A Spring of Joy

Glimpses of our world…

  • “There isn’t any such thing…

    …as an ordinary life.”
    (~L. M. Montgomery)




  • And summer begins…

    It has been here a week, and I chant our summer mantra…

    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”)

    Late nights and sleeping in have started, ice cream cones have been licked, our celebration dinner at Dave’s has been eaten, floors are staining 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, the sprinkler has been sprinkling… and it’s only been a week!

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

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

    We are learning what love looks like in the every day moments together.

    We are laughing and crying and hugging and fighting and forgiving and teaching and praying and reading and writing and baking and celebrating and living.

    Our already full hearts are expanding 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!

    This year I created a summer basket full of fun things for our summer adventures (and my amazing friend, Caitlin, shopped for me while I nursed my sick Bella girl). The children loved it!

    Our summer list is ready.

    And so are we!


    ,

  • Wrestling Matches

    This morning I had a wrestling match with God.

    It started when she crept into my bed in the night and her body burned. Perhaps she is overheated, I thought, feeling the baking heat of our upstairs. She slept, but her body only warmed more, and she turned into me at 3:00 a.m. “Mommy, my head hurts, and I’m sweaty and cold.”

    After a frantic search for the thermometer (it never is where it should be when I need it!), I discovered that her fever raged high, and her glassy eyes bored deep into mine as I poured her tylenol and pulled her into me. When she was asleep again, I went down onto the couch where it was cooler to sleep, but it eluded me.

    “Mommy?” her whisper came from the hallway as she peered into the den. “I just need to be with you.” So we snuggled on the couch, and she finally fell deeply asleep. I did not.

    I wrestled.

    I wrestled with how disappointed she would be to miss school.

    I wrestled with today being her last day to come home half day as a kindergartner, just her, my afternoon buddy.

    I wrestled with no pedicures and ice cream today for our last time of her coming home without the boys.

    I wrestled with not being able to shop today for the “summer baskets” I’m putting together for them.

    I wrestled with not being able to go hear my Ash give his Wilbur Wright presentation this morning.

    I wrestled with Bear’s last baseball game being tonight, and how am I going to be able to see him play?

    I wrestled with timing.

    I wrestled with not being in control and life not going the way I wanted it to.

    I wrestled with my idealism.

    I wrestled because I knew I could do special things next week, I could reschedule, it would all work out, but it wasn’t going my way TODAY.

    I wrestled with the very fact that I was wrestling.

    Then as I was fixing breakfast, my Bear wandered through searching for his belt. “Mommy, you look sad.” he said, and my eyes teared up. He wrapped his arms around my waist, which made me blubber even more. “Is it because of Bella being sick? And all that you’ll miss?” I nodded and sighed, “I’m just sad. But I’ll be okay.” I ruffled his hair and his dimpled grin peered up at me. “God will still give you a good day, Mommy, because He’s God and He’s good.”

    My Ash came trotting down the stairs, pulling his cabbie hat on his hair, looking for tools so he could looks like he was building a plane. “Mom?” he had heard Micah and me talking. He saw my face. “Oh.” he knew my heart even before I said anything. “It’ll be okay, Mom. It always is.”

    We sat on the front porch, my Bella girl and I, tears still staining her cheeks because she couldn’t go to school. As the boys and Bri pulled out of the driveway and we waved our good-byes and called our “I love you’s”, she snuggled into me. “It’s been a long time since I’ve gotten to do this with you, Mommy. I’ve missed it. I’m glad I get to spend today with you.”

    Oh, these dear children.

    I weep.

    Yes, I weep because they speak truth to me…because they give me perspective. But mostly I weep because God uses them to gently pry open my hands that grip my own agendas. He could have broken my fisted unbelief with a rude awakening like a teacher cracking knuckles with a ruler, but instead He lovingly spoke to me through the very gifts that I want to control.

