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Seeing in the Dark
It hit my Bear this afternoon. The reality. Mommy is going to the hospital again. He tried to talk, but his voice was shaking so much, “Buuutt, will I ggggeet to come ssssee you?” He was trying so hard to be strong and brave.
Aren’t we all in this house?
I fell to the floor and pulled him close, tucking his head under my chin, trying to hide my own tears, “Oh, Bear.” He wept for 15 minutes. “I just don’t want you to leave me again. What if you don’t come back?” he said when he could finally talk, and it took everything in me from jumping to the phone and canceling this surgery.
Those 15 minutes felt like hours. Every sob tore at my heart and rubbed open scars to create fresh wounds again, ripping and bleeding into my soul.
I haven’t slept well in days. I am exhausted and overwhelmed with all the things I must put in place before I am out of place. I am wrestling constantly to take every thought captive.
The night is the worst. The darkness. It sits in the corner of my room and waits. Waits for the lights to go out, for my breathing to even, and then it pounces knowing when the sky is black, the darkness is heaviest. And it whispers to my fears, and I lie awake through the night begging God for safety and faith and peace.
Y’all I am terrified of this surgery.
Not the procedure. I’ve had so many surgeries, the procedures feel like old hat to me.
It’s the terror of cancer. The track record that says, “He’s going to cut into you and find out that what you were trying to prevent is already there.”
I’m so afraid he’s going to find something. Another monster that will wreck our already damaged vessels.
(Side note: I’ve been told by many who are genuinely trying to encourage me how unlikely that is and to not be afraid. I understand and am grateful for that. But y’all, it was highly unlikely that I get breast cancer. I did all the “right” things to prevent it. I had a .6% chance of a thyroid cancer recurrence, yet I had one. So I’m asking, please, don’t point to unlikelihoods, point to Jesus. I need Him more than I need percentages.)
The fear is real. The fear is valid. That I know.
So I whisper fiercely to Brian, “You tell them. You tell them every day how much their mommy loves them. And you have them say it back to you, so you know how much I love you, too. Just in case something happens. You promise me.” And he promises, then tells me he’ll wait to hear it in person after my surgery.
But in the midst of the very real fear, I know my God is more real. And my God is true.
And while I grab my husband and pull him close, while I make him promise me, I cling to promises, too. Promises that God will never leave me, nor my family, and forsake us. I remind myself, my family of all He has done for us these past three years. Then my Ash humbles me with, “You forgot one, Mom. Jesus died on the cross. That’s the best thing of all.”
More truth.
So while my Thursday may hold many unknowns, my future with Him holds secure. I cling to that.
While this is about me, about us, at the same time it’s so not about me, about us.
It’s about Him. His perfect plan. And I bow my head and whisper, “Thy will, not mine, be done.”
And then I can see in the darkness.
The darker my night feels, the brighter His promises shine.
Grace. Hope. Promise. Peace.
Grace will decimate what you think of you, while giving you a security of identity you’ve never had; expose your deepest sins of heart, while covering every failure with the blood of Jesus; make you face how weak you are, while blessing you with power beyond your ability to calculate; take control out of your hands, while blessing you with the care of One whose plan is unshakable and perfect in every way. (~Paul Tripp)
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Life Lessons from Jericho
Every morning while they eat their breakfast, I read to my children. Today found us reading the story of the fall of Jericho in the Old Testament. It always amazes me how wide-eyed they become even though they know the story by heart. Bear laughs at the absurdity of marching around a city to make its walls fall down, but he always claps when they do. Afterward, I pressed the boys on what they learned.
Today’s life lessons from Asher?
“Well, Mom. You see. It’s kind of like if Bear and I ordered a new Lego ship, and I didn’t want to follow the instructions because they were hard to understand. If I just built it the way I wanted to do it, then it would probably be pretty unstable and fall apart and it wouldn’t have any benefit. But Bear, he would want to follow the instructions, and his would be stable and he’d have a usable ship. It’s pretty simple. Even if it’s not the way we want to do it or if it doesn’t make sense, we just still follow God’s instructions, and it will all be for our best.”
Yep.Pretty much sums it up.
