QUILTS

We are a quilt-loving family.  My Granny loved to sew and we have an abundance of them. 

No really…

 This is my formal dining room armoire where normal people would store fine china…

I keep a stash of a dozen or so quilts here for easy access on family television night. 

(There are only four of us, mind you.) 

 

But seriously…upstairs, downstairs, in practically every room and on every bed, you will find quilts.  We are a “comfy-casual” family and it is common to see a child walking around the house with a quilt slung over their shoulders, wrapping themselves in softness. 

Actually, now that I think about it, we may have a slight obsession with quilts.

Don’t tell me your bookshelves aren't crammed with another 10 quilts.  It’s normal, right?  What is better than grabbing a book and a quilt (or three) and snuggling down somewhere cozy for a nice long read?

 

I love the texture and patterns of quilts.  Some in my collection have scraps of material that I recognize from outfits my granny sewed for us grandkids (all four of us girls until a decade after my birth brought about her first and only grandson).  Holding a quilt is like looking back in time and remembering my childhood.  I like to rub my fingers across the seams.  Some were hand quilted by my beloved Granny and many were machine sewn (or the quilting was hired out as she became too old to see well and arthritis began to cripple her hands).  Each quilt holds special memories for me.  My Granny was one of my confidants in life.  She knew more truths about my life than most.  We shared long talks and several secrets.  She loved me unconditionally and I loved her deeply.  She was ornery and she had a wonderful sense of humor.  I miss her and think of her often.  She passed away last year while I was with Tim in Houston preparing for radiation treatments.  I wasn’t able to be with her when she left this earth, but I know she knew the depths of my love and respect for her.  And now, as I curl up in one of the quilts, knowing that her hands have touched and created each seam…I feel comfort.   

This is me with Granny.

Last Christmas, there was a very real possibility that my husband would not be celebrating with us.  I desperately wanted our children to have gifts from their father under the tree.  Not just a gift “tagged” from him, but something more personal.  Something they could physically cling to in the years to come.  And so, typical to my nature, I began planning ahead, sorting through Tim’s closet last summer and pulling shirts that had special memories or meanings to us.  I delivered these shirts to my mom and asked her to make them into a quilt for each of the kids.

And on Christmas morning, I was blessed beyond measure to witness these exchanges between our precious children and my amazing husband.

 

A quilt is not unlike an overview of a time period in our lives.  As we look back over the years past we can see God’s faithful hand meticulously sewing each piece of cloth together.  Some pieces are scraps from someone else’s discarded pile and some are beautiful and vibrant selections of cloth, but all of the pieces are necessary and come together to make an amazing story that, when we allow it, will provide peace and comfort. 

God is always at work in our lives. 

He uses our past and our present to prepare us for our future.  He places special people in our lives to help us navigate the difficult times and celebrate the good seasons with.  In this analogy, I view God as the sewer, carefully selecting each cloth to bind together.  I view Jesus as the threads that hold each cloth tightly to one another.  And I view the individual strips of cloth as friends, family and experiences that have shaped us into who we each are today. 

What a beautiful quilted story my life has been because God chose to join me together with my parents and siblings and eventually my husband and own children.  And what a blessing each and every friend (new and old) has been as they have surrounded and supported us during these past 20 months.  God promises to make beauty from ashes, and I dare say that He already has begun the process.  He is good and I am blessed. 

Home Responsibilities Don't Take Breaks....

Today it hit me that I used to keep a big home and the 1.3 acres with 7 large flower beds and pool area immaculate (as in show room ready all day everyday) while cooking no less than two meals a day for my family and volunteering at the kids school, teaching Bible studies (on keeping the home no less), working part time, training for half marathons and attending BSF.

 

I didn't do these things for the purpose of "show", I did them to honor my God's commands in Titus and to exemplify the Proverbs 31 woman described in Scripture. I did it with joy. It was my "job" and a small way I could support and respect my husband, his amazing work ethic and the comforts his hard work had provided through God's blessings.

 

And today.......

 

I barely got 2 loads of laundry done, the downstairs vacuumed and the stairway woodwork dusted. Only one meal was "homemade" for my children (because cereal doesn't count as homemade even though they poured it themselves ) and that meal was 30 minutes late! I did get a few miles of running in with the oldest (and by "with", clearly I mean way, far behind him....way far) after we helped with a service project at the school. 

 

But I am whooped! Totally whooped. 

