I got asked to write a blurb for the Hope Lodge about my experience there. They choose someone each week for their ‘Faces of Hope’ Facebook segment. I asked them exactly what they were looking for. Eady, a volunteer, showed me her post about her experience with cancer and her work with the American Cancer Society. Another volunteer, Celeste, said with a shrug, “write whatever you want.”

Here’s what I wrote.

Having a place to stay when I come to New York for treatment is only a part of the blessing that is the Hope Lodge. Though I am thankful for the financial burden it relieves, there’s a sense of family here that’s hard to describe. We are all going through something. Whether you have cancer, you’re the caregiver of someone with cancer, or just coping with the challenges that living brings. As I think back to Tuesday’s Taco Night on the sixth floor, I am filled with the sense that as humans, we need each other. That hope doesn’t just come from within. It can be passed around like little balls of light, warming us as we welcome it into our hands. The Hope Lodge hasn’t just housed me, it’s nurtured me. And I am truly grateful for the opportunity to be here.”

I hadn’t written anything other than journal entries for months. I felt rusty and unsure of what I was putting out there. It was exactly how I felt, but I didn’t feel confident in it. The next morning, I was talking to Eady when she asked if I’d handed in my entry yet. I told her I’d just done it. “Oh! I want to read it!”

As she walked into the back office, I practically fled in terror, my cheeks hot with embarrassment. I know, I know, what did I think would happen? That no one would read it?

A half hour later, I ran into her again. I had my bags with me for my trek to the airport. She told me she’d just called my room to tell me when she read what I’d written, she thought she might cry. “But not in a bad way, ya know? It was a good feeling.” I could see the emotion in her eyes.

I thanked her. I felt embarrassed by her compliment, but also high off of it. I got a stare or two as I walked down the street. I realized I was smiling widely with my hand over my heart, like I was trying to keep it from bursting out of my chest.

This lightness carried me all the way to the airport and worked like a talisman. I giggled as I sat on the bus. It even protected me from the wrath of a disgruntled TSA agent.

I was looking into my backyard last week at the plants I’d put in a few months back. They were still alive, but hadn’t really grown. I wondered if I was like those plants – surviving, but not really thriving.

Eady had reminded me, this is what I love to do. And perhaps, it’s just the thing to help me bloom.