The Big C

So I was watching a commercial the other day and a man was talking about being a cancer survivor. All of the sudden I was completely overwhelmed and began to cry. In my tears the thoughts raced through my head...my dad, I love him, I don't want to loose him. These thoughts did not come because my dad is a cancer survivor; my dad is a cancer patient. He has had prostrate cancer since 2004.

Those who know anything about cancer may think, well it's not like breast cancer. It happens to be a slower moving cancer. But my dad, the over-achiever that he is, happened to get an aggressive form of prostrate cancer. He had surgery and hormone treatments. He changed his diet and lost weight to prepare for surgery. After surgery, he "went organic" long before the world jumped on the natural, organic train with grass fed meat and raw milk. He used to have cheese shipped from CA. He took supplements and changed his toiletries. It was almost a full time job to follow the "T" of his life style change.

It's been 5 years and he's still here. He goes to a lot of doctors and gets lots of tests. He makes really horrid, morbid jokes about his life span. This of course caused me to break down one night and then later tell him, "Dad no more jokes about you not being here. We have a deal...you are supposed to live forever, or at least past me!"

It's hard on a Daddy's girl to think about dad being sick. He's my rock and was the cookie from which the cutter was made for my husband. I look up to him, admire him, am proud of him and proud to say he's mine. I watched him gracefully go through a loss of spouse which I had already experienced. I watched him grieve and then, like me, bring his head up again. I watched him find love again, re-marry and so far...live happily ever after. He has called me his best friend and I am honored with the title and think of him just the same. Not much important happens in my life without him knowing, praying and being there for it.

So the big C...you'll not get the best of this bunch. We'll joke about it. We have cried about it (at least I have). We'll watch it and monitor it. We'll know its apart of life but not our life. We'll be sad when you advance to another place in our lives. We'll rejoice everyday we have with it. But in the end...Cancer will not beat this family. No matter how much we have gone through, we are a strong, loving, Godly family. No one or thing can come between us.

I'm so not ready for this...

My blended family brought me something of which I was totally not ready...DATING! OK, in my head, I'm the mom of an 11 year old and a 9 year old daughter, neither of whom are ready to date. However, my blended family brought me a teenage step-son which by the way has started dating. I want to respond to this by screaming!

First, we had homecoming come up. We actually talked about asking the girl. You know, how to and how not to ask. For instance, I told him to make sure he asked in person (not a dumb note or FB message), look her in the eyes and make sure he was letting her know what he wanted. So in other words, don't ask if she was going to the dance, ask if she wanted to go to the dance as his date. Well, apparently my advise was horrible because he now had a date. Yes, I said that right...horrible. Now I have a dating kid!

Next it was off to the store to get homecoming clothes. Thank goodness I have a boy because in 45 minutes we had the outfit: one store, tried on one pair of pants and one shirt, socks and a t-shirt and we were checking out! All I could think is in a few years I'll have three girls in the dressing rooms with 10 dresses each, all whining because none of them are just right...10 stores later and I'll be yelling, "If you don't pick something today, you're out of luck!" Which of course will be a lie from a frustrated mom because I'll keep looking till they are happy. My future is flashing before me...I shutter and think, I'm not "supposed" to be doing this yet! Of course my step-son is overjoyed that I took him because there is no way he and dad would have done this so quickly. Oh and on a side note, the disadvantage to having the boy...we have no pictures.

Now since the dance, he and his girlfriend spent time at her house on Sunday. Today they were here for a while then went back to her house. She lives walking distance from our house which is nice for them and sort of nice for us and a nightmare all at the same time. It's nice because I'm not driving all over creation so my not-driving kid can have a girlfriend. It's a nightmare because they are easily able to spend time together...which makes me want to scream again because I am SO NOT READY FOR THIS!

So I call my husband to tell him about this afternoon and he asks how that went. I say fine and he says "She's a nice girl." My response to that is, "I was a nice girl." And of course that's all I need to say. In case you didn't know, I was a single teen mom...enough said! He says that I need to let him have a little freedom. He tells me he's not a little boy. I say "Um-hum" (in a little high pitched grunt). He can tell I'm freaking out, but I'm letting go a little. This may not be a kid that came from my womb, but that doesn't stop me from worrying.

I believe my kid will make wise choices. We have had very open dialog from everything from relationship and sex to drugs and alcohol. I believe he will chose somethings I don't like and surprise me by making good choices other times. I believe he wants to be an honorable man and knows how to treat a girl. I believe I cannot and will not protect him from everything. I also see that we are setting some presidents in our home so we have to figure out what our rules are. I know that I will be different with the girls than I am with the boys. But everything in my head is screaming..."I'm so not ready for this!" In the end though, I don't think anyone but me cares that I'm not ready...so we dive into parenting dating kids....uggg I wanna scream!

