What Can I Say? We have a minivan....

This is what I've got for today...

Minivans!!!

Oh blessed minivans!

Blech!

Who wants to drive a mini van?

They're so "mini-van-y"....right?

Not hip.

Definitely not cool.

It means you're a mom with kids.

(Which, that part, it isn't so bad).

I SWORE I would never drive one.

Ever!

It's the "uncool" poor mans version of an SUV.

It's just a darn minivan.

It's ALSO practical and better on gas mileage and cheaper

to maintain than an SUV.

To each their own, right?

Regardless, it's STILL a minivan.

(totally uncool--who am I kidding?!)

We have one sitting in our driveway.

Correction, we have TWO!

Mine, which is a few years old and the one Kyle drives

which is a million years old, and paid off, and will be driven

until it falls apart (which could be any time now). 

It's not flashy, or cool.

It has a dent in the side from Josh.

I have a story to tell about the night our minivan 

saved someones life.

One January winter night, about 8 or 9 years ago we had 

a sick baby.

Olivia.

She had kept us up for several nights in a row.

Coughing, throwing up, crying.

We were weak with fatigue and wanted nothing more than an uninterrupted nights sleep.

We would have sold our soul for pennies to sleep for more than

a 2 hour stretch.

It was early into a bitter cold January morning and we had
FINALLY gotten her settled down and to bed.

Our eyes were just shutting and our bodies relaxing into sleep

when the doorbell rang.

It was nigh unto 2 o'clock in the morning.

It was winter in Utah.  It was FREEZING outside. 

WHO in the world was ringing our doorbell at this hour?

Of course, I made Kyle go to the door.

It was probably an ax murderer waiting to kill us while we slept. 

(Only he was announcing himself by ringing our bell of course!)

He went to the door and from our bedroom I heard a mumbled conversation.

Then the door closed and he came to our room.

"Dor, there is a girl out there that I think is possibly drunk or high on something and she needs to use our phone...."

At this point, we were wondering if she could still possibly be an ax murderer and left her on the front porch to freeze to death.

Kyle got the phone and handed it out the door to her.  

At which point we both realized that it was ...

a) winter

b) FREEZING

c) she was crying and cold

d) FREEZING 

and so ...

e) we invited her inside to our living room

If it was our time to go, we were about to be taken out by

an ax murderer ringing our doorbell at 2 a.m. and we were 

dumb enough to let her in.

In the light of our warm room we saw before us a blue haired,

mascara streaked, teenage girl in tears.

Nope!  Not an murderer, we were 99.9% sure now.

Just a lonely, lost, sad looking teenage girl.

We sat in our pajamas, and she cried into the phone telling someone her story on the other end of the line.

We made out bits and pieces.

"Park City"  "Party"  "Lost"  "Scared" "Walked"

She hung up and turned to us.

We felt pretty bad for leaving her on our steps for even a minute when we saw her face.

Her story came spilling from her at this point.  She was a nanny for a family that had come to Utah for a ski vacation (from Michigan or Minnesota or possibly some other "M" state, my memory fails me now).

She had had the night off and met some people (and by "people" we mean "cute boy") and come to a party in Salt Lake City with him.

After a few too many drinks, the boy she was with was not being very nice to her and she walked out of the house, out of the party, and into the unknown.

(Obviously not a smart move on her part, one of many not smart moves....but she was young and having an adventure).

She started walking in bitter cold temperatures, and crying,

and realized she was drunk and lost and alone and cold.

She was in a strange city and didn't know what to do or how to 

get back to Park City.

After wandering from neighborhood to neighborhood, she happened into ours.

She realized she needed to call her mother back home and get some help.

Kyle asked her why in the world she choose our house of all the houses to stop at.

She told us that as she walked past our house, she saw our mini van in the driveway and knew we would probably have kids and be nice because of that van.

(How did she know WE weren't the ax murderers?)

But she stopped because of our van.

We were parents, albeit tired ones, and we were pretty nice.

Kyle got her a ride back to Park City, after figuring out where she was staying and sent her on her way.

We hoped she would be alright and finally went to bed.

(At which point Olivia woke up again crying.)

The next day, we got a call from the girls mother thanking us 

profusely for helping her child.

Her child that was lost and alone and in harms way.

We said we were happy to help and glad the story had a happy ending.

As we travel our own dark winter night in this journey we call cancer, we have had many times when we feel lost and alone.

Both of us.

Collectively and singularly.

Some nights (still) tears fall freely.

Some days, we are good.

As good as this new normal gets for now.

There have been many people to help us along our way.

Some of you have made "Rock Star" status.

You know who you are.

You are the people that are always, always there for us.

Always.

We know that we can count on you no matter what.

Even at 2 in the morning, on a cold January night.

You would let us ring your doorbell and welcome us in.

You would listen as we wept in your living rooms, with mascara

streaming down our faces.

You would hold our hands when they were chilled.

You would be the driveway with the minivan.

We know you would answer the bell when we rang.

You have, many times.

Even if you are tired and need your own good nights sleep,

you still answer your door for us.

To you, those of you that have put yourselves out there for

us at all hours of the day and night, we say Thank You.

This journey is STILL hard and scary and lonely and dark.

I can only assume it will remain both good and bad, until 

the end.

We thank you, you Rock Stars of our world for being there for us.

Everyone needs a house, with a driveway, with a minivan, with an open door, with a phone, with love....

....on the nights when things are darkest.

Thank you for (figuratively) "saving our lives" when we have needed someone to turn to.

And even though it's certainly not very hip and definitely not

cool at all, thank you for being the driveway with the minivan

in it and knowing we will always find a safe place to "call home" in your friendships.

Here's to minivan filled driveways and Rock Star kind of friendships~