It wasn't as cute as what I thought

 It's funny now but, it wasn't (to Matt) when it happened :)

Prior to my breast cancer diagnosis (May 2022), I had never taken a consistent daily prescription.  Every once in a while antibiotics would be needed but, overall, I prided myself that my body knew how to take care of itself.  The thing about most standard oral antibiotics is they are either horse pill status, liquid, or multicolored (at least the ones we've been prescribed).  Personally, I think it's harder to mistakenly take them.

This is not the case with Letrozole, a medication I take daily to help keep the hormone estrogen suppressed in my body, and Matt's prescription for Levothyroxine- a daily med he takes to supplement for his low thyroid.  At the time, both were small pink tablets in the same size prescription bottles.  Unless you looked at the inscriptions on the tablets (or the bottle you were taking the med out of), it's hard to tell the difference.

For some idealistic reason, when I first put the Letrozole bottle in the cupboard, where it would be easy to grab each evening to take, I thought it would be cute to put my med bottle by Matt's bottle of Levothyroxine.  Just the two matching bottles by each other, representing that we were both on a daily medication now.  I remember standing and looking at the bottles thinking how cute they looked side by side and wondering if Matt would notice.

It was just before Christmas (2022) when I started Letrozole.  I had finished chemotherapy the month before and had just begun the first week (of six) of radiation.  I had 30 tablets when I put the Letrozole in the cupboard and knew it would last into January (2023).  A few weeks after I started taking it, Matt started saying how tired and off he was.  At first, I thought it was stress or possibly my radiated body lying next to him all night (I googled if I was emitting radiation- supposedly I wasn't).  As the days wore on, he started coming home from work a little earlier and a little earlier.  I remember one day he came home and went straight to bed- it was 2:30 p.m.  What in the world!

As I grabbed my Letrozole, about two weeks into my first month, I noticed there were only a few pills left.  I knew I hadn't dropped or lost them but could not figure out where they could have gone.  I asked Matt if he knew what was going on and he didn't.  It was about this time that I grabbed Matt's Levothyroxine bottle and opened it up- noticing that his medication looked a lot like mine......

I called my oncologist's office the next day to let them know that I would need to get a refill early.

Matt had mistakenly taken one of my Letrozole each morning, for over a week, instead of his thyroid medication.  He was incredibly annoyed that I had put our meds by each other and I was incredibly annoyed that he did not read the medication bottle each morning, before taking it.  I assured him that while it may have been inconvenient for him, how he physically felt (and hopefully not life threatening- I never did google whether or not it was), he would now be better equipped to provide empathy when I told him how terrible the medication made me feel some days...he wasn't impressed.

The medication bottles got separated, never to be close to each other again...I guess it wasn't as cute as what I thought!

yesterday, today, and always

As I was starting my morning routine, the thought struck.  It's not a new thought, but resonated differently today than it has in the past; as our situations change, God is the same.  My initial reaction was annoyance.  The more I thought about it, it felt unfair that emotions can vacillate and circumstances seemingly change beyond what I understand but God gets to stay the same. On first thought (and emotion), it reminded me of when you go through a life shattering event and look around you shocked that everyone else seems to be going life as usual and unchanged- it's hard to reconcile. I had to dig into my thoughts- bringing them to the surface and laying them out before the Lord.  For me, left unchecked, the annoyance would become a distance.  I would rather be as authentic as possible now, hoping to spare the extra energy and emotions later, having to unravel the mess I would make in the distance :) 

Here's what I've come up with so far....no, I'm not some spiritual guru- just a girl who loves Jesus and navigating some real and difficult life.  Even when our emotions vacillate everything between high and low, God is the same.  No matter what news we get, abounding joy or the deepest sorrow, God is the same.  Regardless of what happens to our physical body, God is the same.  Despite our deepest disappointments, God is the same.  During our debilitating depression or sound mind, God is the same.  Whether it is mental health struggles or emotional wounds imposed, God is the same. Even if it's shameful sins we've committed, God is the same.  There is no place we can go (even in the womb) or thought we could think that He is not there for, and steadily the same.

I think grief brings a season of deeply changing emotions.  Confusing and definitely overwhelming, at times. It's easy to loose sight of the firm and secure anchor for our souls, the physically obscure but spiritually unmovable.  It reminds me of an anchor holding a ship secure, it can't be seen by those on board but they can feel it hold most when the seas are roughest.  

But what happens if I change? What if the emotions we experience or situation we go through change us so deeply we no longer relate to what God has allowed or who we think Him to be? What if the anchor we thought was secure seems to be just a chain with nothing on the end- leaving us to fend the rough seas and perceivably survive on our own? When these questions bounce into my thoughts, I bring in the only truth I trust, God's Word.  It's not a denial of what I'm feeling but instead an authentic acknowledgement of normal thoughts that God has already accounted for. He is the One who knit me together in my mother's womb, intricately understanding His creation. He is also the One who sovereignly allows while being a firm hedge.  His truth means the freedom to question and the freedom to trust. To know that when we don't understand or when we are feeling something that does not match up with what God says, He will gently and lovingly stay the same, holding true to His promises, fulfilling his sovereign plan that somehow works for the good of His own, always. For me, this is deep comfort, deeply agonizing (when what He allows is beyond earthly understanding), faith building, soul safe (even when physical and emotional safety is seemingly lost), and eternally secure (Heaven).

It's not that I feel less annoyed, even as I let God's truth pour in, but some how I do feel deeply comforted.  I want life to be fair, understandable, relatable to my control. A life that is placed in a pretty box with a pretty bow for the world to see and admire- representing a polished Jesus (and a prideful me).  A life unbothered by grief and definitely unbothered by vacillating trauma emotions.  But that's not true or authentic- it's not even attainable....

In the tattered box with the awkward taped edges and no bow on top, you will find the most beautiful gift inside- Jesus in me, shining brightly through my wounded heart, annoyance, trauma, tears, anger, and every other emotion.  The brightest light for anyone who comes near to see.  His light strong and steady, never changing, shining bright.