 

Lately, if you show up unannounced at my door, there is a greater chance that there will be a pile of laundry on the couch or on the folding station in the laundry room (unfolded, mind you) than not. I would bet that at least 2 of the 3 beds will not be made and at least one glass will be left out on the kitchen island from breakfast (at LEAST). And let's just all pretend that my measly four itty bitty flower beds don't have weeds growing in them and instead are full of beautiful fall pansies. Haha I miss the old me! Which made me think that my family probably does too.

And while I am pretty sure God understands my current stress level and emotional instability (be afraid, be very afraid), it doesn't change His Scriptures, nor does it change how they apply to my life. 

 

OUCH! 

 

So it seems I've got a little work to do. Time to step up my game again. Just as soon as I finish perusing facebook. LOL

Miracles

We hear often, “God is still a God of miracles, don’t give up hope.”  And the sweet people who share these words with us mean well and are speaking truth. 

God IS still in the miracle-making business. 

He delights over His children and their genuine prayers. {2 Samuel 22:20 NLT, Proverbs 15:8 MSG}

Can God heal Tim?  YES!  Will God heal Tim?  YES!  Will that healing come on this earth?  IT STILL COULD…

…and it is okay if it doesn’t. 

This is our family’s testimony. 

That we are accepting of God’s perfect will in our lives, regardless of whether or not things work out the way we desperately long for them to.  We have prayed fervently for healing and we have believed it will come.  It has not yet, and barring a super natural, God-sized, miracle, it most likely will not occur until Tim leaves this earthly body.  Hear me now; I still believe with every fiber of my being that God can heal Tim on this earth.    

But, may I be so bold as to share something a little deeper?

Friends, as much as I want a miracle healing for my Tim here on this earth, I do not want to be blind to the miracles God IS performing in our lives while we wait for the healing to come; whether the healing is earthly or heavenly.

Do you hear me?

God has miraculously kept Tim free from the horrendous and vile pain that should be accompanying this cancer battle. 

God has miraculously kept me from having a complete nervous and mental breakdown (for reals, people…this is ONLY by the grace of God).

God has miraculously comforted our children and given them the strength and stamina to participate in life, maintain their school studies and compete in cross country.

God has miraculously limited me to a single illness over the past 20 months as I have cared for Tim!

God has miraculously given Tim and us the mental fortitude to keep doing the next right thing.

God has miraculously enabled Tim’s body to stay with us longer than the medical world anticipated.

God has sweetly and miraculously blessed us with the ability to maintain our sense of humor through this journey.  (Oh how we have so desperately needed the daily laughter to fill our home!)

God is in the miracle-making business all right, even when it isn’t THE miracle on the to-do list that we have meticulously made for Him!  Just because we don’t get what we ask for, doesn’t mean God isn’t working miracles.

Please don’t mistake our preparations for what is expected to come next as lack of faith, or us giving up hope.  Quite the opposite is true.  Our HOPE lies in Jesus Christ {Romans 8:24-30}.  He is the anchor to our souls {Hebrews 6:19}.  His promise is that He will never leave us in this journey {Deuteronomy 31:8}.        

So will you join our family in keeping our eyes open and focused on our Savior as we rejoice in the miracles He has chosen to bless us with?  We accept His perfect wisdom and discretion in His miracle making.  We are trying our hardest to not question the “Why” of it all and to REST in His peace.  We are grateful.  We are eager to see more blessings of modern day miracles as He continues to work in and through our lives.  We don’t want to miss giving thanks for a single blessing that is poured out from heaven onto us.  We like to call it having our “Blessing Goggles” on. 

Lord, our hearts desire that we may stay focused on You and Your amazing blessings and miracles regardless of what our future holds!

Baldness Reality {a hospital journal entry from the wee hours of March 19, 2013}

 

Last night I was scrolling through my hospital journal and I found this entry.  Fresh tears fell once more.   

 

How can lack of hair make such a difference?  I kiss his bald head goodnight, crawl onto my cot and lay still, listening until I know he is asleep.  Then the tears slide down my cheeks and drip onto my pillowcase. 

There is something about the baldness that rips at my heart when he is in his hospital bed. 

He looks smaller.

He looks older.

He looks more frail.

He looks scared.

His bright blue eyes seem to pierce my soul as if to say, "capture this memory, for the end is near".  I lie awake in the wee hours of the morning after a mere nap during the long night.  Listening to the whimpering in his sleep and his uneven breathing.  Wanting to be here to reassure him when he briefly wakes up confused and restless. 

Reality is a cold slap across my face.  The past 13 days have been our closest to normal we have had in a long time....and I almost forgot.

Forgot that he has only been given months to live. 

Forgot that this chemo is not a cure but a prolonging of life.

Forgot that he will not grow old beside me.

