Moving Out

Just a few hours ago my husband and my two daughters moved out of the house we lived in for the past 11 years.  In this house, my girls have grown up.  When we moved in my youngest was almost 2 and my oldest was 4.  We've spent years putting little girl toys and pretty things in their rooms and just as many years taking them out as they got older and wanted to be more grown up.  We've spent hours together at the dinner table, looking out the window at the waving trees, the field of corn, and the trains that greeted us many times throughout the day. We created an outdoor space that was oasis-like.  We could sit on our patio and listen to the birds sing their songs and the trees emulate the sound of the ocean waves.  We planted flowers and cared for them. We attempted a garden year after year and never fully succeeded. We played hide and seek among the 3 stories and 15 different rooms in the dark.  We shot each other with Nerf dart guns in battle.  It was most advantageous to stand at the top of the stairs and shoot at the other team trying to sneak up.

For 6 of the years we lived there, my neighbors were my students.  I would ride down the road on my pink cruiser and get waves and shouts from my students like I was a celebrity.  My girls made friends with the neighbor kids.  There were summers when the 4 of us rode down the street on our long-board skateboards.  We were certain we were the only thirty-something year-olds riding skateboards in our little town.  We believe we started a skateboarding trend.  All the kids are doing it now.

I experienced the onset of both of my illnesses in this house.  I got better in this house.  I turned 40 and had my 20th anniversary in this house. I changed jobs.  My husband changed jobs.  I gained relationships.  I visited with friends.  Family visited.  We had birthday parties, Christmases and just plain get-togethers.  Each year on the 4th of July we sat in our front yard as the tiny town parade went right by our house.  We waved at our friends as they rode by on horses.

I could go on.  This house has served us well.  It has been a safe place for us to grow and become the amazing people we are, but its time is up for us.  It is time for it to be someone else's home.  We aren't sad as we leave because each and every memory and moment will be with us forever.  We are thankful.  We are thankful for each day, each week, each month and each year.  We are thankful for the difficult and easy times, the good and the bad.  We are thankful for the journey we spent in this house, but now its time for something new.  Its time for the next part of the journey.  We say good-bye and thank you.  We are hopeful for the future and don't regret a moment.

Pink Story: Healing

Seventeen days after my surgery, I felt like I was still trying to heal. I had tired days where I struggled to keep my eyes open.  I noticed that I was healing and getting a little stronger each day, but I still felt weak.  A point would come in my day when I would have to stop because I was starting to ache; however, I make it quite a while before that began to happen.

Before the surgery people told me, “You’ll be up and about right away.”  I was able to be up, but it hurt or I was tired.  I stayed completely down for 5 days after the surgery.  I stayed partially down for 3 more days.  I paced myself for the next 5 days, then I went back to work.  I was still trying to take it easy.  I had to wear a bra all the time.  I had to stay warm.  I couldn’t stretch out my arm fully, lift anything heavy, or bump into anything.

It’s okay that the healing seemed to be going slowly, I simply wished the people hadn’t told me that I would be up and about right away so I didn’t think I wasn’t healing quickly enough or that I was weak because I still hurt.  Everyone heals and recovers at different rates.  As the days, weeks and years progressed, I would discover that I would do very little like everyone else.  

It is definitely a reminder to not compare our situations to other’s situations.  We can empathize and encourage, but everyone’s journey will be completely different even if the events seem the same.

Thank You

Dear Reader,

Thank you for taking time out of your day to read this.  I appreciate each moment that you pause from your busy schedule to read about the lessons I've learned, my observations and my thoughts.  I will be away tomorrow and unable to make a post so I thought I would let you know that I know you stop to read what I have to say and I appreciate it beyond words.

I don't think I'm any different from most people.  I feel all the same things everyone else feels.  The only special thing I have is that I like to write about it and I like to think through the processes that make me feel the way I do or the events that make things happen.  I hope with each word that I can encourage you and give you hope for the things that come after you in your life.

Thank you for pausing.  Thank you for sharing this blog with others.  Thank you for being aware of the people around you and taking an extra moment to see them.  Thank you for encouraging me by checking out my page each day.  Thank you for listening.

You are precious to me and I am daily thankful for you.  You are special and unique and have gifts to offer those around you.  Take a moment today to give of yourself in a way that is unique to who you are. Give a smile, a word of encouragement, a little extra space, a cup of coffee, give whatever you feel you can.  Know that your gift was precious and special and worth the world.

Thank you again my friends.

Pink Story: Less Burdens

There are plenty of extra burdens that come when you are diagnosed with cancer.  There is the stress of surgery, the unknown results of treatment.  The constant scheduling of different doctors for appointment after appointment, the medical bills, and trying to continue to be a wife, mother, daughter, friend, and coworker to the myriad of people in my life.  As I got closer to the end of November, I felt the weight of each and every burden sitting on my shoulders.  If I thought about it, I probably would have said I felt a little shorter.  One or all of these things were on my mind constantly.  I’m surprised I slept.

