Friday, September 23, 2011


My goddaughter Grace turned seven this week. Her mom, Alana, has been one of my closest and dearest friends since we were camp counselors together when we were sixteen. When I called to wish Grace a happy birthday, Alana and I got to chatting.

"I have to tell you what I overheard in the car the other day," she said. She had been driving Grace and four of her girlfriends home for a slumber party that night for Grace's birthday. Grace and her friends attend Catholic school, and they were discussing their prayers in the backseat.

"Girls," said Grace. "Listen. My Aunt Jen has breast cancer, in her boobies, and I pray for her every day."

"My grandpa died of cancer," said another girl.

"No. This is different. My Aunt Jen is strong, and she is brave, and she is going to beat this."

"What's cancer?" asked another girl.

Alana said her ears perked up then. How would Grace explain this one?

"Cancer is this awful, devilish MOLD that grows inside your body and eats the good parts." Pretty decent explanation for a seven year old. She gets it.

"Ewwwww!" the other girls squealed. "She has moldy boobies?!"

Well, yes, but technically only the right one, and chemo is working on eradicating that mold problem.

1 comment:

  1. Children don't mince words, which frequently makes them brilliant. This is particularly special because not only has she concisely and eloquently defined cancer, she has also clearly stated what we are all doing - praying for you every day. She's right about two more things, you are strong and you are brave. Keep kicking ass.