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Tidbits
Prepare yourselves for an extremely random post. Just a few tidbits of our days together…
1. Yesterday we went to a wedding. All of us. It was classy, tasteful, breathtaking and refreshingly worshipful, full of poetry readings and quotations, Bach Cantatas, dancing the Virginia Reel, all with a genteel southern flair. My Bella was enraptured and I watched her stare at sweet Charlotte in awe all throughout the day. Before tucking her in bed, she threw her arms around me and sighed, “Miss Chahlotte is the most beautifulest bwide evah! I just can’t stop thinking about her pwetty dwess and her hay-ah (hair) and her smile, and I weally like Mr. Adam. *sighs* Oh, Mommy, I just love love.” Oh, Bella-girl, I really love love, too. But I’m going to really miss sweet Charlotte girl…
2. At one point the sister of the bride said in her toast, “I honestly can’t remember ever arguing with you.” My Ash took a breath and whispered, “Wow.” It was a huge impression. I love it when others have a huge impression on my son, and we are beyond blessed that we have so many others in our life that impress our children. Beyond blessed.
3. When I was cleaning up and de-cluttering this week, I was struck by something. My son. My Ash.
This is my bedside table.
This is his.
See it? Bible, books, journal and pen. (Only he has more money than we do.)
Makes. me. happy.
4. Friday was baking day. It’s super fun to bake with Bella. But it’s also really distracting. Especially if you are baking with a girl who changes clothes 100 times a day, because she has to find the “perfect outfit, Mommy.”
5. JMU. My alma mater. They beat Virginia Tech. In Blacksburg. There are simply no words to describe it. No words. I will be bleeding purple for quite a few days now. DUUUUUUUUUUUKES!
6. Bear had his first sleepover. Yes. It about did me in to watch him climb in someone else’s car after school. He waved and grinned and was so excited. When he got home Saturday, I hugged him and told him how much I missed him. He told me, “Mom, I would have missed you, but I was having so much fun I forgot to.” I love that boy!
7. Apparently, during Bear’s first sleepover, they got up at 1:30 to play and then 4:30 to play and then 6:30 for the day. When I asked him how he slept, he told me, “We got up in the night and started playing. We just forgot to look out the window and see if it was morning yet.” Bear obviously forgets things a lot.
8. I am so thankful for a husband who not only knows how to diffuse my frustration but who makes me laugh every single day. While on the phone with him one day, I was taking him to task (yes, I do that–far more often that I want to admit) over how he doesn’t pick up after himself and describing how it’s like living with a maelstrom. To which he laughed and said, “You used maelstrom in a sentence. That’s awesome.” Which had the capability of either making me more frustrated or laugh… I laughed. And now we spend our days finding big words to use in sentences, only I usually say them wrong and he laughs at me again.
9. While talking with Asher about school one day, we were discussing the fourth grade class and how school is getting harder for them. He’s only in third grade. He’s been watching and listening to his friends talk about Mrs. F, their teacher. Asher’s words? “Mom, I can’t wait to get into Mrs. F’s class. I like to be challenged.” YES!
10. When my in-laws were here my father-in-law put up our porch swing. Some friends gave it to us, but our porch had no support structure on which to hang it. He built a support structure for us. I love it. So do my children. It’s not uncommon for me to see this:
Thank you, Ken!
11. My surgery is Thursday. I had several of you ask because I didn’t make it clear in my last post. Thank you for asking.
12. Friday we had friends ask us (I paraphrase), “Can we come over and bring pizza and hang out with y’all?” To which we responded with a hearty, “Please do!” It was such a wonderful evening. The kids had pizza and a movie and we adults sat outside with our pizza and wine and talked and laughed uproariously and shared stories and advice on children until the darkness descended and mosquitos drove us inside. It was friends we’ve had for many, many years and yet get together with far too little, but every time we do it’s like no time has passed. I love that they felt the freedom of just inviting themselves over, and I love that we can be completely ourselves with each other. No expectations. Just us. It was amazing.
13. My Keurig is not working right this morning. This means I haven’t had my coffee. This is a bad thing. It’s not the caffeine, because I can go without it. It’s the warmth and the taste. I just enjoy my morning cup so much. I almost went upstairs and woke Brian so he could fix it for me. I didn’t. I figure Sunday is not a good day to start with marital discord (really I guess no day is). He is still sleeping and I am still coffee-less. That is how much I love my husband.
14. I leave you with Bella Ballerina Princess Peasant Cowgirl. I love spending my days with her. Absolutely love it!
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Whirlwinds
Summer has been amazing. And while I can be just a wee bit prone to exaggeration, amazing really is an understatement.
I can’t even begin to describe what it has been like to no longer be a bystander in my home and to live life out and about with my family again. I told several people that if all I did all summer was spend time with my family I was okay with that. And that’s what I did. Lots of family time. Lots of catching up and diving in and finding strength and joy and love and rediscovering who my children and husband are.