One day at the end of November, many of these burdens were lifted.  I give God credit because they were out of my control.  First, I called the insurance company and spoke to the most wonderful lady.  She was very kind and explained everything to me in a way I could understand.  She was patient with all my questions as she walked me through each insurance description and medical bill I had received in the mail.  She was a true blessing.  God led me right to her to help decrease my stress.  

The second burden that was lifted happened when I called my mom.  I had to officially tell her I wouldn’t be coming to my uncle’s funeral.  I had waited to see if I would start feeling better to make it official.  Her burden lifting statement: “I didn’t expect you to come.”  She already knew I should have stayed home and so did my aunt.  Oh, the relief!  

I want to remember how valuable these simple acts are to relieving a person’s burden.  You never know what they might be going through or struggling with.  The simplest act of graciousness can make all the difference.

Earthquakes

Today I explored mountain ranges near Yellowstone and observed the geology that makes our land forms change.  Everything I saw was beautiful.  There were regal, peaked, snow-capped mountain ranges reaching to the clouds.  In between the ranges were lush valleys with meandering rivers and nice homes nestled in groves of trees.  Walls of rocks were every color and texture telling a 10,000 year story.  At the end of the day there is one main thing that causes this beauty, earthquakes.

Earthquakes push the land together and it forms awe inspiring mountain ranges. Earthquakes pull the land apart and create lush valleys for us to build our homes.  Earthquakes reveal rock that was hiding under the surface. Earthquakes crack and move the surface of the earth, but over time, the land settles in, the grass and trees start growing again and the evidence of the earthquake is only visible to the trained eye.

My cancer and MS were earthquakes that rocked my life.  They tore at the scene I was used to seeing. They ripped apart the life I had become familiar with.  They took away my security.  It has been over 4 years since my cancer diagnosis and over 2 years since my MS diagnosis.  I am already noticing that I am able to settle into this new landscape.  Only the most observant person will know that I had cancer or have MS.  I emit beauty amidst the devastation that tried to tear me apart.

I've never compared my diseases to an earthquake before today's journey.  I like the analogy.  It paints a beautiful picture of how the devastation, once allowed to heal, can create beauty and wonder.  The pain isn't gone, it is remembered, but it puts off a fragrance that is inviting and encouraging.  The scars are there, but they are hidden by new beauty of healing and growth that wouldn't have been there if it hadn't been for the earthquake.

Pink Story: A Weary Day

There came a day when I simply cried.  I cried in front of my husband.  I cried in my office, I cried in bed, I cried throughout the night.  I cried while I wrote.  The mountain ahead was too big. Radiation was coming and I was still healing from surgery. I was scared of it.  Then the bills started coming in.  I couldn’t carry all of it.  I couldn’t carry the situation and the bills.  I couldn’t be strong enough for me and strong enough to stand up to the bill people. The cancer slogan is “survive.”  I didn’t like that word, I wanted to be victorious, but on this particular day, I simply wanted to survive.

I kept hearing the words, “I can’t do this!” streaming through my head.  Then I would immediately be reminded that in Him I can do all things.  I knew I was not alone, this was simply one of those moments when I was struggling to stand, when I wondered if I was strong enough. I knew I’d be okay, maybe tomorrow, maybe the next day, maybe even later that day, but right at that moment I was weak.  Praise God that when I am weak, He is strong.

Identifying Flowers

This week I am taking a Flowering Plants class.  We learned flower terminology and have spent the last two days identifying flowers in the mountains using a dichotomous key.  My favorite part is taking the flower apart and looking at how each piece is put together.

I've always enjoyed flowers.  They are colorful and pretty.  Now, as I walk by one, I am tempted to pick one up and study it closely.  Part of finding the name of the flower involves answering a number of questions about each flower.  In order to answer the questions, you have to study all the aspects of the flower first.  We have magnifying lenses that help us see the tiniest details.  We pull parts of the flower away from the others to study more fully.

Today we were given a seemingly common white flower to identify.  My first surprise came when I discovered that the center of the flower was actually over 20 tiny and complete flowers squished together.  They were surrounded by 4 white bracts that actually look like the petals of a flower. There was nothing common about this seemingly simple white flower.

As we continued to practice, we noticed that it was very difficult to answer the questions if we didn't first take a moment to study every aspect of the flower, its stem, and its leaves.  If we tried to identify it too soon, we would get frustrated and usually get it wrong.  We had to know it first.

