RunMyssieRun

Miracles happen all the time, every day. I’ve prayed for them. I’ve seen them happen. I’ve also been witness to unanswered prayers. I’ve been witness to agony, evil, sin, struggle and especially the confusion of those so devout (or seemingly devout) who don’t understand why they deserve what is happening to them.

Over the last two and a half decades, I’ve delved deeply into the taboo corners of religion, faith and our higher power. And while I rarely speak about what I personally believe in, I do speak often about my Catholic upbringing and the wonderful foundation it has given me; the understanding that certain things happen simply because there is a grander purpose that we (as individuals) may never have the opportunity to understand.

I do pray. I do believe in the power of multiples in prayer. I do believe in faith. I do believe in ONE God. And I do believe He has many names, like me.  My name, Myssie, becomes Margarita in Mexico, Gretchen in Germany and Margaret in England but I am still in essence just Myssie. And what I say in one country may become translated into another language and mean something slightly different in another country but still in essence, I still strive to do good, be better and love a lot and drink coffee and listen to all sorts of music… except polka… just can’t get into that. Are you understanding the correlation I’m making with regards to religion? I don’t know how else to explain it other than I can possibly be the Catholic version of a very politically correct John Lennon without all the great fame and musical talent…. oh and I don’t smoke pot, either.

So what do God and prayers and miracles have to with cancer and marathons or triathlons? 

Third buoy of an open water swim triathlon: “Oh my God! I still have how much more to do to reach the finish line?!?!?!”

Mile 22 of a marathon: “Please God Please help me keep my pace! Don’t let my IT band pop!”

3rd round of chemo: “Heal (me or insert name of choice), God, and I will serve your will. I’ll do whatever you want. Just take the cancer away!”

Even if I replace the word “God” with another name of any other religion of your choice, and the prayer is answered (of which I’ve seen many times) or unanswered and the outcome ended up completely opposite of what I prayed for… it seems the big Guy upstairs has a way of letting me know that it was only because something else had to have happened, a lesson learned, a person met, a friendship formed, a hardship endured and/or conquered, to have gotten me to the place where I am now…. where I am supposed to be now. It’s a crazy plan, I know. But somehow, He’s got it all figured out.

Or at least I have faith that He does.

Today, I was able to witness Momma’s miracle – or at least a little bit of it – happen. She prayed so hard not for herself to heal from cancer but for her family to heal. She prayed for “softened hearts” she called it. It is no secret that the wife of my baby brother, Donny, and I have never been close nor seen eye to eye but today we sat together for almost two hours by ourselves talking calmly to each other over coffee about healing after the deaths we had to deal with, the boys we are to continue to raise and about Team in Training and her interest in doing a triathlon.

I was careful in our conversation as to not ask questions that could possibly trigger anger. In fact, the only question I asked was at the very beginning with “How are you?”. She was just as careful in letting me know that she was dealing with her anger issues. And I was eager to share with her the experience that helped me heal in hopes that she would have a similar healing experience with Team in Training.

And while I am still cautious about our relationship, I cannot help but be so filled with hope that this may be the answer to Momma’s prayers for a happy and healing family that she always wanted us to be. And a way for me and my family to see more of my nephews!!! One of which is my Godson.

Running a marathon with Team in Training gave me the opportunity to meet and get to know Sissy’s biological family. I now know that this was part of her plan. Maybe a triathlon with Team in Training and my late baby brother’s widow will give me the opportunity to heal with his. Maybe this is God’s plan.

Sometimes running or swimming or cycling isn’t always about pace and endurance. Sometimes, especially in my case and probably countless others, it’s about answering some prayers when least expected.

I hope Momma knows and is able to see what happened today from Heaven or the universe or wherever you believe we go after life ends. Maybe that’s why the sun was shining this afternoon. Maybe she was our sunshine during our little miracle 🙂

Thank you to those who have donated already! Every little bit counts and I cannot do this by myself. Thank you!!!

http://pages.teamintraining.org/sctx/nbhtri15/mcardenasb

When I first made the decision to write this blog, I did so with a few rules. I was going to be completely candid and vulnerable documenting my feelings in regards to EVERYTHING having to do with cancer and how it affects me and my loved ones and EVERYTHING having to do with my promise to Sissy and running a marathon for her… which later turned into triathlon and cycling. However, I would never write about my family.

Today, I’m going to break that rule.

My rule breaker might surprise you. It surprised me. You see, deep down inside, I am probably the biggest mother hen you’ve ever met. I’m protective of my family to the point that I should be leased out to the CIA for lessons on how to do this stuff. I am also very proud.

Each family member has their way of making their mark on me. One, in particular, stood out this week.

(flashback)

As an adult, watching your parent take their last breath in your arms is devastating enough to the point that it whittles you back to the age of three. The torment made upon your heart is numbed only by the useless gasps made in a temper tantrum with God desperately trying to negotiate just a few more moments. I was a forty-some year old grown, professional, civilized, well-mannered woman reduced to the likings of a toddler. On that beautiful Easter Sunday afternoon, I was so focused on the loss of my mother that I was blind to my two boys in the next room with their Easter baskets. We never did the Easter Egg Hunt nor did we go to church that day.

If this loss affected an adult in this grandiose manner, how must it have affected my young sons?

