Could You Do Something For Me? That Would Be Grreeeaaaat…

Today is a rare day.  The big kids have a full day of school on a Monday, both babies are were napping, and R is upstairs resting.  I actually get the computer all to myself!  I get a glass of water and a cup of coffee and sit down to tackle my ginormous list of things I need to do before I forget them all.  Rather than tackle that list first, I do what all modern mommies do:  lie to myself and say, 'I'm just gonna check on Facebook real quick -- I won't be on here too long.'  LIE OF THE CENTURY!  It's a time-sucking vortex!  Scientific studies have shown that there is a time-Facebook phenomenon that actually accelerates time and diminishes productivity of maternal brain matter.

OK.  Not really.  But it sure seems to happen more often than not.  Can I get a witness?

Thankfully I managed to do some clicking and catching up and avoided Candy Crush Saga.  Sort of.  At any rate, I realized that almost every.single.one of my Facebook friends have:

     a)  Had a birthday
     b)  Been crazy sick
     c)  Had major "stuff" going on in their lives
     d)  Some or all of the above

I clicked over to my burgeoning inbox of messages on Facebook to see how many sweet friends have been checking in on my family and reaching out to say hello and extending well wishes and prayers.  (I won't even tell you the four-digit number that is equal to the number of unread messages in my Gmail account.)

So many loose ends dangling that I need to tend to.

I glanced to my right, looking out the window to my front flower beds.  I finished planting one side completely and got a decent start on the other side.  I glanced to my left, looking out the window to my backyard.  There is a beautiful, huge raised bed that R and I put in the backyard last week, tilled, composted, and waiting patiently for seed to be sown and growth to begin.  The table where we should've eaten lunch yesterday is still covered in unplanted plants, dirt, and tools.

And today it's rainy.  And cold.

I won't even get into all of the projects I see as my eyes scan each room of my house.  Stacks here, toys there, laundry done and folded but not put away, sticky messes waiting like booby traps set by three-foot tall agents of destruction.

So many loose ends dangling that I need to tend to.

When is the last time I got to pick up a book and read it to completion?  I can actually tell you:  August 7, 2011.  The reason I know this?  It was the night before I gave birth to our third child.  I don't have the attention span to read more than a nutrition label on a box of cereal these days.  The last time I got to pick up my Bible and read voraciously?  Just before R's surgery, as I neglected other duties to prepare my heart for battle.  The last time I bathed?  Well, that has admittedly been more recently, but not near as often as I'd like, or quite frankly deserve.

Do you see a pattern here?

I feel like I'm just barely getting by on a lick and a promise, as the saying goes.  We have all been sick non-stop since February 14.  That is almost eight straight weeks of temperatures, upset stomaches, snotty noses, coughing loud enough to wake the dead, three bottles of children's Tylenol, three bottles of children's Motrin, three packages of Mucinex, six large boxes of Kleenex, and the list just goes on.  Cancer.  Viruses.  Ear infections.  Sinus infections.  Lice -- again.  Bronchitis.  Possible pneumonia.

Totally promise I'm not complaining, although as I read back over the list…  Yeah, it's a little long.

I am weary, yet I have JOY.  Not "yipee skippee" joy, but joy in my heart that, somewhere through the fatigue and mounds of tissues, God is in the midst of this experience.  Joy that tells me to take this day at a time, or mound of laundry at a time -- sunshine does follow the rain, and rain is crucial to nourish the earth and encourages growth.  I need this valley experience whether or not I desire to be in the middle of it.  The Bible verse from the children's sermon yesterday was James 1:2-8.  I like the way The Message summarized verses two through four:

     "Consider it a sheer gift, friends, when tests and challenges come at you from all sides. You know that under pressure, your faith-life is forced into the open and shows its true colors. So don’t try to get out of anything prematurely. Let it do its work so you become mature and well-developed, not deficient in any way."


