A Legacy of Love

A couple of weeks ago I was driving when my car shifted strangely.  I reached for my phone to call my dad like I have so many times before.  It wasn't until I grabbed my phone that it hit me--I will never speak to my dad again.  I drove for miles with tears streaming down my face.  Loss is hard.  Loss hurts so much and the pain of loss will always be there in some corner of my heart.  At times, that corner feels like half my heart.  And that's okay, because what I lost was so precious.  I lost a great listener. I lost a comforter.  I lost a protector.  I lost a problem-solver.  I lost my son's big buddy.  I lost a Godly example.  What I have left, however, is a legacy, full of memories of a humble, gentle, strong, compassionate, caring man that put so much of himself and his time into everyone he met, and especially his family.

I was not an easy child to raise.  I was the "strong-willed child" for which books are written to help parents.  Yes, my parents bought the book (but I'm not sure if they ever read it--they were a little distracted by three kiddos).  I remember being disciplined by my dad when I chose to exert my strong will.  I always thought I was so clever when my dad would send us to choose the belt for a spanking and I would choose the skinny one.  I mean, smaller hurts less, right?  I would put on extra pairs of underwear and would occasionally stuff a small pillow down the back of my pants to protect my soon-to-be-swatted bottom.  I always thought it so amazing that my dad would miss my bottom and the belt would land somewhere else.  But the part I remember most, even as I grew older and the punishment turned to being sent to my room or grounded, that when the punishment was over or the sentence given, my dad would calmly sit me down, make sure I knew why I was being punished, and then let me know he loved me.  

Love.  That was something I could always count on my dad to give.  If anything, my dad was consistent and he consistently and constantly loved.  My dad would not only tell us he loved us, but would show it.  He would come home from work at the end of the day tired, but I remember evenings and nights filled with playing outside with my dad. He would read to us every night, instilling a love of books into us...well, his girls at least.  He drove the oldest car, often without luxuries such as air conditioning, so that we could have the nicer cars.  I remember him sitting with me in the middle of the night when I had ear infections, or holding my hair while I lost my lunch only to clean it all up after I was done.  He did this not only for his kids who were sick because he loved them, but also for my mom so she wouldn't always have to be the one to care for a sick child.  

When my dad was first diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, I knew his chances of living more than five years were slim to non-existent.  But I prayed and believed he would be cured.  And he was for a few months before it came back and spread through his body.  He fought hard, but we knew his time was coming to an end.  

I will never forget the day we lost my dad.  My siblings and I had planned to throw my parents an anniversary celebration on January 31 for their 40th anniversary the next day, February 1.  Travis, the kids, and I drove into town that morning and we were dropping the kids off at my in-law's house when my sister called.  She was rather distraught and could only get out, "You need to come.  The EMS is here to get Dad."  Travis and I raced, rather unsafely, to my parents' house.  The sight that greeted me as we turned onto the street literally took my breath away and started the tears running.  

Ambulances, fire trucks, and first-responders filled the cul-de-sac in front of their home to where we had to park several houses away and walk up the hill to reach the house.  When we walked in, my aunts and uncles were in the living room.  No one was talking much.  My sister was in the hallway and we just hugged and cried.  We waited at the bottom of the stairs until my mom called us up to where she and a paramedic were standing in the hallway upstairs.  We were told my dad was gone.  

Grief is powerful.  I had never felt to the fullest extent what it meant when someone, myself included, would say, "My heart is heavy with grief."  I physically felt as if my insides were being pulled down to the deepest places of my body.  For several days, much of me was stunned.  But something stronger began to take root in grow in my heart, lifting it back to where it belonged.  As the day went on and the visitors came, we talked about how freeing death was for my dad, how he is no longer in pain, how as much as he loved us he would not now choose to come back. 

We could only imagine what it was like for him to close his eyes on this earth only to open them in heaven.  To be in awe of what he beheld.  To meet Jesus.  To hear, "Well done thou good and faithful servant."  God did not callously take my dad away and leave us alone.  God was, and is, with us every moment.  And He loves and cares for us.  

We knew what kind of man my dad was, but I don't think we truly understood how many people this quiet man impacted until the night of his viewing.  The viewing was to be only an hour and a half, but the line was so long that we were there almost four hours.  I met people that my dad worked with over thirty years ago to people my dad worked with until the cancer forced him to retire early.  I spoke with people who knew my dad for several decades to those who knew him only a short time.  They all described the man we knew.  His kindness and love and compassion for others extended beyond his family and was deeply felt by all.  His co-workers probably made up a third of the line, many deeply felt the loss of my father.  We also were told many times of how my dad would tell others of his loving Lord, even the nurses caring for him.  

