Strikes Against Cancer

This past weekend, while I was out of the country, Sam’s STIX team won their first championship down in Dripping Springs.  Congratulations to coaches Joe, Preston, Ryan and Beau, and to eleven of the coolest 12 year old kids I know!  I hated that I missed it. 

For the uninitiated, the 12U Frisco, TX franchise of the STIX Baseball Club is a special team.  Travel baseball gets a bad rap, sometimes deservedly so, as do all youth sports.  I’ve written about this here before - What Did You Sign Up For?.  But I always have to stop and remind people that this team is just not the same as other teams.  There’s a long list of things that make the STIX stand apart, beginning with the fact that 7 of the original 9 kids that joined our team in the fall of 2011 are still wearing STIX laundry.  Nate joined in before we kicked off our first real season in the spring of 2012.  Because those 8 originals include twins, that’s seven families that have spent the better part of every weekend together for more than half the year since January 2012.  That’s seven families that have travelled together – to Waco, to Colorado, to Austin.  That’s seven families whose kids have sleepovers, and whose parents all like to hang out with each other – sometimes vacation with each other.  That’s six other families that I have spent more time with than almost anyone else for the last four years.

When I started this team in the late summer of 2011, I had a few distinct modest goals – to give my son a chance to play with friends while learning to play the game correctly, and to do so with class and dignity and while learning to respect coaches, umpires and parents.  I knew what kind of work would need to go into it, and I had a plan.  When the next spring rolled around, I took on Will’s 13U STIX team along with my great friends Kris and Matt, and had wisely recruited coach Joe and coach Blake to help out with the STIX 9U.  Luckily, Ben did not need a coach (for the time being that is).  Within a month of kicking off the Spring 2012 season, we got news of Kelly’s diagnosis.  Kris made sure that all the coaches, including Joe and Blake, knew what was going on and that they would need to pick up the slack as necessary. 

There would be many extraordinary moments on the diamond that season, beginning with the first 13U game of the season between Chad Jolley’s and Greg Hampton’s team and ours, where both teams donned their Team Kelly jerseys and we all met on the mound to start the game and prayed together.  A few weeks later, the TK jerseys would be back on the diamond for what would become an important STIX tradition.  Every first weekend in May, Triple Creek in McKinney hosts a tournament called Strikes Against Cancer (Strikes Against Cancer) that is the brainchild of Geordon Cox.  Geordon began the tournament as a way to honor his mother and join her in her 4-year long battle against cancer.  Today it remains one of the biggest events in north Texas, and in 2012, both Sam’s and Will’s STIX teams played in the event donning Team Kelly jerseys.  Ben’s team played in the event as well, and Ella had a softball game that weekend.  Kelly saw each of them play, taking in 11 games over that 2-day span (Play Ball!)!!  All while struggling through the side effects of a 48-hour cycle of Folfirinox chemotherapy!  Pardon my French, but what a badass!

A little over a year later, the STIX would finish fourth out of 14 in the Super Summer NIT, their best tournament performance to date.  Pool play began on Saturday June 1, and the head coach was AWOL and Sam was noticeably absent from the lineup that day.  Sam spent most of the day, along with his siblings and the coach, lying next to his mom loving on her and talking to her, and saying goodbye.  The next day, as close friends and family busied themselves about the house taking care of me and my kids, word began to come down about the run the STIX were making in bracket play on Sunday.  “On to the semifinals!” was the word we got, and Sam looked at me and said he wanted to play.  I called coach Joe and told him to pencil Sam in to the lineup and asked Pops to get him to the park.  Of course they were wearing their Team Kelly jerseys, and word had spread throughout the ballfields that day about who this team was and who they were representing – the story was fairly well known in those days.  When Sam came to the plate for his first at-bat, the GP Airhogs’ catcher called time out and the crowd, opposing coaches, umpires, and STIX all gave Sam a standing ovation.  We lost that one 7-6, but I still remember Joe saying it was the most moving baseball moment he’d ever witnessed.

Like me, Kelly loved the diamond.  We made and shared memories there, and we met and hung out with most of our dearest friends there.  I knew I needed to put down my fungo after that season, because I needed to focus on my family and picking up the pieces after Kelly’s passing, but it was hard.  So much of our energy had gone into baseball in general, and into this STIX team in particular.  For three seasons these families had made up a vital contingent of Team Kelly and had helped to carry my family through some of our toughest moments.  To my relief, coach Joe took the head coaching job (reluctantly at first) and since then has added (I like to think I get some credit for this in terms of “front office” influence) Ryan and Preston, his twin sons, Beau Williams, and a host of roving instructors made up of current and ex-pro ballplayers.  And the best part is they still let me hit fungo and catch-in sometimes!

This coming weekend, STIX Baseball 12U will play in its 4^th consecutive Strikes Against Cancer tournament, and for the 4^th consecutive year I am honored that the kids, coaches and parents have decided to represent Kelly.  We updated the laundry a little:

Thank you so much to all the STIX, former and present.  I’m so proud of all you boys!!  This will always be Kelly’s STIX team, as long as you play together! 

One of the great blessings of this blog is the ability to go back to certain moments and just remember - the struggles, the pain, the joy, the laughs and the tears.  While I try to avoid attaching too much significance to specific dates, I often return to a period of time, within a week or two of the current date, but during that time when she was still here - just so I can remember the story.  While looking back for baseball pics and stories, I ran across a different kind of post.  Just a little over two years ago she wrote to her sister in the middle of the night, and Carol posted here: Text From Kelly.  It's good for me and my children to be reminded that in the worst moments of her life she always boldly turned her energy outward through prayer and thanksgiving.  I've never been that selfless and that brave, but I want to be!

I hope in some small way that for the parents, coaches, and especially our kids, as we don these Team Kelly uniforms this weekend and beyond, we remember to open our hearts and give something of ourselves to those around us - those who suffer in pain and fear and despair because of their own illness or that of a loved or lost one - and that we play the game the right way.  The only way.  The Team Kelly way!

Good luck this weekend!  Hit 'em where they ain't!

Happy Birthday....

It happens every now and then that something puts me in mind of this blog, and makes me curious about exactly what was written or posted on a given day in the year or years previous.  That happened to me yesterday.  In this case I already knew what I would find, but I wanted to walk through it again.  Many of you were there day one, on that Wednesday night in February, whenever so many friends, family and neighbors filled our back patio to pray over us and cry with us and share our fear, worry and heartbreak.  Our former neighbor and great friend, Gayla Cruikshank, realized that it was impossible for us to respond to the hundreds of emails, phone calls, and texts that we were receiving - inquiries about what we knew, what was scheduled, when we would find out more - and informed the crowd gathered at our house that she would, the next day, have a blog up and running where everyone could check in and stay informed.  It was actually later that night, February 15, 2012, that she launched Kellybridge with the following post: "We Gather Together".

