Emma’s story isn’t a unique one, in that sadly, in 2020 alone, the number of new cancer cases in the United States was estimated at 1.8 million, with approximately 606,000 of those ending in death, cancer.org.

However, her story is unique, in that, when it happens to a family member, a friend, yourself, the statistics cease to matter. In that moment the reality of it becomes real in a way it never could before. It’s no longer separate, but very personal, very intimate, and very frightening.

Like many families, cancer has impacted ours many times over. Cancer took my husband’s father in 1999, my father in 2010. We lost our niece to breast cancer at the age of 33, in 2013. A few years later, in 2015, we lost my husband’s sister to brain cancer. She was only 56.

Yet, even the pain and devastation of those losses could not prepare us for the blow that four little words would deliver: Your daughter has cancer.

This is Emma’s story.

Emma and her big sister in 2016, a few days before she would begin chemotherapy for stage 4 Hodgkins Lymphoma.

Five years ago, at the age of 17, after almost a year of tests and continued deteriorating health, Emma was diagnosed with stage 4 Hodgkins Lymphoma. The diagnosis was both a blessing, we finally knew what was wrong, and a curse, how could this be happening to her?

Fear and faith overwhelmed us. But in the end, it was Emma, herself who would fight this battle in mind, in body, in spirit. We could comfort, support, care for, and pray, but it would be Emma doing the fighting. And with faith and hope, did she ever fight.

She spent her senior year of high school at Shands Children’s Hospital in Gainesville where she underwent intensive chemotherapy to battle this deadly disease. Her warrior spirit and faith were something to behold.

Emma receiving her first chemo treatment. The day before she had cut her long hair and donated the length to Locks for Love. As it always was, her guitar was with her….and that smile.

As parents, my husband and I were humbled by her strength during such devastating circumstances. Instead of complaining or feeling sorry for herself she rose up. Instead of wallowing in self-pity, she turned her love and talent in music and art to gifts she shared with other patients and their families on the children’s wing.

She finished high school virtually, and played her guitar and sang as often as she could. She became known as the “Rockstar” of the pediatric floor.

Emma in June, 2016, before her final chemo treatment. Still smiling. Still grateful.

June 2021 marks five years cancer free for Em. Five years cancer free in the medical community is often referred to as ‘cured’ since the likelihood of reoccurrence is very small. We’ll take that.

We know how lucky we are. We know that Emma’s story doesn’t always end for others the way it did for her. And we are so very grateful for this miracle. We praise God every day for this precious gift he has given our family.

During her illness, Emma wrote a beautiful song called, Breathe. In 2019, we traveled to LA as a family, where she worked with producers and recorded it as her first single at Paramount Recording Studios. It was a family celebration of a lifetime.

Emma in 2019 recording her first single, Breathe, Los Angeles California.

She asked her dad, also a musician, to play on the track. She asked her big sister and I to sing backup vocals. It was a beautiful and inspirational moment when it all came together. One that we will cherish for a lifetime.

This is us in LA in the studio with Emma. We obviously had too much time between sessions!

Emma is almost 23 now. She’s healthy and strong. She continues her journey grateful every day for the opportunities and the life before her. She still sings. Still plays her guitar. Still writes music. She doesn’t define herself by her cancer story. Rather, she acknowledges that her story is one among millions and deeply humbled that unlike so many others, she was given another chance to live, to love, to be.

I’ve learned to be grateful for the hard times, because without them the good times wouldn’t be as good. I’ve learned more about myself and who I am. I’ve learned that even in the toughest times, you can make great memories. And I’ve learned that the way you think can change not only your experience, but also those around you. If you’re positive, it affects others in a positive way. Mostly I’ve learned that worrying is pointless, because you’re not in control. I’ve learned to trust God in all things, no matter the outcome.

Emma Rose Fenwick
Our Emma today.

Thank you for letting me share Emma’s story.

Breathe by Emma Rose is available on all platforms if you’d like to listen. ♥️

JN Fenwick (© 2021)

I love the sound of rain. However, the sound of rain on a tin or metal roof is something else altogether. It brings to mind childhood afternoons with my Nana.

My Nana, Mary Murphy Chaknis, was born in 1911 in County Cork, Ireland. Her family was poor, and by the time Nana had reached her early teens, her mother and father decided to send she and her sister, Lily to America to live with relatives, and hopefully to have a better life. Nana was only 16.

One of my favorite sounds is that of rain falling on a tin roof.
It reminds me of childhood and afternoons spent with Nana.

She and Lily traveled on an ocean liner and passed through Ellis Island in the latter part of the 1920’s. Her first job was in a hospital kitchen, preparing meals and helping with the laundry. It was a much different world than the one she had grown up in, and far away from home.

My grandmother traveled from Ireland as a young girl. The Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island greeted her upon her arrival in her new home.

Early on, Nana realized that her deep faith and the strength she received from God would be the cornerstones that would sustain her throughout her life. Nana would never again visit her homeland. Instead, she would live a long and beautiful life in America, meeting and marrying my grandfather, Pete Chaknis, an immigrant from Greece, and raising six children, first in New York, and then in Florida when the family transferred here in the 1940’s. My grandfather was a chef and he moved the family to Panama City when the opportunity to run his own café presented itself. The house my mother and her three brothers and two sisters were raised in would eventually be purchased by my parents after Grandpa passed away in the early 1960’s. Nana would move across the street and I would spend many hours of my childhood in her company.

Nana taught me how to crochet. She patiently helped me create, first small granny squares and then later on, blankets and afghans. She taught me how to bake her famous carrot cake and cheesecake. I followed her around the kitchen watching as she prepared her delicious fig preserves from the tree in her backyard. She’d send me out with a basket to collect the figs when they were ready for picking. Spending the night with her was a special treat because in the morning she’d serve the best, fluffiest, lightest buttermilk pancakes in the world!