    I have many plans, many ideas, many longings. They are not bad ones; in fact, they are good ones. But God is the One Who directs my steps, and I bow my head in surrender (as I must every day). He is guiding my steps toward Him…not toward my plans. But, oh how good of Him to include my plans in the steps He gives me!

    Truly, His loving kindness is better than life! (Psalm 63:3)

    Now, if you’ll excuse me… I have a little redhead to snuggle, and some nails to paint, and some popsicles to make, and some thank you notes to finish with her, and a whole day (not a half!) with my baby girl.

  • Pushing

    She was always the one to give me just the push I needed!

    “A mother is the truest friend we have, when trials heavy and sudden fall upon us; when adversity takes the place of prosperity; when friends desert us; when trouble thickens around us, still will she cling to us, and endeavor by her kind precepts and counsels to dissipate the clouds of darkness, and cause peace to return to our hearts.” (~Washington Irving)

  • Two Words

    There was a crash as she fell, and I looked up from my spot on the ground. There sat Bella in the middle of our basketball court, arms and legs tangled all around her brother’s “big scooter”.

    “Are you okay?” I called to her, poised to run to her aid if she needed me. She said nothing as she investigated her knee closely, then she jumped up and limped toward me unsure of whether to be alarmed or not. As she approached me, I asked, “Did you scrape your knee?”

    She showed me the spot on her shin where she had been scraped, but no blood was coming through. Her forehead puckered in concern, distress marred her features, but she still did not speak.

    I eased her down on the blanket with me, brushed away sweaty red curls, and kissed her cheek inhaling the coconut scent of sunscreen. “Are you okay?” I asked again, and she nodded, still without words.

    Her glow worm had been keeping me company while I wrote, and she picked it up and hugged it, leaning into me as I held her and kissed her forehead. She sighed, bracing against me to get up, determination erasing any distress on her face. I grabbed her hand and whispered, “Psssst.”

    She turned to me, puzzled.

    “You’re awesome.” I said.

    I cannot begin to describe how her face lit up. She grinned from ear to ear and took off running, grabbing the scooter and racing away, red ponytail flying behind her. All she needed were those two little words. She knew I believed in her and it changed her whole demeanor.

    And it made me wonder…

    How many times have I missed the opportunity to just say a couple words to encourage another? Do I live with my eyes wide open for opportunities to say a few words?

    Do I consider the little scrapes in other’s lives as meaningless? Or do I pause with them whether their wounds are bloody or not to say a word or two?

    This little encounter with my sweet Bella girl left me convicted and reminded. Too often I make it about me… will I minister the “right way”? And then I end up not saying anything at all.

    I’ve learned from my own bitter experience… It doesn’t have to be a lot. It doesn’t have to be saying the “perfect thing”. Speaking the Word isn’t platitudes, it’s truth. Loving others doesn’t have to be some huge act. I am not the Savior of the world, but I have the Spirit of the Savior of the world in me. Will I listen to his nudging?

    “I believe in you.”
    “I care.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    “I’m praying.”
    “Keep clinging.”
    “I see Him in you.”

    It can be just a few words.

    But they are words that give life and grace and truth.

    And that is enough.

    “A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in settings of silver.” (Proverbs 25:11)

  • There Is A Reason

    “Tertiary mug!” he calls, laughing as he walks into our bedroom with a cup of coffee for me, and I wait for him to put the mug down before I throw a pillow at him. He laughs louder as he dodges it, and I shake my head as he giggles.

    He knows that I I love my routines and how I must drink out of the same mug every morning for my coffee. He knows how hard it is for me to drink out of a different mug… a secondary or even tertiary mug can set my morning off just a bit if I allow it. So he jokes about it to lighten things up, to remind me of what’s really important.

    There is a reason he reminds me.