Freedom and God honoring but (my) pride trampling. 

'Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever.' Hebrews 13:8

Thank you Dear Lord Jesus and I love you.

For other Bible Verses referenced please click on the links in the paragraphs.

waves and breathing

They start without warning and can be incredibly debilitating, at least mentally.  They feel unpredictable, coming on during times of joy, times of quiet, times of busy...grief waves.

For me, I can feel the pressure starting in my stomach and a deep internal sadness in my heart- my mind feels like I had subconsciously whispered 'what just happened', thinking it was simply a single thought, contained in just that second. Instead, those words swirl in echos around my brain, touching every hemisphere, bouncing back and forth to each other- like a ball being tossed just above my hands, unreachable no matter how high I jump. I have found that if I don't stop and internally pray, even if it's just a one word prayer 'Jesus!' and give the grief acknowledgement (whatever that needs to look like in the moment), it will continue to grow until I am anxious and/or emotionally distant (even from myself).  I have also found that reaching out to Matt or my close friends and being authentic about the grief, even if it's just, 'I'm having a grief moment (or day)' helps so much too.  I especially appreciate when those close to me don't try to 'fix' my grief but instead are just a soft and often quiet place to let me sit with them (even on the phone), in my grief, for a bit. I know that the wave of grief won't stay, like waves in the ocean, grief waves also ebb and flow, but even in that, as healthy as it is to acknowledge and give grief the space it needs to process, it's incredibly humbling and hard.  

Switching gears but still relating to grief:

I didn't have the wear-with-all to ask the question on a breast cancer page I follow on Facebook...'Does anyone else find they are having to teach themselves to breathe again?' I didn't want to be misunderstood and hear the mass advise about how to 'learn to breath again' after trauma.  It would just simply be a question that desired relatability, not advise....'it takes time' or 'this was something I experienced (or experience currently) too', was what I imagined would feel the most comforting to hear.  I will purposely tell myself several times a day, 'Steph, take a deep breath in, now do it again'...I have often wondered if it's because I am waiting for the next hard time, bracing myself for whatever unknown crisis is possibly around the corner.  It's in these times I have to dig deep into the truth I know, 'Fear not; for I am with you: be not dismayed; for I am your God; I will strengthen you; yes, I will help you; yes, I will uphold you with the right hand of My righteousness.' Isaiah 41:10.  As I take the deep breaths, I am reminded that there is One watching over us who is the only strength we need.  He has the past, present, and whatever is to come under His control and will always be our help. It's still hard though, to learn to breath again.  

Grief is so many layers of complex- trauma adds a complicated dynamic to the layers.  Complex and complicated that opens the door to a deeper understanding of how our hearts were created to have Jesus intricately weaved into every fiber of our beings.  You already know this, I deeply love Jesus and I'm also deeply human- navigating 'real' life with Jesus is surprisingly freeing while being completely intimidating.  It is so much less polished and much more gritty than what I would have thought.  It's less judgement of others failures while being much more aware of the boundaries I need with others.  I could go on but, I'll save that for another post.

The picture on the top left was taken in November 2022- I was at the tail end of Chemotherapy.  The picture on the bottom right was taken last month (April 2024).  
 

I Can Only Imagine

I have a revolving 'mix' on YouTube of music- generally speaking, it always plays the same songs.  Sometimes though, it throws additional songs in of the same genre.  Today, as an additional song came on, it was one I had heard many times before, Mercy Me I Can Only Imagine.  In the past, I have let the lyrics absorb and my imagination try to 'imagine' what seeing Jesus will be like- being surrounded by His glory what will my heart will feel.  As the song describes possibilities, dancing, awe, singing, falling to our knees- all of those I have imagined doing...as those thoughts would come, a warm thankfulness would fill my heart and sometimes tears come to my eyes- like I had just smelled the most amazing flower or been told heart filling wonderful news, almost magical.  

I haven't heard the song much the last couple of years, at least not that I can remember, so today, when it came on, I let my imagination 'imagine' and for the first time, could resonate best with the very last verse in the chorus...'will I be able to speak at all.'  No, I don't think I'll be able to.  I don't mean this as some awe struck Christian who giggled and cartwheeled my way to Heaven's gates only to see Jesus and respond like a speechless fan who is seeing their favorite movie star up close and personal. For me, a more accurate meaning would be an internally battered soul who, by God's grace, in the deepest sense of exhaustion, completed life and it's intense storms and saw for myself that it was all worth it.  Not the living part, but the living for Jesus part.  

Today, if I were to imagine seeing Jesus, I imagine I would be speechless and possibly even cry wracking sobs- again, not out of fan fare fascination but, out of recognizing and fully understanding that I was in a place I could completely unload the burdens earth could never heal, knowing that those burdens could be safely and forever unpacked, never to be picked up again. An eternal healing that leaves all of us who know Jesus safe and whole, complete. Speechless at the work it took to stay the course, speechless at what I saw and experienced along the way (and what I know others have had to and will endure), speechless because the giddy and full of words and actions I thought I would have don't fit anymore.   Speechless because the faith it takes to walk with Jesus and trust His promises, that He will work all things for His glory and our good (even if we don't see the results until Heaven) was true.  And to be quite honest, speechless because on the tattered surface of my mind, it's hard not to be annoyed that there was not some easier way to accomplish His plan other than straight through unyielding rough and earthly emotionally damaging sea's (He sees our heart and knows this already about me). 

No, it won't be about me when I see Jesus, but I do believe it will be a complete understanding of our faith, that we chose to embrace here on earth, being fulfilled in Heaven...on second thought, maybe my speechlessness will be complete awe at how the imperfect all came together perfectly.

Guess I'll just have to wait and see!   

Thank you Jesus for your work on the cross and your sustaining love for us.  

