What love looks like

While the cancer has brought with it fears and pain and bills and struggles and just general unpleasantness, more than all of that it has brought an outpouring of love for me. I get mail several times a week with notes or cards and often small tokens of thoughtfulness that let me know I am loved and thought of and prayed for. I have a big thank you post about those in the works. 

But I got a box Thursday that was “blow your mind, blow your sock off - this is what love looks like”. It left me sitting on the couch sobbing with gratitude and feeling so incredibly seen and loved. 

At first glance, you may be thinking “nice,  but blow your socks off?” In order to understand - I need to tell you about the senders of this box 

I have a friend I went to nursery school with - and sparing you the heavy math, that means I have known her for 54 years. I have another friend that I met in 9th grade - that’s 42 years. We all went to high school together. We have stayed in touch. One was instrumental in us bringing Cami home. They are friends that have pasted the decades of history on the fringes of highlighted life events. 

They were best friends in high school. They literally live in opposite corners of the country now and are both knitters. They call themselves the “Fiber Bees” and it is how they stay connected to each other and I think that is cool. They sent me the box - with this note: 

Karen,

Suzy and I have praying and wishing you a fast track back to 100% you! Suzy knit the cozy cowl and I did the prayer shawl and I prayed and sent good vibes on every knit and pearl. We have been knitting together a lot as the “Fiber Bees” so I sent along some of our swag and snacks too. We are thinking about you daily - love you sister! 

Megan and Suzy

AKA The Fiber Bees 

As I reflect on 40 years of knowing these two amazing ladies (from the cool crowd in high school - a group I was definitely not a part of!)  about how they sat on either side of the country and together, but apart, prayed for me, all I could think of was "this is what love looks like"

This is the most warm and softest shawl ever - and the cowl is a beautiful and silky and soft and  lovely colors. I feel the love. It feels so good! 

Cancer Lesson #1 - In Real Life

I keep wondering how cancer will change me, and I guess it’s just too soon too tell. 

But there is one thing that I have already learned that is a direct result of this cancer. I want more in real life” times with my friends. I want more face to face encounters and more get together and more "in real life" time together. 

I want to see you. And you. And you. And I want my girls to know that seeing you is important. That friendship is more than a text and a “like” on Facebook. That taking time to stop and say “hi” MATTERS!! We keep telling our kids to "get off their devices and be with their friends" - yet so often our friendships are reduced to keeping up with one another via Instagram and a text now and again. 

I want to put aside the busyness of business that doesn’t matter. I want to show people that when I say “I love you”, it means “I love you enough to make time for you”.  When you come 2500 miles closer to me, I will come the last 250 to you. Even if its just for a couple hours - because it's worth it. 

 

I want to gather friends together and fellowship over food. Sometimes fancy and sometimes a drink on the front porch - impromptu an casual.




Cancer lesson #1 - life is short an unexpected and goes by too fast. Take time for what matters.

Do life in Real Life. 

To My Daughters on Valentines Day

Dear girls, 

Today, your news feed will be flooded with grand gestures of love - flowers and dinners and romantic gestures that are surely Instagram worthy and #besthusbandever proclamations. 

Don’t buy the lie. 

Let me show what what real, lasting, #hasyourbacknomatterwhat love looks like 

It looks like a midwestern boy who prefers mashed potatoes and gravy over most foods trying something “exotic” (to him) that he pretty much hates because you had a rough final and needed some cheering up

It looks like a guy with no mechanical aptitude who goes to bed at 9 staying up till midnight by himself in a cold garage Christmas Eve so his special needs daughter had the only thing she wanted for Christmas on Christmas. 
As a note, it also looks like the dad who helps this special needs daughter with her pads when she has her periods. 

It looks like a guy stepping way outside what he knows doing something he doesn’t like because it needs to be done. It also looks like doing dishes and laundry. Without being asked. And cleaning up the dog poop, taking the trash out, vacuuming, and making beds because he’s part of the family and doesn’t expect you to do it -even though he also works all day outside the house while you have the luxury of staying home to be available for your kids. 
As a note, it also looks like the man who left the house at 6 am and got home at 7 pm every day, and then spent his Saturday's taking his kids to the zoo - just so his wife could have some alone time in the house. Every Saturday. For five years. His hobby is his kids. 