    His eyes bore into mine, “I haven’t been pursuing you well.” And I sigh, raggedly, “No, you haven’t, but I am the wife that makes you want to live on the corner of a rooftop. I wouldn’t want to pursue me either.” He grins, “You MUST love me.” I tilt my head, puzzled, as he continues, “You care enough to work things out so we won’t go on living this way.”

    We struggle to survive. How do we thrive?

    There is a reason he fights for us this way.

    He is working late again trying to catch up (and I wonder if he ever will), and I can’t bear the thought of that empty bed without him again, so I fall asleep on the couch just to be with him. To be next to him.

    There is a reason I want to be next to him.

    First text. First phone call. First one I find when anything happens… when UVA calls with news, when I leave my appointments processing what’s been said, when the CT comes back clear, when tragedy strikes my life or the lives of others.

    There is a reason he is the one I go to.

    I am falling apart, feeling the weight of all we have gone through, completely overwhelmed with life, struggling to believe I am worth anything. “You are beautiful and amazing and I’m proud of you and I. love. you.” His forehead presses into mine as he encourages me, and we are staring into each other’s eyes almost desperate. “You have four eyes,” I whisper, thickly. “And you’re a cyclops,” he giggles, pulling me into a hug, and I cling to him.

    “No more words. Just these. I. love. you.”

    There is a reason I cling to him.

    There is a reason.

    He knows me.

    I know him.

    He has my heart.

    It belongs to him.

    He is my one.

    He always will be.

  • You Have Questions. I Have Answers.

    At least I hope I have some answers.

    My last health update post was, I realize, rather ambiguous. Or at least party ambiguous. Mostly because it was all pretty ambiguous to me, too.

    So.

    Prepare yourself for a rather tedious and boring update with some big words and lots of “I don’t know’s” and a hefty dose of discouragement… Now aren’t y’all just dying to read more?

    As for info–here’s what I have for ya:

    –When did this genetic testing stuff all start?
    In February, we went to see a geneticist at UVA (upon recommendation from my oncologist here). I’ve had two breast cancer gene studies come back negative, but they want to look at big picture for me. Basically, everyone is scratching their heads over me, because I am a-typical (no comments from the peanut gallery!). After getting all my records and pouring over them to determine links and see what syndromes they think I should be tested for, they found three syndromes they want to test for. The most serious being the Li-Fraumeni syndrome.

    –Why genetic testing?
    Knowing what I have (if I have any syndrome) will help doctors know what to look for, help me know what to watch for within my own body, and know what scans I should regularly get, etc. With two of the syndromes we wouldn’t even talk about the kids until they are old enough to determine on their own if they wanted to be tested, too. With the Li-Fraumeni syndrome, we’d want the kids tested right away because they’d need screenings and things before they’re 18. UGH.

    All of the testing is optional and may not even be covered by insurance, because I am so a-typical (again, no comments from the peanut gallery!). We are leaning toward testing for the Li-Fraumeni syndrome and waiting on the other two… I’m already being watched so closely, although my docs are beginning to “loosen their grip” and pushing appointments to 6 months apart.

    The ball is in our court. Once we decide what route we are going, I will call UVA and start (or end) the process. I don’t know how long it will take. It’s a simple blood test, but there’s a lot of paperwork and processing, too.

    –More surgeries? What the heck?
    One of my docs recommends two more surgeries, but they are both preventative in nature (preventative meaning, get things out of my body before they get cancer because they are prone to the types of cancer I’ve had). I am beginning to wonder just how much more of my body they can get rid of!

    However, upon discussion with one of my specialists on Thursday, she recommends we wait until I get genetic tests back before we move forward with any surgery. If it’s positive, then yes, surgery might be wise. If it’s negative, then the likelihood of cancer showing up in any organ is pretty much the same all around, and since they can’t remove ALL my organs… you get the picture.

    That was a relief–just having one less decision off my plate right now. God gave us the clarity we needed, and I am so thankful.

