A Spring of Joy

Glimpses of our world…

  • Epic Vacation: Day One

    On Friday a week ago, we set off on a family adventure in Gimli, our pull-behind RV…short and stout and ready for anything. Or at least we hope it’s ready for anything. We certainly were.

    Although we weren’t quite ready for the beginning of our trip. The radiator hose in our Durango blew the night before we were to leave. Bri called Advance and they said they’d order the part and it would be ready for pick up in the morning, only they didn’t order the part and it wasn’t ready until after 1:00. We were hoping to be at our first stop by 1:00, so it was a setback and a blow to our children who then had to find things to do to fill their time. Needless to say we were all a bit antsy.

    By 1:30 we had the part. Bri fixed our car; I took Coop to our friends who lovingly care for him whenever we travel; Bri finished packing Gimli and we were off–four hours late is better than not at all. We blasted music and chatted and the kids played a game or two, and we arrived at the campground three hours later just as Europe’s “The Final Countdown” came on over our satellite radio. We turned it up and put the windows down as we rolled through the campground looking for our friends and our site.

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    Marni and Tim were a sight for sore eyes after a very long day, and we circled the chairs at our site to swap stories of our day. Bri pulled out the camp stove and the pizza oven to make our supper, because why not make pizza when you’re camping?! Marni snapped shots while we compiled our dough, sauce and toppings: bbq chicken pizza, a couple margherita pizzas, cheese and pepperonis–we scarfed them down as the light grew dim and Duncle Tim (that’s a mixture of doctor and uncle and our children’s very affectionate nickname for him) started a fire with Bear’s help and we finally pried his book out of Ash’s hands to play a game of once upon a time around the campfire (it’s a game where one person starts a story, then stops whenever they want to and the next person picks up and so on). Frivolity was high and our stories were full of destruction, princesses, aliens and bananas.

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    Dear Marni is a friend since college; in fact, when Bri and I got married we fought over who’s side she should stand on, because she was such a good friend to us both. I won that battle and she was a lovely bridesmaid! Tim fits in perfectly with our crazy trio and they’re the only other couple we know who does the crazy quite like we do.

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    Saturday morning found us drinking coffee and eating muffins and sending them on their way to tubing Christmas in July style with their church while we packed up and headed north for a beautiful (though very long) drive next to the Susquehanna River. If Day One was any indication, it was going to be a lovely week.

  • Biopsy Report

    This past Thursday I went in for my scheduled biopsy. We arrived at the hospital very early and once Brian got his coffee IV, we were all good. Okay, I was the one with the IV… I am so thankful for my port! God’s graciousness abounded. My nurse for the morning is one I met at my last biopsy, who prayed with our anesthesiologist and me, who I’ve developed a friendship with, has brought me a meal, and faithfully prayed for my family and me. When panic started to set in, she brought me photocopied pages of verses to calm, held our hands and prayed with us. What a gift!

    The biopsy itself went well. Thanks to some high-powered drugs I don’t remember much. It was CT-guided, because it was such a tenuous place. He had to go in three times before he got what he needed. The cells did look suspicious, but he couldn’t give any kind of diagnosis until pathology had been able to study and stain it.

    Yesterday I went to the cancer center for my report. My oncologist was on vacation, but she left extensive notes for one of her partners. He had clearly taken time to read my history and her notes, and immediately comforted us with the news that the biopsy was clear and looks to be just scar tissue! We talked through possible options from here, and he went ahead and gave me my normal chemo treatment leaving it up to my oncologist to make any changes if she sees the need. I will see her again in two weeks and will talk through more details with her then.

    Oh, y’all, we are so thankful and relieved that it looks as though the cancer is not spreading at this point! I am tired today from chemo and exhausted from the mental and spiritual roller coaster we have been on, but we are praising our God that He chose to give us a “yes” this time.

    I can’t say it enough.

    Thank you for caring for us, for loving us, for encouraging us, for praying for us, for meeting our needs. It is humbling to be in a place of such neediness. Y’all are carrying our burdens for us well.

