"it's not good", the oncologist said to my mom. "i cant give you a timeline, but i'm afraid that the cancer will..."

"take my life?!", she said, finishing his sentence.

she knew the answer. we all did. we could tell by the concerned look on his face.

sure enough, he nodded, followed by a very solemn 'yes'.

somehow those words pierced me even harder coming from my mom. in an odd way, it made it more personal, more real. "my life", she said. my mom's life. my only remaining parent. my rock, my inspiration.

for the next fifteen minutes, i sat there feeling numb, zoning in and out as my mom and her doctor discussed the next steps; steps that will inevitably lead to her passing on from this world to the next.

selfishly, i want my mom here. i love her, and need her.

but selflessly, i don't want her to suffer any more, a battle that keeps me awake at night.

what keeps me going, though, are these few principles/practices:

1) i cherish every moment.

of my life, and of my mom's life. even after her most recent appointment, my family and i found ourselves sitting around the lunch table cracking jokes and enjoying each other's company as usual. while there have been, and will continue to be, very painful moments along the journey, there have also been very beautiful ones in the midst of them.

2) i remain thankful.

i remember feeling deeply alone the last time my mom went through treatment, but this time the complete opposite is true. in just a few short days, i've felt an army of people surround me and lift me up, lift us up. my managers have been nothing but kind, and accommodating, and ready to give me time off whenever i need it. some of my friends have made long distance calls [even from texas] and have sent texts, and one even went as far as to send me enough money to cover my first trip to ottawa to be with my mom, who, at the moment, is being taken good care of by my younger sister, amanda, and her husband, al, there.

3) i cry & i write.

both of these things are therapeutic for me. crying releases pain, and writing helps me process it.

and lastly, and most importantly,

4) i cling to my favourite scripture, psalm 121:1-2:

i lift up my eyes to the mountains—
where does my help come from?
my help comes from the Lord,
the Maker of heaven and earth.

amen.

i keep picturing my mom putting her hands on her face when the doctor told her that her cancer was back last week. my heart breaks just thinking about it.

but today, i got word that she hugged the same doctor and 'thanked him for everything' after he told her the chemo was most likely the route she would have to take this round, and my heart was full of pride, so much pride.

my mom is the sweetest person i know, always thinking of others, even in the midst of her own health struggle.

next week, i'll be the one hugging her when she comes to toronto for more tests, and i will hug her tightly, because, well, you just never know. [you should hug all of your loved ones tightly any chance you get, really].

statistically, most don't make it through the second round, and truthfully, we all have a bad - deep gutted - feeling about it this time.

but we can't get stuck there.

we must walk through this without wasting a moment of time together, and always hope for the best.

in the meantime, i look to the hills [psalm 121:1-2] and pray, i write, and, as my old [as in previous] spiritual mom once told me, i "let myself cry, then wipe the tears from my eyes and keep going".

no matter what, you have to keep going.

even after last night's loss, i am deeply proud of my team, and here's why:

1) 93-69 is an amazing way to end a season [especially one that didn't look too promising back in june].

2) they beat the yankees, which is a feat in itself.

3) they played through the pressure put on them by 50,000+ fans [also a feat in itself].

4) they took advantage of elvis andrus' three error inning [i'd still marry him] and came back from being down two games against texas.

5) they brought a city together.

and here's what i learned by watching them:

1) one person can't carry a team.

jose bautista is [bat] flippin' awesome, donaldson is out of this world, pillar, superman, and stroman, a big ball of passion [i could go on an on here], but no man should have to feel the pressure of carrying the team alone, not even a home run king or MVP. [others attribute our winning streak to price and tulo - and yes, while those trades brought a certain energy and hope to our team - everyone contributed to their remarkable season].

2) sports provide a temporary escape and bring people together.

whether i was at work, a sports bar, or at the dome [it will always be called the dome to me], i couldn't help but be energized by the unity i felt throughout post season. watching my whole restaurant erupt after a run scored was energizing, and listening to thousands of strangers chant 'let's go blue jays' on my walk back to union station the other night was nothing short of amazing. [all of the hot guys wearing blue jays' gear didn't hurt, either].

for three hours, nothing else mattered.

but, at the end of the day, it's only baseball.

everyone who knows me knows that i have been the biggest jays fan for decades now [i still own framed pictures of the 92-93 teams], but my life isn't altered by their loss [nor would it have been had they won], because, well, there are more important things in life than baseball.

maybe we'll get 'em next year, or maybe we won't, but either way, win or lose, the jays will always have a fan in me.

it's funny how one word can instill so much fear, and pain.

i remember the first time i received word that my mom had cancer and how paralyzed i felt when my phone exploded with texts that day.

but thankfully, after a year of tests, surgery, and radiation, she beat it, and she beat it in the most courageous way.