Did I mention how amazing it was?
Recently I met with my counselor to talk with him about this whole new normal thing. How do I do this? How do I live a life that is completely different than the one I’ve always known? How do Bri and I learn to thrive after years, three very long years, of only surviving?
His words to me were hard to hear but very helpful. He explained that while I am through the worst of this, there are still days, actually years, of healing. “Has anyone told you how long it will take to actually recover from all this? Emotionally, physically, spiritually, mentally?” When I shook my head, he said, “Two years. It will take you two years to recover. It might take 2 1/2 or it might take 18 months, but the norm with your kind of suffering is two years.”
I had to catch my breath.
It was hard to hear, but good to hear.
Hard because I don’t want it to take two years. I want it to be over now.
Good because it means I’ll give myself a break in the expectations department and will ease myself back into life.
I only hope others will understand that it will take me that long, too.
The last few weeks have been busy. Full of celebrations and days at the lake with friends and weddings and parties and visits with friends and family. It has been a whirlwind. A good whirlwind, but an exhausting one, and I am seeing exactly what my counselor meant about not jumping right back into everything. I’ve had a few days of rest this week and a glorious 2 1/2 hour nap this afternoon.
The whirlwind continues this weekend with a wedding for one of my dear youth group girls who should really still be in middle school but is a college graduate about to embark on the adventure of a lifetime. There will be a Sunday picnic for college students at our church, and then I round out my weekend with a Cowboys/Redskins game and the hope that our marriage will remain intact through yet another football season.
Breathe.
Three days.
Then surgery. Yes. Surgery.
Both my breast cancer and thyroid cancer are considered glandular cancers. Endocrine system related. Know what other cancers are glandular? Ovarian and uterine. So my surgeon has recommended and my oncologist has concurred that I am at a high risk for cancer in both those areas, and I am having preventative surgery to remove them and prayerfully be done with cancer forever.
Not fun, but I am at peace with it. I know it needs to happen. I know it will help me in the long run.
I also know it means weeks of healing.
It means adding more time to the two year recovery process.
It means weeks of being a bystander in my home again.
And I don’t want to lose more time with family.
I am wrestling with that. Wrestling a lot.
I also know it means being still even when life is swirling around me.
And it means hearing God’s voice speak to me through the whirlwind.
I know He will.
He always has.
No winds or whirlwinds, He will show me His glory.
And I will trust Him.
No matter what.
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Just Us
“Hey, Bella Boo, you ready to go pick up the boys?”
“Just you and me, Mommy?”
“Yep, just some cute girl and me.”
“Just this cute girl and you, Mommy?”
“Yep, just some beautiful girl and me.”
“Just this beautiful girl and you, Mommy?”
“Yes, baby girl, just us.”
“Oh, yes. Just us. I like being just us, Mommy. Just beautiful us.”
Yes, baby girl. I like us, too. It’s beautiful.
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Pearly Whites… Minus Two
Every tooth in a man’s head is more valuable than a diamond.
~Miguel de Cervantes, Don Quixote, 1605He went to school this morning looking like this.
The Tooth Fairy? Well, she had to ask Asher what the going rate for teeth is in our house, because as he put it, “Mom, you get chemo brain a lot, don’t you?” Then the Tooth Fairy had to raid Bella’s piggy bank for 2 bucks because all she had was a ten. (Is there any magic left in this house?!)
Yep, two teeth in one day. His first ones.
Now he talks with a lisp and smiles hugely so we can all see.
And my heart smiles hugely and catches just a bit at another milestone.
Stop growing up, son! Just stop it!
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Amazing Day. Amazing Love. Amazing Grace.
“I’m glad that Jesus died on the Cross, and God’s love is so great that if we could learn to love others that much it would take our whole life and more.” (~Asher)
God’s great love.
For my son, now His son.
Amazing grace.
Overwhelming love.
Intense joy.
Gratefulness at what God has done in Asher’s heart.
This is something we have longed for and prayed for, but something we could not make happen, only God could.
Asher heard the call of mercy and ran headlong as he tends to do with everything.
He is enthusiastic for life and for living life for Jesus.
For what more could I ask?
