Archives

Riding the Crash

Feb14

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAMy oldest son is learning to play the drums, and at first I had mixed feelings. I’m sure every parent who has a child learning a new instrument can relate. I’m glad he’s learning something new, and we’re thankful for the generous friend who loaned us the beautiful, full-size drum set. To be honest, I think it’s cool he wants to play the drums, and I’ve wanted him to learn for a while now, but some days….

Last week, I was enjoying the quiet, peaceful house when, boom, boom, crash, he started to play. I would have enjoyed it more if I could have heard the song he was playing along with, but all I heard were the booms and crashes. Pretty soon, he was playing a continuous crash of cymbals. “Why is he keeping the beat on the cymbals?” I wondered. I was pretty sure he was playing it wrong. Later, I told him, “wow, there were a lot of cymbals in that song.” “Oh yeah”, he said, “that’s how they play it, they ride the crash through the whole chorus.” So it sounded like a lot of noise to me, but it even had a name.

That phrase stuck with me for days. It reminded me of I Corinthians 13:1 (hcsb)

“If I speak human or angelic languages
but do not have love,
I am a sounding gong or a clanging cymbal.”
There are times when I’m teaching (okay lecturing) my kids, but if I don’t do it with love, I’m a clanging cymbal. In other words, I’m riding the crash. The times I’m grumpy or impatient, I don’t take time to listen, I’m not sensitive to other’s feelings, I’m riding the crash. When I think of it this way, I catch myself pretty quickly now. “Oh boy, I’m riding the crash today”. It’s a good self-check; am I saying this with love, or am I just a lot of noise?

The Gift of Time

Jan19

DSC_0144-1     Time. It goes so fast, and there never seems to be enough of it. I’m sure this is why I like to “multi-task”. It’s a nice way of saying that I might be one place physically, but another mentally. I confess, I do this with my kids all the time. I’m trying to get something done, two or three of them are trying to talk at the same time, or one of their stories is going on a little too long. Meanwhile, I’m mentally somewhere else. “Um-hm” I say to make them think I’m listening. But lately, I’m making an effort to be more aware, more present in the moment. I don’t usually like to make “resolutions”, so I will call this a decision to be intentional with my time.

Am I just spending my time, or am I investing it? Am I rushing through my day just trying to get things done, or do I stop and connect, bless, or sacrifice for the benefit of someone else. Life is fragile, fleeting, and precious, and I am thankful for all of the time that I have been given. So I want to spend my time investing in something every day that has meaning. I will do what is most important, not just what is most urgent. And today, I will stop, look into the other person’s eyes, and really listen to what they are saying.

 

 

I Am Broken: when life leaves stains and scars

Sep28

There I stood, anticipating something good…wearing white shorts. Boom! Totally unexpected, the frozen yogurt machine blew chocolate polka dots all over me. I was a mess. I couldn’t wait to go clean up, bleach it out, and look like I had it all together.

One day, my daughter brought a piece of her artwork home from school. It was a beautiful, colorful picture of flowers that she had painted. There was one flaw that bothered her. On the clean, white background was a splash of brown watercolor paint. As I looked for the white out and prepared to blot it out, she told me the story of the boy next to her who had splashed paint onto her perfect picture. As she described the scene, I imagined the cheerful, animated little boy painting and splashing next to her. The more I heard, the more we smiled. I didn’t want to blot out the spot anymore. The imperfection reminded me of my daughter’s story of creating her picture. But not every stain or scar reminds us of a happy event.

Scars? I have quite a few. They are the result of scary, difficult times in my life. They remind me of things that I wish I didn’t have to endure. I have scars on the inside too. The result of wounds and events from the past that I sometimes wish had never happened. We often want to hide these imperfections and the events that created them. But they tell a story. Mine also remind me of the times my family and friends held my hand during  medical procedures, the times my church prayed with me when I faced cancer and rejoiced at the news that it had not spread.  I also remember late night phone calls and words of encouragement during the dark days of divorce and years of single parenthood. And woven through it all is the story of  the faithfulness of God who gave me strength to go on.

When we are honest and real about our imperfections and struggles, we can begin to heal and move on. If we project an image of perfection, we are unapproachable. But, when we share our stories of struggle, mistakes and healing, God can use them to give hope and encouragement to others.

“And now I still got bruises,

And scars don’t lie

But they’re the proof that

I got a second chance at life”

Into The Light – Matthew West

Relay for Life

May28
Relay For Life Walk
I had the honor of being asked to speak at this years Relay for Life for the American Cancer Society at Skyline High school.  The weather didn’t cooperate that day, but the field was packed with people willing to brave the wind and rain to support this event.  I was impressed with the dedication and sacrifice of the many people who raised money and helped organize the event.  I was also impressed with how many high school students were participating and fully committed to the all day, all night walk.I was prepared to speak, but also had a touch of nervous energy.
Me Speaking at Relay For Life
I am certainly not a public speaker, but when I got up to share, I felt calm and confident.  I knew that God had prepared the way and would speak through me in a way that I could not do on my own. I made detailed notes and brought them with me, but when I began to speak, the words just flowed naturally. I shared my story of going through cancer diagnosis and treatment three times and talked about ways that they could help others who are dealing with cancer. I was honored to be able to share at such a special event and moved by the other stories of survival, loss and hope represented there.

