... On The Way To Idaho

I posted the other day on social media, looking for someplace groovy to eat in the Bend, Oregon area.  I was on my way to Idaho, to see my son, Jesse, and his wife, Amanda.  I hadn't been to Bend in over twenty years, and figured getting some input would be a good idea.

As is generally the case, the weirdos I know and love on Facebook came through in spades.  I always trust my FB friends more than the random Yelp review.

Ultimately, I selected this lovely pub and grill, McMenamin's, inside the Old St. Francis School.  Credit for the selection goes to Ronda Snyder.

Let me also note, I think there are more trips to Bend in order to try the many other suggestions provided by friends.  Bend seems like a neat little town.




The food was great, and included some legitimately interesting vegetarian selections, like the grilled cheese sandwich I had, which included slices of apple and carmelized onion.  The pilsner beer I tried was refreshing, and the venue was beautiful.





The site also contains hotel rooms, resting pool, and outdoor seating in a beautiful garden area.








In my FB post, I had specifically requested suggestions that were "weird or fun."  My friend, Mike Daley, responded that if I was going to be on site, it was likely to be weird or fun.  I don't know that I would agree with that.  In fact, I tend to think that Mike is a conjurer of these things.  He speaks them into my existence, and they come to pass.

Upon arriving at McMenamin's, I was greeted with this interesting box...

 Located on the porch entry of the pub, the box compelled my curious nature to open it up.

Inside were random items: a sandpail and shovel, a blanket, a newspaper section, and other odd curios.




These, I classify as "fun".  Now for the weird...

So, after I was cheerily greeted and seated by my waiter, I went to go use the ladies' room to freshen up.  As I was in a stall taking care of business, I could hear the lady in the stall next to me pull her pants up and right herself for departure from the bathroom.  At some point, I noticed that she was not flushing.  Odd.

As I stood up to reclothe myself, she began to chant.  And pray.  And bless.  Her waste.

I was well into washing my hands and thinking in my head about seven different kinds of "WTF?" when the woman finally exited her stall and came to the sink next to me.

Silently, I searched for a filter inside my brain, but as usual, I could not find one.

"Hi there," I said to her.  She nodded back a hello.

This was not the response I was hoping to receive, envisioning something that was a little more open and receptive to my further questionings.  But again, when has that ever stopped me?

So I asked, "Can you tell me why you pray over your pee?"

She smiled, and answered, "Well, I figure this: I pray when I put the food in, so why not pray when it comes on out the other side?"

Well alrighty, then.  I finished drying my hands, bid The Blesser adieu, and returned to my table, already thinking that I'm blaming this episode in life on Mike Daley and the divining of his observations in life.  :-)

This Is What Cancer Looks Like

Heather Jenkins Grant and Robin Jenkins Renault, speakers, organizers, and supporters of this year's Relay for Life

I've tried for three solid days now to write something that will inspire people to show up to tomorrow's Relay for Life opening ceremonies tomorrow at Shasta College at 9:00 a.m.  My intent was to write, in my own words, about these two women, Heather Jenkins Grant, and Robin Jenkins Renault.  

Words fail me, in light of the testimonies these two have to share in their commitment to find cures for cancer.  

I have known these two women for about 35 years.  I babysat them when we were all younger.  Heather babysat my children.  I have watched them grow into amazing women, wives, and mothers, advocates, and businesswomen.  I have watched them grow in faith, hope, and grace in ways that could only come from a divine hand.  

To say that these women have overcome adversity, is a monumental understatement.  What I most admire about these two and their families is that they are the face of what cancer does not have to be-- the destroyer of families.  

What I want you to do is join me at the Relay for Life event tomorrow and come hear the story of Rebekah-- a sister, a daughter, a delightful child whose life on Earth was cut entirely too short.  Hear the story of Rebekah's sister, Rachael, who prevailed through her own cancer.  Hear the story of the loss of a grandmother whose heart so broke over these two children.  Hear the story of two women, a brother, two husbands, eleven children, and seven grandchildren who have remained strong and intact, despite all the odds.  