Brian shared Asher’s story and our blessing over him, pride glowing from his face and heart. Asher has a maturity that amazes us. He has a heart and knowledge that we know has come from suffering… suffering that we did not want him to have to walk through, but we are so thankful for how it has molded him. We stood with our pastor, our friend, a man who held Asher when he was just 30 minutes old and who has loved and shepherded our family through life for 13 years, and we listened as Asher vowed his life to Christ and to the church. I watched the water pour over Asher’s head and run down his shirt and pictured the tears I have shed, begging God for Asher’s heart. I melted down when hundreds of people stood and committed to care for and encourage our son, welcoming him into the church family.
After the service, I stood with friends and rejoiced and wept. I watched people hug and high five my son, and I watched his face light up time and again. I hugged my friend, Linda, and she said, “I’m so glad you’re here for this.” She knew. She understood in a way that few others could what this meant to my heart. I had stood in the shower and sobbed yesterday morning thanking God that He had kept my life and given me these moments–that I was alive for this day. I reveled in each moment, as did my my Buddy.
Then we sat all afternoon surrounded by close friends and family and celebrated God’s gifts. We ate pork BBQ and fantastic side dishes and fudge cake and homemade ice cream, and we sat in the shade of the maple tree enjoying each other. We petted horses and watched little ones go for toy Jeep rides with Bella. We laughed long and hard and cried some, too. It couldn’t have been a more perfect day (except for those far away friends who couldn’t be there to celebrate with us).
I wanted yesterday to last forever!
What a picture of community. What a taste of Heaven. Celebrating every moment of God.
Here, my friends, are the words of our eight-year-old son.
“Jesus is my Savior, and He’ll save anyone who believes. I love Jesus and am thankful that He died for me and forgave all my sin. I’m glad for all the miracles He did, and I’m glad for all the people He healed like the crippled man that He healed so he could walk, but the best miracle He did was in his heart and in my heart. He helps me in my life to be kind and not fight others and work against sinning. But when I do, He forgives me no matter what. I want Him to help me learn to love others, to live all for Him, and to be a Jesus hero.”
Be blown away by grace with me.
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Celebrations
“Celebrate the little things in life, appreciate tomorrow…never condemn yourself to a life without cause to celebrate and be thankful for what you have. Never forget the people you love and love them when you have an occasion to do so. Celebrate their life and celebrate yours.” (~Anonymous)
Look up “celebration” on google and you’ll get all kinds of results: in celebration of artichokes, celebrating fathers, a celebration of friendship, touchdown celebrations, duct tape celebrations.
I love the idea that we can celebrate anything… that any day is a day to mark special things.
But celebrating goes deeper than artichokes and touchdowns (although I am a big fan of food and football).
It’s remembering, memorializing, giving thanks, observing, rejoicing and so many more things.
Years ago Bri shared an article with me (one I wish I had kept) on celebrating and how we as Christians have so much to celebrate. How even when things are hard, we can have hope and joy and can share in that hope and joy. It was all about how God is glorified in all of our days. The author of the article encouraged his readers to take time to celebrate: to mark anniversaries and happy days and holy days and common ordinary days. Since then I’ve been adding more and more days to our family calendar: first day of Spring celebrations, birthdays and anniversaries, annual remembrances, events, and then just “let’s eat on china because it’s a beautiful day” kind of celebrations.
The month of August has been full. Full of emotions that whirl and twirl and find me riding a roller coaster of days. It has been full of remembrance and grief. It has been full of new steps. It has been full of celebrating.
August 10th, 3 years ago, was the day I got the worst phone call of my life. It’s breast cancer. Today marks 3 years since I had surgery and the cancer was removed. That’s huge, y’all! Yet it’s this weird swirl of happy and sad, of remembering the horror and gratefulness for the healing.
We lost a friend this month, and grieved deeply, a grief that continues every day still, but we also joined with 1000 other people to celebrate his life and how he had touched all of us.
We celebrated our anniversary this month… two days before my grandparents celebrated their 67th! And my Brian reiterated what he vowed years ago–that he is in this for the long haul. That it is us, and only us. For better or for worse.
We started back to school and celebrated courage and new beginnings, and we made lasagna and garlic bread and homemade ice cream for our Back-to-School Supper.
And Sunday, beautiful, wonderful Sunday we will celebrate the new life God has given our Ash. He’s being baptized and then we’re having a party with friends and family. He sat with me this week and shared his heart, his love for God, and how he longs to live for Him. I am blown away. Completely and utterly blown away.
We are celebrating this August. We are remembering, grieving, memorializing, giving thanks, observing, and in all of it…
God is being glorified.
(Summer List #53: Eat Supper On China & Crystal) -
Walking Bravely
“Tell a man he is brave, and you help him become so.”