I am so thankful for God blessing me with the father He gave me.  Many people say children are a blessing from the Lord, but often times, I believe we the children are the ones who are blessed with the gift of loving and godly parents.

My parents were not able to share the day of their 4oth anniversary together, but the love they shared was evident to everyone who met them.  On February 1, we celebrated their anniversary without my dad's presence.  It was bittersweet, but it was a celebration of love.

I had mentioned to my sister about having my parents' wedding cake recreated for the anniversary party we were going to have.  She did an amazing job finding the picture and having the cake recreated as well as planning a party that was never to be.  We feasted on cake and reminisced about about the husband, father, and grandfather we loved.  

Love.  That seemed to be the theme of my dad's life.  Not how much love he could get, but how much he could give.  With Easter having just passed, we are reminded of the greatest act of love ever bestowed. God sent His Son to this earth to willingly suffer and die for us so that we could one day spend eternity with Him.  Christ rose from the dead.  Death has lost its sting and Christ has won the victory.  For those who have believed that Christ died for them and rose from the dead, death will never separate us from the love of God.

For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, Nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord." (Romans 8:35-39)

Photo Credit: Galleryhip.com

I never was able to to officially tell my dad goodbye.  And that's okay, because in reality, it really is, "See ya later."  I will see my dad again one day in heaven.  I pray I will pass on to my children the love my dad gave to me and my siblings, and exemplify Christ the way my dad did through his actions.   

Love is patient, love is kind and is not jealous; love does not brag and is not arrogant, does not act unbecomingly; it does not seek its own, is not provoked, does not take into account a wrong suffered, does not rejoice in unrighteousness, but rejoices with the truth; bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

Love never fails...

(I Cor 13:4-8a)

Photo Credit: Phil Hyman Photography

Through the Valley

It has been awhile since I last posted.  There has been so much going on, mostly stressful, so finding time to update has been difficult.  We moved to a new home in June (yay!).  However, we should have moved end of May.  I can't even use the words my realtor chose to describe the situation, but suffice it to say he said it was the worst closing he's seen in twenty years and, unfortunately, completely out of our control.  Not exactly an achievement I wanted.  But that's another (long) story for another day.

Right before that, we found out some other news.  My dad celebrated his 64th birthday in March.  His birthday was also the day he was told his cancer had returned.  Even now, I cannot begin to describe the burst of emotions when my mom told me the news.  He officially has stage 4 pancreatic cancer; this time the cancer had spread to his liver.  It wasn't so much that the cancer had returned.  The hardest part was the doctors essentially telling him to enjoy his remaining time here on earth.

I'm not going to lie.  After the initial shock had warn off and the heartache had set in, my next reaction was one of anger.  Not so much outright anger at God, but anger at the situation.  I mean, aren't there worse people in the world who deserve this cancer?  Why should they be able to live when their actions cause others so much misery?  Why MY dad?  Then it hit me.  Why NOT my dad?  Why not my family?  If maybe by my dad having cancer someone else was being spared so that they too could come to know the Lord that I love.  That also hit home.  Even though I was angry at the situation, wasn't the "situation" placed there by God?  Ouch.  How easily I forget the goodness of God.

Photo Credit: Pinterest

If the last few years of my life have taught me anything about trials, it is that God is good.  Over the last few months in church, my pastor has been preaching a series of messages that seem as if they were written for me.  One of them, a series on Psalm 23, spoke especially to my heart.  There are so many aspects of this psalm that I would love to share, but you can listen to the series here.  I have read this psalm many times and heard many messaged preached on it over the years.  After this series by my pastor, I will never be able to read Psalm 23 the same way again.

Photo credit: Pinterest

Verse four is the one that really grabbed my attention.  "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me."  

I never paid much attention to the word "through" before.  When we walk in the valleys of life, the verse states that we walk through them, we don't dwell in them.  The valley is not a cave or dead-end with no exit.  Wow, what an encouragement!  

I cannot say that I have complete peace about my dad's prognosis, but that peace is growing the more I learn to trust in God.  It saddens me that without a miracle my dad will not be here much longer, but the part that hurts the most is my kids growing up not knowing their grandpa.  Owen may have a few memories, but I don't feel Addyson is old enough to have created those memories with her grandpa.