Come be inspired by the resolve of two women who are choosing to lead the fight instead of being knocked out by it.  Come stand in hand with YOUR community to raise awareness, to raise resources, and to raise the level of the power in the fight against cancer.  

The Places We Find Grace

This is the first of at least three posts which I will be sharing in advance of Redding's Relay For Life event on Saturday, June 6th at Shasta College.  As a cancer survivor, I continue to be struck by the pervasiveness of cancer in our lives.  If you haven't had it, you probably know someone who has, cared for someone who has, or been a part of a family who has been devastated by the disease.  My goal with these posts is to bring awareness (or a reminder) of how widespread the impacts of cancer are, and how important it is to find a cure for a disease which is so indiscriminate in its direct and indirect impacts on people, families, and communities.  

"I've known your husband so long, that I was actually taller than he was when we first met," I told her.

We both tittered at that, since her husband, Tom, is a towering six feet, four inches.  Tom and I met when we were in about the third and fourth grades, respectively.

I had never met Mosette in person until yesterday.  Married to someone I grew up with in Shingletown, we were mere Facebook friends.  When I saw her post, looking for a ride to the airport in Sacramento, something moved inside me.  I messaged her that I could give her a ride if she still needed one.  As most of you can probably guess, the fact that we had never met in person was little deterrent to me picking her, another stranded traveler, and their luggage up at Redding's little airport.

Suddenly, the odd fact that I had been unable for a week to schedule anything on the massage calendar for that morning made total sense-- unawares, I had a different calling for the day.

Their plane had broken down, and passengers were told that it would be five hours until they could get the flight back on track, if at all.  Because Mosette was on her way to Arizona's Cancer Treatment Center of America to be with her husband, time was of the essence.  

Having never met her, I was not entirely sure what to expect when I arrived at the airport.  I've had a similar cancer to the one her husband is battling, but I was in a lesser stage.  I can only imagine the stress this woman is under.  

What I encountered when I pulled up was a woman with a smile on her face.  She glowed.  We got her and the gal from Virginia, whose name, regrettably, I cannot even remember, all loaded up and we hit the road.

I had bought them some Dutch Bros., so we were fueled up on every level for the trip.

Mosette and I talked almost non-stop all the way to Sacramento.  Because we know so many people tangentially to one another, it was like a strange homecoming, and an odd sort of fill-in-the-blanks.  I learned about how she and Tom met, the three wonderful children they are raising, her efforts to obtain an education, and a lot about the amazing, stalwart effort she has put into caring for and supporting her husband and their children through this difficult time.

We talked about the the incredible network of support she and Tom have had over the past year.  They say it takes a village to raise a child.  It takes one to raise children and run a home when cancer calls on a family as well.  To say that her family has been covered by grace is an understatement.

The thing that stuck me most deeply as this woman shared her story, was her execution of grace.  I don't know that I have ever encountered someone who could walk with such dignity, honor, strength, courage, and understanding through such a difficult life event.  She spoke with a matter-of-factness draped in an incredible love and resolve as she shared the reality of end-of-life issues for her husband.

When I dropped her off, I helped her unload her luggage, gave her a hug, and wished her safe travels.
I prayed on my drive back north, tearfully interceding for Mosette, for Tom, for their children, extended family, and everyone who has been helping pull the load for this family.  And still, I was struck by her grace.

I ruminated on that for quite a while.  I realized that we receive grace in this life.  It's a thing.  From family, friends, other humans, who give us that which we do not necessarily deserve.  Those of us who believe in God receive a grace, which is defined as unmerited favor from a loving deity.

What I also realized, is that grace is active.  Grace is a verb.  According to Merriam-Webster's, grace is to confer dignity or honor upon (someone or something).  How many of us stand active in our grace in this way?

Even with the inevitability of the way cancer is changing her family, she walks in, and with, an Amazing Grace.

To watch a woman with so much on her plate confer such grace during a time of dismay in her family was awe-inspiring.  I drove two women to the airport yesterday.  I drove home humbled.  Changed.