As these words fall from my fingers, I am thinking of people.  How many times do we try to identify or label a person before we completely know all their parts?  How many times have we slapped a name on a person before discovering how they are put together?  Perhaps that annoying habit of theirs is something altogether different like those dozens of tiny flowers.  Perhaps when we look carefully at each part of that person, we will find something surprising and amazing.

Pink Story: Back to Work After Surgery

I made it through my first day back at work.  I didn't have a bad day, but I didn't have a victorious day either.

I felt isolated and alone.  I struggled to talk about myself and couldn't honestly answer how I was doing.  I ended up saying "okay."  It was as if the only choices to the "How are you?" question were good or bad so I said, "okay."  I realize now I could have said weary, scared, cautious, heavy, hanging in there, determined, strong despite my weakness, hopeful for full recovery, or any number of more intelligent and truthful answers. I kept judging whether the person asking really wanted to know and responded accordingly, when in reality, I should simply have answered honestly no matter what.  

When I did talk about it someone interrupted with their surgery story and I refused to compete in a conversation.  Nobody else has done that, interrupt with their own story.  I've met over a dozen people that have had breast cancer, they tell me they had it, but they don't regale their story.  The fact that they have gone through this is all I need.  All our stories are different. This person had an out-patient surgery, interjected my story with "Me too!" then continued talking about herself.  I felt isolated.  Knowing that I looked normal on the outside, but wasn't normal on the inside made me feel isolated.  Everybody looks at me and thinks I'm fine when really I'm falling apart.

Jazzy

I landed in the airport knowing that I would have to take a cab to the college.  I expected a line of cabs waiting outside just like  in my hometown airport.  I exited the airport to find an Uber driver and some hotel shuttle vans.  My heart sank.  I wasn't exactly sure what to do. I went back inside to either add the Uber App to my phone or to call a cab.  I wasn't sure what would be best.  I was definitely in uncharted territory.  Other passengers from my plane passed me by.  I was tempted to ask if anyone was going to the college, but I couldn't bring myself to ask a stranger for a ride.  I later found out that a fellow students was on that flight, was headed to the same dorm I was, and he also had to take a cab. However, since we weren't wearing name tags or carrying signs, we didn't discover that truth until we had both spent a couple meals worth on cab fare.

Just as I was about to dial the number for the cab company, a van pulled up with the familiar yellow taxi sign on the top.  A tall lady asked where I was going and assured me she could get me there.  I didn't let her take my backpack because in Washington DC, they charged extra if they touched your bags.  Later, I found out she wanted to take it because she wanted to help me.  It would not change my fare.  I felt a little badly for thinking the worst, but also knew I was using the only foreknowledge I had.

I settled into the back seat.  She showed me her fare.  She wanted me to know, but she didn't want to make a big deal about it.  She kindly asked me questions about what I was doing.  When I told her I was getting my Master's she praised me for my hard work and encouraged me to go for my PhD.  I can't imagine considering that right now.  She was adamant that if I can learn more, I should.

I discovered she originally came from Serbia.  She'd only been in the area for about a year, but she had spent a lot of time in Alaska working.  She was a hard worker, she was a business woman.  She was educated, and she was determined.  She started this cab company as her retirement. I enjoyed my conversation with her.  I enjoyed the connection.

I shared my blog with her in hopes she would read it.  Many of the things she believes are things I try to put words to.  I've found people like it when I put words to their deepest feelings, thoughts and beliefs.  It's kind of like drawing that perfect picture of the thing you see in your head.  She gave me a hug and her card.  If I ever need a ride, she will be the first one I call.  She knew how to use her job as a ministry.  She ministered to me.  She was simply a kind person who paid attention.

Ultimately all we need to do to make a person feel amazing is pay attention to them and genuinely care.  Thanks again for the ride and the conversation, Jazzy, you are a treasure.

Pink Story: Eye's Focus

Excerpt from Jesus Calling:

“Follow me one step at a time… You see huge mountains looming and you start wondering how you’re going to scale those heights… I will equip you thoroughly for that strenuous climb.  I will even give My angels change over you, to preserve you in all your ways.”

Perhaps this is why October moved so slowly.  I saw only large mountains ahead.  Each one was taller than the next.  Each one was covered in deep, cold snow.  The steep and slippery slope didn’t look inviting.  The mountains wanted to be left alone.  Because I didn’t know which of these mountains I would be climbing I kept my eyes down and focused on the path I was currently walking. I watched where my next step would go and nothing more.m I couldn’t consider climbing those mountains and since I didn’t know which one, I couldn’t handle being overwhelmed with wonder and worry.

Now that  I think I know which mountain is ahead I have started looking at the mountains instead of my path.  I’ve stopped focusing on my next step.  Because my eyes are looking ahead to the daunting journey, I have more fear and weariness than anything else. Nothing has changed except where I focus my eyes.

