In an attempt to get Goo to eat anything, ever, I have basically instituted an open menu policy with her: Tell me what you will eat willingly, and I’ll make it happen. Please note that I hate this with the fire of a thousand suns, as I have never, ever, let my kids regularly run the show at home. You either eat dinner, or you go hungry. There are compromises in there which I will share at some point, but that’s another post.
Sunday, Goo requested cheese pizza. Not only does she happily eat this, but it has tons of calories and protein from the cheese, so these days it’s basically the mecca of foods for her because she’s always been so dang skinny, and that’s bad when you’re on chemotherapy.
The Nerd and I packed up the kids after church and headed to a local restaurant with really yummy pizza and tasty bruschetta – my favorite appetizer ever. Our waitress was good. Very polite. Beautiful young girl with bright blonde hair that she wore in a short, sassy hairstyle. You’ll understand why I noticed this in a bit.
We ordered, ate our food, and waited for her to come back to pack up the leftovers and bring us our bill. Then this happened:
Waitress: Are you guys ready to wrap?
Me: Yes we are:
Waitress, looking at bald Goo: You rock that hairdo much better than I did last year.
Nerd: Did you cut it, or were you undergoing treatment?
Waitress: I was undergoing treatment, and now I’m done. You’ll see. It flies by and it’s over before you know it. 
Me: (Silently tearing up. A few minutes go by and she returns with our box).
Waitress: You guys are all set. Lunch is on me.
The Nerd and I were both in awe. I wish I had taken her picture, because after that, I’m fairly certain she’s one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen. There is something about knowing that these warriors overcame the very enemy that Goo is fighting that makes them more beautiful. At least to me.
She saved us some money, yes. But she gave me something much greater: hope. Hope in seeing that for all the heaviness and fear that the word, “cancer,” carries with it, there is always someone conquering it. Always someone saying, “I fought you, and I won.” I looked at her and caught a glimpse of Anneliese in a year – with a bright smile, a bounce in her step, and a warrior status that no one can ever take away.
She may just have to rock that short, sassy hairstyle, too.
Confessions of a Mediocre Mom 
Amazing. Just amazing. How wonderful that she tried to make Goo feel beautiful, and that she was able to give you hope.
People are incredible when you take the time to really see them. Our journey is opening my eyes to the fact that although we only hear about the evil, there is far more good in the world than we ever expect.
beautiful post!!! made me tear up too 😉
I’m always crying about something these days. 😉 Amazingly, they’re most often happy tears.
It’s easy to forget the beauty in humanity. Your journey has been painful but you have inspired all of us to hope again;)
Vicky
http://www.thepursuitofnormal.blogspot.com
I think the hidden blessings that come in the midst of tragedy are eye-opening and life changing. Our encounters with strangers have inspired me to not hold back from being encouraging to others. It’s been kind of amazing. 🙂
That was my beautiful daughter, I am so proud of her!
Totally balling over here! I love that waitress too…Bless her heart and her hair!
What an awesome thing to do! I love little (big) acts of kindness like that. I have a coworker who just has this ability to see what needs to be done and she does it. She is constantly brightening someone’s day with things that I TOTALLY would’ve been happy to do if only I’d thought of it. Here’s hoping I’m maybe even 1/2 that thoughtful when I grow up. 🙂
She absolutely brightened our day, and inspired me to do a little bit of that for others!
I’m new here. Just lurking, really – found you through Google. My son has been fighting leukemia for almost 2 years, now. I have just fallen head over heels in love with your blog. This post is really special. It really made me cry. Thank you. The solidarity is palpable between people who have been through it, isn’t it? You can do hard things.
I agree, we can do hard things. We became friends with a family whose son was diagnosed with leukemia a few days after our Goo was diagnosed. It’s a long road you have to travel. Every time I meet someone going through – or having conquered – this fight, I feel a little stronger. Prayers to you and yours. Keep me posted on your son, if that’s okay. Goo loves hearing about kids who are fighting “bumps” like hers.