It didn’t take long for me to figure out that Jim and Dana’s only son, Parker, had cancer. It was the abiding theme of not only her posts but those of her friends and family, who offered up their support on her timeline (which back then was called a wall).
Parker was being treated at St. Jude in Memphis, which meant he was likely fighting for his life.
The Riveras clearly had lots of support, as Dana’s page featured numerous pictures of people wearing “Team Parker” shirts. Everything was LSU themed—purple and gold.
As a fellow Mom, I felt Dana’s situation resonating immediately with me. It was the worst-case scenario—a precious child with a horrible diagnosis. She was living everyone else’s darkest fears.
On one level, I didn’t think it was my place to “like” or “comment” on anything I saw in that initial review, nor on the blips about Dana and Parker that began to be a part of my news feed now that we were Facebook official. I was an old memory, living in the shadows of her one summer at Olympia [summer camp], 27 years earlier. If I couldn’t conjure up more than a handful of lucid memories of her from that time, how much of me could she remember?
From bystander to participant
Then, the day after Christmas—December 26, 2013—Dana posted a request for prayers, as Parker was staring down a heavy round of treatment:
We are all good but asking for specific prayer for Parker. We have a HEAVY chemo dose to go through the next few days, and Parker is sensitive to chemo as it is! Asking for minimal suffering through this round! As ALWAYS, thank you for your love, support, and prayers.
This was the moment when I unknowingly, officially crossed over from being an innocent bystander to being an active, though distant and totally undetectable, participant.
Prayer had always been something that I felt drawn to. If I had a spiritual gift—something that was fashionable to discuss at the time—prayer was a strong possibility. It appealed to my deep emotional nature, an undercurrent that I usually kept guarded under layers of silliness. It was private, something no one else could see or comment on.
That also meant that nobody could tell me I was doing it wrong. And since I felt less than confident about how to pull off being a Christian in public, it was something I could do on my own terms. Just me and God.
Additionally, I’d always found it easy to focus and find God in those quiet moments removed from the pace of regular life. It wasn’t so much that I knew what to say; it was that I could connect with and feel His presence. And I loved the idea of lifting people up without their even knowing it.
Prayer appealed to me on so many different levels. It, like social media, seemed tailor-made for my personality.
Reaching out
I felt personally called by Dana’s post. Instead of her requesting prayers from her 1,000–plus Facebook friends, I felt like she was asking me individually to pray.
Instead of commenting on her post, I was compelled to reach out to Dana directly. The only means of doing this was via a Facebook message, as we obviously didn’t have each other’s contact information. So I sent her a message, a move that, at that time in my life, was completely out of character for me, because:
- I’m terrible about reaching out to people and do better just being supportive silently—only to later desperately wish I had said something,
- I’d always been way better at thinking of great things to do than at actively following through,
- In this specific scenario, the normal me would’ve understood that whatever relationship I’d had with Dana was so far gone that direct contact was a bit bold. And while I could be bold while ribbon-dancing in a blue polyester suit, I wasn’t that way emotionally.
The fact that I even sent that first message to Dana illustrates how invested I felt in her story only a month into having reconnected with her. Just like when her name had popped into my head repeatedly, for no apparent reason, I didn’t question it—I just moved forward, almost as if on instinct.
December 27, 2013
Hi! Just wanted to let you know that we are praying for you and your family today! We will keep praying, and then we will pray some more.
Lots of love,
Amy Weinland Daughters and Family
PS: I’m just as attractive as you may remember I was; if not, I’ve gotten even better-looking. . . .
PPS: WE ARE PRAYING FOR YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The message is a perfect illustration of who I am. I sincerely care about people but feel obliged to throw in some ridiculous bit: Just in case I’ve offended or overstepped the mark, here’s something silly to divert your attention. It’s at the intersection of Low Self-Esteem Street and Obnoxious Avenue.
I prayed for Parker and Dana often in the hours and days following my message. I also began checking her Facebook page for updates. Without my even knowing it, my heart was being surrounded by the Riveras.
What I didn’t really expect was a reply from Dana. Despite this, she sent me just that a couple of days later.
December 30, 2013
You are too sweet and still so fun!! Thank you so very much for the prayers!!! It really means a lot!!!
Small things morph into big things
The fact that Dana responded to my initial message was even more extraordinary than my reaching out in the first place. She took the time to reply to a random message from a random person, with actual words, while her son was suffering through a chemotherapy treatment. Who even does that?
It’s very possible that had she not responded to that initial communication, the extraordinary sequence of events that followed would never have happened. It’s a testament to how small things we do in “normal,” everyday life, without even thinking about them, can morph over time into big things.
Looking back from what was then the future, I know now that Dana was showing her hand. Her personality compelled her to be someone who responded dutifully. Though I would get a lot of credit for reaching out to her as time went on, her commitment to replying, despite her family’s dire circumstances, was the real reason our unbelievable connection flourished.
We would repeat this cycle—in which I reached out crazily and she eventually responded—over and over again in the years ahead.
Amy Daughters has spent the past 10 years freelancing on topics from college football to emotions. She’s the author of You Cannot Mess This Up: A True Story That Never Happened (2019), for which she received recognition at the 2019 Foreword INDIES and the 2020 Next Generation Indie Awards. When she’s not writing, Daughters can be found researching history, golfing or ribbon dancing. She lives in Tomball, Texas with her husband Willie and two sons, Will and Matthew.
Extrait du livre Dear Dana. Copyright ©2022 by Amy Daughters. Printed with permission from She Writes Press—www.shewritespress.com .
images : Depositphotos