Strangers

Today I met and visited with strangers.  It was incredible.

Usually when I am out, I am with someone.  I am with one of my daughters or my husband or a friend or other family member.  If I go out alone, I am on an errand.  I don't travel alone and I don't eat out alone.  Today I did both of those things.

I know that many people do this regularly and are pros at it.  I'm not.  I'm 40 years old and even though I've imagined myself being a strong independent woman out in the world, it doesn't happen very often.

Today began with the plane ride.  I got on a plane to travel to my final destination to finish my master's degree.  On the way, I visited with a young lady on her way to visit friends in Panama City. She was going to be staying a month.  Unfortunately, she was supposed to go next month but had to leave a month early because one of her friends died.  I couldn't bring myself to make her talk about it more, but I thought that was sad, yet she knew that she would also find joy in spending time with her other friends.

I met another lady who was thrilled to be going on vacation to Jackson Hole.  It sounded like the break was welcome.  She was traveling with her family and would be gone a week.

I met a 9 month old little girl with eyes as blue as a clear lagoon and thick blond hair standing rebelliously on end.  She was learning to make noises, which to he,r was talking.  She made the most beautiful sound.  She said "da" in as many different ways and  in as many different tones as you could possible say it to tell her story.  She had a wonderful family.  They all loved each other and enjoyed being with each other.  She and her dad played peek-a-boo while we were landing.  All that giggling wasn't going to let a tear sneak out.

A lady named "Jazzy" took me to my final destination in her Yellow Cab.  She was incredible and cared about me.  We talked about family and life and I was no longer leery about riding in a cab.  Her story is much longer, she will get her own page. She changed the course of my day.

Finally, I met a lady named Trish.  We visited over a drink.  We were complete strangers talking about life and relationships and her upcoming wedding.  Trish gets her own page too.  I felt blessed to get to meet her.

I said goodbye to my family this morning and started on my journey alone.  At the end of my journey, I was impacted by at least 5 different people, they made a mark on my day and I will remember them. They made a mark on me and I will be affected by them.  After these encounters, I am thrilled to see who else I will meet and fellowship with over these next two weeks.

Pink Story: Christmas Cards

 It’s time to think about Christmas cards.  I started addressing envelopes.  I’m sending everyone a picture of my daughters from the Oregon coast this past summer.  They are sitting close together with colorful buoys in the background.  They have their arms around each other and it makes my heart melt.  

As I’m writing down people’s names I’m wondering if they know about what is going on with us.  I wonder if they want to know.  I wonder if their prayers and support would be helpful.  I wonder how I would tell them.  Many envelopes are sealed and ready to mail, but perhaps I’ll tell those that are unsealed.  I realize again how much I appreciate others spreading the word about my cancer, but at the same time I wonder if they are spreading the word?  Are they telling each other what is going on with me so I don’t have to?

Part of me wants to walk through this journey silently, but maybe that is selfish.  I would want to know about friends and family going through this.  Why is it so difficult for me to tell them?  Perhaps saying it still makes it too real.  It’s hard to believe that after all this time, I still am having a difficult time with the reality of this.  Perhaps it’s too fresh.  Perhaps I need time to step away from it and look back, then maybe I’ll be more willing to talk about it.  It’s sitting on me right now and I’m afraid to name it.  It might notice me more.  It might become louder than it is.  I’ll figure out what to do about telling people.  It’s my choice either way.  They’ll be okay whether I tell them or not.

Boxes

I've packed a lot of boxes of our possessions in the past few weeks.  I usually begin in a room and start putting like things into the boxes: items from my desk, food from the pantry, dishes, books.  At the end of packing every box there is always a space that I need to fill and no items that fit that category will fill it. Because of those odd shapes, shoes are with the sewing, books are with the dishes, and socks are with the spices.  The label on the outside of the box never includes everything that is inside.  It usually only describes the main things.

If we are boxes, we are definitely the ones with the hodgepodge of items.  Inside are the main parts of ourselves that the majority of people know about, but there are also those tiny parts of us that fit inside the nooks and crannies and in between the big parts.  When we look at each other we usually see the main parts, the parts that people talk about and willingly show, but we need to remember there are those hidden things in between that are also part of us, part of the box.

Some of my boxes are labeled "kitchen" and they will begin in the kitchen, but once we dig into it a little deeper, we'll find some books, maybe some shoes and probably someone's clothes.  Even though the box begins in the kitchen, parts of it belong in the living room and other parts belong in someone's bedroom closet.

We spend more time in places and some may think we belong there, but there are those other places that we belong just as much and aren't able to spend as much time so people don't think it's part of who we are.

Take a minute to discover all the things packed away in people's boxes before labeling them or placing them in the room you think you belong.