Mercy Me- I Can Only Imagine

I can only imagine
What it will be like
When I walk by Your side
I can only imagine
What my eyes would see
When Your face is before me
I can only imagine
Yeah

Surrounded by Your glory
What will my heart feel?
Will I dance for You Jesus
Or in awe of You be still?
Will I stand in Your presence
Or to my knees, will I fall?
Will I sing hallelujah?
Will I be able to speak at all?
I can only imagine
I can only imagine

I can only imagine
When that day comes
And I find myself
Standing in the Son
I can only imagine
When all I will do
Is forever, forever worship You
I can only imagine, yeah
I can only imagine

4 trauma lessons

In no particular order here are 4 random learning lessons trauma is teaching me so far (I've learned more than 4 but these are the ones that stand out today).

 1. Trauma has produced an awarenesses of unresolved past grief and the need to forgive and internally resolve before I can move forward.

It's interesting how when a life changing traumatic event happens the ripple effect from the event goes both backwards and forward.  The processing of stressful emotions reveal what is unresolved from the past while also setting the framework for processing going forward.  The inadequate emotional tools we have preceding the event are the same ones we have after the life altering event.  Many times, the inadequate tools (that may have worked a fraction of what they should prior) prove completely worthless for what we need to healthily process and heal from the current traumatic event.  Left unattended, the skillset will prove to allow additional heartache and loss to occur on sheer inadequate processing principle.  I have found that a good trauma therapist is very helpful to navigate getting these tools.  My therapist is skilled in EMDR, which I find helpful.  She is also skilled in going back to childhood and emotionally healing forward to make sure complete understanding and a well rounded emotional skillset (proper tools) is gained. 

2. Trauma has shown me that my own and/or others expectations of how I should walk forward or handle the trauma can be very unrealistic and unfair.

It makes my heart sad to even type the next sentence because of the awareness I have now.  I can think of multiple times I have come alongside someone in their trauma and had my own agenda in mind.  I've mentally (even subconsciously) put them on a timeframe for benchmarks they should be accomplishing because that is what seemed healthy (to me) and the "Christian" way they should be doing it.  It was both self serving and arrogant of me and incredibly naive.  Looking at the root of my reason for why I did this, it stemmed from wanting to be back into my comfort zone as quickly as possibly (self serving).  Whether it was an idealistic view of how I thought a Christian should handle trauma or that I was uncomfortable having to embrace empathy and sorrow for where they were at, or multiple other reasons.  Empathy and sorrow for another takes laying aside our own desires or demands and taking up a quiet humility and soft spirit- a dying to self and a picking up the cross of Jesus.

As the crushing blow of trauma came for me, it was the precious ones who could sit with me where I was at (and even to this day where I am at), not personalizing my diagnosis to themselves or trying to push me up to a place where they were willing to meet me, that are the deepest ministry.  I feel like Jesus, in me, has been my deepest comfort with He then using a few others to come along side tangibly.  It is a deep desire of my heart to be one of those few, in others lives.  A sacrifice with no real earthly fanfare but the heavenly reward worth its weight in gold.

3. Trauma has challenged my belief system- the realistic has stayed but the idealistic or unrealistic is quickly being stripped away.

Trauma has challenged me to a deeper faith.  It has stripped me of any sort of health security I knew and replaced it with the reality that at any given time, my cancer can come back.  The daily medications, testing, blood work, bilateral mastectomy, and left axillary lymph node dissection, etc. are a decent protection for as long as the cancer does not mutate or wake up from dormancy but it's not a guarantee. There is the chance all the cancer is gone but only a chance (with the percentage shrinking with each lymph node that was positive).  It would be idealist and unrealistic for me to live my life acting like my struggle is done.  The realistic approach for me is to cling to the guarantee I do have, Jesus.  On my fearful days, I wrap my heart up with Psalm 139, especially vs. 16, "all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be." None of us will live a day longer or shorter than what Jesus has called for us to do.  No disease, diagnosis, or situation will change that- no matter what it is.  The full surrender to this is both deeply comforting and completely heart wrenching- what if the time Jesus has for me is different then the time I would like.  The harsh reality is that we are not spared agonizing times here on earth.  God is always good and life is deeply hard. Do I trust Jesus to the point that I can rest in His sovereignty?  It's a work in progress....  

4. Trauma is teaching me so much about thankfulness

It's deeply hard to admit because I would like to feel like my diagnosis is more in the rear view mirror than what it is but the reality is, I wake up most every day with the same thought, 'I have today- thank you Jesus and please let me make the most of it...and please Jesus, just one more day- and then another- and then another'  I don't take for granted that today is offered. There is not a day that goes by that I don't mentally calculate the gift that the day is- even on the days where my medication is kicking me to the curb and I have no energy or the days where my bones ache more than what I would ever admit (medication and not having estrogen).  It might sound like some sort of gag-me, do-gooder, 'thankful' over achiever but the reality is, while none of us have the promise of tomorrow, not all of us have to stare the reality in the face everyday.  For those of us that do, perspective is incredibly important.  My heart goes out to anyone walking these shoes, even typing the paragraph above brought me to tears.  Life's a tough gig, a tough tough gig, but I'm so thankful for it (and for my Jesus).

 

Breast Cancer Journey This Far...

In early October, I was able to speak to a group of mom's about my breast cancer journey, this far, and what God has walked me through:

those top pigtails

 At the beginning of my breast cancer diagnosis, I journaled often.  I remember thinking that I wanted to remember and document as much as I could. There was comfort and emotional sorting as I would write out what was going on. Several months in, I realized that a dread would start.  Just as soon as the pen hit the paper a knot would form in my gut and my emotions would feel like they were swirling out of control- it was no longer comforting but, instead, a reminder of the heartache and hardship my family and myself were trying to survive. 

I've been telling myself to blog, at least a bit, but have not been sure if it is the best thing emotionally.  I still don't know but thought I would sit down this afternoon and at least try. I can't go deep into the emotions but can swim on the surface for a short time.