(~Thomas Carlyle)
They stood on the porch, handsome in their uniforms and hugged and made silly faces and posed for first day of school pictures. I laughed and clicked away, trying to hide the hurt in my heart. Saying good-bye is never easy for me, but when it comes to watching my boys grow up more and more and head off to school, the tug at my heart is heavy.
I watched my Ash, so tall and handsome, showing his muscles and grinning mischievously. He made faces: brave face, strong face, silly face, sweet face. He has borne some heavy burdens these past few years, and I marveled as I watched him pose… such a strong will, but such a sensitive heart. A mom with cancer, death of friends and friends’ little ones, evil in the world and pain in his body. He cannot grasp it all. How can he, when I cannot either? He buries it deep like his daddy, but he prays. Oh, how he prays! And my heart bursts with pride.
And Bear, my Bear. He’s off to full day school now, and he snuggles in tight with me on the couch and says, teary-eyed, “But if I go to school all day, I won’t be with you. I just want to be with you.” And I hold him and coach him and encourage him that we do the hard things in life to grow, and that I will be with him in his heart. Better than that, God will be with him every single moment. And he smiles, but doesn’t pose. I can see the hint of fear in his eyes, and I know he’s doing what he must even when he’s afraid. And my heart bursts with pride.
I have had no qualms about saying how much I love the school my children attend, and while I am a huge proponent of the classical model and I am blown away with the knowledge my children are attaining, it’s more than that. I am sending my children off to a place where I know they will be well-loved and well-cared for and taught about strength and truth and morality and beauty and Christ.
We had a wonderful summer, full of each other, and I don’t want it to end. But as hard as it is on my emotions to watch them walk out that door and drive off with their daddy, waving, yelling and signing “I love you”, my heart is at peace.
Each walks bravely in different ways.
And my heart bursts with pride.
They are God’s and He is caring for them so much better than I.
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Freight Train Feelings
…that’s what children are capable of: creating freight train feelings in their parents with a bite of jello, with a single glance, with a sigh they make in sleep. (~From Elizabeth Berg’s Home Safe)
We stood together by the sink, my Bella-girl and I, snapping beans and talking about our day. I love her helpful heart. I love how much she enjoys working in the kitchen with me, and I love these moments. Some days I am clinging desperately to them knowing how quickly time passes.
As we worked side by side, our rhythm was flawless, hands moving in unison: reach, snap, break, toss. She would spontaneously burst into song, humming a bit beforehand.
“You’re altogether lovely, altogether worthy, altogether wonderful to me.”
“I’m alive and well, Your Spirit is within me, because You died and rose again.”
“Ancient words, ever true, changing me, changing you…”
I joined in each song and we belted them out full of joy and hope and peace.
In a quiet moment, I paused my rhythm to watch her, making my mental snapshot of this moment so it would be forever captured in my mind and heart. Red curls clinging to a sweaty forehead, pink skirt and flowered shirt that didn’t really match but it’s her favorite, bare feet with chipped toenail polish balancing on her stool, eyes sparkling and smeared lip gloss spreading up her cheek.
Suddenly she stopped, leaned her head against my arm and said dramatically, “Oh, Mother! (she’s been Wendy from Peter Pan these last few days) I love you so much!”
Yes, my heart melted right there into a little puddle on the floor.
“I love you, too, sweet girl, so, so much.”
She smiled up at me, “From my heart to your heart, I’ll love you forever. Even when we’re both dead, I’ll still love you in Heaven.”I squeezed her tight, “Oh, Bella, isn’t it good to know love really is forever?”
She nodded, then tilted her head, “But, Mommy,” she raised her hand and held her thumb and forefinger centimeters apart, “I’ll love Jesus just a little bit more than I love you. Is that okay?”
I bundled that beautiful Bella-girl in my arms, “Little one, that’s what I want! I want you to love Him so much more. I want you to love Him with all your heart and soul and mind and strength.”
Because isn’t this what we’re raising them for? To shoot out our little arrows to serve Him?
We were sitting on the kitchen floor by this point, curled in each others’ arms, and I held her giving her back to Him in my heart as I must do every day.
I held her in that moment, but I let her go at the same time.
Thank you, Jesus, for beans to snap and songs to sing, for tangled curls and smeared lip gloss, for quiet moments and heart stirrings, for love shared and love returned. These days… these moments are all a gift from Your hand. May I never take them for granted.
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A Spring of Joy 