Nana’s button box was a treasure trove of history and memories.

But rainy afternoons were my favorite. It was on those days that Nana would pull out her button box. To me it was much more than a box filled with buttons. To me it was a treasure chest. Nana saved buttons from just about every garment that lost one or that was past mending.

The box contained treasures from tiny pearl buttons to big ornate ones from suits and jackets. The were not the sort of buttons you’d ever find in a store. No, they were precious, and unique, and every bit the little gems they appeared to be. They had been saved over the years from the very garments Nana wore; from my grandfather’s worn clothing; from my mom’s and her sibling’s hand-me-downs. It was like sifting through history.

Nana could recall in vivid detail the garments from which they came and the occasions on which they were worn. It was like peeking through the looking glass into the past and seeing her as a young girl, crossing an ocean to begin a new life; a young wife and mother, caring for her family; a widow, who lost my grandfather when she was only in her mid-forties; to becoming Nana, the women I admired and whose warm hugs were the best in the world; whose Irish twinkle never left her eyes; and whose words of wisdom I still carry with me to this day.

When Nana passed in 2004, at the age of 93, she left me the button box and all of her yarn and crochet tools. Sometimes, on rainy afternoons, when the drops are pattering softly on the metal of our roof, I take out the button box and slowly sift through the buttons, thinking of Nana and the sound of her voice as she reminisced about each one.

I’d hold up one of the little treasures, asking, “What about this one, Nana? Where’d it come from?”

“Oh, that one, Jenny-Pooh,” she’d say using the nickname she’d lovingly given me, “That one was from the dress I wore on the train when we moved here from New York. I was pregnant with your Uncle George. You mom was just five…”

The story would continue, and I’d listen intently every time. Because even then I knew that one day, my own children, her great-grandchildren, would ask me the same questions. And I wanted to be able to give them these same pieces of family history that Nana was giving me; with just as much joy and just as much love. Especially on the rainy afternoons, when I knew I’d feel her presence next to me, her warmth moving through me, and perhaps most meaningfully of all, her story, living on as I shared it with the next generation.

Jennifer N. Fenwick, author, In the Eye of the Storm and Four Weeks

The panhandle of Florida is home to not only the World’s Most Beautiful Beaches, but also to many gorgeous natural springs abundant with local wildlife. My daughter, Emma and her boyfriend, Jason, spend most every weekend exploring these locations, capturing their trips in pictures and video for their YouTube channel, Paddle Blues.

Last weekend Jason and Emma set off to explore Sylvan and Cypress Springs. As usual, they captured their adventure in video and photography. Most of the Springs they visit in the area are within driving distance from Panama City and perfect for a day trip.

Although rainfall can sometimes cloud the water making visibility low, they typically snorkel and have captured many underwater photos using their GoPro. They are always on the lookout for little known or less visited areas to add to their growing list of favorite locations.

Cypress Springs photo by Jason DavisThe areas they visited this past weekend hold two of the “must go to” springs on their list of favorites. Cypress Springs runs into Holmes Creek in Northwest Florida. According to Cypress Springs Adventures, “Cypress Springs is one of the most beautiful springs in Northwest Florida, boasting a strong current, lush banks and deep sapphire waters. the spring discharges from two vents in the limestone boulders at the bottom of the spring pool. Approximately 150 feet with a maximum depth of 29 feet, the large surface boil is visible over both vents. The cool, clear water is a constant 68 degrees Fahrenheit. The banks surrounding the pool are heavily vegetated with cypress and tupelo trees.”

The sapphire waters can only be navigated via canoe or kayak, but you can enjoy snorkeling, swimming and scuba diving as you explore the natural habitat of the area.

Sylvan Springs is located along State Road 20 in Bay County and boasts a newly renovated recreation area that supports activities such as picnicking, swimming, fishing, kayaking, canoeing, and hiking. Sylvan Springs is located at the southern end of Econfina Creek.

Sylvan Springs consists of several vents on the west side of the Creek. A spring vent emerges from beneath a submerged limestone ledge into a 40-foot diameter pool. Maximum depth measured at the vent is 12 feet but the conduit extends further and downward. There is a large surface boil. A number of ancillary vents are scattered along the west bank.

Econfina Creek Unnamed Spring by Jason DavisThis past weekend the pair located an Undocumented Spring as they explored along Econfina Creek. They contacted the Northwest Florida Water Management District, who owns and manages the land, sending them coordinates and images. Once the District has taken discharge measurements, observed and confirmed the spring, Jason and Emma will get to name it. At present they’re thinking, Moccasin Spring since a large water moccasin prevented them from exploring past the first vent! We’ll see how that goes!

Econfina Creek Unnamed Spring by Jason Davis

Visit their YouTube channel, Paddle Blues, for video of their adventures and to see what they name the new spring!

If you’re ever in Northwest Florida, make it a point to visit one or two of these beautiful locations. The experience is certainly worth the time!

Jennifer Nelson Fenwick (© 2018)

 

Four Weeks CoverMy new book, Four Weeks: A Journey from Darkness, is now available for pre-order on Amazon! It hits on October 16, 2018!

The poetry and reflections included in Four Weeks, come from the journals I kept during my time in treatment for the eating disorder and alcoholism that darkened my life for decades. Four Weeks, is my journey from darkness. More than that, it is my journey from despair to hope. A hope I long to share with others walking the same path I did for so long. Hope exists in each of us, I have learned, it is when we surrender to that hope and to the source from which it flows that we begin to heal.

Check out the link to reserve a copy today!