Pink Story: Back to Work

It’s been almost 2 weeks since my surgery.  I don’t feel that same heaviness on my body I have felt.  I feel like I can almost be normal with some caution.  Normal means go through the tasks of a day without having to take long breaks.  I realize the pain may never fully go away.  Its one of the mental battles I get to have on a daily basis.  This pain in my breast will probably be here to some extent for some time.

I’m going back to school tomorrow.  I’m not concerned I won’t make it through the day.  I’m concerned my adrenaline will kick into gear and I will push too far.  I fear I will make it through the day then be in extreme pain.  Teaching requires an intense amount of attention.  I have to know what each student is doing at all times, make sure they are on task which means getting them to do all the things they don’t want to do, be aware of what I am teaching, be aware of how the students are receiving the information, and monitor their practice to make sure they understand.  Typically, at the end of the day the adrenaline is still carrying me and I appear to be full of energy.  Once I get home, I crash with exhaustion.  This is how a day flows when I am healthy.  I’d prefer to be able to find a calm balance throughout the day and not fall back on adrenaline to survive.  This will give me an opportunity to try to learn to teach well without tapping into my adrenaline.  I don’t think I’ve ever done it, but I need to begin tomorrow.

I have found one one more example of something I’m going to need to change in order to stay healthy and strong.  I have to begin putting myself first and making wise choices to take care of me.

Balance

Today I realized that I actively strive to have balance in my life.  When I say balance, I don't mean everything is equal, I mean that I have peace.

We are preparing to move.  I could easily spend all day packing.  I am still finishing up my final project for my master's degree.  I could work on it all day.  Even if I spent a day on each of these things, I still wouldn't have them finished.  I could rush. I could stress.  None of that will do me any good.

Instead, I spent a few hours on my paper today.  I spent some time packing.  I spent some time with my family and I enjoyed time with friends.  I went to bed at a reasonable time.  I know that no amount of fretting or work will accomplish what needs to be done so instead, I keep away the stress by balancing all those tasks with moments that bring me peace.

Many years ago, my husband was a pastor.  He shared a message titled "Work to Rest."  Essentially he pointed out that the only thing that we are told to work for in the Bible is rest.  We need to protect ourselves from stress and anxiety.

I felt my heart racing today.  There were a number of different things causing it to race.  Most of which were me wondering or worrying about the next thing.   I was aware of each heartbeat.  I consciously calmed my breathing and took control of my thoughts.  I reminded myself that I am not ultimately in control and I can only take one step at a time.  I found a way to calm my heart and remembered how essential balance is.  I must be at peace.  I physically feel unsettled when there isn't peace.  Since I can't guarantee peace all the time, I choose balance between work and play so that I can remain at peace amidst the chaos and requirements of life.

Balance does not mean I give equal time to each item demanding my attention.  It means I work to maintain peace in my soul no matter what tries to steal it away.

Pink Story: Sad News

This event happened on November 23, 2012.

I am daily trying to do more.  I went Christmas shopping and made it until the fourth hour before I started getting really tired.  In the midst of my healing I received sad news.  My uncle died.  It was a complete surprise.  My Grandma should not be burying a son.  He was such a rock that everyone leaned on.  He was glue.  He struggled with plenty, but never let any of it show.  He was a big teddy bear.  When I was little I was afraid of him, he often had a big beard and he had a big voice. I could count on him to be the same all the time.  I could count on him to always be there.

I am thankful I spoke with him 2 days ago.  I happened to call my mom while he was in the room. I’m thankful we went up to visit everyone in June.  I’m thankful my girls knew him.  I still can’t believe he’s gone.  He is leaving behind a very large hole in this family.  I don’t know if it will be repaired.

I know my uncle is doing well.  He’s hanging out with his dad now and all the cousins’ babies that didn’t get to be born.  I know he’s good.  We are sad for the now missing place he had previously filled in our lives.  We are sad for a future without him.

I live about 400 miles away from the family.  I want to go up there for the funeral, but I’m not quite strong enough for the trip and I’ve already missed too many days of work.  It’s odd not being able to go to the funeral, but I know that is not where he is.  I can say goodbye in my own way and in my own place.  I have to make sure that I am healthy first.  Yet another moment when I put my health ahead of what some think I “should” do.

Content

You don't have to give into whatever society is doing or trying to get you to do.

I've been shopping with my girls a couple of times in the past weeks. Both times I had to work very hard to not get pulled in by the fads and styles that are "in" now.  Simply because a style is popular doesn't mean it is right for me.  I see people everywhere wearing the current styles, no one is considering whether or not the style fits them, they buy it because it is for sale and everyone else is buying it.

