Not your typical family.

As mentioned in the previous post, I was able to visit my former workplace last week while in Chicago. As I was walking out of the building, I ran into one of my former supervisors. Our conversation got me thinking.

In his typical sarcastic and laid back nature, he gave me a hard time about leaving the company to take a job with an auto supplier in this economy. He laughed at me. I laughed at me, too. Yes, it may have been a risky decision, but the reason I can laugh is because of where I am now because I made that decision.

He followed that up by kindly asking how nursing school was going. Good. Great. Just fine ... all of that stuff. Then came the question that always gets a reaction.

"What area of nursing do you want to specialize in?"

My answer is always immediate. It is the reason why I decided to take on the challenge and changes that going back to school and moving all over the great state of Michigan would bring.

"Pediatric oncology," I responded.

"Oh. Isn't that going to be a bit ... sad?"

I have found reactions like this to be the norm. It's hard to comprehend what it would be like to be surrounded daily by the reminder that sometimes this world just doesn't seem fair. Kids and cancer definitely fit in that category of things that just don't fit ... things that shouldn't fit.

It's reactions like these that scare me about the path that I'm walking on. It's these kinds of challenges to my decision that make me wonder how I'll be able to take the sadness that will inevitably go hand-in-hand with this profession.

It's these responses that make me more ready and excited than ever to do the job that I believe I am truly called to do.

Why?

Because I believe that while the world certainly isn't fair - God gives grace and reason.

My first inspiration came in the form of a spirited - tosaytheleast - ten year old named Katie who was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. To Katie, I was her neighbor, dance teacher and babysitter. To me, Katie was a small child with an enormous opportunity to change the world of each person she encountered. And that, she did.

Through Katie, I was introduced to countless other kids fighting cancer. It wasn't long before I realized all of them - forever connected by their unique experiences - were a family.

And it wasn't long before I realized that while none of their journeys were free of question, anger, frustration and fear - each and every one of them refused to let the cancer break their spirit, even though it was breaking down their bodies.

It is because of kids like Katie - who has been cancer-free for two years today - that I look forward to celebrating when one of my patients gets the ultimate gift of life and freedom from cancer.

It is because of a little girl named Carly - who continues her battle with cancer (with a smile) at the ripe age of two - that I will remember how precious life is, and how much strength God can give to a small child.

And it's because of Payton - who lost the battle with cancer but won the victory with her Jesus - that reminds me that with the unfairness of life comes grace, strength and the opportunity to change lives with a story of unwavering faith and beauty.

I can't prepare for the days when I may not be able to fight back the tears, but I can't wait to be even a small part of such an amazing family.