Luminaries

Asked to Speak

Apr30

I was recently asked to speak for an auction to benefit the American Cancer Society. It is an annual event that the employees of the city of Issaquah put on each year as their fundraiser for their Relay for Life team. I wasn’t too nervous, since I have shared my story before. I added some medical details to my story so that they could appreciate how much someone like me has benefitted from the research and medical advances that their fundraising supports.

When I got there, I saw a parking lot full of city utility trucks and police cars. I went inside and was slightly intimidated by the crowd. I saw policemen,  firefighters and utility workers, people from parks and recreation and city council, and even the mayor. I hoped that my story would be appropriate for this crowd.

I stood up front and shared not knowing what impact my story might have, but I was thankful for a few people looking back at me with an encouraging smile.  Afterwards, several people came up and thanked me for speaking.  A few of them were dealing with cancer in their immediate family, and I knew that my story had encouraged them.  I was also able to give some practical advice and resources.  I left feeling very glad that I had stepped out and risked being uncomfortable in order to help others.

The Hardest Conversation

Feb15

When we found out about my cancer recurrence last August I told my teenagers right away. I wanted them to understand what was going on and I knew I would need their help in the months to come as I started my treatment. For a long time, I did not tell my 8 year old daughter and 5 year old son. I knew that once I told them it would change their world forever. I wanted to let them stay in the sweet innocence of childhood.

Over time, the stress of my cancer treatments and the emotional toll of the diagnosis on the whole family began to build.  My little girl wasn’t sure why, so she talked to her friends and tried to figure out what was going on.  The tension also showed up as increased fighting between her and her brothers and sister.  After a couple of her friends’ moms called me and told me what my daughter was telling their girls, I knew it was time.  Even though it would be the hardest conversation I had ever had with my little ones, I wanted them to hear the truth from me, not from another friend or an overheard conversation.

I held her on my lap while her dad sat across from us.  I told her gently and carefully about my diagnosis and treatments.  I began by reviewing the last two rounds I had fought with cancer to make sure she knew my history, and so that she would know that I have faced this before and we would get through this together again.  I didn’t give too much detail, or go into information about my stage or prognosis.  I wanted to reassure her that we would do everything possible, and that sometimes I wouldn’t feel well.  I told her that her grandparents and older siblings knew, and encouraged her to ask questions or just talk to someone anytime.

She was very quiet, but I saw a little tear in her eyes.  I had to hold back and speak calmly so I didn’t upset her.  I am amazed that I was able to talk without breaking down and crying, but I have had many moments that I have done that in private. I know that she is a thinker, so she will have questions for me later.  For now, it has brought a surprising amount of peace to our home, and now I can honestly explain what my appointments are for and why I need to rest.  I see her take more responsibility around the house and try to do more chores and help me out.  Her relationship with her sister has also improved.  We are facing this together!

The Next Stage

Aug19

In July 2010 we went on a family vacation on Whidbey Island for the 4th of July. We spent the whole week in a house with my husband, kids and many members of my extended family. Other family members made day trips to visit us. It was a special time of relaxing, talking, laughing, and watching the kids play with their cousins. During that time, my right hip began to hurt. I figured it was from the long walks on the sandy beach and maybe even the lumpy bed I was sleeping in. But when we returned home, the pain continued and was also in my lower spine and tailbone area. I had learned to ignore back pain over the years, because after four children and turning 40 it’s just part of the deal. But this was different. Why would my hip hurt? I hadn’t done anything that would injure or stress it.

I finally went to an orthopedist who took a quick x-ray and couldn’t find any reason why it was hurting, and prescribed physical therapy. As you can imagine, the prospect of a cancer recurrence has hovered over me, and every pain and lump over the years makes me wonder. But everything has always turned out fine. This time, I wasn’t reassured. The pain made no sense. I hadn’t done anything strenuous or injured myself recently. In August I had my annual checkup with my oncologist, who has been my doctor for the last 14 years, through all of my treatments. She sent me for a bone scan. When the doctor called me personally, I knew it wasn’t good news. She wanted more tests, a CT scan and biopsy. But I knew that these were just to confirm our worst fear, that the cancer had spread.

My husband was at work when I called and told him that the doctor wanted a biopsy. He was silent for a minute and then I could hear the fear in his voice. He realized how serious my situation was, and came home from work as quickly as possible. That Friday we spent the day at the hospital for the bone biopsy. My husband told me when I woke up that one of the pastors from church had been there, but I was asleep so he left. I quickly asked him to go after him and bring him back to pray with me.

The results showed that I was now at the next stage – stage IV. The cancer had spread to my bones, and two small spots in my lung. Every day I woke up and realized again that my worst fears had come true. The amazing part is that I was not afraid for myself, I was mostly upset for what I know my family will have to go through.  We told my two older kids so that they could understand what we were dealing with. I told them that no mater what happens, the most important thing to me is that they know God and live their lives fulfilling the purpose he has for them. I told them that no one knows for sure how long they have here on earth, but we need to make the most of the time we have and make a difference for others.