Becky's Story
Every journey needs a starting point and every journey has a story.
This is mine. Two years ago, three weeks after my daughter Mandy’s
wedding, I was diagnosed with advanced breast cancer. Since then life
has been a roller coaster ride, both emotionally and physically… but
here I am entering my story on a “blog” that I didn’t even know
existed two years ago. So life is good-you never know what is just
around the turn in the road! I can honestly say that I have had more
“wondrous” moments in the last two years than all the years leading up
to it. Life is funny that way. I think the difference is my ability to
recognize these moments now.
My unexpected visit to St. Jude’s Chapel of Hope in Trust, NC is one
of those wondrous moments. (Upon reflection, these miraculous
undertakings have all stemmed from friends and family’s magnanimity
towards me in the form of time and adventure.) In fact, I have thought
that if I ever write a book about my travail through this unknown
frontier called Cancer, it should be titled:The Escapades of a
One-Breasted Bandit. The title is pretty self-explanatory except
perhaps for the “bandit” part. You see, I realize everyday when I wake
up, I have “stolen” time once again.
On July 26, 2010, almost two weeks ago to the day, I found myself
rounding a new turn in the road with my good friend, Honey Burrell.
She had met me earlier in the day in Saluda, NC where I had followed
her to her mountain home-only to be told that we were immediately
leaving again (don’t unpack) and heading towards St. Jude’s Chapel of
Hope. The skies looked pretty threatening but Honey was determined
that this rendezvous was pre-destined. (Hard to shake that
Presbyterian upbringing lingo or as one pastor called us, “The Frozen
Chosen.” See, we do have a sense of humor!)
Two hours later, as the sun broke through the clouds, we arrived.
Along the way, Honey gave me a brief overview of how the chapel came
to be. It was built by a cancer patient who had been told in 1981 that
there was no hope for a cure and was given a terminal prognosis. So
she decided that this was not the way to go out… she took herself off
chemo, prayed hard, and decided to enjoy what life she had left fully.
She should have been the pin-up girl for the upcoming movie: Eat,
Pray, Love. In a prayer to God following her decision to stop
treatments, she promised that if she was given time, she would repay
His generosity by leaving something behind in His name for other
people in need. In 1998 the chapel was completed. This remarkable
woman died in 2002-twenty-three years after her terminal prognosis.
(In my third entry, I will give you the complete history of this
amazing woman and her gift to humanity. I warn you ahead of time, I am
a history teacher so be ready for it!)
When you arrive at this little chapel, it looks like a slightly
enlarged doll house. It is built beside a beautiful little stream that
surrounds the entire area. If a brook can “babble”-then this one
does…slow, soothing, and melodious. Wild flowers and butterflies are
all in abundance. The butterflies seem to be dancing for the sheer joy
of simply being alive. The fresh smell of cut green grass after a rain
envelopes your senses. Is there a better smell in the world? Perhaps
someone should make a perfume of it. Opposite the chapel lies a rugged
wooden cross upon a large stone. A plaque reads: Fear Not
Tomorrow-Jesus is already there. I found that inscription particularly
comforting.
Outside the chapel is a welcome sign. There is scripture and the
words: Stop, Rest, Reflect…and that is exactly what we did. There are
only four (love-seat size) wooden benches inside with a cross engraved
on each one. So basically the chapel holds eight people. Mike, Honey’s
husband, jokingly said that he wanted his funeral service performed
there…he could fill up that church.
Beautiful stained glasses reflect the afternoon’s sun. There is a
place to sign in and several news articles about the chapel and its
builder. There is a place to pray, an open Bible, and an altar filled
with paraphernalia. It was that altar that consumed my thoughts and
imagination as I listened to Honey read some of the articles on the
walls. Visitors had left trinkets behind…as a gift to the chapel and
its creator. But why? Honey’s voice became a distant drone in the
background as my imagination started soaring. A baseball….why a
baseball? Immediately an idea came to me….”Build it and they will
come”- was that the owner’s intention…was he a fan of the movie Field
of Dreams (like me)? An empty pack of cigarettes? Perhaps the owner
was fighting lung cancer or simply knew he needed to give up smoking
to live his life more fully? Toys, cards, pictures, flowers,
jewelry…the objects on the altar seemed to multiply as I began
counting them. I suddenly became consumed with the knowledge that I
would walk away from here and never know the stories behind the
ornaments. There was a sign-in book but I realized as I glanced back
through it-no stories or comments on the left articles. I felt a sense
of sadness falling over me.
I only had my pocketbook with me so what could I leave behind to
explain what this experience had meant to me? What was a gift that I
could leave…what was something very precious to me? My eyes fell upon
a pacifier (binky) that someone had left on the altar and then I knew.
I opened my pocketbook and took out a picture of myself, my daughter
Mandy, and my most cherished gift of all…my new granddaughter Eva
Cate. It is Eva Cate who has given me so much joy that I fight to see
and spend another day with that beautiful gift of life. On the back of
the picture I wrote: “Love is the child who breathes our breath; Love
is the child who scatters death.”-William Blake
It was my daughter Mandy who, upon hearing of this inspiring
adventure, suggested the idea of using a blog to search for the owners
of the trinkets. Immediately I knew that this was the project that I
had been searching for since my diagnosis…a way to connect with other
“journeymen” (and women) whose paths have crossed at this little
chapel of hope.
So, I conclude, dear readers, with a request for you to share your
story if you have been to St. Jude’s Chapel of Hope or if you decide
to do so in the future (have included directions). A Gullah expression
says: “When a person dies, a story goes up in flames.”
So let’s “heat” up the blog line with your stories and comments.
Remember “Good beginnings make for good endings.” (And I am all about
good ending.)
About Becky Dingle
I was born a Tarheel but ended up a Sandlapper. My grandparents were
cotton farmers in Laurens, South Carolina and it was in my
grandmother’s house that my love of storytelling began beside an old
Franklin stove. When I graduated from Laurens High School, I attended
Erskine College (Due West of what?) and would later get my Masters
Degree in Education/Social Studies from Charleston Southern. I am
presently an adjunct professor/clinical supervisor at CSU and have
also taught at the College of Charleston. For 28 years I taught Social
Studies through storytelling. My philosophy matched Rudyard Kipling’s
quote: “If history were taught in the form of stories, it would never
be forgotten.” Today I still spread this message through workshops and
presentations throughout the state. The secret of success in teaching
social studies is always in the story. I want to keep learning and
being surprised by life…it is the greatest teacher. Like Kermit said,
“When you’re green you grow, when you’re ripe you rot.”