it was raining when i got the news this time, which seemed fitting. i was walking through toronto at the time, feeling like i as going to be sick, but choosing to focus on a breathing exercise i learned to help with my anxiety instead. even still, the 'what ifs?' and the 'why her?'s" started flooding in simultaneously with the downpour of rain; thoughts that can drown you if you let them.

but really, why her? why my mom, the one who stood by my dad's side for years and loved him with the most sacrificial love, taking care of him for years as he struggled with his own health? that type of stress was enough to kill anyone, really, and in her case, played a big part in her having a heart attack and having to undergo triple-bypass surgery, which she endured like a champ. and yet even through this, she honored her vows and took care of him until the day she woke up to him laying lifeless - yet peacefully - on the floor beside her.

and she endured that like a champ, too.

cancer came, and cancer went, and we all celebrated with tears of relief. [i still have the picture of her holding her pina colada in the air that day]. she finally caught a break.

after her first post radiation appointment three months a go, things looked promising.

three days a go, however, not so much. unfortunately, the fluid that they drained from my mom's stomach contained 'a lot of' cancer cells, stupid cancer cells.

i'm learning that there's a fine line between feeling hopeful and fearful, and being positive yet realistic.

my conclusion in all of this, though, and my encouragement to you, is this:

when life throws you a curve ball, let yourself feel what you gotta feel. want to scream? scream? pray? pray. process. journal. cry, whatever. just don't get stuck there. keep going, keep hoping, and don't you dare lose faith! not for you, not for me, and certainly not for my mom.

those of you who know me can attest to the fact that i'm an extremely emotional being.

i feel things. i cry when i'm grateful, when i'm hurting, when others are, or when i watch shows like the amazing race or undercover boss.

i love deeply and invest wholeheartedly.

but with all of this comes the constant need to recognize and adjust expectations, and the risk of facing hurt and disappointment in the process.

you see, while i acknowledge that emotion and feelings are a beautiful thing, i reject the emotional side of me more often than not.

that being said, i hate that i feel so much. i hate that i lay in bed for hours replaying a conversation i had but shouldn't have, or dwelling on something someone said to me that they shouldn't have.

when i'm hurt, i get angry and adopt an 'i don't care' attitude, and when i'm really hurt, i shut down, isolate myself, and let the few that have hurt me make me believe that everyone will.

when all is said and done [though i'm working on it], i have a hard time trusting people and find very few people safe.

as humans, we all crave validation. a "great job" from a boss, an "i'm proud of you" from a parent, an "i appreciate you" from a friend.

even when we're not realizing it, or at least acknowledging our motive, we're posting pictures on facebook to show people we haven't talked to in decades how cool our lives are, or better yet, sticking it to the ladies on the view by posting pictures of different nurses with their 'nurse' stethoscopes to validate our very important job. we're approval addicts by nature.

a few days a go i shared with the facebook world that i felt like i was 'failing at life', and the response was remarkable.

my inbox flooded with emails from people who wanted to thank me for being so honest because they feel like that, too, and my wall flooded with people who wanted to let me know how much my life has impacted theirs.

i heard from a young adult [who was, at the time, in trouble with the law] whom i lived with for a summer five years a go, some people from high school, a friend i met at a jays' game in detroit, a kid i babysat when i was a teenager, a girl i served in a restaurant a while back, and the list goes on.

with every kind word, my 'i fail at life' mentality drifted away. with every word of truth, the lies suffocated.

the truth is, as i have often preached, success isn't measured by how many degrees we have, what kind of car we drive, how big our house is, or what kind of title we carry. success, in my opinion, is measured by how well we love, what kind of person we are, and what kind of legacy we'll leave behind.

after all, we can't take anything with us when we die. only love remains.

1) sometimes, you have to walk the same path to see how much you've changed.

i cringe when people use the phrase "everything happens for a reason" as a way of trying to cheer me up when things go sour, but at the end of the day, while i don't necessarily believe in the validity of that statement, i do believe that everything works out for good, and that everything we go through in life can be used for a greater purpose.

i couldn't help but meditate on proverbs 19:21 [many are the plans in a person's heart, but it is the LORD's purpose that prevails] and proverbs 16:9 [in their hearts humans plan their course, but the LORD establishes their steps] as i walked out of the church i used to attend, and have recently returned to, this past sunday. it felt like home to me, yet new, and i like new.

2) the best is yet to come.

in addition to working alongside the kids' pastor and pouring into the students that come through his leadership program, i have been plugging away at building this kickin non profit that my friend and i have been dreaming about for longer than we even knew we were. i can't go into too much detail at this point, but let's just say that it incorporates all of our passions and giftings [public speaking, mentoring students, connecting them to local and global serving projects etc]. things have been falling into place quite nicely as we work alongside the PAOC missions department at building a strong and sustainable foundation, and i couldn't be more thrilled about it.

my future is bright ... and so is yours.