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On Second Thoughts

Purple balloons with trailing ribbons were little messages to God

Tears welled up in my eyes and a lump formed in my throat Friday when I watched nearly 100 purple balloons float toward the heavens.

The balloons were released by cancer survivors who walked the first lap of Luverne’s Relay for Life. Survivors were defined as anyone who’s ever had cancer - whether they've been in remission for 10 years or if their diagnosis is only 10 days ago. The fact that they're alive qualified them for the honor.

The survivor lap concluded on the west end of the track, and with the sun low on the horizon and a gentle breeze from the northeast, the balloons with silver ribbons trailing slowly drifted over the city of Luverne. Seven hundred sets of hands applauded until the tiny purple dots disappeared into the clear blue sky.

"Touching" was the word that came to mind. "Touching" and "appropriate."

The balloons appeared to be little messages headed to God Himself. Some might have been sincerest thanks for a second chance at life - a chance to see their children grow or a chance to attend a senior prom someday.

Others, released by those without hair and too weak to walk on their own, might have been a heart felt plea for that same chance.

Cancer, for whatever reason, has become such a common local occurrence that a new local diagnoses is received with about as much reaction as news of a broken arm or removed tonsils.
Cancer research has provided helpful clues to early diagnosis, and modern medicine has made it possible to halt the progression of many cancers. As a result, we often forget what survivors have had to endure to earn their honored spot on the track.

Relay for Life is an overnight event to signify the terrible journey nearly all cancer patients must take. The following is reprinted from Relay for Life material the Star Herald received this summer:

"Clear your mind and picture
"It’s daylight. Life is wonderful. You're healthy, happy and looking forward to the future. You’re looking forward to your child’s dance recital or taking your child to Disney World for vacation. You’re looking forward to the new house you just bought. You have a new dream job that you're thrilled about.

"But then, darkness falls.

"You hear those words, 'You've got cancer.' Or, worse, your child has cancer. Your life has suddenly become very dark. You don’t know what the outcome will be. You feel there is no hope in sight. You're exhausted from caring for your child and from the agony knowing there’s nothing you can do to make him healthy again. You couldn't possibly feel any worse.

"Until -

"The sun starts to rise. The tumor is shrinking. Your treatments are working. You’re getting your appetite back. Your child feels well enough to go out and play for just a few minutes. There is hope.

"It is now daylight and you're in remission. You have your life back. You've made it through the night and the darkness. You celebrate life in the daylight knowing that the darkness of nighttime is behind you.

"This is why we Relay.

"This is why Relay is an overnight event."

Not having any idea what those cancer survivors had been through, I cried Friday night for them and their families touched by the horrible disease.

At the same time they might have been tears of pride and joy at witnessing such overwhelming local support for the cause. Congratulations and thank you to all those responsible for Rock County's Relay for Life.

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