I've been walking this new road for 14 months.  Most of it has been just trying to survive (literally) and the remaining has been trying to sort through how to move forward.  I don't have any big insight or life changing advise but I do have a few things that I've personally refined.

Priorities have been refined.  There is not a lot of emotional space (thank you chemo, exhaustion, meds, and overall trauma) so the space I have is weighed carefully and dispersed accordingly.  God, Matt, my kids/grandbabies, my extended family and close friends...a lot of times, I don't have enough to get past the first 3, which is humbling and hard, but my prayer is that in time, I will have more to give.  I used to give and give and give (and give) but just can't do that anymore.

Purposeful- Like I said above, I used to give and give and give, a lot of times not thinking through whether it was the best use of my time or energy. I would tell myself that this is what we do, give.  Now, I have to think through my time and decide whether what I'm doing is purposeful (sometimes purposeful means laying on my bed and watching a movie or shopping at Goodwill- this is being purposeful about rest and my mental health).  I have found, as I'm intentional about my purpose, I enjoy doing whatever I am doing, much more.

Protective- I feel a lot more protective over giving others dignity, including myself.  This has always been important to me, on the fringe, but the personal struggles though this diagnosis has brought this protectiveness more front and center.  I will have health struggles for the rest of my life (even when they are not apparent to anyone other then me).  My physical body will never be the same nor will the way I view the world psychologically.  This is deeply humbling and has kicked me off of any high horse I may have ever hoped to ride.  I will always relate to the weaker person (both physically and mentally) and pray I can articulate dignity to others well in this. I also pray I can emotionally protect, both with my words and actions, those who are weaker.

Promises- I repeat over and over to myself, ever single day, God's promises and then pray through them.  Life's hardships are a lot and I could not imagine walking this road without the Lord's constant presence and His promises.

I've also chosen to laugh more (even when I don't feel like it), not put off the things I've always wanted to do, eat much healthier (I don't even miss sugar anymore), and start smoking (no judging).

That's all I've got for today but hopefully I'll be back soon!

p.s. I didn't really start smoking- that's just not my jam....chemo jacks up your sense of smell and the aroma of smoke is pungent (if you smoke, I'm not judging you, so no messages of offense.  What I will say though is, you reek......smile). 

This picture is from last night- Matt and I were on our way out to dinner. It was really hot and I had been in a wig all day.  At the last minute, I took the wig off and had wild chemo curl hair and didn't have time to style it.  The front is long enough that I could put it back in top pig tails.....a 47 year old woman in top pigtails.......it's the humble train guys, THE HUMBLE TRAIN...but thank you Jesus for hair!

We met my 2 sister in laws (Heidy and Lori) and 2 brother in laws (John and Wayne) for dinner last night.

Vantage Point

I remember watching a movie several years ago that depicted the same story over and over only each time it was recounted, it was from a different person’s vantage point. Where they were when the event went on determined what they saw, what they experienced, their reactions, and ultimately, how the event impacted them. That's what todays blog post feels like- the same story about God's love and faithfulness, recounted through the vantage point of a different view then what I have ever had. I've experienced and seen God's tender love and faithfulness through a difficult childhood, through miscarriage, marriage struggles, anxiety attacks, friend and family struggles, adoption, one of my children's health struggles, the heaven going of my 14-year-old nephew...and more. This is the first time though, that I have experienced it through the vantage point of facing my own mortality. 

 

Most of you know that I was diagnosed with breast cancer in May of 2022. It was supposed to be an easy lumpectomy with a few lymph nodes in my left armpit area removed- I was prepared to probably need some chemotherapy and radiation but, the overall outcome was very favorable. No big alarm bells were ringing for the oncologists or doctors involved. 1 in 8 women will experience some sort of breast cancer in their lifetime and I was one of them- it's a well-studied cancer and the treatment is streamlined down to a science.

 

 Most of you also know that by the time all my pathology was complete, I needed a bilateral mastectomy, a complete lymph node dissection on my left side (25 lymph nodes removed) and was diagnosed with stage 3C aggressive breast cancer (T3 N3a M0). The alarm bells rang loud that July day, last year, and in some not-too-distant way, they will ring for the rest of my life. Due to the amount of cancer found, I was sent for all the scans (MRI, CT, bone, PET)- it was suspected that the cancer had already spread outside of my lymph nodes (in the left armpit area) but if it didn't (it was determined it had not), I was let know that all stops would be pulled and treatment to beat the cancer back would be hard and relentless. I was put into instant menopause (Lupron), had a bilateral mastectomy (chose no reconstruction), dose dense harsh chemo started 13 days after surgery (AC-T), followed by 6 weeks of 4 different fields on my left upper body/back radiated, and finally, a lifetime of difficult medication and monitoring. 

 

Even with all of this, I was let know that my recurrence rate (the chance that the cancer will at some point return) will always be a possibility. I will never be able to move on completely from my diagnosis. In one test result, my vantage point changed completely. I was faced with looking at the same God I have known since I was 8 years old, from a different perspective. Who is He and what does He look from such a life altering (and incredibly hard) view.

 

 I am only 9 months into this journey, what I have to offer from my vantage point is not much, but what I can offer is hope. I don't like talking about the degree of how extensive my cancer is/was because it's triggering- my mind has a hard time coming back to a non-trauma place after I talk (or write) about it. I only bring up its extent, so you have a better understanding of where I'm at when I share with you what I am learning. 

 

I have 'grief' days- days where the trauma of what has gone on and the reality of looking forward is a lot, on these days, my psyche forces me to live in that reality. On a grief day (I never know when they will be), I feel a grief and heaviness that is more than what my human mind can comprehend. At times, I can feel my thoughts starting a vacuum, remembering traumas from before and what-ifs for the future, in a downward spiral. It is so overwhelming when this happens. 