Her name is Lola...

So there are a couple things I almost always hear when I say I have a blended family: "Oh the Brady Bunch" or "Yours, mine and ours!" Well first off, if I am the Brady bunch, then I want my Alice! Then when I say, well we only have three girls and two boys, then the response I usually get is, "You're young, plenty of time for a boy." My response to that is always, "Nope we're done!" Of course many are shocked by this a prod and little further with, "Don't you want yours, mine and ours?" I then reply with, "We have an ours, her name is Lola!" By the way, if you didn't know, Lola is our dog.

Lola crashed after a long hike while camping.

I get so many questions from people when I tell them "ours" is a dog. They say things like: "You're such a cute couple, don't you want to have one together?" or "You really don't want to have any more, you're so young?" The answer to both those question is simple: we can't and we don't want any more (oh and I'm not that young).

Yes, it is totally possible to have five kids and not want any more. It is also quite possible that when the two youngest kids are currently in fourth grade, I very well may NOT want to start all over. Also, it is very possible that when we started dating, one of the very first questions we asked each other was, "Do you want more children?" If only one of us had answered "yes" we would not have continued dating.

The thing is I knew I didn't want anymore kids when my youngest was born. My first husband really wanted a son, so it was tabled for discussion for at least five years. Six months after Haley turned five, Garrett got very sick and was hospitalized. More children was not a thought then. When he passed away, I sat down with some friends and made "the list." It's the list people make when they think about the future spouse. There are a couple of things that were "up for discussion" but one thing was set: I didn't want anymore kids! OK, so I ended up with three more kids, but I didn't want any more babies.

Ryan and I often joked about kids when we were dating. We were both people that didn't really want kids. Some how he had three and I had two. We talked about how funny it would be if we blended our families and the two people who wanted no kids ended up with five. We both knew that we had NO desire for a baby. It was wonderful.

Then shortly after we got engaged, we found out that I was going to have a hysterectomy. Granted is was considered elective, but the reality was there was nothing more the doctors could do for me. Pre-surgery, the doctor asked if we were really sure we were done having kids, because we were still in child bearing years. Emphatically we exclaimed "YES" and that we would be married later that year, combining our family with a totally of five kids. That was that and I was off to have my surgery. We later found that it was very necessary though there was no diagnostic way of knowing that in advance.

After my surgery I did grieve for quite some time. We were not even married yet and it was certain we would never have kids together. Though neither of us wanted more, I didn't like the idea of not being able to change my mind. Ryan sat with me as I cried at thinking that his ex-wife shared the joy of child birth with him and I never would. I cried to think that I would never know how cute our kids would be. I cried to think that before I turned thirty, I would loose being able to have children and wasn't that what made women...well women!

Time, friends and Ryan slowly helped me deal with this grief. I soon found that I loved living without pain that I had pre-surgery. I loved the freedom from mood swings and bloating. I loved all the varieties of freedoms I found post surgery. I soon learned being able to have kids did not define me as a woman.

But back to the issue of "ours." After we got married, we discovered how hard it was to blend our families. We have three different homes with some kids here on some days and not others and then other kids here all the time. We had to deal with the grief that came with the reality to all the kids that their homes would never be how they were.

So one family night after watching "Marley and me," Ryan and I sat in front of the computer and looked at dog rescues. We looked for that perfect addition to our home. Her name was Lola. She entered out home just a couple months after we got married. Some how our little gray girl united our family even more. She was something new to all of us. There were no expectation on her from how things "used to be." She came to our home and wiggled her way into our hearts and belonged to all of us at the same time.

Curled up on the futon with her "baby."

Our "love child"

To Ryan and I, she is affectionately called our "love child." She is the favorite sister to all the kids. We often come home, let her out of her "house" and sit on the floor as she runs around in circles giving us all kisses. She's probably not the "best" behaved dog, but we are all blinded by love. At Christmas, she got more gifts than any of the other kids. Any gift that was for the whole family was labeled "Lola" under the tree.

Always at my feet ;)

When you blend a family, though it was exciting for all of us, grief comes along as well. There is grief in the loss of "what was." Some kids had grief in the reality that mom and dad would never be together again and for others was another reminder that dad was really "gone." There were kids that had to share rooms and kids with different schedules. There was and still is a vast difference in likes and dislikes from games and TV to food and bed time rituals.