A couple of days later, in fact 3 years ago today, I forwarded Gayla something to post for me (I'm technologically challenged, you see): "Some Thoughts I Wanted to Share".  Kelly and I were both overwhelmed - first with dismay, fear, and grief - but then over the next several days we were overwhelmed by prayers, well-wishes, letters, cards, and phone calls.  As you know, the blog would take on a life of its own, and within a month, the first of the Team Kelly shirts would appear - during Spring Break '12 at the Lodge in Grand Saline!  Soon after the shirts were being shipped all over the country and not long after that it became the custom for everyone to take them on vacation and send us their pics!  TK soon went global!

As I wish happy birthday to Kellybridge and Team Kelly, I'm reminded of a few other important birthdays - TammyMyNurse! just celebrated hers yesterday, and guess who forgot to reach out and wish her a good one!  For those who don't know her, it's simply impossible to explain who TammyMyNurse! is.  For just a little glimpse, check out this blog post: "Tammy My Nurse!".  One thing we know for sure: Tammy is an angel.  Lately I've noticed Ella wearing the angel charm you gave her, Tammy!  Happy birthday my friend!  I love you so much and hope and pray I can ever be as good to anyone as you were to my Kel!

Also, last year, on Valentine's Day, Blake and Carol launched their new business - Crave Popcorn!  I know it has been a hectic year for the Davises, and I know it's especially hard that Kel hasn't been there to share in the laughs and tears!  I know how much fun she would have had down there helping them make and keep the place cute - and eating up their profits, too!  If you haven't had the pleasure, go visit their shop - it's like stepping back in time - have a Dublin Soda, confections, and the best popcorn around!

Thanks to everyone who continues to support me and my family with your prayers and well-wishes!  Happy birthday Team Kelly!

DFW Purplestride 2014

I have the team packet with all the event t-shirts and 5K race bibs, and as soon as I have time to sort through it all I will have it on my front porch as we've done in the past.  You can swing by any time after tonight, grab your shirt and/or bib, and mark your name off the list.  I'll bring it all down to the park early Saturday for anyone that can't get by my house.

Address is 11483 Pagewynne Dr., Frisco, TX 75035.  My cell is 214-587-7988.

Here are details for the event:

• This Saturday, November 8th, at Klyde Warren Park in Dallas.
• If you have not registered, you can sign up that day at 8:00 AM.
• Opening Ceremonies start at 9:00 AM
• Run/Walk begins at 9:30 AM
• Closing Ceremony will follow (probably around 11)

The event website is Purplestride DFW Event Info, and there you will find a map with directions to Klyde Warren, a map of the race/walk routes, and parking information.

We like to sport our own laundry at this event, so we encourage you to don your Team Kelly t-shirt, whether it's an old school "Got Hope?" shirt or v2.0.  Unfortunately there's no good way to get one of these into everyone's hands before the event, so if you don't have one, or like mine it is a little threadbare, then wear the event T that comes with your registration.  

Thanks again for everyone that donated or is volunteering!  I've explained in previous blog posts (Supporting PanCAN) why PanCAN is so important to me and my family, and these events, held nationwide, are what keep this organization moving forward.

It's not too late to participate or volunteer - you can register between 8 and 9 AM Saturday.

See ya Saturday bright and early!  

Some Hither, Others Yon…

For many of you, especially the men around my age in north Texas, the first thing you think of when I mention “scattershooting” is Junior Miller’s Friday morning 7:45 segment on the Ticket.  But if you grew up in the Dallas area, the reference might, as it does for me, evoke memories of the Morning News Sunday Sports Day page 2 articles written each week by the great Blackie Sherrod, to whom Junior obviously pays homage every Friday.  I was a regular reader of Blackie’s, and still like to dig up old articles by him from time to time.  Compelled to write about many things but about none at length, I can scarcely think of a better format to adopt than Blackie’s.

Scattershooting while wondering whatever happened to Jeff Kent (MHS class mate and good friend, not former Dodgers/Mets great)….  Speaking of high school, I find it interesting that the two most recent BU QB’s, statistically maybe the school’s best ever, have been from South Garland HS (Kel’s alma mater) and Midlothian HS (mine), respectively.  Not sure about Nick Florence in the pantheon of Colonel football, but no doubt that Bryce Petty has already surpassed all but the great Don Floyd, namesake of my old gridiron, as all-time Panthers….  And speaking of SGHS, another Colonel has fallen victim to pancreatic cancer.  Jimmy Schnurr passed away last month after a prolonged battle.  I never met Jimmy but I know that Kelly and he (and I by extension) share many common friends, and judging by what I’ve heard and read from those friends, Jimmy must have been an incredible guy!  I did have the pleasure of meeting his sister during a fundraising event for PanCAN, and in 2013 they were the only team that beat us in fundraising.  Jimmy passed away on September 18, Kelly’s birthday…. 

On September 18, I was kicking off the second annual “Stewapalooza,” thanks to my gracious mother-in-law and father-in-law, who allowed us to utilize the “Lodge,” and also to Kris Gewin and Matt Jackson (and all those they recruited), who worked their tails off making the weekend a smashing success.  I did not name this event, by the way, lest anyone should think me narcissistic.  It’s amazing the way that Kelly brought and kept so many of us together through the years, and it was great celebrating those friendships at one of her favorite places on earth.  We raised a fair sum of money for TKF as well.  And, Jim and Paula will be happy to know that we did not blow anything up this year….  Speaking of raising money and Team Kelly, we are less than a month away from this year’s DFW Purplestride (Nov. 8).  We have raised a lot of money but are nowhere near our goal of $30K this year.  TKF has pledged to match ever dollar donated from now til November 8.  Please join Team Kelly (DFW Purplestride 2014 - Team Kelly Homepage), or join Team “It’s All Good (DFW Purplestride 2014 - It's All Good Homepage),” Jimmy Schnurr’s team, or just give to PanCAN because it’s such a great organization and this cancer is becoming all too keen and common a killer…. 