 

I was standing in my laundry room one day, several months ago, and was completely overwhelmed with grief. I felt so emotionally heavy I wasn't sure what to do next. When my thoughts tried to think about anything other than grief, my mind just felt blank (and I would return to thinking about the grief I was feeling). At this point, the only thing I could think to do was to cry out to God. As I was crying out to God, I started speaking out everything I knew to be true about Him, praising Him for who He is.... 

 

You are Almighty (Rev. 4:8) 

You are love (John 3:16) 

You are truth (John 14:6) 

You are our strength (Psalm 28:7) 

You will carry our burdens (Psalm 55:22) 

You are sovereign (Rom. 8:28) 

You know and have ordained every day for us (Psalm 139) 

You are rest (Matt. 11:28) 

The list could go on 

 

I noticed that as I was speaking these truths out, I picked my eyes up from the ground and looked heavenward- I was looking at the ceiling in my laundry room, crying out in desperation, God's truths. The more I redirected my thoughts to who God is, the more peace and strength I felt. It didn't change my reality (that will never change) but it did give me hope and redirection for my fearful and overwhelmed thoughts. It also gave me renewed hope that whatever our circumstances, God is enough, and He will see us through, no matter what. 

 

Since that day in my laundry room, I have had to do this same thing over and over (and will have to always).  Each time, I am always filled with a Peace that passes all understanding. Life is still so very hard...but God.

 

Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.

Isaiah 41:10

 

the goodbye now and the someday still to come

Ellie’s birth mom, Heather, passed away on January 31.  Soon after hearing of Heather's passing, Ellie shared with Matt and I that it was important to her to have a place to physically remember Heather.  She wanted it to be a place she could always visit, if she wanted, and a place she could bring her own children to see someday.  She also wanted it to be a place that she and her brothers (if they chose) could leave cards and letters at, in the years to come.  

Matt and I initially thought we would do this in Oregon, someplace close to our home.  As we talked to Ellie more, she shared that she wanted to have that place be in Athens, Georgia, where Heather lived and where we visited her last year.  She also asked if she could go to Georgia and say goodbye to Heather, in her own way.  

Oh Ellie, yes...absolutely, yes.

A plaque with Heather's name on it will hang on the Mausoleum wall at Athens Memory Gardens- The plaque is in the process of being made even as I type this.  Directly behind the plaque, in the niche where normally ashes would go, will be the start of a keepsake collection, from Ellie to Heather....For the goodbye now, for the written things in the years to come. and for that someday (to show her own babies).  

Our scheduled flight out to Georgia was cancelled two days in a row (snow and an ice storm in Portland and Seattle) last week so we rescheduled for next month.  Matt, Ellie, and I will fly across the country, drive the 2 hours from Atlanta to Athens, and make our way to Athens Memory Gardens for a heartfelt and sad goodbye.

We love you Heather.

 

 

It's been awhile

Well Hi :) It's been awhile!

 It seems like a lifetime ago, blogging.  I've been telling myself for weeks that I was going to sit down and write a blog post- for no other reason than the fact that it used to be a normal part of my week- Now, it's not even a normal part of my year.  I still write (type), only its medical assessments, documenting medications and health history (for my job) instead of delving into lessons learned or milestones in my personal life (and then blogging about them).  

I don't think blogging will become a normal part of my routine, life just doesn't give me enough time these days.  But I don't want to let it go completely, at least not yet.  There is something therapeutic about organizing the emotions in my brain long enough to write them out.  There is something personal yet universal when those (for a minute) organized emotions and life lessons show insight into God's story in my life.  Really in our lives- because He is always working, hovering just above our physical while deeply intimate in our psychological- never visible with the full understanding that He is right here.

I'm giving myself 10 minutes for this post.  I promised Ellie I would play a game of cards with her before she goes to bed- our card game starts at 9:00 and it's 8:50...

I keep typing and then deleting.  Then sitting here with my hands on the keys, trying to find a starting point for a 10 minute blog post and the minutes are starting to tick by.

I think we would all agree it's been a hard year.  My reasons for it being hard may be different than your reasons but we would still agree, it's been hard.  There's been some beautiful moments this year and there has been some unexplainable anguish- anguish that will always be this side of heaven.  The beauty has been precious- maybe it's preciousness noticed even more because a dark backdrop now hangs behind each moment in a way it did not before (since my 14 year old nephew, Wyatt, went home to heaven on April 4).  The unexplainable anguish, that dark backdrop, is only dark as it hangs towards earth- that same dark backdrop turns to a brilliant white as it approaches the heavenly realm.  Our gaze always needing to look up, our focus on eternity, to realize that what seems so dark here is made right in Heaven.  It's made more than right, it's perfect into eternity.  Looking up also serves as a reminder that no matter how things appear here, we have a God who is sovereignly working out His plan for our good and His glory no matter what.

My ten minutes is up and I've gotta go- a game of cards with my gal is waiting.  It's been nice chatting with you, for just a bit!

P.S. Here's 2 randoms before I end-  

1. We are hoping to go to Hawaii over Thanksgiving...we've had to cancel and rebook the trip 3 times due to trying to take the Hawaii approved Covid test (we settled on the home test by Vault Health).  It will be an absolute miracle if we actually get to go (we are supposed to fly out of Portland early Monday morning)... I'll keep you posted

2. Our Ryan got married to his Danika last month (October 24).  It was a beautiful and heartfelt wedding.  Ryan and Danika dated for 4 years.  Ryan asked her to marry him in August and they were married by October- Danika planned their wedding in a little less than 2 months (your amazing Danika!!).  Matt and I are so happy for them.

Wyatt, Ry, Danika, and my nephew Ben in Mexico last December for our family vacation.  We all love and miss you so much Wyatt.

 

When my heart wants to fear

I spent most of my 20's crippled and broken by fear, in bondage and paralyzed by the past, present, and the what-ifs of the future.  The sturdy mental construction of fear, built around my mind with what felt like an impenetrable wall, was holding me captive.  What I didn't realize, at the time, was that the wall I was building was founded on lies and held together by my misplaced focus.  I was focusing on the here and now, the perceived control I thought I needed, the what-ifs of the future, and the trauma's of things past.  The weight crushed me and for almost 10 years I felt intensely broken.