Forgot that I will be responsible to lead our children into adulthood without him.

My heart aches so deeply that I literally feel physical pain and struggle to catch my breath through the silent sobs.

I read that journal entry and a flood of memories burst forth.  So many sleepless  days and nights I have spent watching him sleep in a hospital bed.  Oh so very many.  This journal entry was from March of 2013.  It is October now, and my man is still here beside me.  With the chemotherapy treatments stopped, he is ever so slowly growing back in the hair on his head and face.  We celebrate the baby eyelashes and new peach fuzz atop his head.  But more than anything, we celebrate the gift of time. 

I wouldn't trade the past 7 months of "extra time" with my Tim for all the sleep in the world.  What a blessing it has been to be by his side during the treacherous journey through chemotherapy, living my wedding vows out loud to the love of my life. 

It hurts. 

It is the hardest of hards. 

But I am grateful to my God for it......this gift of time.  Even as it slips away.

"So teach us to number our days, that we may present to You a heart of wisdom." ~Psalm 90:12     

    

The Reason Behind the Blog Name

Where's the "Easy Button"????

Receiving the doctor’s call saying “it’s cancer” in February 2012 was hard.  Having to share the news with Tim was even harder.  Juggling the scheduling of local specialists versus MD Anderson while trying to “act normal” on our family ski vacation was difficult.  Trying to keep the stress from affecting our children was impossible.  The constant travel back and forth to Houston and eventual relocation for radiation therapy was beyond mind-boggling.  The sleepless nights, the multiple spreadsheets of medications, the exercises and the therapies were tough to manage.  Hearing the radiation did not kill the cancer was devastating.  Walking the dark months of massive surgery with multiple major complications was excruciating.  Learning the cancer had returned (and so quickly) knocked the breath out of us.  Navigating 10 rounds of intensive chemotherapy and the 13 weeks in the hospital that resulted from it were exhausting.  Watching our emergency savings dwindle away due to the mountain of medical bills has been terrifying.  Deciding enough is enough and choosing to live the final time treatment-free was brave, but still emotionally draining.  Putting the final preparations together for Tim’s Celebration of Life service is surreal.   

 

And now…….

 

We are left to experience the process of dying.  And it stinks.  And it doesn’t seem fair.  And there is no “easy” button.  When the time comes, we want an easy button for Tim to press and immediately be in the presence of God, whole again and without disease or worry.  We think he has earned this and deserves it.  It doesn’t matter what we think, the easy button does not exist and the process must be endured.  And so we walk this path with broken hearts, weary minds and crushed dreams. 

 

We lay it all…..

all the “hardness” of it,

at the feet of Jesus along with our crumpled, exhausted, earthly bodies. 

 

And He says……

 

“I KNOW”

 

He knows what it is like to face hard things {Luke 4:1-13; Matthew 27:26-31}.  He knows what it is like to suffer a death that feels unfair and undeserved (for His truly was {2 Corinthians 5:21}).  He knows what it is like to mourn for a lost loved one (He wept for his dear friend, Lazarus {John 11:35}).  He knows what it is like to wish for the “EASY” button (for He Himself asked of God for the cup to pass from Him if it was at all possible {Matthew 26:39}).

 

He also knows what it is like to be victorious over death {1 Corinthians 15:55}.  He knows what it is like to walk the streets of gold in heaven and to be in the presence of the Most High God {Luke 22:69; Hebrews 8:1; Psalm 110:1}.  He knows what it is like to be free from suffering {John 19:30}.  He knows and He is preparing a place for those who love and trust Him that we may also know these things for ourselves {John 14:1-3}.

 

Thank You, Lord, for KNOWING and for LOVING us in our difficulties.  You never fail to meet us right where we are.  You are God, YOU ARE GOOD, forever Faithful One.  Even if the healing doesn’t come on this earth, it WILL come in Your holy presence.  We are grateful that You are real and You are relatable and You are sovereign.  Although You don’t provide an “easy button”, You are true to Your promises of Scripture that You will conform us more into Your likeness when we face tribulations and remain focused on You.  Lord, our eyes are on You and when we look away, please remind us of Your presence so that we may correct our focus.  This season is HARD.  Thank You, that You know the depths of our pain, sorrow and frustration.  Thank you for Your perfect love.  Thank You, Father, for your offer of salvation through faith in Your Son, Jesus Christ.  Thank You that we don’t have to do anything or strive to be perfect enough to earn this gift, but that it is offered to us freely through Your amazing grace.  Amen.      

