Thursday's Children: What Really Matters

Posted by: Jeff McKown

Thursday's Children is a weekly blog hop where writers come together to talk about what inspires them. 

I'm participating today and you can too. A link to other Thursday's Children writers is at the end of the post.

Thanks to Rhiann Wynn Nolet for orchestrating this affair.


My "Thursday's Children" article this week is literally about children. Not so much all children, just one. A very inspiring and brave little girl named Lisa.

LoveYouLisa

In June of 2008, my friend Linda's three year-old daughter Lisa was diagnosed with Stage IV Neuroblastoma cancer.

For the last five years, Lisa's illness and treatments have had her in and out of the hospital countless times. She has been poked, prodded, chemo-ed, and radiated.

All the while, she has fought like a champion.

A couple of days ago, Lisa was taken to the ER with a high temperature, nausea, and increased pain in her legs and head, and she was again admitted to the hospital. Today, her battle rages on, and Lisa's parents and siblings find themselves once more in the helpless and agonizing position of waiting and wondering and wishing.

I have witnessed all of this from a great distance, through only the lens of the internet. But even from here, over the thousands of miles from California to Michigan, the strength of Lisa, Linda, and their family inspires me.

Linda has chronicled much of the journey of her little "warrior" on a blog, and I IMPLORE you to read the post she wrote this week entitled "Live Life." Linda's words are honest, heart-wrenching, and powerful. With Linda's permission, I am sharing her words, hoping that you might be inspired to remember to take nothing for granted.

After you've read Linda's post, I ask one thing in return: a compassionate thought or positive vibe, or perhaps if you're so inclined (and this means a lot coming from an atheist), a prayer.


Learn more about Lisa at the LoveYouLisa Facebook page. 

Click here to view other Thursday's Children blog posts, or check out Rhiann's website for more info.

Twelve Stages of Novel Writing Grief

In support of those who plan to launch themselves headlong this month into NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month), I have identified twelve known stages of novel writing grief. 

1. Idea.
2. Enthusiasm.
3. Procrastination.
4. Self-doubt.
5. Angst.
6. Procrastination.
7. Disgust.
8. Procrastination.
9. Despair.
10. Procrastination.
11. Commitment.
12. Writing.

Note: The first 11 stages typically occur over the course of a decade. The 12th stage lasts six months, give or take a year. (Time frames may or may not be compressed for NaNoWriMo participants.)

Second Thoughts From the Wilderness

In the morning, I write in
the cabin's tiny kitchen.

Today was day four in my faraway cabin, or as those of you still intimately connected to civilization call it, Friday.

Since my first wilderness journal entry a few days ago, I've learned a few more valuable lessons and I thought I'd continue sharing them.

Note: You may want to print these journal entries. 

In the event you find yourself alone for days in an isolated northern California cabin, these critical survival tidbits will come in handy and you will no doubt be lacking a good internet connection.

Slippers. In my first entry, I noted the importance of packing socks for this journey. As it turns out, the value of socks as foot warmers has been greatly exaggerated. Two days ago, I drove to Arcata and bought some cozy fur-lined slippers.

Dishes. No matter how many plates, bowls, or cups you use during each meal, wash them only once a day. Once your hands get wet and cold, it feels like they'll never warm up again.

Baseball. I listened to the second game of the World Series on the radio. No problem with reception, but I discovered that my brain finds it much easier to focus on a radio sports broadcast when driving than when sitting alone in a room staring at nothing. On the plus side - Go Giants!

Mittens. A good idea. See issue with dishes noted above.

In the afternoon, I move
to the front porch to work.

Fire. (Update) I have tons of kindling and firewood, but ran low on the most essential element of fire starting - newspapers (you remember, those things we used to read every day before the internet came along).

Anyway, should you ever run low on starter fuel for your woodstove fire, paper towels will suffice (Bounty, jumbo roll, no design). Also, the cardboard box in which slippers are commonly packaged will burn slowly and may produce a lovely blue flame.

Walking. Yesterday I took a stroll through the forest. The redwoods and fir trees are stunning, and I can’t describe how beautiful everything smells. I stopped at least a dozen times just to look up in wonder and breathe deeply.

Writing.

… Is hard. Fits and spurts, but it’s happening.

Impressions From My First Morning Alone

Quiet. A small wood-framed clock sits atop the refrigerator, and from every corner of my tiny cabin, I can hear it marking the passage of time. Tick-tick-tick.

Fire. When I arrived last night, the owner of the cabin had left a cozy fire burning in the wood stove to welcome me. The fire died out overnight, so this morning it was up to me to re-kindle the flame.

Apparently, it takes more than old newspaper, firewood, and matchsticks to start a fire. I have new respect for arson as an occupation.

Socks. Essential. See issues with re-kindling fire noted above.

Stillness. One other thing I learned in the first two hours this morning – sitting alone at small table in an isolated northern California cabin is not the same as plopping your butt down in front of ESPN at home.

~ Coffee made? Check.
~ Fruit cup eaten? Check.
~ Cell phone picked up 50 times to confirm there is still no signal? Check.

Okay, now what?