I've told the story before, in much more detail (to read the story click HERE).  

14 years ago, I was delivered of anxiety attacks and the bondage of fear.  I wish I could say that with my deliverance came a free pass from ever feeling worry or fear again, but it didn't.  Depending on the day, fear is always trying to gain the loudest attention in my mind- always trying to overtake truth.  For me, it is much like a chronic disease that needs to be managed and something the Lord and I work through on an almost daily basis- whom am I going to trust, Him or my own fear.  To date, God is who I have chosen to rest in....but what I've come to realize is that God's rest is only as good as my choice to submit to Him- His peace wins over my worry when I continually choose to focus on Him and walk in His truths.  God's peace will always be offered, no matter what and no matter the situation, but whether I choose to walk in and rest in it is up to me.

My heart wants to fear (to the point of panic), especially in the season we are currently in.  There are moments my heart wants to fear so bad, it aches.  Every logical thought I have is screaming at me that pandemics, especially ones that are airborne and can live on surfaces outside the human body, are still a giant threat no matter how many precautions you take- the threat always looming but at times feels like an overwhelming doom.  But even as the screaming thoughts try to take over, a peace that passes all understanding still has its root.  It is still the truth I consider the most reliable and trustworthy and the one I turn to even over my own perceived 'logic'.....

"Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you.  I do not give to you as the world gives.  Do not let you hearts be troubled and do not be afraid."

John 14:27 NIV

Being mindful and smart about how we move forward each day along with protecting ourselves and other....Absolutely.  Loosing hope and feeling like things are out of control...oh no, no, no.  God is still on the throne, still in control, and still working out all things for our good and His glory, no matter what our circumstances look like...no matter what.

navigating the fragile road of adoption

The conversation started innocently enough.  Ellie and I, in my bathroom, talking about how she wanted me to style her hair.  She had ideas, I had ideas, and her hair had ideas.  Somewhere, in the mix of talking hair, we were also talking about life.  At one point, during the conversation, she asked me how I knew something- I replied, 'because I'm your mom and mom's know these types of things.'

Without a hint of rebellion or punishment in her voice and without malice or manipulation, she replied back, 'technically your not my mom.'  The moment was heavy with honesty.  It was heavy with vulnerability, heavy with the weight of her truth.  Her heart gauging whether I could shoulder the truth.  She's so smart and incredibly insightful- has always been wise beyond her years- she would know.  I wouldn't be able to fool her.

'No Elle, I'm not your biological mom.  God chose for you to grow in your birth mom Heather's tummy and then He chose for dad and I to raise you.  Technically I'm not your birth mom but your in my heart every bit as much as if you would have grown in my tummy.  It's just the way God made it, from the very first moment I read the paperwork about you and Heather, before you were born, I knew you belonged in our family.  But I also understand that you think about your biological family...' and we went on to talk about them and how important they are to her.

I haven't done motherhood perfectly.  I've failed and succeed over the last 23 years, but I've learned a few things.  I learned a few things in the 11 years I prayed for a child to become our third.  I learned in the final months, before we were placed with Ellie and Heather, how selfish my heart and motives were when it came to how I wanted our adoption to look.  I also remember where I was (Kipu Kai in March of 2011) when I finally held up my hands and surrendered whether we would adopt or not to God- leaving it in His hands and being at peace whether He placed a child with us or not.  I also knew that if He did chose to bless us with a child, it would be in His timing and His way, always.....and never mine.  A month after this surrender, we were matched with our birth mom, Heather.  Ellie was born on June 18, 2011.

So here we are, almost nine adoption years later.  It's been a journey filled with so many joyous moments and some amazing memories.  It's also been a journey of incredible grief.  I've sobbed and Ellie's sobbed.  We've hashed out some hard truth's together with the knowledge that the best and worst is yet to come.  During the journey this far, I've learned a few things- some taught to me by Ellie and some I've learned as I've begged God for the wisdom to navigate the complicated and fragile road of adoption.

• It's not a competition.  You don't have to build yourself up or downplay your child's biological parent(s) or family.  Be content and secure with what and where God has called you in your child's life. Chose to be realistic but kind and gracious when you talk about your child's biological family.  It's where they have come from genetically, it's where their heart at times longs to still be.  They are curious, rightfully so, and looking for reassurance that the family they are not with have value.  At some level, they will want to equate the worth we place on their biological family with the worth they have.

• It's OK to be second place in your child's mind.  As an adoptive parent, we've gone some miles with our child- we've stepped up- we've walked in the trenches pouring out love and support.....this does not mean we are entitled to first place in their minds.  Sometimes, they need to imagine that their biological parents are the heroes in the story.....they are still learning that it's OK to love both sets of parents equally- a tough and heartbreaking learning lesson for them- that one set of parents stepped down so another set could rise up.

• Take the steps and get the tools to shoulder their grief without making your child feel guilty.  Ellie needed to tell me that I am not her biological mom.  She needed a safe place to share her truth. If I would have responded with hurt and anger, she would have retreated and felt the need to comfort me (instead of me comforting her).  Retreated feelings make any child feel even more isolated, more alone, and places a heavy load that was meant to be shared (with parents) squarely on their shoulders.  Anger and unhealthy coping mechanisms can subsequently follow....

• There will be grief- with adoption, there is loss and gain without the two ever being separated- sometimes it's easy to want to separate the two for our sake or/and for our adopted child's sake. This only makes the grief deeper and more confusing for all involved. It's OK to acknowledge and talk about the loss but make sure to equally acknowledge the gain.  Adoption will always be bittersweet.

To every parent reading this who has an adopted child...God has called you to an incredible job.  If it's a hard season, take heart- it's not the end of the story.

