Norris Christmas Letter 2011

Across the miles, and memories, and dear friendships, from our home to yours, greetings of Advent Peace from the Norris Family!  As 2011 comes to a close, we can all say this sure has been an interesting year.  Read on, for a brief overview of what we have been up to in the past 12 months.

A Junior and a Senior 

As if life was not rushing headlong faster than any of us could imagine, Kelly is now a Junior at DePaul University in Chicago, and Heather is a Senior at Flintridge Sacred Heart Academy.  Kelly is looking forward to her last 18 months of college instruction (after spending the past three months with us here, as she finished some general ed classes in Southern California), and to being fully certified as an elementary level teacher upon graduation.  From there, only God knows what comes next, but the current plan is teaching someplace overseas for a few years.  She is quite used to world travel, having almost spent last Christmas in London, close to being snowed in on her way home from Livingstone, Zambia.  Heathrow in disarray, stranded in London, without luggage, and wearing only sweats and Tom’s shoes, she spent the next 72 hours improvising a new wardrobe, planning travel home, but also enjoying the snowy sights of London at Christmastide!   She made it home, via Houston to Los Angeles, on the 21st; it was the best Christmas present of the year for our family. Her smile on our doorstep will not quickly be forgotten.

Meanwhile, Heather’s life is never a dull moment, with present plans for 15 (yes, count them) separate college applications.  Thus far two acceptances, 13 more to go.  We are all so proud of Heather’s hard work, and Dad is just overjoyed he did not have to write an application check to USC.  Stayed tuned for more news.  The fall presented a surprise, as Heather’s grace and poise (characteristics having nothing at all to do with her Dad) propelled her to the final 30 young ladies to be considered for the Tournament of Roses Royal Court.  Alas, royalty was not to be, but Heather is quite happy with her life as a commoner, and another year on Varsity softball.  We love this girl.

Intramucosal Carcinoma of the Colon

Just a few words, but the gravity they contain can be life changing.  With those medical reference words, our lives together as a family took a summer detour we did not expect.  We don’t have a story of how our majestic and exemplary faith made this experience entirely free of questions or worry.  We learned deep lessons of love, commitment and friendship from so many during this time.  Surgery was required, and the result: no evidence of ongoing serious cancer.  In fact, what had previously looked likely cancerous was in fact, benign.  One more related surgery is scheduled for later this month; a purely preventative procedure.  Nancy is back to full and complete health, and we are all deeply and profoundly thankful.  Words simply will not do.  A word of prayer for one more short hospital visit for Nancy would be a gift to us.  The doctors want to keep a close eye on her in the years to come, but for now, the way ahead is clear.  Suffice it to say, we have a different understanding of the concept of the gift of each new day.  And in thanks, and as a celebration, we will be giving a financial gift this year in your names to the City of Hope (www.cityofhope.org), where Nancy received truly remarkable and compassionate care.  This was a summer we will never forget.

More Modest and Thankfully Dull Adventures

As for me, the balding guy who is the oldest around here, this has certainly been a year.  From emails to and from Zambia, sitting in the City of Hope hospital waiting room wondering about the future, to awaiting a Rose Court announcement; it never, ever, got boring.  This included a business trip to Alaska last year just before Christmas (spotted several moose on major streets in Anchorage, high temperature +15 degrees), a conference in Washington DC in November, with a day to enjoy the nation’s capital.  The year was filled with some wonderful musical interludes with good friends, the Watkins Family hour at the Coronet, Alison Kraus and Union Station under the stars at the Greek, The Civil Wars at the Wiltern, and fall evenings at Disney Hall with good friends.  A week at the beach at the close of summer, complete with rooftop sunset dinners full of the kids and their friends and much laughter.  Summer evening barbeque dinners on the back deck with friends old and new.  Bruin games at Pauley with friends new.  Life is rich and full, each day.  Thankfulness abounds.

And so, in this past year, as Kelly traveled to Livingstone, via London and Los Angeles, I wondered about what seems to be the only event that can unite the people of these distant and disparate cities. An event that occurred in obscurity more than two hundred centuries ago, in a dusty village in the middle of, well, nowhere.

At the point of a single birth, everything changed.  Time was carved in two.  For everyone, forever.  For countless thousands alone, with their thoughts on Los Angeles freeways, for the masses riding the London tube, and for the dusty streets of Livingstone.  And even for you too, standing in your kitchen reading this Christmas letter.  All these places, all us people, given a chance again. Given hope. Christmas hope.  Christmas love.  Across continents, and time zones, and time itself.  This is what Christmas is all about.

Merry Christmas from Steve, Nancy, Kelly, and Heather

Earth Time Lapse from ISS

Here and Heaven - Chris Thile and Aoife O'Donovan

This song is from the brand new album Goat Rodeo Sessions. I cannot believe how good this is.