We stumbled through and found our way. We don't have it perfect, never will and that's not our goal. One thing we all share is our love for Lola. She brightens a "bad" day. Her antics make us smile. She is more than will to finish that last bite of food that some kids swears he or she cannot finish. She always licks ice cream bowls and loves to chase balls (even the one's of which you don't want her.) She loves to wake up kids by jumping on their bed and kissing them. We may not want babies and cannot have them, but we have a Lola!

Lola playing catch with Daddy...but she doesn't want to give the ball.

She really does not want to give it back!

Lola is "helping" play bocce ball, even though her help is not wanted.

Oh the things I find...

So recently I got a new lap top. That's right I have finally moved back to the world of Mac and I'm lovin' it! With this MacBook Pro came working speakers. For the last year or so, my old StinkPad (Ryan's loving nick name for IMB's ThinkPad) did not have working speakers. In fact you couldn't even plug in earphones. The speaker portion of the thing was "just done broke." So every time someone posted a cute YouTube link on Facebook or a favorite song, I didn't watch them or listen to them.

So in the midst of this change over to the Mac world, I have discovered all the sound that was out there on the computer. I never knew there was so much sound! And during all the sound-surfing, I found my sound; that is the music of which I like to listen. Apparently it's called anti-folk. I tends to be a dark or twisted view of the world with a folkish sound (think Juno soundtrack). I guess it's better than my high school days of avant-garde music that consisted of people crashing plates on pianos and all other kinds of weird experimental music sounds.

So in the journey of finding my sound, I have found there maybe many parts of me that was a little lost. I don't have a great excuse for "losing" me other than I'm a mom. While being a mom and wife, I have found lots of things along the way, sometimes losing some of me with it. Part of me being a mom has been finding out why one kid is having late or missing assignments when she consistently spends 1-2 hours on homework every evening. Another thing I have been trying to find is food the 7 people will eat AND enjoy. A great find this past week was how to motivate 4 kids to match the unruly box of unmatched socks: money!

All the sock after the kids ran to get a Popsicle for their hard work.

The girls make one big pile!

Haley's matches!

Megan's matches!

Cassidy's matches!

Alex's matches!

Now we have to figure out who's socks are  who's...

I have found how to make my home more "healthy." I found the good meat with no hormones or antibiotics that is grass fed. I found the raw, organic milk. I found the affordable organic produce. I have found natural toiletries and cleaning products. I found a good recipe for laundry soap and use vinegar for fabric softener. I have found what farmer's markets have the best of whatever I need. I found clothes at the ARC or Goodwill, telling the kids it's recycling (though mostly it's just money saving.)

Somehow while looking for all these things, I have lost my style, my music, my look and all the "little" things that used to make me...well me! So now, I'm looking for some of those things again. I found my style to be as friends have described as a bit of a modern hippy. I found my sound, anti-folk, on the internet. Now if I could just have to run out and get glasses for one kids, take two to the dentist, get three shoes, get four haircuts and all five need underwear and socks I could actually put some music on my iPod (which I got free with my laptop because I'm a student) and buy a cute outfit.

Oh well, I guess I'll just have to "find" me again when the kids don't need so many things. Because one thing I found about myself that will probably always be true is that my kids come first. I may have only been to the dentist twice in ten years but my kids go every six months. I may be wearing a tank top that is coming unraveled but the kids always get new or "nused" clothes before school starts. I may purchase $2 slippers but I get my kids new shoes whenever they need them. I may not be able to buy myself a CD or iTunes but that's why free internet radio is there. ;)

A good reminder on prayer...

Last night my husband came home in a horrible mood. There wasn't anything I could do to help him. He has been working on some "trouble" cars. One of his cars came back and the customer was very angry with him. This customer spent 45 minutes telling him this, in a not-so-nice manner. All I could say was I know how difficult it is to be faced with a mistake. It happen to the best of us. But when I watched Ryan walk through the door, I saw how this "beat him up." I wanted to just "make it better."

I asked if there was something particular I could fix for dinner that may cheer him up. No. I asked if there was something I could do to get his mind off of it. No. So I just fixed what I was planning for dinner. Then I told him about some particulars of my day.

After dinner he asked me to cut his hair, maybe that would help. So I told him to hop in the shower and I would get everything ready. When he got out, he was a different person. Somehow, while standing under the waves of hot water, he was able to wash away the "yuck" of the day and found a moment of inspiration. A different car that he has been working on for more than two months has created a number of odd and strange problems to fix. He had a light bulb moment and thought of a solution to this on-going problem-car. He had no way of proving it but was certain that was the next step.

As I talked with him about this, I asked how he got there. He told me a story about a car years ago that ended in this solution. Somehow this conversation led to prayer. He said he was praying that God would lead him to the solution on this car. I said this was definitely something we could pray about together. He said he had a difficult time praying for himself.