To every birth parent reading this who has placed a child...you made a selfless decision that was the right one.  On the days you are beating yourself up over your decision, take heart- you chose what was best and it is your love that shines through most.

To every child who grew up with or is being raised in a forever home that is not biologically yours and are struggling with grief and anger...you are a treasure and a gift- God's got an incredible plan for your life and you are so very loved.  Don't give up hope because it's not the end of your story either.

Heather, Ellie, and I a couple of hours before Ellie was born.  It is the only picture to date I have of the three of us.  

the last sentence of the last chapter

Living life is a unique balance.  You live in the moment, with each action forwarding on meaning into the next moment and the next, everything counting for something.  There are times though when living in the moment means that this moment, the moment you are living right now, will be the last of it's kind.  Oh, you will have many more moments to come (Lord willing) but they will never be as they were before.

And that's ok.  In fact, it's more than ok, it's great.  You loved all the moments before and you know you will love the moments after, but you know the moments before will never be again and for that reason, a grief with both thankfulness and sadness takes place.

I don't believe God made our life stories to fit in just one book.  I think He writes out our lives in multiple books, each for specific seasons and each touching by bound covers, connected from generation to generation.  Bound covers, created by God, so things like His distinction of marriage can live out in His designed way, each couple receiving their own book when their vows are said.

A new book started on July 30, 1994 when I married Matt. This book was specific for the life that Matt and I would create with each other and our children. Chapter after chapter was written as Eli was born, then Ry, then Ellie.  We lived, having a variety of memories in each chapter- happy, funny, incredibly hard times, and some devastating times.  We went on some great adventures, all of us living each moment to it's fullest, page after page getting filled.

Eli grew up, moved out, and started a life of his own- Ryan grew up, creating a life of his own too, but the five of us were still in the same book.  Our final sentence hadn't come.  That last period, of the last chapter, with the last word was close...but not yet.  It's not that we would loose touch when our book ending came, it would mean that for healthy sake, for boundary sake, for distinction sake, we would need a sequel (thanks for the word choice, Heid).  One going to two.

I took the picture below at my nephew's wedding this past Friday night.....

Even as I was taking it, the mama side of my heart realized that it would be the last picture I would take as the mother of 3 kids.  Our Eli get's married this week.  He gaining a wife, Ry and Ellie a sister, Matt and I a daughter.  A picture of my kids will never feel complete again without Megan in it.  This Saturday night, our family will transition from 5 to 6 with a final period at the end of the last sentence of our book and the hard bound cover will close.

In place of one book will be two.  Eli and Meg having their own while Matt, Ryan, Ellie, and I the other. Oh, we'll still have our end-covers touching, ours touching on one side with Megan's family touching the other.  Eli and Meg wedged between their two families with their own book, full of pages to fill and memories to make.  Some of the chapters will include their extended family but the main content will be them....living out what God has called both too as a married couple, leaving  their families and cleaving to begin their own story, and what a story it will be.

I cried after I took the picture- not right then and there, but when I got home.  My heart was celebrating Eli and Megs upcoming wedding, thanking God for the woman Megan is and how perfect He designed her for Eli (and vice versa).  I also cried because that last sentence of our family book is here.  The tears were filled with an overwhelming thankfulness for the memories, for the moments, for each day we spent as a family of five. Crying for the ending to a season while being so excited for the new beginning.  Megan is a gift, both to our family and to our Eli.  She is a treasure.

So here is to the moments and memories our family shared before our book was finished.  Here's also to the moment's and memories we will make after, in both of our new books.  But most of all,  here's to God, who brought our family Megan and who brought Megan's family our Eli.

P.S. I couldn't end this post without a quick trip down memory lane......some favorite pictures of my kids over the years

Congratulation Eli and Megs, Saturday can't get here fast enough-  We love you and are so very happy for and proud of you.

Florida for two fifty seven, please

It all started on a bumpy plane ride from Turks and Caicos to North Carolina last December.  We were headed home from a family vacation, flying American Airlines (AA) for the first time.  The flight home stopped in North Carolina and then Portland, Oregon.  Midway through the flight, the stewardess came over the speaker and said that AA was running a special- sign up with their credit card and you would receive 50,500 miles.  I asked the stewardess if a spouse could sign up for a card separately and each receive 50,500 miles and she said we could.  The small print said that you had to put a purchase of any amount on the card within a certain time frame and also pay an $85. annual fee.

Fast forward to late February of this year.  It was a Sunday afternoon, I was sitting on the couch in my living room scrolling through Facebook while the rain poured outside.  Ad's pop up often in my Facebook newsfeed and I usually ignore them.  A picture of a sunny resort in Mexico was on the ad this time and under the picture was a ridiculously low price.  Even as I clicked on the ad, I was mentally telling myself that I would never actually purchase something from an ad like this, it would just be fun to look.  The company advertising was called Book VIP.  They were offering cheap vacations in Mexico, Florida, and Las Vegas.  My friend Michelle and I had just been talking about Tahiti Village in Las Vegas and I noticed that was one of the resorts offered in Book VIP's deals.  On a whim, I picked up the phone, called the number, asked a million questions (every question I could think of that would expose any shady-ness), and then booked a 3 night stay for Matt and I at Tahiti Village for just under $130.  The stipulation attached to the trip was that you had to make at least a certain amount annually, travel as a married couple that shared the same address, and listen to a two hour time-share presentation.  Matt and I went to Tahiti Village in March (19') and had a great trip.  The timeshare presentation was typical and we declined the purchase.  Book VIP sent an e-mail just before we went to Las Vegas letting me know that if I made a short video mentioning their company and the resort we stayed at, they would give me 3 free nights to a participating resort in either Last Vegas or Orlando, Florida.  I made the video and submitted it for their review.  I received 3 free nights.

