It's a Wig!

“It’s a wig,” whispered my new friend, Kristie, as she drew in close to me at the table where we were having lunch in honor of our wonderful daughters.
“You have got to be kidding!” I exclaimed, leaning back to get a good look at the soft brown hair, neatly trimmed and framing her face with the gorgeous smile.
The conversation turned to the heartaches women face in life.
Breast cancer. Divorce. Dating again, ugh. Remarriage.
The beautiful, blond lady across the table shared about the hurt she felt when her first husband came home and told her he wanted a divorce.
She shared about going back to the church where they had been active, respected members and facing the humiliation of a divorce.
“You find out who your friends are,” she said.
Her daughter is beautiful and blond, too, and highly successful at her university. The pain of her parents’ divorce was momentarily relived on her face as her mother spoke of it.
My thoughts turned to a lady that I met for the first time the day before who cried as she talked about the trauma of infertility.
If only we could spare our daughters the pain of life.
I looked up Kristie’s story on a website called www.breastcancerstories.com. If you go there, click on “read stories,” then scroll down about half way until you see a Kristie from Texas.
I should warn you, it’s personal. She even included pictures of shaving her head.
One of my favorite parts was the nicknames she listed for breast cancer. I’m guessing that “clump in the lump” is the only one that might make it past my editor’s red pen. The other nicknames demonstrate a more creative, free approach to the English language. I laughed. Personally, being a writer, I appreciate new ways to use old words.
But the best thing about Kristie’s story is the way she is so honest about her fear. In writing about her cancer, she keeps coming back to her relationships.
That’s probably why I instantaneously liked her as we sat together. Her heart and life seemed available to me.
I guess the best we can hope for, as women, is to live honestly before our daughters. Maybe as we lean on our friends in life’s crises, they can see what strength looks like. Not being perfect, but being vulnerable, being patient, being resilient.
Facing life bald. Putting on a wig and a smile and looking for a chance to encourage someone else before we die. Today, in case today is all we get.
And leaving our children, especially our daughters, the inheritance of knowing what unconditional friendship looks like.
The beautiful blond lady missed the first part of the conversation, but she suddenly realized we were talking about Kristie’s cancer.
“It’s a wig?!” she exclaimed.