I thought this odd in some ways, but also wonderful. I have heard many people talk about prayer as a laundry list of things they want God to fix in their lives. Rarely do you hear someone say they do not pray for themselves. I encouraged him to continue praying as he did, but to remember prayer is our conversations with God. If I stopped talking to Ryan about what was going on in my life, we wouldn't be in relationship. One that same note, if I only ever talk about myself, we're not in relationship then either.

Ryan started describing how he prays and it was a sober reminder for me. He told me he prays for a man at work with whom he does not get along and who is not good at his job, costing the company great sums. He said he prays that God will help this man provide for his family just has God has help Ryan provide for ours. He prays that God will protect this man from injury and harm. He said that's how he starts every morning.

I stood there jaw dropped. I was a sober reminder that I have had all too often recently. I needed to be reminded to pray for those in my life that I may not like or with whom I struggle. I needed to remember to pray for the people who have harmed me or my family. Though every morning I begin my morning in prayer for others, it is for Ryan and the kids, for my dad and Diane, for my brother, Kelsey and Aiden, for my in-laws and sister-in-laws and for my friends and their families...all my loved ones.

This morning, I prayed for the people who have wronged and harmed my family. I prayed for people I do not like. This morning, I remembered to pray for more than just my loved ones. Sometimes I hate it when my husband stands as a leader of my family and reminds me to do things that don't "feel good." But in the end, I am now reminded to pray in the way that God calls me. For that, I am truly grateful to have a Godly man as the leader of my home. And now I also pray that Ryan always remembers to pray for others as he does now.

Four years? Has it been that long?

So four years ago, I was married to a different man, I live in a different place, I had a different dog and I had only two kids. Also four years ago, I had many of the same friends, went to the same church, and that's about all that was the same. Four years ago three family members were still here on earth: Garrett, my grandpa and my mom. Four years ago I was a stay at home mom trying to make ends meet with very odd jobs while still trying to home school my girls. Four years ago I thought my life was good but hard. Four years ago, I was about to approach the hardest season of my life and I didn't know it yet.

Four years have gone by so fast. I'm sure I didn't think so at the time, but now I can't seem to figure out where the time went.

November 13, 2006 Garrett was admitted to the hospital. By the following morning, as I was on my way to the hospital to bring him some playing cards to pass the time, I got a message from the Chaplin. I called back but, no one would give me any information. When I arrived at the hospital, I was meeting a different Chaplin in the ICU waiting room. All I could think was just an hour ago Garrett called me and wanted me to bring him something to do. This was supposed to be a couple days stay in the hospital on IV fluids. How did I end up in the ICU waiting room?

As I look back at the event, so many are fuzzy now but there are a few moments that stick out and are etched in my mind. It's what I think photographic or eidetic memory would be like. I remember what I was wearing and what the Chaplin was wearing. I remember the sounds and smells. I remember what I was thinking. I remember the first nurse I met, the room in which Garrett was, what he looked like, the smells and then pulling his wedding ring off his finger. I remember who I called, what I said and then I remember just stopping. I just stood there. He was supposed to just be sick with the flu.

This day was different from the next several months to come. Over the next several months I began to know what questions to ask. I knew the medical terms. I knew the doctors, nurses and techs. I knew the policies and procedures.  I knew what medication did what and even dosage. I knew who to call then certain things happened and what to do when other things did not happen. 

But that first day, I couldn't figure out the simplest of things. The visitors just kept coming from friends to co-workings, pastors and even just acquaintances. If you visited and are reading this, I remember you coming. I remember every person that first day. I remember what I told people. I remember not being able to eat. I remember just wanting answers and that there were none. I remember wanting to switch places with him.

I started a journal. I wrote down with what doctors we talked. I wrote down the nurses on duty for each shift. I wrote down the visitors, phone calls and emails. I wrote down stats from blood pressure and heart rate to temperate and even test results. I made phone calls and wrote down who I had called. I changed my voice mail to have updates. It was not a Facebook world and blogs were not popular. So I set up text messaging on my phone because I couldn't answer the phone while in his room and I rarely left the room. I lived there around the clock for almost a month.

I have shared very little of that time of my life with others. Those who were close may have been there and seen me, but there was a very small circle that knew where I was inside. In fact, by the one month mark, I decided to join a woman's accountability group. I became bonded to "new" people. I created a support around me. This group help me deal with all areas of life. I didn't focus on the fact that my husband was living in the ICU on life support or that my kids were living with my parents and my apartment was a storage being no one actually lived there. I focused on me, getting emotionally healthier, getting closer to God, building female relationship and being the woman God called me to be. I discovered who I was. It was hard, but I faced the pain of my past and I embraced healing, as painful as it was.