  • Yet Another Tedious Update

    And now it’s time for another tedious update with a little bit of complex language and medical terms. Bri and I are becoming quite fluent in oncology speak. I hope I don’t bore you… or lose you. *smile*

    On Thursday of last week I got a call from one of my oncology nurses that my tumor markers (a measure through blood work that they do) had risen slightly and my oncologist wanted me to get a CT before she saw me Tuesday (today). While I was trying to collect my thoughts and figure out what this could mean, they called and had a CT appointment for me that afternoon. My world spun, but I headed on in. The nice thing was I didn’t have to drink that nasty “berry” flavored CT prep because there wasn’t time. Instead they did rapid prep which was much more tolerable. The CT went well and I didn’t get the horrible headache I normally get afterward.

    Friday I had to go in for an echocardiogram. They are watching my heart because one of the drugs I am on can cause damage to the heart. So far mine has been fine.

    All this allowed for me to join Brian and my children camping at a roots music festival this weekend and have a fairly restful time even in the waiting. I cried a lot, I must say. Good conversations with friends, amazing food, and incredible music kinda does something to me. Music especially often speaks the words that I cannot. And saying goodbye to friends with the nagging question of “Am I awaiting bad news when I return? What if this is the last time I get to come?” set me off on a good, hard and cleansing crying jag.

    We saw my oncologist today and my echocardiogram continues to be fine. I have a nice, healthy heart.

    Here’s what’s happening with my cancer.

    All the places they have been watching are stable and show no change. This is a good thing. They did; however, see a thickening tissue around the outside of my colon that’s near where my colon cancer surgery was. This is new and could be a breast cancer metastasis; however, this is rare with my type of cancer (it’s more common in lobular breast cancers which mine is not). She did mention that I have had a lot of surgeries and procedures with my abdomen, so it could be some kind of benign tissue as well. Sooooo… I have to go for a biopsy so they can determine what this tissue is.

    *sigh*

    I don’t know yet when the biopsy will be. What the biopsy shows will determine course of treatment. If the biopsy shows benign tissue, I’ll stay the course. If it’s cancer, I’ll start a new regimen of chemo (this time she’s looking at an oral chemo as long as my insurance will cover it).

    Overwhelmed is an understatement, and I dread having yet another procedure. I am weary of it all… in every way, and I beg God for my life… for many, many more years with my loves. I beg Him for His comfort and presence. And I beg Him for a heart submissive to His will whatever it may be. I have so much to learn as we walk through this suffering. I want to know Him so deeply that I have no doubt of His goodness.

    I’m thankful for each of you that comes here and reads and wants to understand what’s happening. I’m thankful for every encouragement and every prayer. I know I don’t have any concept of how many of you there are. I am humbled.

    We are blessed. We are loved.

    Of that we are certain.

    “Nothing will happen to me that He has not written into His book, and He knows how my story will end.” (Paul David Tripp)

  • Love Story to the End

    It has been one year since they passed away. One week apart. Pappy this past Saturday and Nanny this coming Saturday.

    My uncle sat beside my Pappy’s bed and held his hand and shared with us about the peace in Pappy’s eyes before he went home to Jesus. One week later we learned of some of Nanny’s final words. “I just want to go be with Vinnie.”

    Friends for over 80 years. Married for over 70. It was not an easy life that they shared, but it was a love story until the end.

    We stood in the rain on Saturday and told them how we missed them.

    So much.

    So very much.

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  • Staying the Course

    Last week, while on vacation with Brian’s family, I watched my Bella do a high ropes challenge course.

    She was first in line and jumping with excitement. They harnessed her up and taught her and the others going how to use the clips and how to follow the course. She climbed the stairs, her red braid swinging as she stepped with purpose. Then she encountered the first obstacle and froze. It was high, the planks were swinging, and she stood there shaking. “Dadddddy?” her voice quavered, “I don’t want to do this.”

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    Brian was right behind her. “It’s okay, baby. You got this. You can do it.”

    “No, Daddy, no.” the tears welled. Brian pulled her to the side of the platform, so others could go past and move forward. She watched most of her cousins move ahead, although another younger one stopped with her, also afraid to move forward.

    I couldn’t hear everything Brian said to her. I watched him kneel, point ahead, talk gently and encourage her to go.

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    She watched the others moving ahead without fear. And she moved.

    She stepped forward tenuously, then with a little less hesitation, then even more confidence. She moved slowly but crossed planks and tires and more steps, holding onto the wires and harnessed in safely. Brian was right behind her all the way, with her, encouraging her.