With a hammer and nails and a fear of failure we are building a shed
Between here and heaven between the wait and the wedding
For as long as we both shall be dead to the world
Beyond the boys and the girls trying to keep us calm
We can practice our lines ‘till we’re deaf and blind to
Ourselves to each other and it’s
Fall not winter spring not summer cool not cold
And it’s warm not hot have we all forgotten that we’re getting old

With an arrow and bow and some seeds left to sow we are staking our claim
On ground so fertile we forget who we’ve hurt along the way
And reach out for a strange hand to hold
Someone strong but not bold enough to tear down the wall
Cause we ain’t lost enough to find the stars aren’t crossed
Why lie and why fall hard not soft into
Fall not winter spring not summer cool not cold
And it’s warm not hot have we all forgotten that we’re getting old

Of Princesses and Commoners

Sometimes it might be the better thing to not be among the chosen. 

You would think that at my age, I might have a better grip on this rather fundamental concept; that I might have the basic priorities of life sorted out.  But, due to a somewhat narrow minded perspective on life, and my decidedly clay-like feet, it seems I still have much learning to do.  Over in the past couple of weeks, I have again learned something I should have known very well all along.  And my daughter has taught me this lesson.

The (Seemingly) Important Thing - Becoming a Princess
In late September, Younger Daughter decided that she, like almost all of her Senior class at school, would try out for the Tournament of Roses Royal Court.  It seems almost all (only about 120) of the girls try out for what is known locally as "The Royal Court" (note the capitalization) mostly for the fun of it.  The Court consists of 7 young ladies from throughout the San Gabriel Valley, who are chosen to represent the Tournament of Roses each year, and to "officiate" over the Rose Parade on January 1st.  The field of applicants starts out with roughly 1,000, and is narrowed down over several weeks and interviews to a final field of 34, prior to the big announcement of the Royal Court, comprised of seven young ladies. 

As fate, seemingly random selection, and (biased Dad portion here) poise and warmth would have it, over the several weeks of Rose Court tryouts, Younger Daughter ended up in the final field of 34, who would stand up before the press and local dignitaries to hear the announcement of the Princesses of the Royal Court.  The Chosen Ones.  The girls in the final cut spent an afternoon at the famous Tournament House, being photographed and meeting with the press.  My daughter, meeting the press.  Has a strange sound to it.  In local social circles this is considered something elite, classy, and certainly the ideal compliment to a young lady.  Selection for the Royal Court means you have "made it" socially, that have been "chosen" by society; and that, in a way, you might even be, in some ways, royal.

And so, on a sunny Monday morning, parents, families, friends, and the press all gathered on the Tournament House lawn, to learn who would be selected for the Royal Court.  Long story short, the finalist who lives in our house got to return home later that same morning as a commoner.  She was happy for the journey, slightly disappointed, but fine with the life she leads.  I do love that girl.

The Common Thing
At about the same time all of this social fomenting was going on, something else happened in the life of Younger Daughter.  Something more mundane, not glamorous.  Just a school assembly on an otherwise unremarkable Thursday morning, for a cause that doesn't get much press at all.  Little limelight, and not something for social climbers.  A common thing.  To be more honest, this sort of assembly was about a subject many of us don't really do well with.  This assembly involves those in our society who are often not noticed, those who will be certainly never be chosen for any Royal Court having anything to do with the Rose Parade.

This was an assembly about helping families with children who have Down Syndrome.

Club21 is a learning, support, and resource center for those with Down Syndrome.  It was started by our dear friend, just four years ago, in the living room of her home.  Our family is blessed beyond measure to be a part of this effort.  For 14 years now, we have known Molly, our friends' daughter who has Down Syndrome.  As a result of this friendship, Younger Daughter has, on her own, taken this cause to heart.  For some time now, she has been planning to lead this assembly, as she felt her classmates, all 400+ of them at her school, needed to learn about families and kids with Downs, and how they might help.

And so, on that Thursday morning, the gymnasium at Flintridge Sacred Heart Academy filled with noisy high school girls, and with families of children with Down Syndrome.  An unlikely combination, two people groups who otherwise would not meet.  Girls who have everything, and special needs kids who need, well, a lot.  And they will continue to need a lot.  For a lifetime.  These are not kids you can afford to believe in for a just month, or a year.

One by one, families of Down Syndrome children got up and shared their stories.  Stories of disappointment, confusion, frustration, challenges, sadness, and joy.  Lots of joy.  After just a few moments, that raucous gym quieted to the point where you could hear a pin drop.  The assembly went on for almost an hour.  I have never seen more focused attention from so many high school girls in my life.  The girls were encouraged to take part in a charity walk that will benefit the families and kids of Club21.  This will not make the social pages of the paper, but it will make a difference in terms none of us have the ability to measure.

And so, in the end, although Younger Daughter will always be a Princess in my eyes, its the commoner in her that I really love.  And, often its better to be among the unchosen.

