I Can See Clearly Now...

A couple of weeks ago, my friend Dana emailed me a newspaper article with the message, "Let's do this together!" The article reported that a woman in town was trying to gather cancer survivors for a music video to be posted on YouTube for the Livestrong orgnization. We were asked to show up at the Tanque Verde Guest Ranch at 8:30 and wear a yellow shirt and be ready to dance.

Dana picked me up at eight and I already had issues. Who wears yellow well? Not me. Fortunately, I found a two dollar yellow T-shirt at Old Navy that I never have to wear again. We assumed (incorrectly) that the video would be filmed indoors; it was 90 degrees in Tucson this morning. We waited outside, in the sun, with the smell of horses wafting around us, and stood in line to purchase a yellow, rubber bracelet and sign in along with eighty other survivors. I turned to Dana and said, "We could have organized this way better." At this point Dana said, "let's just leave," but it's not like we wouldn't be noticed walking away in our flourecent yellow shirts...so we stayed. Besides, I like to dance. I'm not neccessarily a good dancer but I was channeling my friend Cate who is quite the dancer, both on the dance floor and on tables. I was happy, however, that I didn't wear yellow spandex pants like the seventy year old woman standing in line with me.

The organizer (and I use that term loosely) corraled us all and shared her vision with us. We were to dance to I Can See Clearly Now by Jonny Nash. I hadn't heard that song since I was in jr. high and rode the bus to K-Mart to buy the album. Little did I know it would come back to haunt me all these years later. There was some choreography (term used loosely again) that we were supposed to follow and the video was to end with each survivor dropping their yellow bracelet in a pile on the ground. I'm not sure I understood the symbolism, but I went with it.

We started with a practice run folowed by...another practice run. When a third rehearsal was mentioned, Dana turned to me and asked, "Who's idea was this?" I have the email to prove it was hers. As the sweat rolled down my cancer riddled cleavage, we danced to the song for the third time. One woman, with obvious control issues, tried to jump in and organize the dance until someone told he to be quiet. No, it wasn't me. Finally, the fourth dance was filmed. I can hardly wait for the final cut. I think I have finally done something that will embarrase my kids beyond their wildest dreams!

When all was said and done, the eighty plus surviviors celebrated life, and Dana and I made our great escape. We laughed all the way home at the things we get ourselves into. We reminisced about how we met; her husband was my son's pitching coach in high school. We met at a ballpark in Bisbee and we became friends immediately. We laughed at the start of each game wondering who the umpire would throw out first, her 38 year old husband or my 16 year old son! "Who would have thought," I wondered aloud, "That all those years ago our friendship would lead us to this moment of survival together." I was reminded, yet again, that God has a story to tell and we are priveledged to be a part of it. I am so grateful for the people He has put in my life. Friends make sweaty, chaotic, yellow spandex infused life a lot more tollerable and, yes, a lot more fun!

I went home and celebrated life by painting my son's bathroom, calking the sink, and fixing his leaky toilet. As I hung a new mirror in his freshly painted bathroom, I thought, "I can see clearly now..." and giggled to myself.