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.