Quilting Cancer Update

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Kelly with the quilt she made for her daughter Sheridan.

This morning, I made the first contribution from the royalties Quilting Cancer has earned–$250–to the St. Luke’s MSTI-Fruitland Respite House. From the St. Luke’s website: “Many of our patients and their caregivers travel long distances for cancer treatment… The Respite House will provide a safe and comfortable home away from home, helping ease some of the burdens of travel and allowing families to stay together.” Thank you all for purchasing the book and spreading the word! Also, Quilting Cancer will be featured in the April issue of Idaho Magazine. I was honored when the editor contacted me, and I’m so glad that Kelly’s inspirational message will reach a wider audience.

 

Gratitude and Reviews: Quilting Cancer Touches Many

My family and I have been overwhelmed by the response to Quilting Cancerthank you for the kind words, support, and enthusiasm. Kelly’s optimism, courage, and perseverance continues to thread people together and will have an impact for years to come. QuiltingCancer

But now I have a favor to ask… Everyone who has been touched by Quilting Cancer, the blog or the book, please take a few minutes to write a review–it only needs to be a sentence or two–on Amazon or Goodreads. Reviews will help Quilting Cancer reach a wider audience and make it available to a variety of promotional websites.

And, for those of you who purchased the Kindle edition, a new version is available on Amazon, with a Kindle table-of-contents, as well as other updates. If you sync your device, the updated version should automatically download.

Quilting Cancer: Sharing a courageous voice

QuiltingCancer
(The quilts on the cover were made by Kelly for her daughters Shaelyn, Sierra, and Sheridan.)

Sometimes in life we become witnesses to incredible acts of bravery, only partially aware at the time, but later able to appreciate the full magnitude of what we experienced. During the aftermath, there is a sense, almost an obligation, of wanting to share these everyday stories of inspiration.

I know I’m not alone. Many of us brush shoulders with unforgettable acts of courage, people who possess an unlimited well of resilience. They will themselves forward, accepting their circumstances yet never giving up.

Their stories are often quiet, unfolding without fanfare, but they encompass the backbone of humanity. A silent strength that weaves us all together, and, the more we know about these people, the stronger we become as a society.

So I decided to record my sister Kelly’s journey with adversity, her eight-year battle with cancer, by publishing her blog, Quilting Cancer (available on Amazon in both paperback and Kindle), along with essays reflecting on Kelly’s bravery and the lessons she taught me.

My intention is not to turn Kelly into a saint or deify her. Like all of us, Kelly had faults, yet at the end of her life, she revealed a core strength and selflessness. She learned how to fully live while also preparing to die.

Her message transcends time and location. It is the universal call to embrace life despite one’s circumstances. It speaks of selflessness—Kelly was constantly concerned with others, always thankful for even the smallest assistance—and finding joy in the simplest everyday occurrences.

To borrow from Proverbs 3:3—a verse I return to again and again—Kelly’s lessons will never leave me. They are bound around my neck, written on the tablet of my heart.

(All profit from the book will be donated to St. Luke’s MSTI-Fruitland.)

Copper Harbor Lullaby

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Intersection of Dancing Bear and Red Trails

My bike’s brakes, sounding like an out-of-tune violin, announced my arrival long before I bounced into sight. With tires bumping along Copper Harbor’s Dancing Bear Trail, I clambered over rocks and roots, up and down hills in a relentless waltz, melding trees to sky and fallen leaves with mud in a muted autumn symphony.

A few seconds later, my husband Keith came into view, waiting where Dancing Bear merged into Red Trail. He nodded toward a sign, warning riders of a mother bear with cubs, just ahead on the trail. We smiled–no words necessary–and turned around to climb back up Dancing Bear.

PointTrail
Point Trail

Shifting into the granny gear, my bike and I crawled up a hill, no longer waltzing but performing a slow ballet without any grace. Keith vanished around a bend in the trail, riding with strength and balance. He hopped over roots and spun up rocky outcroppings, remaining calm despite the obstacles—his riding a reflection of his personality.

And even though sweat dripped in my eyes and I wished my bike had an even lower gear, I noticed the sun lingering in the cloudless sky, promising a few more hours of daylight. My favorite trail waited a short pedal away.