It works the same with all the colorful household decorations they display in the stores.  As I walk through the aisles of stores, I am attracted to the pretty colors and shiny surfaces, but I don't see any need for them.  Once I have a set of dishes, why would I need to buy another.  They make plastic dishes and containers and bowls and display different colors every season so that people want what is newer and better.

It takes a bit of work to remind myself that these things are not necessary, that my money is better spent on time with my family than on things that will ultimately collect dust and won't add value to my life.

It is sad that our society feels they must try to persuade us to buy each and every little thing.  Creating quality items is not as important to the manufacturers as creating items that can be used and thrown away so that more can be bought.  It's okay to desire and have these things, but I think our society wants us to want more and more and these things aren't created to help us be content.

We have to work to be content on our own.  We have to remind ourselves of our blessings and remind ourselves that we have everything we need in the friendship of our friends and the love of our family. The people around me give my life its greatest value.  They make each day meaningful.  Time spent with my loved ones will not be better because I have new dishes.

Pink Story: Time

Why does the passing of time seem to change?  The month of October filled with its questions and unknowns inched by so slowly I felt every second of it.  The month of November has gone so fast, with doctor’s appointments and days of rest, I’m afraid if I blink I will miss an entire day.  

Why does that happen?  Why does time feel like it changes speed like a drunk driver on a windy highway? I haven’t done anything differently.  I’m not counting the days to some future event, I’m not wishing away the seconds, I’m not even busy.  Why is it passing me by like a shooting star?  It is fleeting.  It is like time is playing a game with me.  

At times it feels tangible.  I can get a handle on it, I can feel each moment.  At other times, it hides, bolts or pretends to last longer than should be possible.  I can’t find more time.  I can’t save time.  I have no control over time and its speed. My only choice is to enjoy the time I have and make wise choices with every moment.  Time won’t win this game if I simply sit back and enjoy. Time won’t trick me if I own my moments and choose to spend them in a way that makes me better and stronger in myself and in my relationships.

Roots

Many years ago I read a something about a man who had a different way of taking care of his trees. After he planted a tree he wouldn't spend a lot of time taking care of it.  He wouldn't give it a lot of water.  He would even beat it up a little.  He explained that he was helping the tree to grow deep roots.

I don't remember the details of the story, I remember the point was that you don't baby the tree.  You let it search for water, you let it work to get it's nutrients.  You let it grow.  When you are constantly pouring water at the surface of the soil, the tree can easily lap it up.  The roots can extend far and wide like a stretched out man on the couch.  The problem arises when the winds blow.  Those roots will quickly pop out of the soil with the slightest wind.  The tree will fall.  However, when the roots had to search deep into the soil for water, the wind won't be able to knock the tree down.  The roots will hold it in place and no amount of wind will take it out.

Today, my youngest daughter turned 13.  As I look at her, I see someone with deep roots.  I see someone capable of standing firm in what is right and not being blown down by every little idea.  I see someone who is strong in her own character and isn't easily changed or moved by others trying to make her different or make her more like them.

I am thankful for her deep roots.  Plenty of wind storms have tried to take her out and even though she is a little beat up sometimes, she is stronger for it.  She is my strong, beautiful tree that continues to grow and thrive whether the sun is shining or the storms are brewing.

Pink Story: Surgeon Shares

This part of the Pink Story occurred on November 20, 2012.

My radiologist also told me that my surgeon will probably be presenting my case to the tumor board.  I never thought about how doctors might get together and discuss their cases.  It makes sense.  They probably share cases in which they want to hear other doctors’ professional opinions on.  As teachers, we do this.  We discuss students that we may need help reaching and seek how others have dealt with the same situation or what professional advice they may have.  It helps to gather advice from others with experience.

It’s pretty amazing that my case will be discussed among the surgeons.  I felt kind of special, special in a weird way.  If I have to have an illness, it may as well be a unique situation.  I’d like to know the recommendations of the other doctors for my treatment.  How many cases like mine do they see?

There is so much going on.  There is still so much I have to do before this is over.  I’m going to be ok.  I’m going to get through this amazingly.  A year from now it will just be a memory.

Expectations

One of the worst things I think a person can have is expectations.  Expectations are different than hopes. We can hope forever.  We can hope for ourselves and we can hope for others.  But expectations will bring you pain.  

Think of expectations as your plan for the outcome of a situation.  You have something to say and you "expect" the other person will respond a certain way.  You may even mold your words based on your expectation.  The first problem with this is the person may say something different than your expectations and you will either be disappointed or confused.  Instead, speak and listen then speak in response to what you heard not what you expected to hear.