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    Near the end, she started across another obstacle. This one was harder, a wire between posts and they swayed with every step. She got part way, her foot slipped and she froze, paralyzed by fear. “Daddy! Daddy!” she screamed in terror. “I can’t do this! I can’t do this!” He moved behind her. She had to go forward. The instructor shouted words of encouragement from below, “Look how far you’ve come!”

    She had nowhere else to go.

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    She took another terrified step, and another, and another, and reached the end to the warm embrace of her Uncle Alan. She came down the steps to the bottom and ran into my arms tearfully. Her daddy yelled his encouragement, congratulating her on her bravery, then turned to climb himself, nimbly moved from obstacle to obstacle, making it look easy, finally having his chance to climb. She leaned against me while we watched him. “I was so scared, Mommy.”

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    I knelt to look in her eyes, pools of beautiful brown edged by tears. “But you did it. You were very courageous, you know that?” She shook her head no. “You were. Because courage is taking the next step even when you’re afraid. It’s doing the hard thing even when you don’t want to. You chose to face your fear and you beat it.”

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    Her face lit up and moments later she was sunshine again determined to climb the climbing wall and play with her cousins.

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    Oh, y’all… I watched her and all I could think about was our life, how we have obstacle after obstacle in front of us. How I want to stand at the edge and just yell to God, “Daddy, I don’t want to do this.”

    But I must. We must.

    We must move forward and there are days where the fear paralyzes, where I stand still and cry, “I can’t do this! No, Daddy, no.”

    I don’t want to do this, y’all. I don’t. It’s agonizing and painful and full of fear.

    But tenuously I step forward and face the onslaught. Some days the steps are hesitant. Sometimes more confident. And sometimes I’m frozen in panic.

    But He is always right there, never leaving me, never forsaking me, only encouraging, whispering gently in my heart of His love, His truth. He has given me others who shout their encouragement, too.

    Like Brian, who could have left Bella on her own, my God will never leave my side. He built the course. He knows every inch of it. The course seems impossible for me. It is possible for Him. He has promised to be faithful to the end, no matter where the course takes me.

    “I am never–in anything, anywhere, at any time–by myself. I never arrive on scene first. I never step into a situation that exists outside His control. I never move beyond the reach of His authority. He is never surprised by where I end up or by what I am facing. He never leaves me to the limited resources of my own wisdom, strength, and righteousness. He never grows weary with protecting and providing for me. He will never abandon me out of frustration. I do not need to be afraid.” (Paul David Tripp, “New Morning Mercies”)

  • The Giant Doesn’t Win

    [Despair] beat them once more, and they laid all day in their dark prison, crying together and wondering whether their troubles would ever come to an end… [Christian had been given] the little key, which was called the Key of Promise, but in his trouble he had forgotten all about it.

    Neither [Christian] or Hopeful could sleep that night, and after talking for some time they began to pray to the King and beg Him very earnestly to help them.

    “He will hear us,” said Christian, “though we cannot see Him, and I am beginning to feel as if we should escape after all.”

    The King did hear the little pilgrim’s prayer, and He sent one of His bright angels to tell them what to do. They did not see the angel, but a thought came suddenly into Christian’s mind…”Oh how silly I’ve been!” he cried, “We have stayed here all these days when we might have gone away. Discretion gave me a little key, and I believe it will open every one of the giants locks…”

    They felt carefully in the darkness until they found the lock of the dungeon door, and Christian put the key of promise into it. It turned quite easily, and with beating hearts the boys stepped softly over the threshold and listened. A dim light shone down the passage and they soon found their way to the door that led into the courtyard. This Christian opened also, and not daring even to whisper, Hopeful followed him across the pavement. The moon was shining brightly and only one more door stood between the little pilgrims and the green meadow.

    But this lock was very rusty and stiff, and although Christian tried with all his might he could not turn the key. Then the giant’s steps sounded upon the castle stairs… the little pilgrims thought that he would overtake them, and they were ready to faint with fear…

    Hopeful put his hands also upon the key. “It is moving!” he said, and in another moment the lock gave way…the boys hastily pulled back the heavy bolts and opened the door. Then Hopeful seized Christian’s hands, and they ran as fast as they could across the broad meadow toward the stile that led into the Way of the King.