(present day)

Two years have passed. My eldest is now away from the nest of this mother hen but my eyes have awakened to the respect, courage and bravery that lies within him. I am still unsure of the reasons behind it but my two nephews have returned home and I can assume that three angels above, all the rosaries my Momma prayed and the Grace of God had a little to do with it. I was finally able to see them and have dinner with them. Nico, my eldest nephew – and Godson – and a teenager that looks identical to his daddy, shared with me that he had recently re-read the letter that my son wrote him while he was at ACTs retreat. This touched me. How special was that letter that it was saved for this long period of time? Most teenagers trash all that stuff. It must have meant a lot to him. I don’t know what words were in that letter but just knowing it was kept told me that it was pretty special. A few days later, I received a text from my Aunt Letty in San Antonio who said her son had just received a letter from my son at boot camp. Again, I was touched and proud that my son was thoughtful enough to handwrite letters to his family and friends… I had already received two letters myself 🙂  And in those words to me, I immediately recognized what was important.

But it wasn’t until I sat down at my computer to print out my sponsor request letters I told you about two posts back that it hit me… the love and respect I shared with my mother is probably pretty identical to that of the love and respect that is shared between my son and I. I found an old essay he had written while he was in middle school that was backed up on my hard drive and I was pummelled to tears. I’ll share a little bit of both with y’all and hope to God it doesn’t embarrass him when he returns!!!

In his letter to me from the military, he repeated over and over again for me not to worry. That he was fine and that there was even a saying going around that was flattering to him. “Be like Barajas!” He said all the officers there were scolding the recruits because they weren’t busting their butts like he was. He said everyone smiles now when they say his name and it makes him feel real good. #belikebarajas 🙂

And the essay

Bright and cherry red, the newly installed play set beckoned me to play on it. New, with no bite marks, dog prints, or melted spots that you seem to find on every run of the mill play set, which almost comes standard on every public recreational institution for children. No, this rivaled the discovery of the Garden of Eden, the discovery of the Americas, and the discovery of the Ark of the Covenant in my young, ravishing eyes. Of course no child could touch it, for it lied on the other side of a four foot tall safety net fence. I though in my head “It’s already done! Why should we wait for the supervisor to give approval?!” I knew of course that the supervisor delayed the approval just to taunt us, he absolutely despised children.

I had enough. As my mother chatted and conversed with the usual soccer moms I eased my hand away from her maternal grip. Now free, this granted my chance to do something great. Soon, I will topple the playground reputation, I shall be known as “Orange Tape Tearer” and all the children will know what I accomplished. Then I realized, I couldn’t share it, no then it would just resemble the other play sets the loomed just a few feet away. This had to be for myself, for no one else. I peeled away the orange safety net when all the others were busy playing and dug myself into the deep twisted metal tendrils until I reached the heart of the play set, where I hid myself from the outside world by metal rods and plastic walls. In the middle of the play set the evening sun pierced through the red plastic walls, creating a red aesthetic aurora that went unappreciated to a small child’s eyes. No I proceeded to pull out my toy cars I had lugged around all day in my tattered pockets.

I built tracks for my cars on the wood chips the littered the playground, I started to drive them on the roof, then on the wall, and soon I realized that the red glow had gone away. “Oh, no!” I thought.  Chills went through my blood at that second. I scrambled to pick up my toy cars like they were jacks and I peered outside only to find a sight of pure dusk.

“Mom! Mom!” I yelled, only a tiny high pitch squeak seemed to be leaving my mouth. Oh, how much I’d do to be with my mother that second. I felt my way out of the dark and twisted metal to find myself at the foreground of the playground. I decided to climb up the slide to get a good vantage point of the park to see if anyone would help me. I went up the steps like a toddler, on all fours until I reached the top. This is where I noticed that some if the guard rails were missing, “Maybe this is why the supervisor never approved the playground…” I thought.

“Michael! Michael!” I heard a faint yell of in the distance.

“Michael!” I heard my mom!

“Mom, over here!” The small search party led by my mother came towards my direction, their small spotlight flashing every which way. They came closer and closer following my voice. I couldn’t see their faces, the lights covered them, and it looked like holes of light pierced through a dark black sheet. Finally, they were at the base of the playground. One shined a light at me, and it blinded and stunned me. I fell backwards, dazed from the bright light, and fell off the twenty foot high slide. I remember reaching for my toy cars as I fell midair, and that’s it.

My eyes opened, I took a sip of water from my bedside table and got out of bed. I creaked open the door and pitted and patted down the hallway to my parents bedroom. I peeped in and snuck up to my mother.

“Mom, I had a bad dream again.” I whispered careful not to wake up my father. She didn’t say anything, but only motioned to her bed. I climbed up on the bed and snuggled under the covers. I never felt safer until that moment.

This boy, this baby boy of mine, has so much more strength and courage than I EVER imagined he could have. He is devoting his life for this nation so that we have our freedoms. That’s my boy. And I hope to #BELIKEBARAJAS

And I miss him so very much.

I got my swim in… outside. It was 58 degrees and sunny in a heated pool 😉

Don’t be jealous. It is what it is. I’ll pay for it later.

By 6:00 p.m. I was a mess. My bones were aching, air made me nauseous, head was pounding, chills, sweats, chills, sweats… and then sneezing. I got hit with the flu.

I knew what I needed to do. SLEEP

Oh… wait… but Black Hawk Down is on TV.

This isn’t going to work. Once I’m over this flu… things will change. Until then, the big Guy upstairs is taking matters into His own hands and making sure my body gets some rest. click click