During our “summer break,” which has now just ended but was prolonged by construction delays, my Preston Trails Community Church men’s small group continued to meet regularly for breakfast every Friday morning.  This is not your usual church men’s group – as I explained to one of our senior pastors once, most of these guys have seen each other at our best and our worst (sometimes at the same time, reference Stewapalooza above), so there’s no use in hiding anything from each other.  During the last few weeks, though, we decided to share our life stories with one another, over the breakfast table at Egg and I, and using as a (rough) outline the five H’s:  heritage, heroes, high points, hard times, and hand of God.  It should not come as a surprise that among my heroes was my father.  I won’t waste the ink in falling incredibly short of explaining why, but will simply say that in recent months it’s dawned on me how closely watched I am by certain younger males in my house, and how they seem to prioritize their lives according to what they believe is important to me.  I remember distinctly how I knew at an early age that I wanted to be a great dad and husband when I grew up…. Notably absent the morning I told my story were a few of my other heroes.  Greg Bobo (as well as Elizabeth) – I’ve probably told you before but Kelly and I always loved how much you were both “into” one another.  It’s hard to put a finger on the marital quality we admired in you – but if I were going to point a young married couple towards an example to live by, I’d send them your way.  And the aforementioned Kris and Matt, who in addition to making sure I get to be the centerpiece of the biggest party of the year, remain the two names atop my “Mexican jail” list (if you’ve read my other posts over the last couple of years, you’ll know what this is, otherwise happy reading).  You’re both my heroes and I hope to be like y’all when I grow up.  Especially Matt cuz he’s got more cool stuff than Kris.  But you too, Kris….

Among our small group autobiographers was Glenn Krupa, who had us all rolling with stories about old Frisco.  The kind of stories where all the characters are the namesakes of the major thoroughfares, schools and parks in town.  Don’t worry, Glenn (and Vonda), what is told at breakfast stays at breakfast.  Let’s just say the Frisco ISD has never been as exciting since you left it….  In 1994, Kelly, at the urging of her BU roommate Angela Cunningham, joined the Frisco ISD as a full-time substitute, and within that year had secured her first full-time teaching gig at Rogers Elementary.  For those unfamiliar with the school growth in Frisco ISD, that was the only elementary school in Frisco then.  Within the first few years, she’d moved with Angela, principal Debbie Boyce and a few of the other young teachers, to open Curtsinger.  For all you FISD families, the genetic imprint from that group – Debbie, the Rogers teachers that remained behind, and the group that ventured out with Debbie to “colonize” that first new elementary school in the district - is still evident on every school in this town, including all 37 elementary schools….  Among that group of young teachers at Curtsinger that grew so close to one another was Jennifer Foster, who now serves as DFW Purplestride Volunteer Chair, and whose entire family has volunteered at the event and represented Team Kelly for the last couple of years.  Jennifer would love to hear from any and all Team Kelly and Team It’s All Good members about volunteering ( PurpleStride Volunteer 2014).  Send your high schooler if they’re in need of some community service hours…. 

Friend and neighbor Stacey White, who first introduced us to the Purplestride event, has once again put together the Jim Pressel Memorial Golf Tournament, which will be hosted at the Trails Golf Club on November 1 (Facebook - Jim Pressel Memorial Golf Tournament), and which honors Stacey’s father, a victim of pancreatic cancer.  Proceeds from last year’s event were donated to PanCAN on behalf of Team Kelly, and it was this surge in funds that put us in 2^nd place for the 2013 Purplestride fundraising.  If I could get to my clubs in my garage, and if I could swing them without hurting myself or those around me, I’d have a team in this tournament.  But my presence would only disgrace the game of golf, and I wouldn’t be right for a month.  But I encourage any of you who enjoy playing to enter this year’s tournament.  It’s truly for a great cause.  In fact, I’d love to see a Team Kelly foursome…. 

Parenting is hard.  It always was, but I miss Kelly’s instinctiveness as a mother now more than ever.  Plus there’s no one there to help me work the “good cop-bad cop” routine.  You’d be surprised how often Kel was the bad cop….  Our neighbor Jones says he can do everything he used to, just not until tomorrow (OK, that was actually an old Blackie joke that I stole)….

Back to Frisco ISD for a moment – would your 5^th grade teacher have picked you up 30 minutes early for school on picture day so she could curl your hair, because she knew your dad would already be at work and, although he might try if asked, probably wouldn’t be able to find a curling iron anyway?  I know a 5^th grade teacher that did just that.  Thanks Trisha Carroll!  That was very much like another elementary school teacher I once knew.  Oh, and I know a future elementary school teacher that wants to be just like both of you…. 

From the “I Wish I’d Written That Department,” George Eliot makes this observation concerning Dorothea Brooke: 

“Dorothea had little vanity, but she had the ardent woman’s need to rule beneficently by making the joy of another soul.”

Few things I’ve ever read come so close to revealing Kelly’s nature so exquisitely and perfectly as Eliot’s description of her Middlemarch heroine.  In her finale to this perfect novel, Eliot says of the heroine,

“…the effect of her being on those around her was incalculably diffusive: for the growing good of the world is partly dependent on unhistoric acts; and that things are not so ill with you and me as they might have been, is half owing to the number who lived a faithfully hidden life….”

-Jason

        

what's it like in heaven?

hi there team kelly :)

It has been quite some time since i've posted here.  It's kind of a sacred little place on the internet that I've been missing...but also unsure how to revisit.  My heart aches every day without being able to talk with kel...I often imagine conversations we would normally be having and the countless questions I would ask her if she could only answer.  

Today, a very dear friend sent this video to me, and i felt compelled to share it here.  The lyrics to this sweet song are so raw and so beautiful, and very truthful to the thoughts that bounce around in my head daily.  I hope this finds you well and please know how much we love and appreciate all of you and your kind, loving hearts...so full God's love and grace.   

So many of you have continued to keep TK thriving, and we appreciate what you are doing to bring awareness to Pancreatic Cancer while honoring how brave Kelly was in her fight.  If you don't have a new Team Kelly shirt, you haven't missed your chance!  Comment here and we will fix you up!  If you have already purchased a shirt, but not yet received it, it is ready for pick up at Crave Popcorn Co. in Plano.  God Bless you all and GO TEAM KELLY :)

Mother's Day is ...

Many of you have heard the story.  Years ago, while helping some friends coach our sons in baseball, I made an unfortunate and very distasteful comment regarding Mother's Day.  "Mother's Day is...."  Well, I'll let you use your imagination.  The email, intended only to be read by the other coaches, instead, through some IT magic, made its way to every parent on the team.  Not only had Kelly gotten news of the comment within hours, but it was not long before word made its way to my own mom.  The parents of the team, in every case, have turned out to be good friends over time.  And like any good friend should, one of them, and usually multiple ones, remind me of my comment each year on this day.

Kelly's diagnosis came on Febdruary 13, and after that she coined a similar phrase: "Valentine's Day is ...!"

A good friend at work, years ago, told his wife and mother of two, after she made a point of displaying her exasperation over his willingness to nap on Mother's Day, "Every day is Mother's day for you!"  And, again, like good friends should, we have kept his comment alive through the years and made it a part of the "Mother's Day tradition" at Venture Mechanical.