It looks like a man who lets you be the strong, sassy, stubborn, smart woman you are who takes care of yourself and everyone else - until you can’t and then he steps into that role along with all the other ones he fills and takes care of you and your people too. Girls - don't miss this one. 

Don’t settle for the social media definition of love that’s grand gestures of proposals worthy of you tube and designed to gather “likes” and “loves” by perfect strangers. It doesn’t hold up when life gets hard - and I promise you life will get hard. Find the guy who looks like your dad - with his warped sense of humor and inept attempts to parent teen girls who are alien creatures and short fuse for shoes left all over the house and sibling squabbling but has the heart of a man who seeks God first, loves his wife more than himself and who has sacrificed his life for his kids. 

Because my dear girls - that is true love. And it's celebrated every day in the little things.

Love - 

Your Mom  (who can not believe most days how lucky she is to have married your dad) 

Yes. Come.

Yes. Come. 

Those were the words I texted back in response to this message last night: 

Hey my friend. I want you to be completely honest with me right now. Several of us want to come see you....we considered surprising you, but felt you'd want to know. We would stay at a hotel. We could watchkids for you and Doug to get away, we would clean, cook, whisk you away, whatever would be best....

These are friends that live far away. That have busy lives with high needs kids. This would be a sacrifice of their time and their money and a strain on their families. I factored all that in for a fraction of a second - then said:

Yes. Come. 

We need community. We need "in real life" people to come. We need to admit that this is not a weakness or a flaw or a personal failure but a God ordained and created need. It's time to stop subsituting activities and schedules and social media for relationships - not for our sake, but for our children's. 

When I told my 12 year old daughter these ladies were coming she said "but mom - they are making a big deal and it's hard on their families". Yes dear - both of those are true. Cancer is a big deal. Divorce is a big deal. Disappointment and death and hurt are BIG DEALS! Yes, this will be hard on their kids for the days they are gone. 

I got to sit with my girl and explain to her that God created us to be in community and that sometimes, showing up and sitting matters. More than anything we need to not be alone in our pain and hardship. We need to be modeling this for our children. We need to be pointing them to "IRL" relationships instead of screen connections that aren't real - and maybe even dangerous. 

Yes. Come. 

We also need to recgonize that when we sit with someone in pain, when we show up, we are literally being the hands and feet of Christ. Jesus showed up. We need to show up - not just for an hour, but for the "long haul" of addiction, of disease, of prodigal children, of families separated, of racial injustice. Of Brokeness. 

Yes. Go. 

It occurred to Pooh and Piglet that they hadn't heard from Eeyore for several days, so they put on their hats and coats and trotted across the Hundred Acre Wood to Eeyore's stick house. Inside the house was Eeyore.

"Hello Eeyore," said Pooh.

"Hello Pooh. Hello Piglet," said Eeyore, in a Glum Sounding Voice.

"We just thought we'd check in on you," said Piglet, "because we hadn't heard from you, and so we wanted to know if you were okay."

Eeyore was silent for a moment. "Am I okay?" he asked, eventually. "Well, I don't know, to be honest. Are any of us really okay? That's what I ask myself. All I can tell you, Pooh and Piglet, is that right now I feel really rather Sad, and Alone, and Not Much Fun To Be Around At All. Which is why I haven't bothered you. Because you wouldn't want to waste your time hanging out with someone who is Sad, and Alone, and Not Much Fun To Be Around At All, would you now."

Pooh looked and Piglet, and Piglet looked at Pooh, and they both sat down, one on either side of Eeyore in his stick house.

Eeyore looked at them in surprise. "What are you doing?"

"We're sitting here with you," said Pooh, "because we are your friends. And true friends don't care if someone is feeling Sad, or Alone, or Not Much Fun To Be Around At All. True friends are there for you anyway. And so here we are."

