I've always been a word gal. In high school, I learned about vicissitudes which are anticipated ups and downs. The word is often applied to life, as in "the vicissitudes of life." Last year at this time, the term could be applied to my white blood cell counts and my hair - both of those were expected. We knew those were going to happen. Vagaries are those things that rock our world and redirect our path for good or for ill. Cancer and remission fall into that category. Vagaries and vicissitudes cannot be controlled. There's no rhyme or reason to them. They both just happen. 

Last year, when I asked Dr. Burke when my hear would fall out after chemo. "Two weeks," he said. No sugar-coating. No long sentences. "Two weeks." I asked about the ice water hat during chemo to preserve hair. He said, "I'm not sure why that would make sense when the chemo needs to be everywhere." Lymphoma is a blood cancer so, of course, that would be true, but it didn't occur to me. So, off went my hair with a buzzer. Rob shaved it. Taryn took pictures. Hilary said encouraging things. We may have thrown around the word "badass" several times and talked about Sinead O'Conner and Demi Moore. That was a poignant, memorable day but it was the least of my issues. The months following my haircut were filled with conversations and compliments about my very round head since I didn't wear hats or scarves. I'd never talked about my head or my hair so much. I felt the love shower and pool around me with every comment. And I laughed a lot at the absurdity of the whole thing. Now that I have hair, the discussions continue but are now celebratory and still so loving.

Last year, our long-anticipated three-week family vacation was scrapped along with my untaken three-month sabbatical. The disappointment was far less about missing out on the destinations than it was about missing out on that special time with Rob and "the kids." We've just returned from that rescheduled vacation. It was amazing. We saw dear, old friends in Dordrecht, Holland and road bikes with them to the Kinderdijk windmills. We paid our respects on the beaches of Normandy, honoring the lives lost in World War II to free Europe. There was stained glass in Paris that made me cry and incredible food to savor. There was more history than this buff could possibly absorb. After Rob and Quinn went home, I took a solo train trip from Paris to Barcelona, meeting Taryn there a few days later. More food, history, stained glass, and tears. We even took a cooking class together and learned about shopping at Barcelona markets, saffron, and slicing veggies. My brain is having a hard time keeping up over the past year. I remain in as much disbelief about cancer and remission as I do that I was in places I couldn't have imagined less than a month ago. 

I returned home to a couple days of work and then several days with over 400 Lutherans electing our next bishop. I've talked more about my cancer in the last two days than I have in the last two months. Hugging friends and colleagues that I haven't seen in over a year and a half. Celebrating. Answering their questions. Telling my story in brief. Feeling their love, care, and comradery. Asking about their lives and work. I've received their gracious pastoral care and I've given care as one of the identified chaplains at our Assembly. 

There was a time that I thought I would be in discernment for bishop. I was first asked a year and a half ago and asked again since by several other colleagues. Until March 3rd last year, Rob and I were in deep discussion about this possibility. Cancer was a great clarifier for me in this regard. I came out on the other side of cancer in full remission with the clarity NOT to allow my name to be nominated into the election. This weekend, I had to fill out a super-special, official form to withdraw after being nominated by a few folks. Such an honor. Not my call. 

It's hard for me to make any sense of the past year. I imagine that hindsight will have to work its magic for quite a while. In the meantime, I continue to see the world in vivid contrasts. Life is as magical as it is hard. On our trip, my family had to listen to me intermittently blurt out, "We're in Paris!" As I hugged Rob and Quinn goodbye (Taryn had already left for Berlin), I thanked them for sharing my dream trip with me. Quinn said, "Thank you for including me in your dream trip." [sigh] Then I strapped on my travel backpack and caught the Metro taking me to my train bound for Barcelona. Love, Caitlin