The fact is Mother's Day is an uncomfortable holiday, at a time of year whenever weekends are busiest, and it creates a strange dynamic - because your wife isn't your mother, but your kids are too young and too poor to actually do anything for her themselves.  And of course, there's her mother, and maybe either or both of you have grandmothers.  Face it guys, this is not the type of situation in which most of us thrive.  I mean, there are the "curvebreakers," those overachieving, doting husbands that always seem to have the right plans or buy the right gifts.  But for most of us, it's like the Kingford Charcoal radio spot that's running again this year, where the dad is explaining to the kid that they are in for a 2-hour round trip for brunch, during which mommy won't get to eat because while she's outside with the whining kid, dad will eat her food because he's not gonna pay that much to see good food get cold.  The son, after hearing this, asks his father, "Is mommy being punished?"  "We all are," replies the father.  Let's face it - while every day isn't mother's day, it should be.  And yet that wouldn't be possible because mothers don't get days off, even on the actual holiday.

This is a strange Mother's Day for me - I'm still trying to figure out exactly what to say to and do for my own four children.  I know there are emotions and thoughts inside them that I don't see or hear, but I also know better than to try and drag it out of them.  I know they loved their mother dearly, but I am not sure they know exactly what an extraordinary mother Kelly was.  Today, Sam wrote this in his journal and shared with me:

When I was in 3rd grade, my mom began to get sick.  A couple of weeks later we found out she had pancreatic cancer.  We were all devastated, but she acted like it was all going to be fine, so we didn't worry about it too much, either.  Now, when I was in third grade, I thought I was so old, but I was only eight.  After she got cancer, I never really remembered her as just a regular old mom, it just felt like she had always been sick.  Maybe the main reason was because we got a lot more attention, and I guess I kind of liked that.  So, I don't remember much of what happened before she had cancer, but I do remember many things after.  My favorite memory of her, and probably everybody's, was that she didn't let the fact that she had cancer slow her down.  And even though my mom was the sick one, she was constantly helping other people.  She was always trying to be friends with everybody.  She had a place for everyone in her heart.  Everywhere we went, she probably felt terrible, but fought through it and did everything she could one hundred percent of the time.  At home, she did all she could to keep a family of six in order.  And she never let up.  Whenever she could help anyone on anything, she would give it her best.  All these memories are great, and I guess the best memories came from after she had cancer, and not before.

Sam is so right on so many points, but as I have feared for some time (and even suffered a bit of it myself), it's so hard to go back to those days before Kelly was diagnosed.  Yet, I know it would break her heart to think she is remembered only for her struggle with cancer.

So - Will, Ben, Sam and Ella - what kind of mother was she?  Well first off, she was a gorgeous one.  I'm still struck, as I go through photo albums and family portraits, by the way she seemed to get more and more beautiful after the birth of each child.  From the fall of '98 until the summer of '04 she was either pregnant or had just barely weened a child.  This photo, taken in 2006, shows a woman just nearing the height of her beauty:

I know you probably never thought about it when she was with us, and it probably never occurs to you now, but I want you to know how remarkably beautiful she was.  Even in sickness she refused to be anything but gorgeous.

She was incredibly instinctive.  She was like the athlete that could never coach someone else to do what she did.  Perhaps she never knew it - like most young parents we were always measuring ourselves up to those around us, constantly worrying about our inadequacies.  She would run into old friends and listen to stories of the accomplishments of their brilliant children, and how they were appalled whenever they found out their sitter had fed their child Cheetos, only to shake her head later admitting to me that she was pretty sure that's all our kids had eaten for lunch that day as she was dragging y'all around town to God-knows-where to do God-knows-what.  But over time, she gained a peace and confidence as a mom that was unmatched by anyone I've known.  I tell friends, when they worry over how they're doing as parents, that it's always easier to see what a good job someone else is doing - but you never can be sure with your own parenting.  Looking back, though, I see clearly how well she settled into the role.  And I know everyone else saw it too.

She was rough around the edges at times.  She went out of her way to be - sometimes for the boys' sakes - but I think also for Ella's sake, to remind you that life isn't just about Barbies and American Girl dolls, but is also about gunpowder, honky-tonks, 4-wheelers, and fishing.  God could she fish!  From the time that Will came along until well after Ella was with us, we made 20 or more six-hour round trips to the farm in Hazeldell each year, helping Nana and Pops with the next building project, or just being there in the fall while we hunted.  And then there was Grand Saline with Grand and Papaw and the Norrises and Davises, and where sometimes we hosted 30 or more friends and threw huge parties, and she would drink beer and fish and drive through the woods and take beautiful pictures of everyone and everything.  We rarely thought to turn the camera on her.  And one of her favorite places on earth was Greune Hall, and she drug all of you through there at one point or another - during concerts or just during the day while loafing around the old downtown.  A couple of you danced on the stage to the jukebox - in diapers! - while we had a lunchtime beer at the bar.

Looking back, it's so hard to get my arms around who and what she was.  God blessed her with a virtually limitless amount of love and friendship, and an equally vast supply of energy to go along with it.  She couldn't be bottled up and classified - there is just no simple description for her.  She was - like her hair when I first came to know her - crazy and bigger than life.  Sam - all those things you remember about her after she got sick - the energy, the love, the friendship, the strength and courage to face life head-on - that was just her, before sickness and after, always and forever.  And now she's our mockingbird on a moonlit summer night, singing beautiful songs to us, our sweet memories of her.

Grand - I know how hard this day must be for you.  Please know how thankful my kids and I are for all you do for us!  There aren't words to express my gratitude for the gifts you've given me - Kelly, and our children together - and I pray each day for God to provide solace for you and Papaw.  And I hope always you see her love and energy in the faces of Will, Ben, Sam and Ella!  Happy Mother's Day!  I love you!

Nana - I could not have made it without you the past two years.  In fact, I'd have never made it up to that point without you!  There hasn't been a job too dirty or difficult.  I learned everything I know about being a parent from you, Pops, and Kelly.  My kids have known a warm, loving home these past 11 months, and they'll look back years from now and remember this as an extraordinary time, and you as an extraordinary grandmother.  So much of what they will remember and love about their mom, they've seen in you this past school year.  And as for me, well you've always been my best friend - my late night confidant, my biggest fan and supporter.  I should be twice the man that I am, but I wouldn't be half the man I am without you!  Like Kel, your love, friendship and energy knows no limits.  Happy Mother's Day!  I love you!

