Watching Me Like a Hawk

Yesterday morning I got out of bed at 6:30 am in order to attend the Making Strides Against Breast Cancer kick-off breakfast at the Holiday Inn. As I dropped the dogs off at the Canine Clubhouse at 7:30 am, I marveled that there were people out and about this early. Apparently I've completely forgotten what its like to be in the working world during my hiatus, thanks to my wonderful daughter who lets me sleep in until 8.

I got to the hotel, registered, and got in line for food. Then I made my way to the front if the ballroom like I always do since my eyes are pretty bad. I picked a table with an empty seat and friendly faces and it changed the course of my day in that moment. A woman at my table was wearing a pacesetters badge, which is a title I desire for myself. In order to become one, you must raise at least $2,500 through your fundraising. During the kick-off, this woman got up and told her personal story and her history with Making Strides. She revealed that she was diagnosed with breast cancer initially at age 31 and again five years later, this time with a more advanced stage. This was followed with "I am now a 15 year survivor from my first diagnosis, and a 10 year survivor from my second diagnosis." She looked great, the picture of glowing health and a passion for a cause that was realized during her battle with cancer. It occurred to me that this could be me, this WOULD be me. When I hear a negative story or a poor outcome, it stays with me, weighing me down with the thought that I won't be any different. I choose to let Teresa's story lift me up and show me what I can be: someone that not only survives this, but thrives in this and finds a purpose that may not have been unveiled without a cancer diagnosis.

After the program ended, I needed to express my gratitude for her story. My eyes filled with tears as I thanked her, and I could barely keep it together. I'm pretty good at keeping myself composed in front of others, so this was a surprise. We started talking and I was introduced to two other women who were with her, one was the event planner for the American Cancer Society and another was a very active volunteer. I expressed my desire to volunteer my time to them and they invited me out to breakfast to continue our discussion.

We went to a nearby diner and I immediately felt at home with these ladies. The talk of the upcoming events thrilled me and brought me back to the days when my career was event planning. Only these fabulous events raise money that will be used to research a cure for cancer. These events were now the most important events I could ever help plan. It was decided that I will join them as a volunteer for future events. I felt fulfilled.

As we were eating, Teresa looked out the window and said "Wow, look at that bird! Is that an eagle or a hawk?" I looked out and answered that it was a hawk. She said "you really don't see hawks too often, do you?"  "I do, I see them all the time." I answered.

Ever since my dad passed away, there are hawks. If I'm driving in my car and crying or struggling with something, I look up, and there's a hawk. If I'm walking Harper in her stroller and thinking of my dad, I look up, and there's a hawk. It became my thing to say "hi Dad" and it became his thing to show me hawks when I was in need. The day of my breast biopsy, on the way to the procedure, a hawk practically skipped across the hood of my car at a stop light. At that moment I had a feeling that something was about to happen that my dad needed to be there for. I had 3 consults to find the best breast surgeon, but when I walked out of the Hershey Breast Center after my consultation, I looked up in the sky and saw multiple hawks. The first thing I saw after leaving my port placement surgery was a hawk. I took these as signs that he was guiding me on the right path. 

On July 28th, the anniversary of my dad's death, my mom and I went out to lunch after church. We drove separately and parked our cars next to each other. As we walked together towards the building, a large hawk flew right over our heads, very close to us, and perched up on and electrical wire above us. There were no grassy areas around us where this hawk would be stalking his prey, only a concrete parking lot. He was round and gray in color, not the usual brown. This was the first time a hawk actually looked like my dad. And he just sat there, watching us, letting us know he was there.

At the diner, this hawk sat in the grass, adjacent to my spot at the window. Then he flew up to the top of a light structure in the parking lot. It felt so normal, seeing this hawk, after all they are always near. But I realized this wasn't true for everyone when I saw that a man had stopped his vehicle in the middle of the parking lot and was taking pictures of this impressive bird with his cell phone camera. Then my hawk made a big show of flying back past us, turning around, and gliding back over the cars directly outside our window. My new friends were amazed and said what I already knew to be true: my Dad was there to let me know that I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

 Hi Dad!

Thank you Marsha, Michelle, and Teresa for a lovely breakfast and your infectious enthusiasm for a wonderful cause that has now become my passion. And thank you for validating that this hawk thing is really happening and I'm not a crazy person.