amuzing or it's because after enough disappointment in life, I've grown tired of hearing those hollow sounding principles echo in the chambers of my empty heart. Who knows?

I love my job. I was recently given an amazing opportunity to lead the Team In Training campaign at our LLS chapter here in DC. I work with some of the best people on the planet - no kidding. All of my coworkers are awesome and I can't imagine working anywhere else. We are a dedicated group of professionals busting our butts to raise as much money to fund critical research for cures for blood cancers as well as fund the best programs and services for folks who are fighting cancer.

You would think that after three years, I would somehow become accustomed to learning about someone else who is fighting cancer but it never gets easy or less painful to find out that yet again, someone you love and admire has cancer.

One of our interns was told recently that her cancer is back. She's young and trying to finish grad school and has her whole life ahead of her and she's already beat blood cancer twice. Now, she has to fight for her life again and I don't think that's fair.

I've quit asking why because there is no good answer for that question and I am plum out of my funny jokes and light hearted banter to ease away the worry, fear and sadness. She has to fight again and she might not win and that sucks.

I am certainly passionate about what I do and I can live without a lot of things. I've proven to myself that I can still keep breathing and living and successfully manage most things in my life while silently suffering in the silent chambers of my own soul. I know that I'm never going to be that Flicted Friend that Randy and Charles laughed at so much all those years ago. That's OK to me - it's part of growing up that I've fully accepted and welcomed in some ways.

But what I don't think I am going to be able to survive is watching those I love and care for suffer over and over. Where is the balm in Gilead for them?

Straight up - that's how I feel.

Is the crust really the best part?

I just finished reading Same Kind of Different as Me - by Ron Hall & Denver Moore. On the cover it says, "A modern-day slave, an international art dealer and the unlikely woman who bound them together."

One of the volunteers that I work with recommended it to me last year and I've just now had the courage to read it. This volunteer is an amazing woman who lost her 4 year old son to leukemia six years ago. Amidst their pain, they brought together a community of supporters and have been instrumental in raising tens of thousands of dollars that have gone to research and patient services. They've also started their own family foundation that gives financial support to families in their community who have children who are fighting cancer.

I wanted to share a paragraph that is echoing in the empty halls of my heart these past few days.

From Denver's words, "I know when somebody you love is gone, that's the last time you feel like thanking God. But sometimes we has to be thankful for the things that hurt us cause sometimes God does things that hurts us but they helps somebody else (p. 211)."

Elder Neal A. Maxwell taught, "Irony is the hard crust on the bread of adversity" (Ensign, May 1989). I feel like I've been carbo-loading for the past two years and I'm stuffed.

You would think that when someone says, "You have been an answer to my prayers" that I would feel like the personification of a miracle, empowered, humbled, awed, overwhelmed and grateful for being an instrument in the Lord's Hand in bringing respite and relief to one or more of His children in need. Most of the time, I do.

But sometimes, I don't.

In fact, there have been times that I've said in my heart, "I'm glad your prayers were answered, but what about mine?" You would think that I would love to receive this ultimate compliment to me and my humble and spiritually discerning self (please hear my sarcasm).

If I'm 100% honest about how I feel in my heart, sometimes being the answer to someone's prayer is hard. How ironic is that? I give and in return there's pain.

Welcome to the Savior's life, Tracy.

In a similar vein, Elder Maxwell also cautioned not to wait around the altar of sacrifice for a receipt from the Lord. I guess the Lord won't overlook my constant loitering any longer so maybe I should take one last look at what's there and let it go.

Like Denver said, "sometimes God does things that hurts us but they helps somebody else." He goes on to say, "If you want to know the truth about it, nothin ever really ends but begins somewhere else where we can't hear it or see it or feel it."

Walking away - walking away - looking back - walking away - walking away.

Fe = Better Tracy

The color is starting to come back - hallelujah.

It's more than official, I'm certifiably anemic. Three IV iron treatments in six years, does anyone see a pattern developing?

Too bad I have to go and let myself go to hell before I'll actually do anything about it. I chewed so much ice in the last eight months, I actually cracked my only crown. Now, I'll have to sell a kidney to pay for the dental repair.

Monday was a long day but at least I left knowing I would feel better. Unfortunately, anemics aren't the only ones who visit the hematologist, so do cancer patients. During my six hour treatment, three other patients were in and out, all receiving chemotherapy, all fighting cancer and all hoping for a miracle.

It was a long day of reality check. Life's still not fair. Fair is where you go to see the pig races. Yep, life is tough and all of us are sick in one way or another, hoping for a miracle.

New Moon - Chapter 4

Time passes. Even when it seems impossible. Even when each tick of the second hand aches like the pulse of blood behind a bruise. It passes unevenly, in strange lurches and dragging lulls, but pass it does. Even for me.

Bella Swan, New Moon, Chapter 4, p.93

It's true - thanks Bella for saying it.

Grandmas are the best.

My mom - the best grandma in the world - with her little ones: Maya Rose, Mason Wesley, Annabella Sophia and Riley Lane. Give us a month and we'll have Nina Elizabeth joining us :) Family, nothing better.

Don't take your eye off her for a minute!

Maya Rose - she's going to be a heart breaker and maybe break a few other things while she's at it! In less than a month, she will be the middle child of my sister's three girls. THREE GIRLS!

My sister, Marty, will have a house full of girls and I can't imagine anyone better suited for the job. It's funny how life can sometimes replay itself over and over. I find it interesting how much her oldest, Annabella, is similar to me in her personality and desire to please others and always follow the rules.

Then there's Maya Rose. You can't take your eye off her for a minute or she'll be at the top if the stairs or the slide. She's a mover and a shaker and marches to the beat of her own little drum, just like her mom :) It's a good thing that my sister is the one with all the girls. Her girls will grow up confident and unafraid and will make wonderful contributions to the world around them, just like their mom!

Watch out world! Here they come :)

We aren't that kind of family.

This is Riley Layne. She's five and is my second oldest niece. She, and her brother Mason, live near my parents and they have the good fortune of spending lots of time with Bonna and Granpy. Last weekend, Riley and Mason spent some quality time with Bonna. In one day, they baked sugar cookies with the leftover dough from the holidays, made peanut butter pine cone bird feeders, spent some time mulching the flower beds and dyed Easter eggs.

After a really full day, Bonna said to Riley, "Maybe you and Mason can make some more peanut butter pine cone bird feeders at your house."

Riley looked back at my mother and said (rather incredulously), "We aren't that kind of family."

My mom, holding back a laugh, asked, "What do you mean, Riley, you aren't that kind of family."

Without skipping a beat, she replied "We don't do those kinds of things at our house, Bonna." You've got to love five year olds.

2009, just in time

I will write again, I know I will. Somewhere inside of me are the words just waiting to come out. 2008 sucked the very life out of me. I have little to nothing left of what I was two years ago and it pisses me off that I'm as lost as I am. I'm not even at square one, I'm at square negative 10 or something. 2009 could not have come soon enough. I promise, this year, I will write and it will be meaningful and not full of anger or malice or sarcasm, all the things that I have felt. Those things are not me. I am on a mission to find the real Tracy and bring her home to stay. The malice has run its course and left its mark. Now, I have to turn my face towards something better or the true Flicted Friend that I loved will be lost forever. Maybe tomorrow when I'm running 5 miles in the snow, I'll trip and have a new story to share :) I'll keep you posted.

Three Tri's - One Cause

Sarah's Wedding