Will Cancer Define Our Children's Childhood? (another sleepless hospital night journal entry)

When we began this journey of parenting young children while battling cancer, our kids were in 2nd and 3rd grade and our foster (hoping to be adopted) daughter was 1. This was in 2009.

It was the first time we were told Tim was dying.

The diagnosis was a very rare form of leukemia caused by the chemotherapy used on his Hodgkins Lymphoma back in 1987.

Our vow to each other was that cancer would NOT be allowed to define the lives of our children. We couldn't avoid it touching them, we couldn't side step the horrors they would endure watching their Daddy suffer, but we could refuse to let cancer take over.

The leukemia specialist at MD Anderson counseled us on our future, it was going to be very ugly and the end was coming quickly. We returned back to our home and after much prayer, relinquished our foster daughter to another foster home where her half-brothers were residing. This was devastating for us and we mourned deeply.

Then came the call 6 weeks later that a mistake had been made and the leukemia diagnosis was wrong. Yes, Tim had leukemia, but it would not progress aggressively and he would be able to live with it. We were to monitor things closely and would begin treatment once the symptoms became worse than the anticipated side effects the chemotherapy would cause.

The following two years were spent wondering with every head cold or ache "was this the leukemia waking up". And then came the persistent sore throat in the Fall of 2011. We were totally caught off guard by the throat cancer diagnosis and were once again thrown into crisis management mode.

I guess it will be years before we will really comprehend the impact of cancer on our children's lives. I pray we have been successful in our attempts to not let it define their childhood.

I fear it is defining more of their lives than we would prefer.

We are trying.

We support every extra curricular activity they are interested in. We make sure they are able to accept invitations from friends to various events. We go and we do, even when as parents, we are too tired. We have walked this road for 17 months now, more than five of which have been spent in hospitals separated from our children.

Their father is terminal.

It is foolish of us to think this cancer is not defining their childhood on many levels. So now we find ourselves discussing how to make the impact of this cancer be filled with positive, character building moments. We still refuse to lock ourselves away and dwell on the inevitable negatives of this battle. We must continue living our lives to the fullest. Here are some lessons we have seen our children learn that are defining their childhood......

1. Empathy
We were a rather active family before this cancer. We have slowly become very sedentary as Tim's energy levels and physical abilities have diminished. I am proud of our kids for being empathetic to his limitations and "just hanging out on the couch with dad". They are keenly aware that time with dad has changed, is limited and yet remains what matters most.

2. Flexibility I don't speak of this often, but the reality is, this cancer has caused a lot of changes in our lives. We had to sell our dream home that we painstakingly custom built seven years before. This was their childhood home filled with so many amazing memories. A home where the very foundation has Scripture written on it in every room. Scripture specifically prayed for each family member. A home that radiated peace and calm. Halls filled with joy and laughter. A super long driveway for racing on or shooting hoops, a large yard and connected woods for exploring and beautiful swimming pool that filled our summer days. We are learning that although some of us still miss "home" and haven't quite fully settled into the new place after a year of living here......we can be flexible in life and make home be anywhere God brings us to. And we can praise Him even during loss; finding blessings in change. They have learned to roll with the flow as we unexpectedly find ourselves back in the hospital on a moments notice. (We are actually back in the hospital as of yesterday due to a fever, low blood pressure and dehydration. We will be here for several days.)

3. Compassion With the stress of being in constant medical crisis mode at home, the kids have learned to be more compassionate with each other and with others. They have learned to extend grace even when they don't feel like it. We see them looking past situations and caring for people. This will serve them well all the days of their lives.

4. Dignity and Bravery Our children go to school whether Daddy is in the hospital or not. They walk the halls with their heads held high and a smile on their faces. They have worked diligently to maintain straight A's despite the extra responsibilities and stress they now have in our home. They have watched their Daddy bravely battle to remain by their side for as long as he can. I see Tim's bravery in both of them. They do not use cancer as an excuse to be less than who God has called them to be. They are dignified. I am so proud of the God I see in each of them (including their Daddy).

5. Responsibility and Initiative As parents, Tim and I have always had high expectations of our children. They were capable of doing their own laundry and scouring their own toilets by the age of third grade. Over these past few months I have observed both children taking more initiative in helping around the house. If they see the dishwasher is finished running, they empty and refill it without being asked. If they notice I forgot to water the flowers or take out the trash, they step in. It's little things like this that show me they have been watching their Daddy's servant heart in our home over the years and are now putting his example into practice in their own lives. These are skills that will guide them both in their careers and future marriages.

So yes, cancer is beginning to define the childhood of our precious children......but I am praying it will be defined for the better. God can and will make something beautiful from the ashes of this season we are in. He is so faithful!