    (“Little Pilgrim’s Progress”, adapted from John Bunyan’s classic by Helen L. Taylor)

  • This Field, This Game

    “…And they’ll watch the game and it’ll be as if they dipped themselves in magic waters. The memories will be so thick they’ll have to brush them away from their faces. People will come Ray. The one constant through all the years, Ray, has been baseball. America has rolled by like an army of steamrollers. It has been erased like a blackboard, rebuilt and erased again. But baseball has marked the time. This field, this game: it’s a part of our past, Ray. It reminds us of all that once was good and that could be again.” (~from Field of Dreams)

    I do love watching my boy play!

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  • Let Us Trust in Him and Wait a Little Longer

    Despair was a terrible looking man, with shaggy hair and beard and clothes made of the rough skin of wild beasts…He drove [the pilgrims] before him across the fields to his house, which was called Doubting Castle and put them in a dark dungeon, locking the door behind him.

    All day and all night they lay there upon the bare ground, without either food or water, and not even able to see each other. Hopeful crept close to Christian, and they clung together, wondering whether the giant would soon come and put them to death…In the morning the giant took his club and went down to the dungeon. When he had beaten the boys, he left them again in the darkness, and they were so bruised by the heavy blows that they could not move but lay upon the ground all that day, moaning with pain. The next day Despair visited them again and seems surprised to find they were not dead. He told them that he would never let them leave his castle…

    Christian said, “It is dreadful here. We cannot bear it much longer and we shall never be able to escape.”

    “You must not talk in that way,” replied Hopeful. “You are forgetting all that has happened to you before. Just remember what a long way you have traveled and how many dangers you have been in. You were not afraid to fight with Self, and the King helped you to conquer him. You passed safely through the Death Valley, and even in Vanity Fair the King did not let you be killed. Let us trust in Him and wait a little longer.”

    (“Little Pilgrim’s Progress”, adapted from John Bunyan’s classic by Helen L. Taylor)

  • The Ache of Acceptance

    “Mom,” Bear cocked his head to the side, “I think you have one eyebrow on higher than the other.” That’s when I knew it was going to be a bad day.

    Y’all have been so gracious to ask how I’m doing, to see how my new chemo is going, to ask for updates, to pray and encourage even without them. Thank you.

    I have had three rounds of the new chemo so far. The first round knocked my blood counts down pretty badly, so she lowered my dosage and that seems to have helped. I will have to be very careful with this new drug because it will affect my blood counts. Cuts, bruises, bug bites, sickness, etc. are all areas where my immune system and blood clotting factors are going to be weakened. I am still on a two weeks on, one week off cycle, but my week off is my lowest point with blood counts and hardest point with fatigue.

    That being said, this new drug seems to be more tolerable as far as most side effects go. My hair is thinning more and more and my eyebrows are mostly gone, thus the drawing them on crooked. I grow so weary of the drawing on of eyebrows… of styling my hair just right to cover the bald spots and thinning, of the dark circles under my eyes and the pale skin, of no eyelashes.

    Saturday we went to one of Bear’s baseball games. It was the heat of the day at a field with no shade and I had forgotten to bring sunscreen. Bri and I kept commenting on how burnt he was going to get. We didn’t think about me. I am a sunscreen Nazi, but even without it, I rarely sunburn, and when I do it quickly turns to a tan. Y’all, I burnt to a crisp and I am still in pain whenever I bend my legs.

    These are the side effects I rarely talk about, because they seem so trivial in the long run.

    I am learning this new chaos, but not learning very well. I can’t figure out from day to day what life looks like.

    The main side effect with this new drug is fatigue.. mind-numbing, bone-exhausting fatigue, and while I am so thankful to have minimal nausea and little joint and muscle pain, the fatigue is life-altering. I go places and just sit… or I don’t go at all. (Thankfully, I do have some days here and there with energy. We were able to camp last weekend and dance together at a wedding.) Then there are days like yesterday. Last night I could barely make it through Bear’s baseball game. Yesterday I got through four loads of laundry and managed to make some strawberry freezer jam from some strawberries turning bad in the fridge. Then I looked around at my house and cried because of how messy it was and how little I had left to do anything about it. I cried because last summer, that jam and those loads of laundry would have been the beginning of my day, not the whole of my day. Last summer I would have gone berry picking (how I long for fresh red berries!) and cleaned house, too!

    It is this ache of acceptance all over again. All of it. Life will not look like it did six months ago. Summer will not be the same as before. We are all having to open our hands (as we must every day) to the Giver of Life and accept the life He has given us even when we don’t understand it.

