let's talk about leukemia

Some of you might think I am always talking about some kind of fundraiser, and it's true that I do that a lot.   Today:  leukemia.  Six years ago my mother died, and while leukemia was not her direct cause of death, she had been living with it for years and it did lead to a weakened system.  Because of Mom's leukemia, I became more aware of the disease when she was first diagnosed and annually participate in various events including the Light the Night Walk.
 

For those of you who don't know, leukemia is a type of blood cancer that begins in the bone marrow, the soft tissue in the center of the bones, where blood cells are produced. White blood cells (leukocytes) are used by the body to fight off infections and other foreign substances and a person with leukemia may have a weakened immune system and be unable to fight off a simple infection.  There are different types of leukemia and I couldn't give all of the answers here in this little space.  Actually nobody has all the answers.  That is why awareness is so important.

 

Seven years ago I participated in Light the Night Walk for the first time, and I've already signed up to do it again this year.  Leukemia is a treatable (bone marrow transplant, chemotherapy, radiation therapy, hormone treatments) disease and the rate of cure depends on the type of leukemia as well as the patient's age. Participation in The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society's Light The Night Walk funds therapies and treatment advances which help to save lives.  Yes, I know this blog is supposed to be NOT about me, but I am really passionate about this. 

The San Francisco walk is in November and you can come out and walk or you can sponsor me or another walker or simply make a general donation.  You can also look for walks that may be closer to where you live.  Go to http://www.lightthenight.org/ to find out more!

Unforgettable

Yesterday marked eighteen years since the horrible terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001 and I saw so many people share their memories of what they were doing that day.  The memories are carved like stone and will never be forgotten.

If you were alive the day Pearl Harbor was bombed or the day John Kennedy was shot or when the space shuttle Challenger exploded, you probably can recall the activities of those days too.  There are times in our lives that are simply unforgettable.

I was thinking about that last night and it occurred to me that the moments that stick out or (to crib from Franklin D. Roosevelt), these days that live in infamy, are most always tragedies.  Yes, there is good reason to recall these dark moments, but with so many happy uplifting things happening in our lives, I'd much rather be remembering them.  It is true that most people can remember their wedding day or perhaps graduation or first day at a new job, but there have to be many more unforgettable moments.

 

Perhaps we can be trendsetters and begin sharing positive uplifting moments.  There are historical events that certainly would qualify, not just times in our personal lives.  What do you say?  Are you with me?  Think of a historical moment that you consider to be both positive and uplifting, as well as unforgettable, and share it with us in the comments below.

Remembering that dark day again

Today on this 18th anniversary of one of the saddest days in world history, I want to again quote a clergyman named Frank Griswold. Back on that dark day in 2001, Griswold was the Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church in the US. This essay of his (which he wrote a few days after the terrorist attacks, and which I have printed here before) is a personal account of how he spent the days that followed those attacks, and it is a story of hope in the face of despair. Hope that we should all continue to carry with us. This is what he wrote:

On Friday, September 14, the day of national mourning, I knew my place was here in New York with those who were courageously struggling with the aftermath of the hideous events of the previous Tuesday. A police van picked me up at the Church Center and transported me through checkpoints to the Seaman's Church Institute within the restricted area where police, firefighters, National Guard, rescue workers and Con Edison technicians were being cared for with food, fresh changes of clothing, and words of thanks and encouragement from tireless volunteers.

In the midst of the chaos I was asked to celebrate the Eucharist. It was Holy Cross Day, and how appropriate and right it was that our mourning and grief be rooted and grounded in the mystery of the cross. St. Paul speaks of sharing the sufferings of Christ. I thought that every act of violence, and all that it produces, is an instance of Christ's own suffering with and on behalf of those he came to reconcile to one another through the cross.

