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| My little water girl |
There’s a lot in my life that I didn’t see coming. Sure, I had narrated my story in my imagination - what kind of man I would marry, what kind of mother I’d be, and how many kids I would have. I chose my college, chose my career, and chose my husband (based on looks and charm, but more importantly persistence to counteract my obstinance). When motherhood happened I started choosing for small humans, navigating through it like a blindfolded birthday girl trying to pin the tail on the donkey. It is both better and harder than I could ever have imagined.
I did not choose cancer. I did not see that coming. Four years and seven months ago I was thrown into a box with a bunch of Barbies. A bunch of really scary Barbies. Cancer was not in any of my imaginary plans or my 5 year goals, and there wasn’t even a donkey to pin that tail on if I took the blindfold off. It turned out that I got the full blown stage 4 kind with no good options. This box was small. And dark. I was supposed to be drinking Starbucks and talking kindergarten, not looking for science experiments that might open this box up. When the box was closed the tightest and I was pretty sure it wouldn’t open, I told God He could use me. It was really nice of me to give Him permission since that’s what He was planning on doing anyway.
In January of this year, Stephen walked in from a work trip and announced that he wanted to bring the Miles for Melanoma to Memphis. Being the submissive and encouraging wife I am, I said, “knock yourself out.” He was serious though, so I had to get myself where he was. I am not a social planner. I am not a public speaker. I am NOT a runner. But, it looks like I married one. We started talking through it and working on the logistics, but it was April and I figured too late in the game for this year so I was home free. And then, just like that, we had a date, a location, and a presenting sponsor - a paint company whose only connection to melanoma is through two employees - Stephen and our friend Bob in Mississippi. We had 3 1/2 months to pull it off.
So, here’s the thing about God’s timing. He acts fast when He’s ready. And, here’s the other thing. He had already been strategically planning well before I knew. All the things were there, all the people were there, and the money, well it was there too. He just needs hands and feet. He gave me a big fish story to tell - one that’s so crazy dramatic that you think the fish should grow every time but it does’t have to - it’s already big. Even when I try to shrink the fish, it’s still big. Public speaking? No problem. God handed me a microphone in April to tell my story to 400 perfect strangers in white coats. Go big or go home. And, the running? Well, I reluctantly started making myself run from the house to Bailey’s baseball games because I had to get there in time and Stephen had already taken the car. I suffered through the July humidity enough to show up and not look pathetic but if I’m any kind of runner at all it’s a fair weather one. I’ll give a shout out to Kelly Clarkson for her words of encouragement as I trained:What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger
Stand a little taller
Doesn’t mean that I’m lonely when I’m alone
What doesn’t kill you makes a fighter
Footsteps even lighter
Doesn’t mean I’m over cause you’re gone
We started to watch the numbers rise - it was our bedtime conversation. Teams started forming. Stephen’s boss, Tim, sent race stats like they were sales numbers. We asked for sponsors. People said yes (and no). Stephen went around town telling my story, making the ladies cry, and people wrote checks. Teams formed from other places, people we didn’t know but needed to connect through this disease. Our goal of $20,000 seemed like a lot especially for a first year. We just wanted to reach our goal and for people to show up. He exceeded it once again - in a loaves and fishes kind of way.
Our home became race headquarters with a UPS delivery of boxes every day. One friend brought over boxes of sunscreen, I drove around in my car with 400 frisbees for 2 weeks because I had no where to put them. Powerades, waters, bananas, snacks, more sunscreen - all donated. When bag stuffing day came, our friends came over, ate hamburgers and filled 400 bags with all that stuff. Stephen agonized over his play list, reluctantly trading in some of his 80s glam rock for newer pop compliments of a few tween girls and ended up with an eclectic mix of glam rock, Memphis tunes, and a few songs thrown in with survival themes. (Not sure anyone cared or heard it, but boy, was it an issue). It was happening. Martha Kate and I put signs team together and as I read those names, I thought of the people behind them. Teams. Every person on them was affected in some way either by my story or some one else’s. And the beautiful thing about it is that these teams weren’t competing but working together. 
Saturday, it became clear to me what kind of race we were having - I didn’t see it coming. Our race had heart. It was full of stories and connections, friendships, memories, and love. My team was huge - I’ve known that, but when you line them up in the flesh wearing hot pink shirts, it really makes an impression. The others? Some I knew, some I didn’t. Some I got the pleasure of meeting, others I wish I had. I finally met our friend, Bob, and his family who was introduced to Stephen through his district manager, Tim. Over the last 2 years, Stephen and Bob have become good friends through my story and his and we now share a doctor and the same cancer drug. Bob went head first into the fundraising with his creativity. He pulled at the heartstrings by wearing my shirt and posting a picture of his smiling face getting treatment, passing the hat at his family reunion, and my personal favorite, auctioning off his bucket of home-grown tomatoes for $100. 
Race day was like a wedding. You don’t know who’s going to show up, you don’t know if you have it together, but you know you’ll walk out of there just as married. We showed up to run but we had all already won before we got there. As Bob said, “when you’re surrounded by winners and people who strive to be the best, success will fall in your lap every time.” Our goal for this race was raised 3 times. We exceeded every one and totaled over $42,000. 250 were expected. We had 422. Team KJ was the largest participating team ever - over 115. If you are wondering where God was, He was right there on Saturday. Stephen and I said some words on a stage but there really weren’t enough words to describe it. We also crossed this finish line. The hills were real, the heat was real, but so was the experience.
We learned a lot through this experience. We learned that hosting a race and running it too is a lot harder than it seems. We’ve learned that the people around us are seasoned with life - our life and our experience and that if they’ve hung on this long, they’re not going anywhere. We’ve learned to push through and look ahead and say yes when it matters because the on the other side of that yes there are big things, big fish and probably loaves of bread to go with it.
We were sitting at Vanderbilt a couple of weeks ago waiting on my scan results and to see my
doctors. Every time I sit there, I know there’s a chance they are about to tell me that I will do this all over again. There’s no way to prepare, no way to determine what this box of Barbies holds for us next. And, with every clear scan, every good blood count, we take a deep breath and move forward. Saturday morning also ironically marked the day that 6 year ago my mother ran her own race into the arms of Jesus. I woke up, took a deep breath and moved forward.
That’s the way it is. Good comes from bad, joy comes from sadness, and victory comes from defeat, but God wins - every time.
That’s the way it is. Good comes from bad, joy comes from sadness, and victory comes from defeat, but God wins - every time.
“Now to Him who is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that works in us...” Ephesians 3:20
Kimberly
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| LeBonheur peeps |
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| Addie and her family from Texas - a former patient of mine who has cheered me on from the beginning. We go way back. Click her name to read more. |
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| Daddy - always supporting! |
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| More of my posse. |
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| Stacy held me up more than once. |
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| The Jessops - always to our rescue! |
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| Emmanuel love |
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| Two of my best girls that missed the team pic because they were working. |
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| Sherwin-Williams |
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| Bob, Tim, and Stephen |
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