Monday, July 11, 2016

"Talitha koum!"


 

  “Which means, ‘Little girl, I say to you, get up!’” – Mark 5:41 

          In the summer of 2014 I was given a daunting task: sit for a photo shoot with a professional photographer. Ugh. I don’t like to have my picture taken. I’m not photogenic. Prior attempts made me want to either crawl under my bed or head for the hills. But I supposedly “needed” a current portrait for my blog site, and my 1992 college graduation photo didn’t pass muster.
I thought about using the free photo that comes standard with new picture frames, but knew my friends would quickly figure out the ruse. And then I had an idea—a wonderful, awful, brilliant idea.*

Kissing Cows
A few miles from my house is a dairy farm. It’s on a beautiful country road with little traffic. The cows are bored. I know this because each time I drive by on my small Suzuki motorcycle, they watch. They turn their heads to watch my approach, slowly rotate their long necks to follow my path as I cruise by at twenty miles an hour, and continue to crane their heads to observe the small puffs of dirt ascend as I depart.
Somedays I pass by twice, just for kicks and to add a punch of excitement to their day.
          So my wonderful idea was to have my photo taken on my motorcycle as I rode past the cows, capturing their delightful and attentive stares. Also, I thought I should wear my cape. My sister sent it to me when I completed my cancer treatments and I really needed to wear it. It was a gift, after all, and it would be rude not to.
My next step was to hire a photographer. One, and only one, came to mind: Kylie Triola. Kylie is an amazing photographer. And she is vivacious, fun, full of adventure and love for people and God. She was living in Guatemala at the time, which was fine with me. I wasn’t in a hurry. I contacted her and asked if she could take my photo the next time she came home. She agreed and during her next trip to the States we planned the photo op.
Even though Kylie has a good sense of humor, I was a little embarrassed to explain to her what I wanted. Finally I blurted it all out: me, my motorcycle, the cows and my cape. Kylie didn’t bat an eye. Instead she spoke of proper lighting and angles and the best time for the photos. We agreed on a morning shoot.
We met early the next day. Kylie wanted to take some traditional photos, and had me laughing and talking so much that I barely noticed she was snapping my picture. Then I put on my cape, revved up my motorcycle and headed for the farm. I spent the next hour driving up and down the road as Kylie camped out on the shoulder with her tripod. The cows were entertained …for the first twenty minutes. Then they became bored. They had their fill of a crazy, caped motorcycle mama and her camera wielding side kick. They were more interested in nuzzling grass then watching me take yet another pass by their pasture.
Kylie wasn’t satisfied with her photos. She thought the cows should look more involved in the drama. They weren’t, and they were beginning to meander away to greener fields. So Kylie told me to beep my horn as I drove by to get their attention. We tried this for the next half hour. 
          Finally a car came down the road. It stopped next to Kylie, the driver rolled down the window and engaged Kylie in a five minute conversation. I had my helmet on and couldn’t hear a word, but saw Kylie smiling and waving her hands as she talked. I thought all was well. But after the car left, Kylie came over. The driver was the farmer. She was upset. She thought her cows had been imposed upon long enough and we should cease and desist. Kylie explained we were doing the photo shoot for a good cause: to encourage people battling cancer. But the farmer was insistent; and told Kylie this wasn’t her first run in with photographers and caped motorcycle riders bothering her cows.
The conversation amused Kylie, but I agreed with the farmer and thought we should stop. I was tired anyway, and ready to call it a day. Kylie reluctantly capitulated citing freedom laws as she packed up her camera. I thought I should apologize to the farmer. I stopped by the house on the way home but no one answered the door. Kylie rolled her eyes.
          Kylie is a compassionate person. She is not rude. She is not unsympathetic. She just wanted to get the perfect shot for me, and to bring joy to the cancer survivors that visit my website. 
This is the story that came to mind when I recently heard the sad news that Kylie passed away. Vibrant Kylie was overtaken by an aggressive form of cancer. It didn’t seem possible.
Kylie had a phrase that was very important to her: “Talitha koum: little girl, get up!” Her family and friends were putting together a scrap book for her with this phrase plastered all over it to encourage her in her cancer battle. I even visited the cows and took a photo for her, but she passed on before I was able to send it.
My next post will explore the story behind this phrase. But today, I want to give tribute to my friend, Kylie Triola. To unique, zany, wonderful and talented Kylie. We do not live as people without hope. Even in the darkest times we have a promise. God whispers life into dry bones. God reaches out his hand to those who have fallen asleep. He speaks to our eternal spirit and says, get up. It’s time. Open your eyes. See the incredible beauty of this new home I have created for you. To Kylie, he says: little girl, get up.



In honor of my friend Kylie, and her big, loving, and very well lived out “dash.” August 24, 1977 – July 2, 2016.

* A strong nod to Dr. Seuss's The Grinch, who "got a wonderful, awful idea."

8 comments:

  1. Finally, Sara, I found your blog, as I just uncovered your card you gave me when we saw each other this summer. this is WONDERFUL.. So sad that Kylie passed away at an early age and so unexpectedly. But this blog entry is such a wonderful reminder that Jesus called her to "come" and the sorrow is only ours - not hers. I loved reading about her from your perspective. And the whole story about the photo shoot and the cows!!!

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    1. I'm glad you found the blog, Nancy. It was really good to see you this summer and catch up a little bit. Wish we had more time, but the time we had together was special.

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  3. Sara, I am Kylie's sister. I just wanted to thank you for sharing your story of your photo shoot. It is so easy for me to see her behind her tripod trying to capture the perfect image of your vivacious strength and sense of humor. Even at her end, she had them both; she passed away with grace and love. The photos she took of you to encapsulate your journey and inspire others is just one piece of a long legacy of her magnanimous spirit.

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  4. Sara, I am Kylie's sister. I just wanted to thank you for sharing your story of your photo shoot. It is so easy for me to see her behind her tripod trying to capture the perfect image of your vivacious strength and sense of humor. Even at her end, she had them both; she passed away with grace and love. The photos she took of you to encapsulate your journey and inspire others is just one piece of a long legacy of her magnanimous spirit.

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    1. Hi, Carisa. Thank you for your beautiful words. I think of Kylie often. She continues to inspire me to stay the course and use the gifts God has given. I appreciated your words at her service too. Thank you for telling us about her last days. It couldn't have been easy, but it was healing to hear your story. The following link is a poem I wrote when my young friend Audra passed from cancer. She was Kylie's friend too. I sent the poem to Kylie and asked her if she had a photo I could post with it. She sent the photo. I thought you might like to see it.
      http://saranelsonobrien.blogspot.com/2015/01/first-light.html

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