Five years ago I met one of my closest friends. We were volunteering in the office together at our parish, and on Tuesdays we would count the collection. Soon we began counting the collections and then going to breakfast together and talking about life.
We became fast friends when we went on a pilgrimage together to Israel. I had pretty intense morning sickness at the time, and together we were the two slowest walkers in the group. We ended up falling far behind our group as we wound along the Via Dolorosa, arms linked as we carefully made our way over the slick, slimy cobblestones at the beginning of the walk that morning, trying not to fall. We were more than a little nervous as a few teenage boys came to watch us walk by, but we stuck together and finally were reunited with our group at the site of the scourging.
She was one of the first people to hear about Sadie and Mae when we found out we were expecting, and we were happy when we found out we were going to be renting a few doors down from her home.
Earlier this week I got a phone call that almost seems like part of a bad dream.
The doctors were afraid that my friend had ovarian cancer. I called her and found that she was waiting for more tests, but that things didn't look good. Last night she told me that the doctors had come in and told her she had stage 4 ovarian cancer and that the UC they were going to take her to can't fit her in for two or three months.
So we're storming heaven with prayers. She's a daily communicant, and one of the sweetest people that I know. And if you have moment to offer a prayer I'd really appreciate it.
Sadie, in her sweet little voice, has been praying, and telling me over and over again: "Don't worry Mommy. Di Di will be okay. She will be fine Mommy."
But right now I'm just wishing that California and Florida weren't so far apart...