"Who can draw a line that's 2 millimeters?"
It's hard to know when the worst news is actually the worst news, or when the worst news is a good thing wearing the worst news' hat. 2 millimeters certainly felt like the worst news. Another of those statistics about life today that's just a number until it's your grandmother, your parents, your mother. But in the way only she can, mine has turned 2 mm into her latest demonstration of a faith-filled, hopeful, life of perspective. And it's working. Not in a cheap "things could be worse" way, but in a "we've got cancer right where we want it" way. As she begins her chemo treatment today, her birthday, I'm overwhelmingly thankful. Thankful for doctors that believe in the full life preventative treatment allows; thankful for a mother that continues to do the right things when they're hard; thankful that technology can see 2 mm even if we can't draw it.
Today it's not "happy birthday, despite the cancer", but happier birthday because of it. Because of the amazing doctors and treatment, because of the incredible support system, because who wants to wait for a hair cut to have a great hair day, because bathing suit season is right around the corner, because after this we can be sure.
I made this for my mom for her birthday, but never shared it with her or anyone else. I think at the time I didn't know what to say, a year to the day from beginning her treatment. Today, she marched in the Kentucky Oaks Survivors Parade in the largest pink-ribboned derby hat, hiding a head full of auburn hair. I still don't have the words, but I want to recognize the inspiration she has been and example she has set throughout a year of tests and treatments, never faltering in her faith or optimism, never wanting special treatment. I can't thank enough each of you that took the time to vote to make today's much-deserved celebration of her possible.