Making a Difference in LA

Do you wonder sometimes if just one person can really make a difference, even in the midst of a world or a city where the sheer numbers of problems seem to defy the odds?

Look below for real stories, of real people, who believed that God had designed something special for them. 

One person can make a difference, just look at the opportunities.

Deidox Films - The Story of Lindsay  "...and then I spend all year....trying to prove it"


Deidox Films - The Story Pi Chui   "because I know God, I am happy, I am at peace"

Unsung Heroes of Los Angeles - opportunities to become involved and serve the City, through the California Community Foundation; including the remarkable story of Andrew Bogan, who believed in girls that society otherwise gave up on.



Serving the Homeless of Hollywood through the Lord's Lighthouse

Understanding injustice in the world, and doing something to help, via International Justice Mission.

Tournament House

Just another dull morning at the Tournament of Roses Tournament House.

My Dad was a B17 pilot in World War II. I have always been amazed by flight. This story, sent to me by a good friend today, is remarkable:

Beverly Eckert

This is Beverly Eckert, who lost her husband on September 11, 2001.  Click the link below to listen to her thoughts, collected as a part of the Story Corp project.

It has been 10 years, today.  I will never forget where I was that day, and what I was feeling and thinking.  It was horrific.

Today, I will remember those many lives lost on that fateful day, and remember those left behind who still grieve the loss of those they loved so much.

Beverly Eckert reflects....

And Whither Then

This week, a very good friend's son headed off to his first year of college.  He has been raised in a wonderful family of faith, and is one of the most humorous, enjoyable, and clever kids I know. 

He left this missive on his Facebook page several days ago.  I can't get it out of my head.  It is exactly right.

The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say.
-J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

Benign, But In a Moment, So Much More

Earlier this month, we received some very good news.  But in the midst of this good news, there was a moment, just a small moment, that contained a brief and fleeting glimpse of the deep struggle, mystery, and pain that are a part of this life.  Joy and sorrow, mixed together in an instant.

Several weeks ago, Nancy went to her surgical follow-up visit to learn of the pathology of her recent colo/rectal surgery.  The result : no evidence of cancer.  In fact, what had previously looked likely cancerous was in fact, benign.  She is, and we are all, deeply and profoundly thankful.  Words simply will not do.  The doctors want to keep a close eye on her in the years to come, but for now, the way ahead is clear.

When Nancy met with her doctor, his schedule was typically packed to overflowing, and she only had a couple of minutes of time with him.  I should interrupt here and mention that by some feat of sheer Divine Providence, we ended up with the Chief of Surgery at City of Hope as our doctor.  The story behind this is too long to relate here, but is quite amazing in its own right.  And so, this doctor is a busy man.  And a man that Nancy and I have been thinking about a lot lately, now that our journey through surgery is done.  And here is why.

When Nancy received her good report from the doctor, with a sense of compassion that is her hallmark, she replied, "Well, doctor, it must feel great for you to give out this kind of good news every once in a while."  I think her reply came from both our brief experience at City of Hope, and our experience the past years as grown ups.  We know now, sometimes painfully at this season of life, that often, cancer is not equivalent with good news.  Not all polyps are benign.  Not everyone gets to go home from the doctor and right back to leading a "normal" life.  Many do not.  Many are stuck in the midst of wondering, and worrying, and confusion, and hoping.  Many face multiple surgeries for a cancer that will not go away.  Many do not make it out of that dark journey.

At just the moment that Nancy spoke her reply, the doctor's eyes dropped, for a moment, to the ground. For just a moment.

What was happening in just that moment, in that brief, fleeting, glance away?  Oh, to know the thoughts in the mind and heart of that surgeon at just that moment.  To know the many surgeries he has performed that did not look good at all, where the cancer was not neatly contained and defined, or benign, or simple.  To see the things he has seen with his trained eyes.  To be present in the recovery rooms, where the post surgical report was not so happy, so simple, or so, well, benign.  To watch with his eyes, as he explains a not-so-hopeful diagnosis to family members desperate for good news.  And, as he travels home in the car in the dark, after a long day of surgery and meetings, and patient visits; to know the thoughts and wonderings of this good man.

In that brief look to the floor, so very much was contained in a brief and slightly awkward silence.  So much contained, and to Nancy, to us all, unknown but felt.

But we can imagine some of the things our doctor was thinking.  And we can pray.  We can pray for him, for the good people at the City of Hope, and for those involved in medical research that just may, someday, bring relief to so many lives.

And I have been wondering too.  Why did we get this good news?  Why us?  And now that we have it, what will we do with our lives that will make this diagnosis a blessing to others.  Its not just about us, its about so very much more.  Take a moment and watch this; you will see our smiling doctor at 0:30 exactly.  Watch this, and feel hopeful, and if you feel lead, give to the City of Hope, or the cancer cause of your choice.  Its important - its a matter of life and death.