And now, for the "mother" of all lists:

Carol, Kim, Sheila, Elizabeth, Sandra, Lauren, Camey, Julie, Angela, Trisha, Robyn, Kristi, Leslie, Chris, Anissa, Katy, Berkeley, Tammie, Krista, Carrie, Debbie, Angie, Maile, Amy, Tricia, Dosie, Sherry, Whitney, Michelle, Julie, and so many more - you've been more than just "moms" to my children - you are like angels on their shoulders.  You've made sure none of them wanted for anything, even when it meant just being their fans in the bleachers when I couldn't make it.  I take none of it for granted - we couldn't have gotten through these past two years without your help.  You have treated my kids like they are your own, so from all the Stewarts - Happy Mother's Day!  We love you!

The Shirt V2.0

Well, it's finally here - the new Team Kelly Shirt.  We've made a few changes, and placed our first stock order, so they will be available in about 2 weeks.  We are offering a few more options this time, including a regular style T available in white only; a women's cut, available in white or purple; performance fabric (dri-fit) in either style; and 100% cotton, available in either style.

Proceeds will benefit Team Kelly Foundation, which in turn will benefit cancer patients and their families, through, among other things, our support of groups like the Pancreatic Cancer Action Network and Camp John Marc (Camp Esperanza and Camp Sanguinity).

As of now, our website is still under construction, and until we have e-commerce set up there, we will be taking orders via the link below.  Once your order is taken we will provide an invoice and payment instructions via email. Once payment arrangements have been made, we'll make your shirts available for pick-up at Crave Popcorn in Lakeside Market, 4021 Preston Road Suite 619, Plano, TX 75093.

Click on the link below, enter your contact information, and just fill out and submit the order form.  Just pay attention to the style, base color, fabric and sizes, because we are offering a lot more options this time!

Regular style T's in both cotton and performance fabric will be available in white only, ranging from youth sizes to adult XXL.  Women's cut will be available in both purple and white, and either cotton or performance fabric.

All cotton T's go for $10 apiece, and performance fabric for $15.  Order now and get in on this first shipment, which we should get around 4/15.  We'll be ordering in lots of 500 at a time, and quantities in each color/style/size/fabric are limited.  It will take about a week to refill the stock each time, so it might be 2-3 weeks depending on whether we have what you need.

Here's the link to the order form: Team Kelly Shirt Order Form.

Thanks for your support!

New Reasons to Remember

In February 2013, I posted on the anniversary date of Kelly’s diagnosis: "One Year Ago Today".  Anytime someone asks about Kelly and her story, I like to point him in the direction of this post.  It’s a good starting point for both its retrospective view of the first 12 months of her struggle, and for an understanding of the phenomenon of Team Kelly.  It’s also a testament to just how brave and tough she was.

I cherish every memory of Kelly, the best and the worst, and there hasn't been one second since June 1 when I wouldn't have been willing to relive even the very toughest moment all over again just for the chance to hear her voice and touch her again.  But I won’t keep reliving February 13, 2012 for the rest of my life.  I want to bury it with this thought – recently up until that moment, Kelly and I searched our hearts often for a new direction in our lives.  We were blessed beyond measure with four healthy children, incredible friendships, loving family close by, a new church family, and a great job with a great company. We had, up to that moment, lived an almost charmed life.   It wasn't dissatisfaction so much as restlessness and perhaps even a little guilt.  Irony is indeed the key ingredient to a great story.

What I’d rather do than focus on this turning point in our lives, is celebrate a different one, and try as best I can to give new meaning to February, for myself and those closest to me.  I went back and checked the dates, and I was quite startled to realize just how quickly things happened in those first few days following the results of that first CT Scan.  On Wednesday night, February 15, 2012, Gayla Cruikshank literally created this blog with the first post: "We Gather Together".  That post chronicled a significant event – a prayer gathering at my house where more than 50 of our closest friends and family members came to support us and ask for God’s blessings on Kelly, me and our kids.  So I think it’s fair to say that Team Kelly was in fact born on February 15, 2012.  Over the following few days, things happened rapidly, and I think it’s worth looking back over those first few blog posts to appreciate how far this blog and TK have come.  I posted for the first time, by proxy, on February 19: "Some Thoughts" that sum up my frame of mind at the time.  But even then, I still had no way of appreciating how powerful that Kellybridge and Team Kelly would be in our lives, and in the lives of many around us.

The newly incorporated Team Kelly Foundation recently was able to grant $10,000 to the Pancreatic Cancer Action Network, strengthening the bond between TK and PanCAN that was formed in November of 2012 with our team’s strong turnout and fundraising at the annual DFW Purplestride.  Additionally, we provided camp scholarships to two full cabins of kids, one for Camp Sanguinity and one for Camp Esperanza, for this upcoming summer at Camp John Marc.  Camp Sanguinity and Camp Esperanza are week-long summer camp sessions at CJM for kids with cancer.  I’d encourage you to learn more about one of mine and Kelly’s favorite charities (www.campjohnmarc.org).  So already you can see the profound impact of Kelly’s journey and its story chronicled through this blog.  We look forward to many more years of service to men, women, and children suffering from cancer and the effects of its treatment, and we look forward to a day whenever we all remember cancer as a disease without cure.  In the meantime, we want to help cancer patients and their family members “Fight Like Kel!” 

So next February, we’ll celebrate this time of year as a time of promise and change.  We’ll celebrate the birth of Team Kelly.  We’ll celebrate the beginning of a new chapter in Carol’s and Blake’s lives as they launched their new business, ringing up their first sale, on February 13, 2014 (I think I was their first official customer).  I encourage you to stop by Crave Popcorn in Plano to get your bag of “Team Kelly” flavored popcorn, and support TKF!  Once you walk in, you’ll be hooked – I promise!

We’re so thankful to God for new reasons to mark these dates on our calendars, and for great new memories to come!

Story - Part II

A few weeks ago I posted here (Story), soliciting stories from Kelly's friends and family, and since then I've been blessed with stories from several of her friends, old and new.  It's such a joy to hear new tales and learn new things about her, and I especially love the stories from our Baylor days when I was first getting to know her.

Over the last couple of years, so much of our energy and focus was consumed by care and worry that it's difficult to hurdle over those times, to the years before when we first fell in love, got married and started our family together.  I know for the kids it's even worse.  The really big memories for them - the vacations and birthdays and personal achievements that stand out in their memories - are all from the last two years, as if there wasn't a time before their mom was diagnosed.  For me, the fog slowly lifts day by day, though, as I know it will for them eventually.

I am obsessed with story - those close to me know that.  I can't live without it.  And it's maddening whenever you can't piece together your own, most important story.  So I spend quite a bit of time jotting down the fragments as they some back to me - as I look back through boxes of old photos and read old letters (remember those) we wrote to one another - and I laugh and cry and most importantly remember.