Combined, Matt and I had 100,100 miles from American Airlines.  We also had a 3 free nights stay to a resort in Orlando, Florida from the video I submitted.  That was enough miles to get 3 round trip tickets from our hometown in Oregon to Orlando.  The left over miles were enough for 3 nights at a hotel in Orlando.  At this point, we had 6 hotel nights and 3 round trip flights covered to Orlando, all with miles.  The only thing left was the rental car.  Costco beat out everyones price at $167 for an SUV for the duration of our trip.

$167. rental car
$60. resort fee (Book VIP does not cover resort fees)
$30. for a $5 per person per flight ticketing fee
_____
$257. base fee for our trip.  This price does not include any excursions, food, gas, extras, or our trip to Disney World.

(I could add in the annual credit card fee associated with the AA card but I just don't feel like it)

To keep additional costs affordable on our trip but also see some of the sites that are only available in Florida we decided on the places we would visit before our trip and then shopped for the deals.  On the list was:

Day 1: Kennedy Space Center
Day 2: Cape Canaveral/Cocoa Beach (Free)
Day 3: Sea World Orlando
Day 4: Disney World
Day 5: Gatorland

• All of our rooms (short of the night we flew in) have kitchenettes.  We went to the grocery store and purchased food instead of eating out.  Normally when we travel, I fly in most of our food in checked bags and coolers.  I just didn't have time this trip.
• 4 mornings of our stay include a free breakfast with the hotel/resort- the other mornings we will eat in with food we purchased from the grocery store.
• We purchased Sea World and Kennedy Space Center tickets for a discount through AAA during a Memorial Day sale they ran- the price of the ticket did not include parking ($10-$25 to park at each).  Sea World was $48.75 per person and Kennedy was $42.50/adult and $35./child.
• We purchased tickets to Gatorland for $17.49 each so Ellie could see alligators 'up close' and because they have a small waterpark that is not overcrowded.  We used Tripster Vacations for this purchase- door price would have been $29.99/adults and $19.99/kids. 
• We packed 3 water bottles that we bring with us into the parks to refill so we do not have to purchase drinks.  We also eat before we go and pack snacks so we are not purchasing food in the parks.  
• Ellie turns 8 tomorrow (18th).  We decided to spend the money to take her to Disney World for an 8th birthday present while we are down here.  I spent several hours searching for discounted Disney World tickets and came up short.  I did go to the Sam's Club here and purchase $350 worth of Disney gift cards for $335. If we would have spent more than one day at Disney, I would have purchased our tickets through AAA because they had the best deals (at the time I looked).

We are on our last night of our 6 nights in Orlando.  It's been so fun!  The resort Book VIP put us up in is family friendly, clean, and very functional.  It is not grand or glamorous but very comfortable (equivalent to staying at a Marriott or Hilton Extended Stay).   It's called Westgate Lake Resort and Spa and is very centrally located.  The hotels we have stayed at the additional 3 nights were also nice.  One night was at a Hyatt and the additional two at The Point (on Universal Blvd.).

Florida has surprised both Matt and I with it's beauty.  It is our first trip here and definitely won't be our last.  We look forward to a return trip, hopefully bringing the rest of our family the next time!

Link to the Video I made for BookVIP for the free 3 nights in Orlando

It's Tick Season

It's tick season.
Tick.
Those four letters cost our family $50,000 and some significant heartache over a two year span.
I find myself cringing when I read articles talking about how Lyme Disease is on the rise in Oregon, with the county I live in (Jackson) being ranked as one of the highest hot spots for contacting Lyme in the entire state (along with Josephine, Douglas, and Klamath County).  For those that want to read the article, click here).  I also find myself cringing when, in the same article, ticks are downplayed as being less significant than poison oak by our national forest's spokeswomen...

 "Chamise Kramer, a spokeswoman for the (Siskiyou) national forest, said there are definitely plenty of ticks in the area, often visible hanging on long blades of grass, but they haven't posed a bigger threat to hikers than, say, poison oak."

There is a chance that one of you reading this blog post will be bit by a tick before summer's end.  If not you, it may be a loved one, someone you work with, or just a random person you know.  When this happens, regardless of what people like Chamise from above say, it needs to be taken more serious than a case of poison oak....trust me on this one :)

Here are some easy steps to follow when it comes to tick bites.  There is no need to (completely) panic but there is a need to be mindful and purposeful in your approach to addressing the tick and the tick bite.  It is so much easier and cheaper to test a tick for Lyme Disease and co-infections than it is to test a person.

• Begin with removing the tick, including the head of the tick.
• Immediately put the tick in a zip lock plastic bag and place in the freezer.  Mark on the zip lock bag the date you were bitten by the tick. 
• Mark on your calendar the date you were bit and start watching for symptoms of Lyme Disease.  The symptoms will usually not begin showing for 2 weeks but can begin sooner or later.  It is not uncommon for a person to not show symptoms of Lyme Disease for years after a bite.
• Do your best to identify what type of tick you were bitten by (see the chart below).
• Begin watching the bite site.  If you notice the spot developes a rash or raised area around it, take your tick out of the freezer and get it sent off IMMEDIATELY to a tick testing facility (we have used IGeneX Labs and University of Rhode Island Tick Encounter).  The tick can be tested for Lyme and other co infections.
• For extra precaution, your Lyme Literate doctor may also recommend that you get tested, using IGeneX labs, DNA Connexions, or another similar lab.
• No matter what, even if you do nothing else, keep any tick you are bit by (stored in a zip lock in your freezer) in case you begin having symptoms several months or years after the bite.  You will be able to take it out of the freezer and send it in for testing.

If it were me, I would send the tick off immediately and not wait for signs or symptoms to appear/not appear.  Spending the $50.-$75 for the test is much better than the heartache, anguish, and cost that comes along with a diagnosis of Lyme Disease.  

I asked the University of Rhode Island's tick testing center how long a tick could be frozen for prior to having it tested.  Here is their response:

Several years ago, our Ellie was bit by a tick.  We sent it in for testing and they sent us back the results (it was negative for Lyme Disease) along with pictures of the tick we sent in.  The pictures are below