Summary of Strength

There is no strength where there is no struggle. - Maya Angelou

I sat somberly next to my mother on a vinyl couch inside a family waiting room at St. Mary's Hospital on that March day in 1987 that forever changed my life, yet I didn't understand in that moment the impact this day would have on my mother for the rest of her life. The doctor had just left the room after bearing the tragic news that my father hadn't made it through surgery. The walls of that room would forever embrace the sound of our cries, as we struggled with the realization that he was gone. I remember turning to my mother, seeking answers she didn't have, seeing the pain on her face, yet her arms reached out to me, my sister, and my brother, knowing she needed to comfort us, to hold us, to give us the strength to pull ourselves off that couch and as hard as it would be, the strength to move forward in our lives without him in it...and incredibly, we did move forward, always together, bound by her strength.

It wasn't until the year of 2011 that her strength would be tested again with severity, as the year began with the sudden loss of my brother from a fatal heart attack, then ending with her diagnosis of breast cancer and undergoing a lumpectomy, radiation, and chemotherapy. It was in these times, when most of us would have withdrawn, given up, lost our faith, questioned it even...it was in these times that my mother grew stronger with the force of a woman determined to be a survivor, an example of resilience we all needed so badly, possibly not comprehending how much we needed it, but providing it without hesitation. We pulled together from her strength, pulled through the hard times and challenges, we became fighters and ultimately winners as her cancer went into remission. The days ahead were brighter and we all looked forward to many more years of her being cancer-free.

When she went in for her routine mammogram a few weeks ago, little did my mother imagine that it would lead to a double needle biopsy and a call from the radiologist saying a small amount of cancer cells had been detected in the same breast that she had the lumpectomy. The next steps would be to discuss the best procedure with the doctors, all agreeing that a double mastectomy would be the most effective course to eliminate the possibility of cancer in her future. The words were not easy to hear and even harder to understand, as she had almost reached 3 years since the initial surgery; however, in her honest, true fashion, she reacted the way she had with the agonies of  past defeats and heartache...with positive thoughts, prayers, and a plan of action that would ultimately be in God's hands.

Amazing, to say the least, that while we all wonder how we would carry her burdens, she not only carries them, she reminds her burdens daily that they are only temporary and will not bring her spirits down, nor permanently break her. Without doubt, the things that will be long-term are her faith in God, her support system of close family and friends, and her passion to survive.

So as we enter the eve of her surgery, I have so much pride in my heart for a mother that I can't imagine not having in my life. I can't imagine who I would be today without her guidance, encouragement, involvement, and strength. I want to lift her up, as she has lifted me up so many times throughout my own life and struggles. I want her strength, I yearn for it, and I want to share it with others, as she has done for me.

I love you so much, Mom! Tomorrow will bring you surrounded by love, lifted up by prayers, and driven by the strength you carry so well. We'll be there with you, all the way!

When Sophia Smiled

I woke up that Friday morning like so many other Friday's before...opened my eyes, turned off my alarm, grabbed my phone off the charger, and out of habit clicked on my Facebook app. With groggy eyes, I started reading the first post on my news feed as I walked toward the bathroom, but within those few seconds, my heart skipped a beat. The post I was reading stated that a young girl was missing, something that had become all too common in the recent years, yet this post wasn't a random news station feed, this post was that of a family friend and the young girl missing was one of my daughter's close friends.

I quickly turned around and began walking briskly to my daughter's bedroom, I had to let her know that her friend was missing, but more-so, I was hoping she would have information for me that would tell me her friend was safely back home. Just inside my daughter's bedroom door, the soft, somber words left my mouth "Bryana," I said, "Sophia Porter's missing..." Just as I had done only moments earlier, my daughter jolted out of bed, her eyes full of fear. She grabbed her phone, then looked up at me shaking her head, asking "What do we do?" I walked to her side, gave her a hug and said, "Pray she's already made it home safely."