What I remember best, oddly enough, are the earliest times - my pursuit (in vain) of Kelly while she was still at Baylor with me (it took me a little longer to finish up), our brief courtship, and the first few years of marriage.  I remember driving to Plano in the summer of '94 to see her at night after I got out of my evening summer school course at Richland, still stinking from the day's work covered in concrete or asphalt or mud, unable - unwilling - to leave, well into the early morning hours, knowing I had to drive back to Ovilla and get up at 5:30 to do it all again, knowing that the minute I woke I'd already be thinking about heading up there again.  Sometimes she'd cut me some slack and actually meet me in Richardson at the campus after my classes.  She'd take me to dinner because she knew I was broke.  Once we made out like teenagers in the Richland parking lot until we noticed a campus cop rolling by slowly - probably the highlight of his night!

I remember on December 23, 1994 when I asked her to marry me at a spot on Lake Grapevine - a spot where we'd visited the summer before in Carol's convertible with a six pack of beer and looked at the stars and talked (in case you were wondering, you're not supposed to drink beer in a Corps of Engineers park, as we were informed on that summer night by a ranger - what was it with us and security!).  She said yes that day in December when we went back.  I remember when it dawned on me, as I'm sure it does on many a newlywed, that I barely knew her - you know the way you need to know someone to share a small apartment with them.  I remember coming home from work and seeing the trail of shoes and clothes and purse and keys just thrown down, starting right at the threshold of the front door and leading into the bedroom, while she was already in her sweats, munching on chips in the kitchen - I wanted to scream!

I remember the time, in the same small apartment, that she put a bag of popcorn - dinner for her in those days - in the microwace, but instead of 3 minutes she set it on 30 minutes - then forgot all about it.  I came home to a smoke-filled apartment, alarms blaring, and the awful smell of incinerated popcorn.  When I retrieved the bag from the microwave it was completely empty but for the thin black layer of something in the bottom, burned beyond recognition.  It took weeks to get the smell out of the apartment, and several trips to the drycleaners to get it out of our clothes.  We never got the smoke stains off of the microwave and vent hood.

What I remember most is that she could never get close enough to me.  While she would, years later, acquire a voracious appetite for books, in those first few years she was not a reader.  I, on the other hand, would spend every evening trying to read.  I say trying because she would have none of it.  She would start asking me questions or telling me stories, and after a while when she noticed I wasn't paying any attention to her, she'd place her head directly between my face and the page, with a big smile on her face.  She couldn't get enough of me and I have no idea why.  Ironically, after we had kids, she fell in love with reading.  She'd start a new book and for all she knew the kids could have been kidnapped and the house burned down - she didn't care until she finished the story.      

For our first anniversary, we drove 7 ½ hours to Corpus Christi to stay on North Padre Island at the Gulfstream Condominiums.  Not in a condo we had rented, but in a condo where the current president of my company (where I had only worked for 18 months) and his wife and two kids were staying.  We slept on what amounted to a fold-out sofa that had a curtain partition to make it a “bedroom.”  We stayed two nights, then drove to San Antonio, where we stayed a night – not in a nice hotel I paid for, but at Duncan Clowe’s parents’ house with Dunc and Amber, while his parents were out of town.  We had dinner and then went to see the Nutty Professor and laughed like 10-year old boys at the dinner-table fart scene – “Hercules! Hercules!”

We climbed Enchanted Rock when it was 99 F outside (which she griped about ever after), visited Pedernales State Park, floated the Guadalupe in Gruene with a third tube for our cooler.  We were both drunk at the end of the 4 hour float, but she was bright enough to use sun-screen.  Not me, though.  Our romantic riverside cottage at the Gruene Mansion Inn turned out to be none too romantic whenever I couldn’t do anything but lie on my back with no covers as my buzz wore off.  We always talked about going back for a do-over.  We spent one night at a bed-and-breakfast in Fredricksburg and realized that they rolled up the sidewalks in that town after 9 PM on a weeknight, so all there was to do was see Independence Day at the old Palace walk-in theater.  The next day we went to Willie’s 4^th of July Picnic in Luckenbach, then, motored on back up to Plano in my ’94 Ford pickup (the raspberry and grey one) undoubtedly with the windows down and her sitting in the middle seat, snoozing like she always did the minute the car started. 

From then on, that trip was our compass needle, reminding us that it’s ok to piddle, to waste time, to wander aimlessly as long as we were together.  We always said that’s what we were best at.  

In another week, it will have been 2 years since her diagnosis.  I don't think I'll commemorate it this year.  Of all the posts I've gone back and re-read, few have been as difficult for me as the one from February 13, 2013 - One Year Ago Today.  That time was so full of promise still.  No, I don't want to think about diagnoses right now.  Like the rest of Kelly's family, my only concern for pancreatic cancer now is how to end it - for everyone!  Right now I want to remember Kelly the way she always wanted to be seen - beautiful, funny, sexy, alive! That's the Kelly I want my kids to remember, too, picture by picture and story by story.  

It might seem trite to cite the lyric from a song at this point, but remembering that first-anniversary road trip puts me in mind of the Shooter Jennings song, 4th of July.  If you know the song you'll understand why.  There's a line in the song, though, where he says, "She was out of the blue to a boy like me."  That was a fact - I never stopped feeling like I had won the lottery knowing that she wanted to be with me.

Please keep sending me your stories.  Email them, if you'd like, to kellystewartstories@gmail.com.

What Did You Sign Up For?

For Kim and Carol, and for my beautiful kids…

The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy. – Martin Luther King, Jr.

Ah, the cold winds of January – they can mean only one thing: baseball.  Yes, that’s right, in north Texas, baseball season is in full swing.  It never fails for some, either, that during these first few weeks, once all the roster-churning from the previous season is done, and once parents, coaches and kids have all shown up for those first few practices with overwrought expectations, reality sets in.   The kids my son is playing with are not nearly up to his skill level!  Wow, I’m really gonna have to coach these kids up!  Man, my coach is a hard-case and all he does is makes us run and yells at us!  Often, especially early in each season, the response is to start looking for that next team where the other players come close to your perceived talent level, that next guru to throw money at that will help your son get to that “next level,” that next great player to replace the one you ended up with that isn’t so talented and might require some real coaching. 

I’m very lucky.  I’ve reached a great place where I love the people my kids play for and with.  Similarly, I know that the above examples aren’t everyone’s experiences, and I also know that often some of these things are really true and produce an unproductive environment that probably is difficult to foresee.  But it seems to me that there is an excess of drama, for lack of a better term, each season that has a lot to do with out-of-whack expectations by parents, coaches and kids.  The declaration is made – “This is not what I signed up for!”

