Extraordinary, Every Day.

For those who are not familiar with my mother's business, the title of this post is not only her company's motto, but the heart, soul, and nourishment of what I have come to see in my mother, especially of late.

She raised me saying "garbage in, garbage out," which was generally in reference to my choice to watch Beverly Hills 90210 instead of Reading Rainbow. However this is applicable to much more than one's choices in television viewing, specifically the company with which we surround ourselves.

I've run out of words to express the kindness bestowed on my mother, but truly believe that it is nothing short of a reflection of who she is as a human being. A perpetual people pleaser, almost to a fault, she rarely acts without thinking of how it will impact those around her. Even today, she pressed the call light to ask for help, and prefaced by saying, "I don't want to inconvenience you, but...."

You have all stepped up to bat in so many ways, but two stories in particular I had to share:

Not too long ago, Mom's good friend Naomi Lerner gifted a matching earring and necklace set that she not only custom made for my mother, but named after her as well!

"Liz It Is" has been a huge success. It has been selling like hot cakes, and we recently learned there was a bidding war on the last available set at a fundraiser.

When Mom wears it she glows. For someone who is known for never leaving the house without her Mulberry lip gloss and a scarf (she single-handily started the craze), she is now most often without make-up, sporting a pastel terrycloth head cap. It is so much more than a tribute, it gives her a piece of familiarity back, and that is an indescribable gift.

I was recently sent a song called "Keep Me In You Heart," by Warren Zevon, who wrote his album The Wind shortly after being diagnosed with cancer. The sender was my childhood best friend's older brother.

Mind you, this is a boy (okay fine, now man) who I used to tell on regularly. He made fun of me for crying, inflicted many bruises on me, and taught me an extensive library of profanities at an impressively young age. None of which matters, less to say how in this experience, where emotions peel off like layers, people come in and our of our lives in the most surprising and touching ways. He put it better than I ever could:

"Whether abrupt or protracted, when a tragedy unfolds itself into a life, as it has clearly has in your case, I imagine that all of the people involved hear a lot of wonderful things from a lot of wonderful people and a lot of strange things from a lot of strange people and a lot of things in between. With all of the tasks immediately at hand, maybe it’s hard to separate all of the wonderful sentiments and kind words from the crazy rambling and stammering people seem to do in these cases, the true friends from the clingy weirdos who show up and maybe make only themselves feel a little happier or more comfortable for a moment."

This part of life is lived differently by everyone. It is awkward and scary. I don't even know what I am saying or doing half of the time. So to all of you, wonderful people and clingy weirdos alike, the roll you play in this, through cards, comments, prayer, food, thought, art, or song, is essential in our process. We are so lucky to have you.