    And like I wrote in my last post, we are still finding beauty.

    I marvel every day at the scenery of this “Beulah Land” in which we live. I get to hear rain on my roof and watch lightning flash all around. I get to watch my children grow and take on extra chores and love on each other when I am unable to. I get to weep on my Brian’s shoulder when life is hard and know he will not condemn me for my weakness–he will not complain; he will love (and yes, he’ll try to fix it sometimes, too). I have meals lovingly prepared for us twice a week and parents who will do anything for us. I get to hear the crack of the bat and watch my Bear run bases. I get to listen to my Ash sing at the top of his lungs in church. I get to snuggle with my Bella-girl every night at bedtime.

    These are gifts that I try not to take for granted.

    Life with cancer is hard.

    Mind-numbing, bone-exhausting, life-altering hard.

    But it is life.

    “Got no silver, got no gold
    What I got can’t be bought or sold
    I got the sun in the morning and the moon at night

    Sunshine gives me a lovely day
    Moonlight gives me the Milky Way

    Got no checkbooks, got no banks
    Still I’d like to express my thanks
    I got the sun in the morning and the moon at night…
    And with the sun in the morning
    And the moon in the evening
    I’m all right”

    (~by Irving Berlin, from Annie Get Your Gun)

  • Summer Beckons

    The fragrance of honeysuckle hangs in the air, an intoxicating fog filling our backyard. The crickets are starting to chirp as evenings wane. We’ve seen our first few lightning bugs, drunk our first Slurpees, and run around barefoot in the backyard. Summer’s warm days are here as we make our way to baseball games and cheer as Bear slams the ball to the outfield (there’s a reason his coach nicknamed him lumberjack a couple years ago–he has quite a swing!).

    We are ready. The lazy, hazy days of summer beckon.

    Oh, honey, we’ll be okay…
    Sun kissed skin on my lips.
    Thank the Lord I am here and now, here and now.
    Fireflies after dark.
    Bless your soul, we are here and now, here and now.

    We spent last weekend camping with friends, dancing late into the night at a wedding, splashing in the creek catching crawfish, chatting late into the night around the fire, and eating fabulous foods.

    Today I picked up the children from school and we joined a plethora of friends for lunch and watched them play a game of extreme duck, duck goose, laughing, care free, catching up. We are so glad for school to be over. Oh how I miss them when they are gone!

    We don’t know for sure what this summer will look like. Cancer has interrupted our lives and we are learning how to live life with chemo trips and pain and fatigue, but we are still living.

    We are still chanting our summer mantra and filling our days full…

    The only option as I see it, is this delicate weaving of action and celebration, of intention and expectation. Let’s act, read, protest, protect, picket, learn, advocate for, fight against, but let’s be careful that in the midst of all that accomplishing and organizing, we don’t bulldoze over a world that’s teeming with beauty and hope and redemption all around us and in the meantime. Before the wars are over, before the cures are found, before the wrongs are righted, Today, humble Today, presents itself to us with all the ceremony and bling of a glittering diamond ring. “Wear me, ” it says, “Wear me out. Love me, dive into me, discover me,” it pleads with us.
    (~from Shauna Niequist’s “Cold Tangerines”)

    Tonight we will watch my nephew graduate from high school. Tomorrow it’s party time and baseball time and family time. Sunday it’s our celebration dinner together and s’mores with friends. Floors are stained brown from dirty bare feet dancing across them, piles of Legos cover the playroom floor, knees have been skinned, bugs have bitten, farmer’s tans have begun, the library books are being read… our summer is beginning with a bang!

    We will work hard to live and not be lazy yet to enjoy life and not work too much.

    We will figure out how to spend our days with necessary structure but not so much that we are stifled.

    We will learn more of what love looks like in the every day moments together.

    We will laugh and cry and hug and fight and forgive and teach and pray and read and write and bake and can and celebrate and LIVE.

    Our already full hearts will expand to fill up with more of each other… more of us as we wear each day out.

    Each day beckons to dive in, discover, love and live! We will work hard to not let cancer stop us, (although we know reality means it will slow us down). But we will be together. We will live together.

    Once again I created our annual summer basket full of fun things for our summer adventures (since last year’s basket held a puppy, I’m hoping this year’s basket will still be okay).

    Our summer list is ready.

    And so are we!