I love baseball, and Kelly loved baseball, and all my kids, even Ella (although she wouldn’t admit it), love baseball.  It has been an important part of our lives, and has helped to introduce us to many of our best friends.  We’ve been lucky to witness some pretty extraordinary moments of selfless devotion that had everything to do with ordinary everyday people and little to do with extraordinary baseball prowess.  But we’ve also sat through some pretty mediocre, and downright bad, performances on the field.  Through the years we’ve witnessed abhorrent behavior by coaches, kids, and most often parents.  I won’t generalize as to why this occurs so frequently other than to say that I think people just get frustrated over their own unrealistic, unmet expectations. 

Baseball lends itself to metaphor maybe more than any other team sport, although that may just be an old-fashioned American bias, or maybe just a personal one on my part.  But there is no doubt that athletic competition is in many ways a proxy for life, and the drama that we see unfolding in and around the playing fields, gyms, tracks, rinks and slopes tell us much about human nature, and most importantly, in my opinion, about that thing we call character.

Somewhere along the way, my kids have all been cut, failed to make the team, made the “C” team when they thought they’d make the “A” team, spent the better part of the season riding the pine as part of a right-field platoon, batted last in the order, and registered a “DNP” in the box score.  I’ve sat through tournaments and even better parts of seasons where wins were more elusive than seventy degree sunny days without wind.  It’s hard not to take these things personally, and it’s even harder to keep yourself from constantly getting in between your child and his disappointments.  Recent experiences in our lives, though, has taught us, - my kids and me - the difference between the fleeting happiness that so many think they are entitled to, and the true joy that comes from devoting yourself wholeheartedly to one another, and to shared purpose and goals.  Of course, you know who helped us to learn this – and I don’t mean through Kelly’s struggle with cancer so much as through her daily walk even before her illness. 

We all quit playing or get cut at some point.  For some, the end to their athletic careers simply comes sooner than for others.  But alas it comes, whether on our terms or no.  That next day, though, we have to get out of bed, go to work or to school, drive in traffic, clean the house, cook dinner, attend church, change diapers,– we have to do whatever it is that we do.  Disappointments abound, pleasure eludes us, and we often become jaded about our constantly unfulfilled expectations, just as in our former athletic pursuits. 

That’s it – the expectations.  It’s tricky.  We are taught the value of goals and aspirations by our parents, teachers, coaches, pastors, and employers.  We all have visions of how our lives are supposed to play out.  These things are normal, or more importantly, I think natural.  I believe we’re wired to see our existence as narrative, and narrative contains beginning and end.  There are heroes and villains, good deeds and evil, fall and redemption.  For many, though, and particularly for many of our kids, there are real expectations of fulfillment through pleasure and gain.  Success becomes defined by, and confined to, our own incremental, individual, and continual achievement to such a great degree that we assign our happiness to that achievement.  It’s not okay to work hard and fail – you’re supposed to be rewarded for hard work, right?

Well, I don’t know.  Often hard work immediately precedes failure.  Often random chance dictates that the perfectly placed bunt rolls foul, hitting the clod dug out by the cleat of the previous hitter – wrong place wrong time – and the subsequent strikeout is all that’s recorded in the scorebook.  Failure, not because we didn’t do what we’re supposed to, but because failure is part of the game.  In fact, failure so defined, in most games as in life, is often requisite for the success of others.  Similarly our wins are their losses.  The key is our unrealistic expectation of success and maybe as importantly our definition of success. 

In November and December, I found myself as I often have in my life, at the center of prayers and well-wishes.  That’s what happens when you have great friends and family.  And of course, as the holiday season neared, the frequency and intensity of those well-wishes grew.  Along with them, though, was the constant reminder from those friends and family of how tough things were going to be on me and the kids.  After a while, I noticed the prayers and well-wishes less and thought more of the impending difficulty, and ultimate disappointment, about to beset my family.  For the first time in my life, I dreaded the holiday season.

In early December, I met with our men’s small group from our church to have breakfast, and the conversation centered on the upcoming holidays and our “Scrooge Quotient.”  After we all went around the table and made the case for our varying degrees of excitement, dread or ambivalence towards Christmas, Gary, the leader of the group, made an interesting comment.  He said he would lead us in prayer, but wanted us each to pray especially about making this Christmas the best Christmas ever.  Now at this point I was literally startled about how low my bar had been set. 

I immediately was reminded of one of my all-time favorite movie scenes, and I’m guessing most of you have seen it.  Gene Kranz, played in Apollo 13 by Ed Harris, is the NASA flight director now in charge of not only an aborted lunar landing but what has essentially become a rescue operation.  Kranz, upon overhearing the NASA Director say that this is going to be the worst disaster NASA’s ever faced, jumps in: “With all due respect sir, I believe this is gonna be our finest hour!”  I get chills just typing that, and thinking about what kind of character it takes to say that with conviction under the circumstances.

I witnessed some terrible things during Kelly’s sickness.  I know a lot of you did – Kim and Carol, Grand and Papaw, Nana and Pops.  I know my children did.  She and I made a decision not to keep it from them.  We always believed that letting them experience disappointment, even grave tragedy, would better prepare them for lives that will inevitably be rife with further disappointment and heartbreak.  We wanted them to know that sacrifice was required of them in ministry to their mother and to each other, as it would be all along the road they would travel without her, and ultimately without me, and for a time maybe without one another.  We even agreed that they should bear her body to its gravesite.  And it has been the case, and will continue to be, that in those most difficult labors they find their greatest joy, and a real reason to be proud of themselves. 

There are some things impossible to convey, and some things I choose not to share but to keep close to my heart.  But I will let you know that in our last hours together I watched Kelly struggle with shame for what she needed others to do for her.  I will always cherish those moments when I was able to serve her, and told her as much then.  “This is what I signed up for!”  You must stop and realize that no matter where you’re headed, everything that has happened up to this moment in your life has converged into a present that is filled with opportunity to put your hands to work making a difference in service to others.  I admitted not long ago that I struggled with James’s directive to “Consider it pure joy…whenever you face trials of many kinds….”  My wisdom and understanding is as incomplete as ever, but a little time and distance has afforded me perspective by which I can better appreciate the difference between fleeting pleasure and lasting joy. 

Before you catch yourself or your kids saying, “I didn’t sign up for this,” decide what it is you and they are signing up for.  Recite those wedding vows in your head the next time you get frustrated with your spouse during one of those “mid-life” moments.  I don’t know about you, but sickness, health and death were real in my marriage, even though they were the farthest thing from my mind on my wedding day.  Remind your kids that sooner or later it doesn’t matter how hard they work and how talented and smart they are, they’re going to fail or be disappointed, wronged, or cheated – in school, in sports, or in life in general.  And let them know that it’s not just for their own sake that they must get back up whenever they fall down but for the sake of their teammates, or their mother, or their brothers and sisters, or their friends.  Teach them that they must embrace disasters in their lives as offering the potential for their own finest hours.   Let them know that is what they signed up for.