I could have mourned for fourteen months that my life wasn't supposed to be that hard. I could have gone into self-pity that my kids and I were having to go through this. I could have thrown a hissy-fit that my husband was sick and it wasn't fair. I could have sat by his bed every day and cried out "Why, why, why God!" Oh and believe me, there were moments, even days and weeks that I did all those things. But in the broad scope of things, it wasn't the theme of those fourteen months.

This moment was a defining moment. Over the first two years, God changed me, grew me, pruned me, loved me and covered me. Then the next two years He poured out blessings beyond my greatest dreams. I am who I am today because of who God was to me then and what He did in me then. Four years ago, I was bitter, angry, shut down and I didn't know it. I was lonely and alone. I isolated myself from the world and didn't know how to get out. God quieted my world so I could hear Him. And I did! I am not the same person that I was four years ago. I know I am not alone and most days I don't feel lonely. I have a support system that I am proud to say I know would do anything for me to help when I needed it. 

I know there are people in my life that feel alone. I know there are people in my life that feel lonely. I have been there and I do understand. I don't want you to feel alone but I know you may feel that way. This blog has opened doors to amazing relationships for me this past five months. I know that fours years ago I was not in a position to reach out and help anyone, I was drowning. But today, I'm here for you. Let me know what I can do, call me, I'm here. 

I'm excited to see what I have to say about what God will do the next four years...

Compliment or Insult?

Did you ever have a compliment that was more like an insult? The only reason you recognized it as a compliment was from whom it came and even then it had to be accompanied by an explanation?

OK you’re thinking I’m crazy. Well my dad told me I was arrogant. That was his compliment. ARROGANT! That doesn’t sound like a compliment. When further explanation was given, I realized he really did me arrogant. He didn’t mean confident, proud or even just focused. He meant arrogant.

Now how do you follow a compliment of “You’re arrogant” with any explanation that appeases it? Well first off, look at the source. My dad is the second most amazing man I know (second to my husband). He loves me probably more than I could imagine. He has taught me to love, live and loose. He is gracious and merciful, kind and loving, gentle and strong, meek and humble. OK, if you’re reading this dad, don’t get a big head and remember the humble part.

Anyways, back to the “compliment.” I looked at the source and wondered if he was pointing out something I needed to change in me. Based on the context it seemed that wasn’t it. I wondered if he misspoke and meant something else, but he continued on and I knew he meant it. So how on earth did I figure out it was a compliment? He said that I was just like him and he was smiling. Good thing he was sitting across the room or I may have hit him. Oh and the look on his wife’s face when he called me arrogant was priceless.

Needless to say, my dad and I have an amazing relationship. He is my second favorite person in the world (once again second to my husband). He is my best friend and I probably know more about him than most. We have been close my entire life and he truly is a Godly man. Some in my life have questioned our relationship, telling me it was enmeshed and unhealthy. The true is, not many have an amazing Godly relationship with their dad. In today’s world, many people do not have relationship at all with their dad.

This relationship has had many benefits in my life and some downfalls as well. When I was making “bad” choices, I lost relationship with my dad for a time. Now, I am pained knowing I put him through my “bad” choices. But when I went through the pain of loosing my first husband, my dad was the shoulder on which I cried. When he lost my mom, I was there picking up the pieces and trying to fill some holes she left.

So back to the upside down and backwards compliment, I’m arrogant. What was my dad saying to me that day? He compared me to him and still how is that a compliment? Well it comes down to this, my dad raised me to believe that what I am going to accomplish in life has a great deal to do with what I put into it combined with the promises God has already laid out for me. When I believe that God has called me to something greater and I work for it, well then that’s what’s going to happen. Nothing’s going to stop me. Arrogance is one for it.

I believe I can be the top of the top of the field in which I plan to go. Not only that but I won’t stop till I get there. God didn’t call me to the middle; He called me to the top. I can’t do it all today and that’s not what I want. Here at the bottom though, I will take one step at a time. Sometimes I will have to stop and catch my breath, but I’m heading all the way up.

The funny thing is I’m not a goal oriented person. I’m a journey person. That, of course, drives my goal driving husband up the wall. I’m always asking him to stop and enjoy now. We’ll get there when we get there, but enjoy now! But in the end, I do have goals. I do want to go to the top. BUT, I don’t have to just go there. My husband always has us moving to the goal. I make us stop and catch our breath, look around and enjoy where we are right now.

So how on earth does a “journey” person get to the top? One step at a time…