In case you’re wondering the answer is Nope, our visas didn’t come in time for us to keep our original fly date of August 4th.  But it’s only slightly irritating, because there are tons of reasons this is a great thing!  One, we have more time to spend with Guy’s dad, who is (admittedly slowly and groggily) speaking, singing and smiling.  Also swearing, sleeping and taking random swipes at nurses.  Never knew how happy THAT would make me!  Two, more time with family.  Having already said goodbye to my brother and his clan, we’ve gone right ahead and scheduled a big ol’ lobster feed over the weekend.  Yummers!  Repeat clingy hugs and rivers of tears?  Whatevs!  Reason number three, more time with friends – I can’t say exactly what trouble we’ll get into before now and the real fly date of the 11th, but I KNOW it will be worth it.  And four – more time in the summer in Maine.  This just might be the most beautiful one on record – no complaints at all. 

We are ready for our great adventure, for sure, but you’ll have to stay tuned.  For now, our adventure is here – being with those we love most.

This past Thursday, with 2 weeks to go until we fly 30 hours to get to Daegu, we still didn’t have our Visas.  It was precarious.  We were starting to have conversations with Bokyung, in the DIS office, about pushing back our fly date, about having to get substitutes to begin our school year, about being fired…Oy.  Thanks to the hard workers at Susan Collins’s offices, our lengthy process is almost complete.  Just a couple of VIN #’s and a trip to the Korean Consulate left to seal the deal. 

Except.  I had this prayer out there in the universe —it went something like this:  dear god, it’s almost time for us to go.  if, for some reason, we are not supposed to do this, you better send a sign – and it better be big – ‘cuz i am almost completely packed, which is really saying something.

And god said – Garrett will fall out of a tree and break his pelvis.  Guy’s grandmother will die.  Guy’s father, appearing to sufficiently heal from his 3rd hip replacement, will suffer a heart attack, need to be put into a coma and will remain unconscious until further notice.   Two of your good friends will deal with cancer in mysterious and terrifying ways, and there will be nothing you can do about it.

And I, taken completely aback, answered, alrighty then. 

So, my question is this:  are these signs (enormous, without question) supposed to keep us here?  Or, is this god’s way of saying Life Goes On.  No matter when we leave, how far we go, how long we stay…we’re going to miss things here.  Big, important things.  Things in the lives of people we love and want to be here for.  Frankly, it feels absolutely selfish to be leaving.  What is life if not for the people with whom you share it?  It’s not like I can easily hop a flight home. 

No answers.  Only questions.

Later this morning, I will be running, biking and swimming for about an hour and a half  in a little event my friend Susan calls “Just Tri It! (Backwards)”.

The idea is threefold.  #1.  to honor and remember her sister Julie Read Marsh who died of melanoma ten years ago at the age of 29.  #2.  to raise money for a scholarship in her name.  #3. to compel common folk (read:  not super athletes) to get out of their comfort zone and try.  Go fast, go slow, go sideways.  Susan could not care less.  What she wants is the people in her life to live with zest, to go further than they’ve gone before, to look something they fear square in the face and win the staring contest.  I just love that.  And I am IN 100%.

As fate would have it, Susan and I have exactly a ten year history, having met 6 months after Julie died and 4 months before my father followed suit – again at the hand of that insidious monster we call cancer.  I’m confident we were broken versions of ourselves then.  We had both stared unblinkingly, I swear, but as it sometimes does, cancer won the contest (because it does not have eyelids, which seems unfair.)  As young warriors of life, it felt wrong to us in every way.  We were powerless, really, and that. is. not. fun.  What we needed, dammit, was another monster to stare down, or run the risk of losing ourselves completely to grief and anger.  One night in the spring of 2002, at book club, we decided to start running.  Perhaps the monster version of this decision is Oscar the Grouch, but there it is.  We decided to take up running, world, and we were not aiming small, we signed up for a half marathon! 

That’s how it began.  And later today, I am giving my fear of cancer another one-two punch.  I can’t stop cancer from taking lives.  But I can stop it from taking other important things away from me- courage, determination, integrity, hope.  I’ll be thinking of that today when it gets difficult out there on the course.  And it will.  As I sometimes do on the hills, I make up a cadence and chant it as I run.  Today I will be chanting  “Because I can.  Because I can.  Because I can.”  And I never forget that my father – can’t.

Thank you Susan.  For standing next to me with a sword and a shield.  As always.