There are a lot of thoughts that run through my head and I still occasionally find myself crying at random times.  One of the hardest things I have had to do since finding out my dad's prognosis was trying to pick out what might be the last Father's Day card I ever give to my dad.  How do you sum up everything you think and feel for someone over the span of your life and put it into a card?  I found myself crying in the middle of the card aisle in the grocery store while my two kids looked at me like I was nuts.

I sometimes feel so selfish thinking at times more about how it affects me than how this cancer affects my dad.  My dad has been amazing through it all and praises God still.  The Lord has been gracious enough to allow my dad to feel fairly well through the process this time.  He had another round of chemo, which unfortunately did nothing.  He just recently had a procedure done to hopefully slow the growth of the tumor.

We were able to go to the beach with my family in June.  My dad says it was one of the best vacations he's ever had.  If you see the picture below, you can see probably why.  Every single one of those grandkids has their grandpa wrapped around their little fingers--and he wouldn't have it any other way.  And each one of those grandkids is a reminder of how good God is and how God has us in the palm of His loving hand.

Grandpa, Oma, and the grandkids
Photo credit: Kelley Collins

Going it Alone

After having my husband gone for eleven days for a mission trip to Mexico, I have a much greater appreciation for single parents, whether permanently or temporarily so.  I also have a better understanding of just how much emotionally I depend on my husband for support when it comes to raising our children.  

When Travis first told me he wanted to go on this mission trip, I was all for it.  However, after thinking about it--me...alone with two kids...for over a week--yeah, I got a little nervous; but hey, I've done it for a few days before so no problem!  I've got this!  That thought lasted for only the first couple of days...

Travis left on a Saturday before the kids woke up.  I was thankful that Owen had a birthday party to attend for a school friend and Addyson had kindly been invited as well.  I figured this would take the kids' minds off of missing their daddy.

I spent a couple of hours chasing kids, trying to keep them relatively clean and out of trouble.  They had a blast and came home with some great works of art.

*Apparently, painting your hand is part of the process*

We made it through the first day without the kids melting because daddy was gone.  They asked a few times that first day where he was.  I only had to tell them a few times that he was in Mexico, which is very far away, before they remembered.  Addy then liked to share her daddy's location with random strangers, telling them in a store as they walked by, "My daddy's in Messico!"  We had to nip that in the bud pretty quickly.

By day three it was getting a little harder to do this parenting thing by myself as the kids were using it to their advantage.  They both fought me more on things like getting ready, getting in the car, going to bed, etc.  I found bribery worked best during this time.  The kids earned a lot more treats and television time that week and a half than they have in a long time.

I think the mornings were the times I missed Travis the most, as far as needing help.  He always gets a shower before I wake up and then goes downstairs to start the coffee brewing.  While I'm getting ready, he makes the kids' breakfast, makes Owen's lunch and packs his bag, and watches the kids.  When Travis was gone, I had to wake up earlier so that the kids would not be left to run around the house by themselves.  Travis also takes Owen to school in the morning so that Addy and I are not in the car half the day.  Mornings were rough, to say the least.

We still managed to squeeze in some fun while daddy was gone and keep to our schedules--Owen still had school and I still had to work my job and do some of Travis' job.  Addy and I went on a couple of donut and coffee dates while Owen was in school, and we all went to the airport for a couple of hours to watch the planes take off and land.

*Donuts!*

*At the airport watching the planes*

*Love this kid!*

Bedtime was interesting, too.  The kiddos had some sweet moments, like when Owen wanted to read Addy her bedtime story, and some, uh, "challenging" moments, like when Owen locked us in Addy's room at bedtime.  We have the doorknob turned around on Addy's door to lock it from the outside instead of using child-lock devices.  Owen turned the lock on the door and then closed it after we were inside the room. 

When he first told me we were locked in, I just laughed.  I didn't think he was serious.  When he reassured me he was not kidding was when I started trying to channel my inner McGyver to get us out of the room.  Being a toddler's room, there was nothing sharp or pointy to use.  The only thing I had on me was my phone, which I seriously considered calling a locksmith to pick the lock on the front door so he could come upstairs to let us out of a room instead of get us into somewhere.