I've talked with people that have been repeatedly hurt by others.  They want the relationship to be renewed, but they always hear the same things even when the person says something different. The second problem with expectations is that we often hear in light of them.  We expect someone to say something because they often say the same thing or respond the same way.  We expect it will happen again.  However, when they respond differently than our expectations we don't hear it.  We don't see it. We react to our expectations rather than the reality.

I haven't figured out how to control my expectations and I can see them in others long before I see them in myself. I would like to give people the clean slate they deserve.  If they've wronged me in the morning, I want to be open and willing to see them clearly in the afternoon, holding no expectations over them of their behavior.  

Perhaps we need to have shorter memories.  Perhaps we should apply the saying "forgive and forget" a bit more liberally.  As I think about this, it seems the simplest way to solve this problem is to remember how we want to be treated.  I want to be forgiven if I have a bad moment or say something stupid.  

I don't want anyone expecting me to act a certain way.  I want them to simply see me.  In order to be seen we should probably start seeing.

Pink Story: Check the Box

One of the biggest struggles I am dealing with is going from a very healthy person to a “person with cancer.”  I had to check the “cancer” box on the forms I filled out for the radiation oncologist.  Before my diagnosis I didn’t have to check any of those boxes on the doctor’s office forms.  I took pride in that fact.  Each time I went to the doctor, I could check “no” on the more than thirty boxes asking what is wrong with you.  Now, I have to check the “cancer” box.  I have to write that I had surgery and answer all the people who are shocked that I have breast cancer at such a young age. Now I’m completely healthy . . . except for cancer.  

I had a conversation with my dad about this.  He had the same thing happen to him.  About 12 years ago he was diagnosed with MS and before that was completely healthy.  Now he has the one box to check.  It’s crushing.  You can’t go back.  You can’t make it go away.  For the rest of my life I will have to check the “cancer” box.  I spent some time grieving this loss.  It shouldn’t be a big deal, but it was.

New House, New Beginning

We like new beginnings.  Even if we don't think we do or don't talk about it, as a culture we celebrate new beginnings.  We celebrate a new year, a birth, a new job, a wedding, a new school year and the list goes on.  My family is about to venture into our own new beginning. By next month we should be in a new house.

We are excited about a new beginning.  We love the idea of beginning afresh and with much less stuff tagging along with us.  As we go through our things to pack them, we are asking, "Do we want to move this thing to the new house?  Do we really need this?  Do we use this?" It is helping us begin anew.  The girls are excited about their new rooms.  My youngest has a long desired window seat and my oldest gets a regular closet with a place to hang up clothes rather than simply a few shelves.

Why do we like new beginnings?  I think it all comes down to a clean slate.  A clean slate or a blank canvas means we can design anything we want.  No mistakes have been made yet.  The possibilities for the new creation are unlimited.  We can imagine meeting goals we have set for each ourselves.  We can imagine fulfilled dreams and hopes becoming reality.

Our biggest mistake is thinking that new beginnings are only found when the "big change" days come around.  I'm always baffled by the amount of energy everyone puts into the first day of the new year when in reality it's a new day just like each day that we are given when we arise in the morning.  We can begin with a blank canvas each morning.  Each month there is another first day, each week has it's own new beginning.

When life isn't going the way we want.  When we've made more mistakes than we can count, a new beginning is only a moment away.  A moment to start fresh and make your own new beginning and create the picture we really want.

Pink Story: Intro to Radiation

We met with the radiation oncologist.  As I began filling out paperwork, I realized I had somewhat taken the week off from thinking about all the cancer things I have to deal with.  It was a nice break that was suddenly ended with a little paperwork.  

The doctor explained the process that I will go through.  He explained the risks and the options of radiation.  He also explained he is uncomfortable putting a 35 year old through radiation treatment, but in the studies they’ve done, people without radiation treatment have had a much greater risk of the cancer returning than those who don’t.  Cancer returning in this same form or, perhaps, a more invasive form is considered worse than the side effects of radiation.  However, I am now much more scared about all of it than I was before I walked in the door.  I am more concerned about the sunburn on my skin, the tiredness it will cause, and the list side effects affecting other parts of my body.  

They gave me a pile of information to read.  I feel like I have a choice to either read up on it so I fully understand everything and perhaps become more scared, or I can sit back and trust the doctor’s judgement.  I know being educated can be a good thing, but I don’t know if my mind can take it all in and send it to the right places.  I feel like I need to call my grandmas and talk to them.  I keep thinking, if they can go through cancer treatment at 65 and 85 years old, I can do it at 35. This is more terrifying than surgery.

Minimize

Three years ago we decided that we would not be able to stay in our current home.  It was too big for our little family and was stealing money and time that we would rather give to other things.  At that time, we began getting rid of unnecessary things.  We tried to make our home easier to function in, to clean and to eliminate extra things that we didn't use but simply stored.  I was amazed to find things we had moved to two different houses and never used.