    –Am I okay?
    Yes. I am okay. I am overwhelmed and discouraged and struggling with the impact of all of this. I know that whatever direction we move on any of this, it’s about trusting God. He is watching over me every day and caring for my body and my heart and my mind and my soul. He’s also given us very competent and wonderful and wise doctors, and part of trusting Him is listening to the doctors He’s brought into my live. (The docs at UVA told me on the phone last week that I have received excellent care and my doctors have not missed a thing with regards to my cancers. Praise God for that!)

    –Anything else?
    I learned on Thursday that my bones are weakening. The chemo put me into osteopenia (the stage before osteoporosis), but my bones recovered some after chemo was over. My last density scan was two years ago. I’ve had a couple more surgeries and a medication change in those two years. I had a density scan on last Monday. My bone density in my spine has dropped 14% and my hips are now in osteoporosis. I had a temper tantrum in my car. Yes, I did. Beating the steering wheel and sobbing, and all I could say was, “I’m not an old lady!”

    So, now I’m making MORE changes to my diet and lifestyle and that overwhelms me, too. (Although I am amazed at God’s hand years ago preparing me for now… I changed my major from pre-PT to Health Sciences/Nutrition my junior year in college. Look at His hand, y’all! How much I have needed that nutrition background for my life and my family. Isn’t He amazing?!)

    –What do you need, if anything?
    Prayer. Encouragement. Support. Truth. This is a big deal. I’m discouraged. Very discouraged. It seems we never get a break. My body is tired and beat up, yes, but the struggle of my soul, exhausts me even more. We are all just tired of the struggle.

    I’m a control freak, and it all seems like it’s spinning out of control, although the truth is it was never in my control to begin with. Just knowing the possibility of the syndrome is there could easily drive me crazy. I want to be driven to my Lord. Not driven to insanity b/c I’m not going to Him with it all. So, honestly, y’all can just pray that I cling to Jesus and not wallow in my struggle.

    I long for eyes to see His hand in all the little details of my days, and I long for a heart that beats strong in trust and faith and truth. Even looking back over this post, there are so many “look what God did!” moments. I want to live with eyes wide open and blown away by the “look what God did!” moments that fill my days.

    Whatever way we move forward, our lives are in His hands. Would you pray for me to find rest in that?

    Thank you.

    Thank you to those who’ve taken the time to just love me through this new mess… the phone calls and FB messages and emails and hugs and kinds words. Some days I wonder if y’all aren’t just as tired of me as I am, and your faithfulness to continue to support my family and me is… well… wonderful.

    I am blessed because of you.

  • Thanks, P & G

  • “Bid My Anxious Fears Subside”

    I love that God doesn’t beat us up when we are weak and afraid. I love that He allows us to be human. I love that He guides us, He hears us, He holds us, He feeds us, He fills us. He comes to us in the still, small voice of assurance that He knows us and knows our name. He brings others to walk alongside us and love us and care for us. He bids our anxious fears subside, because He knows life and death can be scary. He leads us and delivers us.

    The kids and I prayed this morning, asking God to comfort and heal and work miracles in the lives of friends (so many are hurting), and praising God that He is our Savior, our Deliverer. Then we turned up this song (Bella’s “exactly favorite worship song”) loud while we brushed teeth and braided hair and packed backpacks and sang together in our noisy assurance that we will land safe on Canaan’s side.

    When I look at the past and the scars it holds… when I look at today, at my body and soul and all the scars I see and feel… when I think about the future and the scars it could hold, it is hard.

    But then I look at the scars of my Savior.

    And I see…

    His scars hold mine.

    I am okay. I am. Really.

    Thank you for your love and prayers.

    Live life today, friends.

    Because what happens matters.

  • “You’re A Meanie” Syndrome

    Overwhelmed.

    It’s an understatement for my emotional well-being recently.