I ended up bending the lampshade to pick the lock on the door.  I worked for over forty-five minutes to get us out of that room.  Meanwhile, both kids were just playing with toys, completely oblivious to the fact that we could all be sleeping in the same bed that night and they would be wearing Addy's diapers until we could get out.  I even contemplated jumping out the window to get in the house through the front door, but I still would have to get through a locked door.  It was starting to get a little crazy in my head there for a bit.  Luckily, my lampshade break-out worked!

Travis was supposed to come back on Monday, but due to bad weather through a connecting flight, their flight was cancelled.  They couldn't get back until the next day.  Of course.  However, we all made it alive and mostly unscathed. 

Did I mention that a few days before Travis left we put our house on the market?  And I decided to potty train Addy while Travis was away.  Yeah, I'm crazy.  Thankfully, my parents were able to come for a few days to help me out.  While they were here, we had six showings on the house.  It is hard enough to keep a house clean on a normal day, but to keep one clean, ready to show...phew!  

After my parents left, we had two more showings.  Owen is actually pretty excited to move somewhere new.  He often will see a house when we're driving somewhere and will ask if we can buy it, whether it's for sale or not.  He is four now and this next house will be his fifth house to live in since he was born.  I am done with this moving thing.  We plan to stay put for a long time at the next house.  Hopefully.

I had some wonderful friends who thought of us while Travis was away.  At the beginning of the week a sweet friend sent me a gift card for Starbucks.  Coffee was a must that week and the gesture was such a lift to my spirits and an encouragement.  Another friend met me for coffee one morning after I dropped Owen off at school.  Another friend dropped off dinner one night before Travis came home.  I was having a rough day, and without knowing how rough, she brought food so that I didn't have to cook that night.  

Owen did develop some separation anxiety while Travis was gone.  He had a harder time being dropped off at school or church, struggled in school a bit that week with paying attention and obeying, and started coming to my room in the middle of the night to crawl in bed with me.  He is still coming to our room almost every night now, but other than that he is pretty much getting over his separation anxiety. 

While those eleven days were not easy, and actually extremely difficult at times, God knew what I would need that week of going it alone with the kids.  He sent friends, parents, and words and actions of encouragement and support.  Of course, I realize now I was never alone.  

*Proof-of-life picture we sent to daddy.
Just a typical drive on our way to school*

*Little girl spent a lot of time in the car this week.
She actually fell asleep one day--she hasn't done this
since she was a baby*

Change in Plans

{Photo Credit: Proverbs 31 Ministries}

Yep, I win Mom of the Year, hands down.  Last week was the first week back to school for Owen.  The first week is more of an introductory week, so he was in class from 9 am -12 pm instead of 9 am -1 pm.  Travis and I both dropped him off, but I went to pick him up from his first day.  Travis called me right after 12 to see how Owen’s first day went. It was then I realized I had not even left home yet to pick Owen up. 

Yeppers, you got it.  The very first day of school, I forgot to pick up my son on time.  So long Mom of the Year.  I called the school to let them know I would be late.  I magically made it there in twenty minutes.  When I arrived at his room, Owen was playing and did not even seem interested in leaving.  Here I am about to cry because I forgot to pick Owen up on time and he does not even know, nor does he seem to care. 

I had been watching the clock all morning to make sure I left on time to pick him up, yet I lost track of time anyway.  This past year has been one to show me that no matter how much we plan for things and try to control events, things can and will go wrong and not according to plan.

Throughout my pregnancy with my daughter Addyson, my doctor had been watching a cyst on one of my ovaries.  It continued to grow throughout my pregnancy, reaching the size of a small grapefruit.  Due to its size and appearance on ultrasounds, my doctor ran some blood work about a week or so after Addy was born.

My parents had Addy at their house, a couple of hours from mine, since Owen became sick and I did not want my newborn becoming ill as well. He had become well enough for us to bring Addy home, so I was driving down to my parents’ house to get her. I had stopped at an outlet mall halfway there when I received a call from my doctor to tell me the results of my blood work.  He said that the numbers indicated that I had cancer. 

I cannot begin to tell you how I felt at that moment standing on a sidewalk at an outlet mall by myself and far from everyone and being told I technically have cancer.  I sit here now tearing up thinking about it.  I can even tell you to this day where I was standing.  All I could do is call my husband and tell him what the doctor said, leaving him feeling helpless not being able to be there to comfort me.  Only my immediate family and a couple of people have ever known about this.  It is not something I feel comfortable discussing, but I’m hoping my experience may help others.