We reflected that whenever we would go on vacation we would only have a few items from our home. We would usually be in a very small house and we were content and at peace and didn't miss the things we left behind.  Perhaps, we didn't need some of them.  It's difficult when items have a story or when they belonged to someone you care about, but is no longer with you.  It makes it more difficult to get rid of those treasures even if you don't use them.  

I have many old treasures that belonged to my grandma who passed away in 2014.  I don't use them and she is not in them, but I have a tough time knowing what to do with them. I remember her more in the pansies growing through my bricks than in the furniture she gave me, but I know I can't replace any of the furniture if something happens to it.  I suppose that is all the more reason to focus on the pansies which come back each year without fail.  

I've been working for the last few years to change my mentality about these things and to accept getting rid of them and know that things, our stuff, doesn't mean anything in the end.  It's difficult, but I know I get a little better at it each day.

I'm looking forward to living in a smaller house.  I'm looking forward to not having the ability to keep so many things.  I'm thankful we are going to keep our lives simple and remember that most important is time with one another.  Our stuff should never keep us from people or keep us so busy that we can't stop and enjoy a conversation once in a while.  

Pink Story: Share Your Burden

I am not the only one adjusting to cancer entering my life.  My husband has a whole new set of thoughts, worries, concerns, and decisions to deal with that he never had before.  While enjoying a nice breakfast before my next doctor's appointment, my husband confided in me that he felt like he was trying to hold everything together.  He was feeling overwhelmed and a little bit alone with his new burden.  He was trying to make things easier on me which meant that he was silently taking on more duties and especially more worrying.  He was trying to keep difficult things from me. We realized that we needed to figure out how to make it easier on him so he doesn’t feel so stretched.  The first step was in talking about it.

Everyone has their own way of dealing with difficult times.  No one is right or wrong, but I also believe that no one can deal with those difficulties on their own.  We must share our burden with someone, even if it’s only by telling them.  We can’t and shouldn’t ever carry our whole load alone.  

Cards and Letters

I spent much of yesterday sorting through a box of cards.  The cards date back more than 35 years.  I decided it was time to look through them and only keep ones that I wanted to remember.  I filled two trash bags and was left with less than a shoe box full of really special cards and letters.

As I was glancing and reading through each one, I remembered how nice it was to hear kind words from people in the mail.  I tend to get cards on holidays: birthday, Valentine's Day, Christmas, Mother's Day, but I also had some that were sent just because someone wanted to send a note.  Those are precious to me.  Those are part of my story, a loved one sharing about their days and asking about yours.  It's a story.  They sat down and took the time to write a note and ask questions.  They addressed the envelope, put a stamp on it and put it in the mailbox knowing it would be a few days before they got their answer.  They will anticipate your response and look forward to retrieving the mail each day.

I don't write letters as much as I did when I was in college.  It could be because texting and calling is so very convenient.  It could be because I got busy with my life.  It could be a little of both.  Convenience hasn't made us better at talking to each other.  I think we put off the conversations until later because we know we can.  Or perhaps, we think that sharing a picture with everyone is the same as talking to one person.  Whatever the reason, I stopped writing to people.  After looking through those precious and kind words, I found myself wanting to hear from those dear friends and family members on paper again.

I will be mailing a large amount of letters in the next coming months.  You may get one from me.  I will have to hunt down some addresses, but I'm sure that won't be too difficult.  I hadn't realized how special that written conversation was and I hadn't realized how much I missed it.  I will happily take a few minutes to write down my thoughts and queries to the people that are dear to me.  I'm excited to get the conversation going again.

Pink Story: Adjustments

It has been a week since my surgery.  We went to the store yesterday.  We were all getting a little stir crazy around the house.  I quickly lost all stamina, was in extreme pain, got overheated and almost threw up.  

This is starting to border on the line of sucking.  I’m tired of being in pain.  I’m tired of not sleeping good.  I’m tired of laying around the house.  I don’t mind taking it easy, but I’m tired of being completely limited.  

While I was lying awake in bed I was thinking about surgery.  Most surgeries come because a person has an injury.  They are broken and the surgery fixes them.  My surgery technically fixed me because it took out the cancer, but I didn’t feel broken beforehand.  I feel more broken now.  I didn’t have a broken bone that hurt and now I know will get better.  I felt fine before (I know I wouldn’t have stayed that way) so after the surgery I feel more beat up than I did before.  It’s a bit of an adjustment.  

I have to adjust what I do, how much I do, and when I do things.  I don’t get to freely follow after everyone else.  I have to pay attention to myself and sometimes say “no.”  I’m not used to this type of adjusting.  I’m used to being more than capable of completing any and everything that comes my way.  My limitations are taking some time to get used to.