In the Gospel reading for the day, we hear Jesus proclaim: "When I am lifted up from the earth, I will draw all people to myself." The cross is Jesus' facing into all the subtle and obvious forces of evil the divide the human family, drawing us all to himself in order that we might be transformed and live in new patterns of relationship: patterns which are grounded in the awareness that - at the heart of all differences of language, race, culture and ways of believing and naming God - we are profoundly one in the mind and heart of our Creator. That this terrible act of terrorism has provoked blind and indiscriminate blame directed against our Moslem and Arab neighbors is to allow the evil we are suffering to catch us up in its ongoing destructive force, and make us its victim in yet another way.

After the Eucharist, Phoebe and I were taken through more checkpoints to "Ground Zero." This close to the impact, gray ash lay everywhere and coated the silent and abandoned buildings, among them St. Paul's Chapel where George Washington worshiped. Outside the church the American and Episcopal Church flags, stained and torn, fluttered at half-mast. An ancient tree had been uprooted and its branches rested on the gravestones. The building was intact, but the churchyard was thick with ash and debris and thousands of bits of paper. The iron gate was ajar. I pushed it open and climbed the littered and ash covered steps to the open door of the church. In an eerie way, everything seemed to be in order, except for the covering of dust. I found myself in tears. Here, at the heart of all the chaos and destruction was a place of solace and prayer.

The sacristy door stood open. I went in and found a piece of paper and a pen and wrote "I have been here and you have my prayers and my love. Frank Griswold, Presiding Bishop." I turned to leave and just then the priest arrived. "I'm here and the church is open," he said. What more could one ask for at a time like this than the ministry of presence.

As we left, I looked up at the crucifix above the altar and had the sense that the extended arms could receive and embrace all the madness and hatred and destruction and suffering that lay close by and in all the places in our fragile world where violence and death and innocent suffering are a daily reality. Somehow this terrible event has joined us in solidarity with the suffering of the world.

That evening I took part in a service at the Cathedral of St. John the Divine. At the end of the service, the congregation with lighted candles in hand followed us out onto the cathedral steps where people, instead of dispersing into the evening, drew close to one another, still holding on to their candles. Passersby joined them, some stopping to buy candles in nearby shops.

Spontaneous singing began…"We shall overcome…." I thought of the overwhelming generosity of spirit that had flowed through the day. I thought of the selfless volunteers and their eagerness to be useful; the many workers and their gratitude; the congregation bound together in mutual support. I was seeing evil overcome by good which is the only way in which our world can be healed. I was also seeing our church in action and prayer and hospitality mediate the real presence of Christ.

How grateful I am for our Episcopal household and for its clear witness at this time. The days ahead will be difficult and demanding for us all, and I pray that we will be able to live them with the courage and strength that are ours in the risen Christ.

-The Most Reverend Frank T. Griswold

XXV Presiding Bishop and Primate

The Episcopal Church, USA

Remembering them ALL

"Some of them have left behind a name, so that others declare their praise.  But of others there is no memory; they have perished as though they had never existed; they have become as though they had never been born, they and their children after them."  The words are from the 44th chapter of Ecclesiasticus, sometimes called the Book of Sirach.  On this Labor Day, I was thinking of these words because of all the women and men who have made a difference with our working rights.  We know some of their names, but others worked to make things better and got no personal credit.

 

I notice when some people donate to charity, they want their name in print.  "Look what a great thing I did," some folks seem to be saying.  Others quietly go about there business tossing in whatever they can afford and caring nothing about being praised for their generosity. 

 

When I was little, we sang a song "When you want it say PLEASE, when you get it say THANK YOU.  When someone says THANK YOU, then you answer YOU'RE WELCOME!"  For some reason that song has always stuck in my head.  There were no conditions or special circumstances in the song and I think that is as it should be.  When someone does something or gives something, thank them.  Always!  When someone thanks you for your contribution whether it is a deed or a gift, say you are welcome.

 

People can be anonymous if they truly wish, but we should still remember the things they do. All of us are important and none us of should just be forgotten as if we had never even come this way.  On this Labor Day I want to thank my union leaders and workers who have lead the way and made a difference.  I also want to thank and call to mind everyone who has come before - my grandparents, my mom and dad, the teachers, coworkers, the singers and actors and other entertainers, the scientists, the elected officials, and so many others from every walk of life who have made a difference.  May your memory last forever.