Along The Road

I love me some old school Amy Grant music - especially her Christmas albums. A couple weeks ago (so, beginning of November ), on a particularly hurried morning, an old song of hers popped into my head... I Need a Silent Night. “I need a silent night//a Holy night//to hear an angel voice//through the chaos and the noise//I need a midnight clear//a little peace right here//to end this crazy day with a silent night.” Last December I was perusing through a beast of a book called The Anxiety & Phobia Workbook by Edmund J. Bourne, Ph.D.  I was stopped dead in my tracks on page 35. It was a tool to help gauge the level of stress in your life. There was a list of life event stressors, each with a number value assigned. The idea is that you add up the numbers for anything on the list you’ve experienced in the past 2 years, then look at your total to determine to what extent you may be dealing with chronic stress. The list was mostly what you’d expect: death of a loved on...

It’s true what they say about near death experiences...how they make you evaluate your life thus far and permanently change your perspective moving forward. Not that I’m claiming I had a “near death experience” - not really - but cancer has changed my perspective nonetheless. When Hurricane Dorian was making its way toward the coast, Jake got some unexpected time off from work. And with that gift of an unscheduled calendar we decided it was time to pull the training wheels off of Liliana’s bike once and for all. We gave her a little pep talk, and within a half hour BOTH girls were zipping around our circle unencumbered! As I walked behind, watching those two precious girls ride side-by-side, giggling and talking as they rode along, I was completely overcome with gratitude. I found myself repeating “ thank you for letting me be here for this ” over and over. A week later we spent the evening at our favorite beach. Again, as we walked along the water’s edge collecting “seashells...

Anyone who knows me, knows that I am not a risk-taker. Not even a little bit. In fact, I am completely risk-adverse. And Jake...more of a risk-taker than me, not afraid to do dumb things or get hurt, but when it comes down to making real grown- up  decisions, not a risk-taker either. And we are both numbers people. We want to know current numbers, tracks, percentages, variables, statistics, the odds. So since the mammogram in February, there's been a lot of digging to find the numbers and the risks at every turn. What's the percentage of survival? What's the rate of recurrence? What are the risks of surgery? Well how many people experience those risks? What are the drawbacks to radiation? What are my chances of recurrence with versus without radiation? With or without this medication? What are the rare-but-serious as well as the common side effects?  And when we were agonizing over the decision of whether or not to do radiation, Jake looked at me with the confidence of ...

It was a busy week. Busy with all good things, but busy none the less. In addition to starting radiation treatment (which happens everyday, Monday through Friday, for 5 weeks), I attended the yearly 3-day practicum for our homeschool co-op. Because both were a bit of a hike to get to, I had hours of time in the car to reflect and realized that there were a lot of parallels between these two seemingly unrelated events.  Going into my fourth (!?) year homeschooling, I will be a tutor for one of the classes in our group this year, so I attended additional training at practicum this week. Training, of course, is designed to prepare you for what comes next. We talked about the classical model of education, students’ cognitive developmental stages, classroom management tips, activity ideas - all the how-tos and philosophies behind them. It was great. The goal, again, was to help us succeed in this next chapter. That is the same thing we do for our kids.... we teach them to tie their sho...

MENTAL. MARATHON. The phrase I keep coming back to when trying to describe this cancer journey. Now, technically I haven’t run a marathon, but I’ll pull from my experiences running two half marathons (which make a whole, right?) for this analogy.  When you begin, the road before you is long, the course relatively unknown. And this is no marathon like the one in Savannah in the fall (flat, in a temperate climate); this marathon is through mountains in the desert. The temperatures are bone-chilling cold at night and sweltering-hot during the day. The mountains in front of you hide the view of what lies beyond them. You can’t see where the finish line is, but you are assured there is one. And so you begin, putting one foot in front of the other again and again as you move forward in a direction.  Along the way there is sweat, tears, pain, and chills. There are highs, lows, beautiful sights, and depths of despair. And ultimately, it’s your mental attitude/outlook/perspective that ...

It’s a humbling thing to feel helpless. As “the mom” I’m used to taking care of all the stuff  at home - the meals, the baths, the groceries, the chores, the boo boos, the entertaining, the appointments, the social outlets, etc. Then all of a sudden I was post-surgery and needed my family to literally put straws in my mouth so I could drink water, and this I couldn’t even ask for! I was so weak that I would just make different motions with my mouth to indicate whether I was asking for water or ice chips. (It makes me laugh to think about it now, but it was so not funny at the time.)  I’ve seen God provide before. When we had our first baby, I wanted to cut back to working part-time, but we couldn’t afford it. Then 5 days before she was born, Jake got offered a job at Gulfstream, the pay increase, of course, being exactly what we needed. Again when we had our second baby we prayed about it and really felt like God was leading me to stay home full-time. We worked on the budget b...

As I prepare for surgery tomorrow, I’m reminded of suffering that is so much deeper than mine.  I’ve been reading about the life of Corrie ten Boom in “The Hiding Place.” She and her family were devoted followers of Jesus who helped many, many Jews find safety during WWll. Their underground operation was eventually discovered. They were arrested and sent to concentration camps...where they continued to love and serve others, and even worship God.  As I read, I am absolutely dumbfounded that any person could treat another human being with so much hate and contempt...and not that long ago - my grandparents were teenagers. And yet, similar horrors are experienced around the world still today by persecuted Christians. Courageous men, women, and children risk their lives to follow Jesus because they know that their “present suffering is not worth comparing to the glory that will be revealed.” (Romans 8:18) So what do we do when confronted by the reality of pain, suffering, and evil...

A few years ago it was time to buy our next vehicle. Jake had been driving his car going on 4 years with no air conditioning...in the south.  He would have driven it that way another 10 years, but when the airbag light always indicated malfunction, the antilock breaks no longer worked, and just about every other light on the dash indicated issues, we knew it was time.  We thought long and hard about taking the minivan plunge, but in the end it was a great little light-blue, used, Toyota Highlander that Dave Ramsey said we could afford. And although I am in no way a “car person,” I see light-blue Highlanders all over the place now. This town is full of sporty red Corollas too...because that’s the car my parents purchased last year.  It’s funny how when you are tuned into something, you see it everywhere. And I think that’s how it is sometimes with the voice of God. There is something He has spoken so clearly to me lately, and that is “I will not waste your pain.”  Las...

Our church is doing a series right now called “Four Letter Words.” Though it contains more letters, it’s still a “bad word” I can’t quite bring myself to say. The “c” word - cancer. I don’t want to dwell on it or even look at it right now, but Monday I was told I have it. As far as we know, it’s been caught in its very earliest stage - I count myself blessed to have found it now at 34 instead of finding a worse version of it at my 40 year old mammogram.  I don’t know more than that right now. Today we have an appointment with the surgeon to discuss next steps and treatment plan. I have a bilateral MRI scheduled for Monday.  Already we’ve experienced such an outpouring of love, support, and encouragement. Thank you, thank you, from the bottom of my heart! We are the most fortunate people in the world to be surrounded by such loving family and friends! I knew we had a good support system, but holy cow! When you actually see it all come together at once it’s humbling! We’ve had s...