The next half-hour was spent replying to that post, sending prayers to the family and trying to push back the worry and fear from my mind, just as I was sure her parents were doing only a few blocks away. Though my stomach was in knots, I finished getting ready for work, then woke my husband to let him know I was leaving. It was then, after checking Facebook for updates and not seeing anything new, that I shared the news with him. His reaction mirrored mine, as he quickly sat up and said, "What do you mean missing?" I read him the post with my voice cracking, Sophia was due home at 3 AM, yet by 6 AM she still hadn't arrived and her parent's calls to her phone were going directly to voice mail. "She's missing...", I said again and added, "She had a long drive from a cheer camp in Mississippi, so I just pray she pulled over for rest and she's still asleep, not realizing it's morning." My husband agreed, she had pulled over for rest and they would hear from her soon. In the meantime, though, he would reach out for updates and see if a plan was being put into place to trace her route, saying he would do what he could to help bring her home safely.

I took comfort in my husbands words, but when I went to tell my daughter good-bye the words from the post were still swimming in my mind.  I gave Bryana another tight hug and asked her to let me know as soon as she heard something more about Sophia, telling her I'd do the same. She looked at me with eyes full of pain and I lingered at the doorway, not wanting to leave. Finally, with a final "I love you!" I closed the door behind me and headed to my car, nausea growing inside, my gut telling me things were not right, yet still uncertain exactly what might have happened.

As I closed my car door, I said another prayer for Sophia and just then my phone lit up. It was a text from the high school cheer coach and it only took the first sentence to make my chest hurt, as I struggled to breathe. I knew I had to tell Bryana, not realizing she had received the text, too, so I tried getting back inside the house as quickly as possible. I bolted through the door and heard my daughter's screams and as I reached her inside, she fell into my arms. "NO!!!!!!!!" she was screaming, "NO!!!!!!!"

Sophia was gone, a tragic early morning accident that had taken place just a few miles up the road, every parent's worst nightmare and the shock of this news riveted every inch of my body.  Me and Bryana sunk together to the floor, sobbing and clinging, as my husband rushed into the room with the look on his face saying everything I was feeling. I thought of her parents and cried harder, prayed louder, and clung to my little girl, who was shaking in my arms. "What do we do?" she was asking me again. "What do we do?" I didn't know, the answers escaped me, no words of wisdom came to my mind, I just held her, rocked her, and loved her more in that moment than ever before.

Over the next several days, as I tried to understand the sudden loss of a beautiful young girl, tried to comfort my daughter over the loss of a close friend, paid condolences and said so many prayers for Sophia's family, I struggled for purpose in a tragedy that questioned my faith in a God that would allow such a bright shining light to fade from our lives, from our community, from her family. This was someone with an amazing future ahead of her, someone with her heart opened widely to those around her, and someone with talents not fully tapped. Sophia's smile was as contagious as her laugh and those blessed enough to know her would say she lit up a room just by walking into it, just from her presence, just from her smile.

On that following Monday, the family, friends and community gathered to celebrate the life of Sophia Ascensio-Porter, a beautiful young woman just 18 years old with excitement to cheer in the fall for the UofA Fort Smith where she had planned to attend college. The first thing that amazed me upon entering the church, was the proud smile on her parents faces as they thanked people for coming and reminded us that God is great, he had put all of these wonderful people in their daughter's life, but didn't they understand that we were the lucky ones for knowing Sophia and being blessed to be part of her life? I couldn't hold back the tears as I approached them, hugged them, and told them how sorry I was for their loss. Their strength was so uplifting, so miraculous, so inspiring, just as their precious Sophia had been.

I realized in the stories, tears & laughter shared that afternoon that I was witness to God's love, power and blessing on an entire congregation of people who had loved, honored and cherished this beautiful young woman, from birth to adult-hood, she had touched so many with her thoughtful words, encouragement, laughter and sparkling smile. The lessons learned within a tragedy are never forgotten; live life to the fullest, share your love of God each day, and lift up others upon every opportunity. Sophia lived her life in this manner, leaving behind the most wonderful memories. When Sophia smiled, we all smiled with her, and we will all smile each time we remember her; today, tomorrow and always.

May you forever rest in God's loving arms with your beautiful new set of wings, Sophia.