    On the one hand I’m overwhelmed by how well I have been feeling physically. Then I get overwhelmed by all that I want to do because I feel better physically. Then I get overwhelmed by all that’s on my plate because even though I feel better physically, I still tire twice as quickly as I once did. Then I can’t get all that’s on my plate done, and I feel overwhelmed by all that’s still on my plate.

    All of this, though, is fixable. I can lessen the things on my plate. I can say “no” more often even if it might disappoint people. I can prioritize my “to-do” list in a way that doesn’t put too much for me to do on any given day. I can “redeem the time because the days are evil.” And I can stop. worrying. so. stinking. much. about what other people think of me if I can’t be all things to all men.

    Overwhelmed.

    It’s when I sit in the doctor’s office and he shakes his head in awe that I had yet another cancer 9 months ago and then strongly recommends two. more. surgeries. Yes, y’all, two more surgeries. (I still need to talk with my oncologist before we make that decision.)

    Overwhelmed.

    It’s when I get the phone call from my geneticist at UVA who says they have three different syndromes they want to test me for and one of them… one of them… one of them is very serious.

    Wait a minute.

    What did you say?

    Oh that part about if I have it I will want to get. my. kids. tested. right. away, because if I have this syndrome, it’s very serious. Can you repeat that?

    If… then… get.kids.tested.right.away.

    It’s called Li-Fraumeni (pronounced lee-fro-meenie) syndrome, and it pre-disposes a person to “a wide range of malignancies, with particularly high occurrences of breast cancer, brain tumors, acute leukemia, soft tissue sarcomas, bone sarcomas, and adrenal cortical carcinoma.”

    Y’all, I spent all of Friday crying. Folding laundry, sniffing the scent of my children on stuffed animals as I placed them on their beds, wandering aimlessly around the house crying.

    Crying because I’m completely overwhelmed, and completely undone, and I. DON’T. WANT. ANY. MORE. OF. THIS. Crying because I’m scared. Crying because I feel utterly alone in all this.

    *Deep breaths*

    Did you hear what was missing from Friday?

    I spent all day crying. But I didn’t spend any time crying out. I didn’t go to God with it because I didn’t want to go to God with it. I wanted to feel it all deeply and feel sorry for myself for a while.

    And my kids listened to me snap at them mercilessly and stomp around trying to “get things done” and my sweet Bear finally sat down and said to me, “You’re mean voice is not fun, Mom.”

    Yes. Feeling overwhelmed. It’s my “You’re A Meanie” Syndrome.

    My Bear was the heart check I needed. The reminder that I was spending the entire day crying because I might have a syndrome that might lead to my children having this syndrome that might lead to cancer at an early age for them and I wasn’t spending any time WITH them, and I certainly wasn’t loving them.

    And we found ourselves on the floor, the four or us, with me in the middle begging for forgiveness and telling them I had failed them, and Bella-girl stroked my hair and Ash-man said, “It’s okay, Mom. I get mean, too, sometimes.”

    And then that weekend I sat with 150 or so of my brothers and sisters at church and worshipped.

    And one of the songs we sang was “Beautiful One”.

    Do y’all remember when we learned that my CAT scan was clear 4 1/2 years ago and that the cancer had not spread to my liver or bones or brain? Bri and I got in his Jeep and the song on his iPod that “just happened” to start up was “Beautiful One” and we turned it up and sang our hearts out?

    Friday night I sang my heart out.

    Overwhelmed with life, yes.

    But even more overwhelmed.

    By the Beautiful One I love. The Beautiful One I adore.

    Christ has captured my heart, and no matter whether I have “You’re A Meanie” Syndrome or not, His Cross has spoken mercy over me. When my eyes are fixed on Him, then instead of crying all day, I am crying out for that mercy to cover me and give me strength.

    And I look at the Cross.

    And I am overwhelmed.

    (Would you pray, my bloggy friends? For wisdom and peace and direction? We have a lot of decisions to make, and in case you didn’t figure it out, I’m a little overwhelmed. Thank you for your faithfulness to my family and me… I am loved.)