I had a free massage the other day, compliments of a local massage workshop called Caring for Clients with Cancer.

This hands-on gift came to me by way of a woman who was once a scientist and is now a massage therapist. Concerned that cancer patients are rarely encouraged to cash in on the benefits of touch therapy, this woman merged her two disciplines so she could help patients heal in a holistic manner. And so her workshop was born. And I was invited to take part.

I received one completely soothing and invigorating massage. I also received one completely inspiring packet of quotes -- that I've already read over and over again -- related to recovery and healing. Each quote is so perfect in its message, and I wish I could share them all today. But time and space are limited at the moment, and I can only share a few.

So here are seven of my favorite quotes, free for the taking, a gift from me to you. Take a moment to read them, share them, savor them, and quietly reflect on the power of these simple words.

People who have been through illness's dark passage can occasionally give us a glimpse, not only of what it is like to become whole, but of what it is to be more fully human.
--Marc Ian Barasch
The Healing Path

Those who have suffered understand suffering and therefore extend their hand.
--Patti Smith

What matters is this: you can look at a scar and see hurt or you can look at a scar and see healing. Try to understand.
--Sheri Reynolds

I have a duty to speak the truth as I see it and to share not just my triumphs, not just the things that felt good, but the pain, the intense, often unmitigating pain. It is important to share how I know survival is survival and not just a walk through the rain.
--Audre Lorde

Illness is the night-side of life, a more onerous citizenship. Everyone who is born holds dual citizenship, in the kingdom of the well and in the kingdom of the sick. Although we all prefer to use only the good passport, sooner or later each of us is obliged, at least for a spell, to identify ourselves as citizens of that other place.
--Susan Sontag, Illness as Metaphor

Remember that everyone you meet is afraid of something, loves something, and has lost something.
--H. Jackson Brown, Jr.

Patience is a hard discipline. It is not just waiting until something happens over which we have no control; the arrival of the bus, the end of the rain, the return of a friend, the resolution of a conflict. Patience is not waiting passively until someone else does something. Patience asks us to live the moment to the fullest, to be completely present to the moment, to taste the here and now, to be where we are. When we are impatient, we try to get away from where we are. We behave as if the real thing will happen tomorrow, later, and somewhere else. Let's be patient and trust that the treasure we look for is hidden in the ground on which we stand.
--Henry J.M. Nouwen

Teenager Abraham Cherrix made national headlines recently with a legal battle that earned him the right to fight cancer on his own terms. Cherrix, 16, who chose to treat his disease with alternative treatments after traditional therapy failed to cure him of Hodgkin's disease, was told by the courts that his choice was not acceptable -- that he must undergo higher doses of chemotherapy in combination with radiation and followed by stem cell transplant. Cherrix ended up a winner in court and is currently receiving the therapy of his choice. But despite the legal win, Cherrix and his family are losing financially.

The Cherrix family owns a kayak company in Virginia, and spring and summer are peak seasons. Since the family had to close shop on many occasions due to court appearances, profits suffered. So on Sunday afternoon, local musicians headlined a fundraising concert -- billed as Voices for Choices -- to help with medical and court costs. Cherrix could not attend -- he's in the midst of treatment in Mississippi -- but the show went on. And while the money raised is not enough to cover all outstanding bills, it is enough to remind the family of all the caring people in the world.

Reports from family indicate Cherrix is doing well with treatment and that his tumor is shrinking. If he continues to make progress, he may be able to return home soon -- so he can thank those whose support is so much more than money can buy.

I just ran three miles on my treadmill. I have never been the athletic one in my family. My sister is the one who was born with the athletic streak -- she played softball and lettered in tennis after giving the sport a try with no previous experience and may have helped her high school basketball team win a state championship if it weren't for the major knee injury she suffered just before the big game. I, on the other hand, was born with a streak that has something to do with hair, nails, and lots of shoes. I was never interested in sports, gym shorts, or sweating -- which is what makes running three miles a big deal for me.

I wish I had started running long ago -- because I really like it. I like the loud music that pumps through my MP3 player and the change in my cadence as each new song begins. I like the motivation of knowing I'm pushing my body and accomplishing a physical challenge. I like that my endurance improves with each mile I travel. I like the mental release and the thoughts that run through my head and the cleansing effect I get from running. And I like sweating.

It's possible running would not have appealed to me long ago, even if I had given it a try -- because times were different long ago. I was healthy. I was happy. And I had no reason to marvel at the possibilities of my body. Without a natural impulse for physical fitness and challenge, I was completely satisfied with the status quo. But now I have an acquired impulse -- because cancer has threatened the very body I once took for granted. And I want it to be strong. I want it to be healthy. I want it to stand up to any possible threat. So I run. And when I am not running, I look forward to running.

In just a few weeks, I will run in the 5K Making Strides for Breast Cancer event with my athletic sister. I will run by her side. With my loud music for motivation. With the inspiration that I am making a difference for my body and for women everywhere. With my gym shorts on. And a ball cap covering my hair. With sweat dripping down my face. I can't imagine a better feeling.

I confess. I was once a sun worshiper. I grew up in Ohio where a really sunny day was rare -- so on the occasion when the sun was bright and hot, I was in my back yard or at a swimming pool or at a lake soaking up the warmth and comfort of the rays that mostly burned my skin but gave me a glow that eventually turned the slightest shade of tan and made me feel healthy. It's ironic really -- that I felt healthy when the act of sunbathing is so completely damaging. And I knew this at the time and for the many years that followed -- and I still basked in the sun and vacationed in Florida and sometimes actually drove in the direction of the sun on a overcast day, in search of a tan that was never fully achieved because my skin is pale and fair and was never meant for any amount of sun exposure.