Story

Break, break, break,

   On thy cold gray stones, O Sea!

And I would that my tongue could utter

   The thoughts that arise in me.

O well for the fisherman’s boy,

   That he shouts to his sister at play!

O well for the sailor lad,

   That he sings in his boat on the bay!

And the stately ships go on

   To their haven under the hill;

But O for the touch of a vanished hand,

   And the sound of a voice that is still!

Break, break, break,

   At the foot of thy crags, O Sea!

But the tender grace of a day that is dead

   Will never come back to me.

                              -Tennyson

I’ve wanted so badly to write of Kelly these last several weeks.  I still have my Muse, but, alas, I haven’t Lord Tennyson’s talents.  Nothing comes so close as these four stanzas to revealing the frustration – agony – that comes from “moving on.”  It’s often difficult to avoid resentment for the ease with which those around me go about the ordinary business of their daily lives, and all the while the sun rises and sets, waves crash against imperturbable rocks as they have always. 

But I see everywhere and in everything only reminders of Kelly.  In the faces of my children, objects lying around the house, photos on the walls, the clothes still hanging in the closet.  I find scraps of paper bearing her handwriting used as bookmarks in old books, their messages now unintelligible, just incomplete checklists from Saturdays past. 

I see the frosty toenail sliver of moon in the predawn eastern sky on an early morning jog.  I want so badly to tell her about it, knowing how she’d complain about the cold and the hour, but how much she’d love it because I loved it.  I want to tell her about the sunrise over the pond at our farm where Sam, Will, Bailey and I hunted ducks.  How that same evening Ben, Ella and I sat for hours in a deer blind, only to be foiled at the very last by dusk descending over a mesquite flat where finally the doe Ben was hunting emerged too late.  I know, too, that the kids want so badly to tell her themselves.  Such ordinary things become extraordinary, precisely because they become our story, and because that story has an enthusiastic audience, devouring every detail offered, and pulling ever more from us.  Then, for that audience and for ourselves, our story becomes an indelible part of who we are. 

So something profound disappears from us whenever we lose some part of that audience.  The significance we attach to things we experience can no longer be related as before.  Each becomes less significant in a way, or it has to be remembered precisely, stored away, awaiting a new audience.  My story was important to Kelly – in fact, my story was joined to her story, and some new and “other” story had begun.  Aside from the experiences we lived together, every new song I heard, every book I read, every new friend I made, every new place I travelled – all were made part of our story, just as each new thing she saw and experienced added another chapter.  So that longing for her is everywhere and in everything, utterly inescapable.

And I don’t want to escape from it – not yet.  I was mad with love for her and I’m mad with longing now, unsure whether to ask for healing or not.  I fear the dulling of the ache comes with a fading of the memories, and I’m ready for neither at the moment.  I love our story, as I know she did, and I’m not ready to write the end. 

On the contrary, I want to share our story, and “flesh out” that part of hers before it became ours.  Of course, there are parts of our story that must remain written only on my heart and hers, just as there are scenes from her story that lie hidden forever from us all.  I’ve thought often, though, about what my children and I, as well as Kelly’s own family and bosom friends, will miss from her story without her there to tell us.  I remember how acutely my grandmother, Mamaw Williams, in her old age could descry scenes from her own often distant past, relating tales I’d either forgotten or never heard before, in vivid detail.  And I am deeply saddened to think that Kelly, so often the central character in one ridiculous caper after another, will not be able to enliven the dinner table with remembrances from her past. 

So it has been my intention for some time now to reach out to her family and friends, particularly those friends from her childhood days before I knew her, in order to learn those details that would never otherwise emerge except from her self-deprecating recollections, now forever lost to us. 

One friend, from our Baylor days, reminded me of something I would surely never have remembered:  Allison was with Kelly immediately after delivering our firstborn, Will.  She remembers Kelly breaking down sobbing wondering what in the world was she going to do with a boy. 

Little did she know then that he was only the first of three boys, and even less did she understand at the time how perfect her instincts would be, and how she’d find herself eventually the envy and wonder of so many “boy moms” around her, as she parented seemingly without effort.  Of course, Will did lock her out of the house – twice – and both times the Frisco Fire Department was dispatched to gain entrance.  She took a pair of scissors to the seatbelt ($250 seatbelt!) in a brand new Expedition because one of them (can’t remember which one) had managed to wrap it around his neck and then lock it – all while she was in the drive-thru at a dry-cleaners.  She let Ben take a nosedive out of his baby carrier while in Target – precipitating a trip to the ER (that boy's still not right).  Seemingly without effort.

Not long after Kelly’s death, I received a letter from parents of a former student of Kelly’s.  They related how their daughter, devastated by the recent passing of her grandmother only days before school started (a victim of pancreatic cancer), showed up in tears for the first day of school.  Kelly instinctively embraced her, and along with Mrs. Cunningham helped her get through those first few days.  Later Kelly would volunteer to coach her cheerleading squad – one of two times she coached a championship team – and then later would help her with her high school drill team tryouts.  So great was her influence that this same girl, years later, would enter the teaching profession herself with Kelly as one of her inspirations, and so continues that same impact in other children’s lives like a great ripple, ever expanding.

These are the stories I and my kids need to be reminded of, or better yet, hear for the first time.  It’s not too late for them to become part of our story – all the memories woven into a patchwork to form a great and beautiful counterpane -  which will be an heirloom, a great inheritance for Will, Ben, Sam and Ella, and a fine comfort to me.

So I invite all who read this to share it with others who knew Kelly, and to share your stories with me and my children and with those closest to us.      

Please continue to pray for me and my children as we set off together in this brand new year.  Pray that we will find a way to keep Kelly’s story alive in our hearts and minds, even as we begin our own new story together without her. 

If you’d like to share a story about Kelly, you can email it to kellystewartstories@gmail.com.

A beautiful day to honor a beautiful woman

Team Kelly represented the Pancreatic Cancer Purple Stride walk today 116 members strong. We covered the streets of Uptown with GOT HOPE? shirts and reunited with friends and family. 

The crowd at Klyde Warren Park congested the area in purple, but thankfully Jason was able to make his way to the stage as they announced Team Kelly as the #2 top fundraiser raising over $19,215!

Amazingly, Jason was asked to stay on the stage to announce he was the #2 top fundraising individual raising over $7,385!!!

The top team, It's All Good, raised $35,469, and their honoree is Jimmy, another South Garland High School graduate.

Thank you all for coming out and participating. This event means a lot to the Stewart Family and I hope we can always gather annually for this event to honor Kelly and raise more funds for The Pancreatic Cancer Network www.pancan.org.

"Fight like Kel!"