Support For Christi Thomas

This blog is to help offer support to the Thomas Family and their daughter, Christi, in her battle against cancer. Please visit Christi's website at to learn more. There, you'll find journals, photos and a lots of other information about this amazing child and her family.

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Tuesday, October 16, 2007

Christi Thomas by Christi Thomas (a PPT) (Click on the red above, or cut and paste this address if you'd like to see her PPT.)

I received a request to post the Power Point about Christi that Christi was working on. I am embarassed to admit I had forgotten all about it, but I went in her folder on our computer and I see she last worked on this on September 2nd 2006 so here it is. (She died on the 19th.) It wasn't quite finished and I'm certain the 9 year old perfectionist wouldn't want me to share it without it being "finished" but so much in Christi's life wasn't finished, according to my standards. I still walk pass her unfished art and craft projects in her untouched bedroom and it still breaks my heart. I had just exposed her to PPT and she was having a lot of fun learning how to use it.

Thank you so very, very much for all of the kind comments posted about her "11 German Shepherds" video. That "production" really meant a lot to her and your comments meant a lot to me - THANKS!


At 16/10/07 8:10 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

I typically do not leave a comment because I just do not know what to say....but today I have left a comment on your three most recent blogs because they touched my heart so deeply! Christi's movie, Angela's smile at the football game and now this wonderful PPT project! Every single one PRICELSS! Thank you for sharing.

Deb Mathy

At 16/10/07 10:02 AM, Blogger Nikking said...

That was simply adorable!!!!

It really shows how gifted she was! I am 29, and though I understand the basics of Power Point, I still find the program a bit confusing!

At 16/10/07 3:34 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

I've watched Christi's movie about four times thus far. What I love about it is how much fun everyone is having, hamming it up. You did it for Christi but you wound up loving every minute--I could tell! Awesome family.

Hey, Christi was better at Powerpoint than I am!


At 16/10/07 4:49 PM, Blogger Jennifer (Kids Cancer Crusade) said...

Thank you, Angela. You are the BEST!

Was I at all surprised she used so many cute pictures? Not with YOU as her momma! :-)

Love you!

At 16/10/07 7:23 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

I don't post very often, but I still check on you almost daily to see how you are coping. Below is a post from the site of another child, Miles Levin, who lost his battle recently with another rare type of cancer. I read his mother's words and I was reminded of Christi, how much unrealized potential was left. You alluded to it when posting her powerpoint presentation. Here it is:

This one is going to be challenging to put words to, but that seems to be my strength. I've had this feeling (actually, in grief, "feeling" doesn't fully capture it, sensation, wave, something) many times in recent weeks. When I feel something many times, when something persists, I tend to believe it has truth in it; and if it has truth in it for me, it probably has truth in it for others struggling to cope with this (un)reality. I'm beginning to define my own mission as that: putting words to the unspeakable.

Periodically, I venture into Miles' room. The object that destabilized me last time was a very small desk - miniature - that I had purchased for Miles when he was about three or four. I had seen it at an antique show. It's made of wood, kind of cherry in color, has a small swivel chair with slats at the back; there's a ridge for pencils on the top, and a board that pulls out - just above the two small drawers on the right side - for writing. The desk never really worked well for him because he was left-handed and the desk is designed for the assumed right-handed child. He had planned on giving it to his child.

I opened one of the drawers and discovered his collection of balls - all sizes, materials, and times in his life. The other drawer held his collection of colored pencils, the mainstay of his Waldorf education. I felt awash with sadness, fond memories, and a weak smile. That's when I realized this: When we lose a child, we don't lose (in Miles' case) only an 18 year old, I lost my 16 year old who just got his license; I lost my 13 year old who is disciplining himself for his Bar Mitzvah; I lost my 10 year old who was so spacey I wondered if he'd make it in this world; I lost my 5 year old who used that little desk; I lost my 2 year old who tripped on a bucket and put a permanent scar on his nose; and I lost my baby who was completely reliant on us for food and care. I lost many children. I realized, when I walked out of his room, that his childhood is in that room. That's a lot to say good-by to.

I thought that was a lot to grieve until I also realized that although there was no evidence of his future in that room, I felt the loss of what could have been. In another one of my forays into this territory, I discovered all the materials related to Miles' college pursuit: application essay, SAT scores, books of course listings from various colleges, and his acceptance letters. I had a strange sensation when I read the letters: did "life" know then that he would never go? Did Miles know then that he would never go? Was it a tease? Or, was it life's way of keeping hope alive.

Hope. That's what our children carry. They are OUR hope for the future. We invest in them. We care for them. We feed them. We believe in them. We love them. All the while, hoping and planning on an adult to emerge from our efforts, ready to leave the nest and begin their own life. Hope dies when our child dies; we're left with memory. But, it is not pure memory, it's filled with, what could have been, unrealized potential. The now vacuum has elements of purposelessness in it since our job has been terminated.

Living in the moment seems to be the watchword of New Age thinking. That's a tough order for bereaved parents because the feelings in the moment are a jumble of memory, impossible future, and confusing pain. Why would a bereaved parent WANT to live in the present: it hurts. Mentally, we escape to the past because that's where our child lives. The present reveals the truth that our child no longer lives, in the physical world. It is an enormous shift in consciousness to create a relationship in the present with someone who doesn't have a body. Yet, this is what we must do. Or die - if only spiritually - ourselves. This is the task, this is the requirement, this is our growth edge. I've not yet figured out how to do it, but I'll be sure to let you know if and when I do.

At 16/10/07 8:54 PM, Blogger Olivia said...

Oh wow. To be able to master PPT and express yourself so well-- and only 9! Christi never ceases to amaze me. But as the saying goes, apples never fall far from trees.

Thank you so much for sharing that wonderful work.

Hugs to you all,

At 17/10/07 2:26 PM, Blogger Cathy Bowman said...

That was cute. That was such an awesome video. I liked the look on Christi's face when she'd look at the camera when it was time to cut it off. lol....... I never got to hear her voice before. What a beautiful video. THank you so much for sharing!!!!

At 18/10/07 12:18 AM, Blogger Staci said...

Oh WOW! did she really do all that by herself??




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