I found myself about a week later sitting in an oncology office with my two-year old and my about three-week old.  It was surreal, to say the least.  Most of the people in the waiting room with me were about forty years older than I.  I could sense through their stares that they were feeling sorry for this young mom sitting there with her two kids. 

After some tests and discussion, we decided to remove the cyst which also entailed removing one of my ovaries.  My doctor said that he would do a biopsy during the surgery to see if I indeed had cancer.  If so, then they would explore and take out more surrounding tissue.  If not, then they would remove only my ovary and the cyst.  I would not know until after the surgery what the results would be.

I woke up and was told the news—my cyst was benign!  Praise the Lord!  The burden taken off my shoulders was enormous and freeing.

I started getting back into the normal routine of life, at least as “normal” a life as one can have with a newborn.  As the next year went by, I noticed myself enjoying the little things more and enjoying each and every stage of development with my two children instead of trying to rush it and wish for the next stage.

As the New Year came around, I began thinking about the wonderful things that had happened in my life, and noticed they all happened on odd years: I was engaged in 2005, married in 2007, had my son in 2009, and had my daughter in 2011. 

This year was 2013, so I pondered openly on a Facebook post about what great things this year would have for me.  Little did I know what was in store. 

January turned out to be one of the hardest months of my life.   Both of my kids had been having multiple illnesses and ear infections resulting in multiple doctor and urgent care visits (and little to no sleep for myself), so it was decided by the ENT to have tubes placed in their ears.  Addy’s tubes were placed in first. About two days later, Owen became ill with RSV and rhinovirus landing him in the hospital for the tenth time since he was born, not including NICU.  To be quite honest, we have lost count at this point of how many times he has been in the hospital, but I know ten for certain.

It was during this time when my dad received the devastating news that he had pancreatic cancer.  He began chemo immediately.  I was beginning to feel as if I was just being pounded with one thing after another.  The weight of it all was so overwhelming and oppressive.  I mean, doesn’t the saying go, “God will never give you more than you can bear?” 

It was in the middle of all of this that I realized the truth.  God DOES give you more than you can bear.  If He didn’t, we would never realize that we need God all the time, not just occasionally or when it suits us.  What God does promise is to be with us through the valleys.  

Just a few days ago on Friday, my dad received the news that he is in remission!   Prayer is a powerful thing, and through prayer and God’s mercy, my dad is cancer free!  He was in the lowest valley of his life, yet I could tell that although the chemo changed his personality while he was on it, he remained faithful and relied on God to carry him through this otherwise unbearable trial.  I’m not saying he did not have moments of being overwhelmed, but he was able to come out of those low valleys to a higher place because of his faith in God.  His cancer experience is a whole other story for another day.   Let’s just say God is still in the business of miracles.

Now, whenever I hear or read “God will never give you more than you can bear,” it frustrates me that this falsehood is being passed on from Christian to Christian.  It gives a false sense of security that nothing bad will ever happen to you that you will not be able to handle on your own.  When that hard time comes, many Christians are shocked and overwhelmed by their circumstances. 

God tells us that we as Christians will face trials.  We are not exempt from these trials because we are Christians.  In fact, we face many trials due to our being Christians.  The world laughs at us, mocks our beliefs, criticizes our morals, and openly laughs at and mocks God Himself.  I say this as a reminder that trials are not only physical and spiritual ones placed on us by God to grow us as Christians and to use us for His glory.  Trials come at us from every direction and we can never plan for them, but by walking with Christ and having a relationship with Him, we are better prepared for when these trials come.

I find myself this morning making a cake for a memorial service tonight for a three-week old baby.  The family never planned on having their child leave this world so early.  They did everything they could to protect their child and do whatever it took to keep him healthy and safe.  Yet, they lost their baby last Thursday in spite of it all. 

You can be the most organized planner in the world, but wrenches will be thrown into your perfect plans that will cause complete chaos in your life.  If you do not know Christ as your Savior or do not have a close walk with Him, the chaos may seem unbearable, overwhelming; but God is the Great Comforter who has promised to walk with us and give us peace.  My plans do not always happen, but I have a peace knowing that no matter what triumphs or trials that come my way, my God is able and He is with me.

As for the family of this baby, please pray for them that God will be shown to the family during this difficult time.  Many members of the family do not know the loving God that I know.  Those that do know Him are hurting with such heartache, so please pray that they will know God’s peace through this time.

{Photo Credit: Pinterest}