The puppet ministry taught the kids about this verse.  It didn't mean that God sits up on some fluffy cloud and throws roadblocks in our way to make us stumble and fall and learn our lesson.  It is an opportunity for us to lean on God and rely on God's strength.  We -- I -- don't possess the strength necessary to accomplish all of this on my own.  I can rest in the fact that Someone else does, and Lord knows I could use some rest right now.  Challenges in life just happen, y'all.  We gotta roll with the punches, take them on one at a time, and know that God is there in the midst of it with us, not munching on popcorn and telling us we missed a spot as we struggle along.
But if the Good Lord could just tell my kids to quit making messes faster than I can clean them up, that would be greeeaaaat…



http://youtu.be/GjJCdCXFslY

The Journey Of A Thousand Miles

Today was R's day for surgery.  Thankfully we were not dealt any surprises, and he seems to have come through the procedure well.  I had no reason to doubt that things would go according to schedule, but my mind always has the "Grief" app running in the background and draining my battery.  Thankfully, The Lord stepped in and shut that business down through the servant hands of so many dear friends and my beautiful, sweet pastor, all of whom were there for our family and have blessed us with meals, child care, prolific prayers, and great conversation.

It's hard to know exactly what to expect from here.  Obviously there will be a recovery period from surgery and further information about the degree and severity of his cancer.  Will he or won't he need to undergo radiation therapy?  How will he feel from the lack of thyroid hormones in his system?  Or will there be an overabundance of the hormones, and if so, what surprises will that bring?  How will this affect his long term health and attitude?  Will our relationship change?  Will his relationship with our children change?

One thing I know will not change, and that is the fact that I love him and never leave his side.  In fact, he probably wishes I would leave his side -- he detests being hovered over, which is one area in which I happen to specialize.  In fact, I struggle with knowing how best to support him in a way that will touch his heart.  I want to be able to take care of him and soothe him -- he wants to be left alone. He wants me to leave him at the hospital, visit once or twice, and pick him up when it's time to go home.  I cannot handle that type of laissez faire policy.  I want nothing more than to see him lean on me and let me in to what he is experiencing, and instead I feel like more of a spectator.  I don't want to whine about this or complain.  Put simply, it is difficult to find a balance between what he needs and what I feel.

We thank everyone for all of the prayers, love, and support you have shown our family.  This is just the beginning, my friends.  As I told R earlier, the journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step.  This was just the first one in that journey.  Praise God this journey has begun on a strong foot.

On The Road Again

I'm sitting in my kitchen in Virginia, feeding the baby a snack that I hope will appease the savage beastie until lunch comes out of the oven.  We are on our umpty-jillionth snow day this school year, and while I rather enjoy having my husband home from work and all of the kids home to snuggle down on days like today, it's different this time.  Watching the birds jockey for seeds at the bird feeder outside my kitchen window is usually a beautiful distraction for me, but my mind is a million miles away and my hungry stomach isn't in knots yet, but it's getting there.  I'm hoping and praying that tomorrow goes off without a hitch, but I'm skeptical and I know I need to pray about it...

We had been preparing for my husband to deploy and instead were given the news that he has papillary carcinoma -- thyroid cancer.  There --  I said it.  The dreaded "C" word.  Cancer.  I add it to "widow" in the lengthing list of adjectives and nouns that are now associated with my life story.

We got the diagnosis on 18 FEB.  Our world was so happy and plugging right along when the word "cancer" came along and kicked us in the collective face.  And what's more is that everyone keeps telling us that this is the "good cancer to have."  (Sorry for the prolific use of quotation marks today.) That the 20 year cure rate is 99%.  That R will undergo a very common, routine procedure, followed by a treatment with irradiated iodine, and that he will more or less be as good as new.  You know what?  The doctors in the ER on 29 NOV 2005 told me that T didn't have life-threatening injuries and that he would likely have a hospital stay and then come home.  Only he died the next day.

I know my tone is angry, irritable, anxious.  It's the first time I've really allowed myself to step a toe on this path.  I struggle with anxiety a lot, the truth be told.  But what I am seeing is God showing up in ways that are now, as they were when T died, nothing short of miraculous.  I am experiencing God's presence and power in ways I've never experienced them before, and we haven't even stepped foot in a surgical ward yet.  The more I pray and focus on this, the more the anxiety melts away and I see this situation for what it really is:  an opportunity.

It's an opportunity for God to receive glory.  For God to demonstrate the power and might and grace that only God possesses.  For lives to be touched.  For veils to be removed and sight to be given to the blind.  For God to pursue me in the middle of this storm, reach out a hand to me once again, and guide me down the only safe path through a field of land mines, making sure I put my feet directly into God's footprints.

So, Lord, here we are together, on the road again.