“Point Trail?” I asked Keith after I’d caught up with him “I think we have ti—.”

Keith was off again, no convincing needed. Because in a place like Copper Harbor, there’s always time for another trail. The village might not have cellular service or espresso but it has more of what matters—trails snaking into deep woods, along with an even deeper sense of tranquility.

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Lake Fanny Hooe, Fort Wilkins, and Lake Superior

We dashed along Point Trail’s rocky spine, rolling through woods and hesitating here and there to enjoy views of Lake Superior, Fort Wilkins State Park, and Lake Fanny Hooe. Toward the end of the trail, sunlight, filtering through trees, brushed golden fingertips across a long boardwalk.

Later, after dinner, as the afternoon sashayed into evening, leaving the forest bathed in shadows and the horizon washed in fuchsia, we walked from our campground a short distance to the Gas Lite, the only convenience store in town, for a soda. An early moon hung in the sky, while waves from Lake Superior murmured, whispering a contented tune, a Copper Harbor lullaby.

keewenaw bike
High Rock Point during our first mountain bike trip to Copper Harbor, almost 20 years ago

 

 

Cloud Warrior: Surviving the Wolf River

CloudWarrior1I’m very excited to share the preliminary cover for my YA novel, Cloud Warrior, due out sometime this year from Saddleback Publishing. This is my first project with a hi-lo (high interest-low reading level) press, and I’m thrilled to be working in this niche market. I hope my story of a boy descended from the Chachapoyas (the Andean Cloud Warriors) and his bravery during a kayaking disaster inspires many non-readers to dive into the world of books

A Sierra Day: Recognizing Life’s Adventures

Written about 13 years ago, the following essay was inspired by my niece Sierra, who turns 17 today. Even as a three-year-old, she possessed an innate ability to view the world as full of possibilities, not limitations, just one of the qualities that makes her an exceptional person. Kindness, loyalty, and a clever wit also dominate that long list. Her thoughtfulness shines on everyone around her, reflecting a selfless nature and the gift that she is to all who love her.

Happy Birthday, Sierra!

~

What’s it Called?

(Written during the spring of 2004.)

“Is today your birthday?” my three-year-old niece Sierra asks. She presses against my legs and looks up at me with a hopeful smile.

“Yes,” I say, peering down into her blue eyes, a blue that’s hard to define, like the sky filtered through a gray cloud.

“What’s it called?” She confuses me with the redundancy of her question. I frown, not sure what to say, and during my hesitation, she adds, “Mine’s called Barbie Birthday.”

“The name of your birthday is Barbie Birthday?” I ask.

“Yes.” She pauses and stares at me expectantly.

Shaelyn, Sierra’s older sister, catches on quickly to the game. “Let’s call it the Flower Birthday,” she says, gesturing to the pink tulips that sit on top of the dining room table, which is painted with orange flowers.

I nod and Sierra smiles. Finally, my birthday has a name, a theme. “Or how about Tulip Birthday? Or Birds of Prey Birthday?” I ask, the latter suggestion in honor of the wildlife refuge we had visited earlier in the day. Sierra thinks this over and seems pleased with the ideas.

She likes events and even objects to have a theme. Maybe it comes from having a creative mother, who often discusses decorating schemes or an imaginative grandmother, with whom she spends a great deal of time.

Regardless of where she gets this trait, I like it. I want my days to have themes: Cycling on a Summer Day or Watching a Bald Eagle Afternoon. It makes ordinary events somehow new and exciting. Running to the post office is no longer an errand, but rather A Short Drive to Check the Mail. It’s like a chapter in a novel, anything can happen.

I need Sierra to live with me. I want to hear that simple question, “What’s it called?” more often. It makes me appreciate each moment, where seen through her eyes it becomes a journey in need of a title.

Next time Sierra asks me, “What’s it called?” I’ll be ready with my answer. I’ll look into those blue-gray eyes and say, “It’s a Sierra Day.” Although she might not completely understand, I think she’ll appreciate my response.

Simply put, a Sierra Day is one brimming with wonder, with originality, of finding magic in the ordinary, and knowing with certainty that life’s adventures deserve to be named.