"Oh," said Eeyore. "Oh." And the three of them sat there in silence, and while Pooh and Piglet said nothing at all; somehow, almost imperceptibly, Eeyore started to feel a very tiny little bit better.

Because Pooh and Piglet were There. No more; no less.

Author unknown

Yes. GO! 

My Friend Jeff and Why I am not Afraid

One of the oddest things for me so far in this cancer journey is how not afraid I am. I am concerned for my family and my health, but I'm not scared. I'm joyful - and it's weird, but I understand it. Thanks to my friend Jeff. It’s incredibly fitting that two years ago todat we said honored him  - tomorrow is the day I start my chemo battle. 

Several years ago,  Jeff was diagnosed with cancer. I remember so vividly getting his phone call. I remember where I was on the freeway. I remember his voice so clearly. I remember my heart missing a beat when he told me. I mostly remember how positive he was, and how joyful he sounded. I didn't get it then. He lived in this world, but his eyes were firmly fixed on his eternity in Heaven. Joy. 

Jeff died December 28, 2017. I remember the last time I saw him, just hours before he passed. I went into the living room where hospice had just settled him into his bed. I leaned over, kissed his forehead, told him I loved him. The last words I said to him were "Tracy is going to be ok". Tracy - the love of his life. HIs entire world on this earth. I had spent the afternoon going through paperwork and finances (when I worked for Jefff that was my job) and I had been able to determine that indeed, she would be. His eyes opened, and he smiled as best he could. Three hours later, Tracy called and told me he was with Jesus.  

I get it. I understand why Jeff was joyful - because I am joyful. For me, because I know the end of the story of my life, cancer is just cancer. It might be gone in 6 months when I am done with treatment (it probably will!). But it also might be the transition point to my forever home. Jeff couldn't go home till he knew the love of his life would be ok. My family will be ok no matter what because God loves them infinitely more than I do and while I pride myself are being excellent at taking care of them - it pales in comparison to how our Heavenly Father takes care of us. 

Thank you Jeff for the best reminder and for being an amazing light and example. I miss you tremendously - we all do. See you someday (but not too soon if that’s ok!) 

Reflections

2019 is over. Wouldn’t it be nice if there was a “clean break” between the old year and the new? Would it be something if we could leave behind all the junk of the last decade and only take the good into the new with us? The hype of the new year tells us this is what happens, but alas-it’s not true. 

2019 brought with it some pretty terrific things (so did the whole decade actually but that's novel material, not a blog post!) I want to bring all that goodness with me and hold it in my heart forever!

There was family....

 

....and firsts

  

 

..and travel with friends....

 

....graduations....

  

....and reunions.....

  

It also brought with it some hurts and disappointments, some changes, lots of loss and a cancer diagnosis.   

For all that I wish I could leave the bad and just take the good with us, the truth is that who we are is molded largely because of the hurts and suffering. Our biggest growth almost always comes from our biggest losses and hurts. For sure our walk toward being like Christ happens in those moments that bring us to our knees in hopeless and glorious surrender to Him. 

So bring on 2020-with it’s highs and lows. May it be the year that ends with the high of being cancer free and amazing growth and glorious surrender in that process. 

The Here and Now

Yesterday, I talked about what I was grieving - the loss associated with the cancer diagnosis. That's all done with. While there will, I am sure, be more losses to grieve and face, I am not looking back. I choose to only look forward and be in the Here and Now. And the Here and Now is prettty great. 

In the Here and Now, I get to watch God work. This short but powerful last two weeks has seen God show up in so many amazing ways....

• In the friend I asked to go with me to my first appointments - without knowing that her grandmother and mother are both breast cancer surviviors
• Having Katie's Sunday school teacher be the insurance coordinator for my new surgeon's office
• In the ruby red cozy sequined slippers that arrived minutes after the diagnosis erminding me that my sisters in Christ are WITH me
• In the package with the cozy scarf and beautiful worhsip CD that a "not in real life but in real heart" sent me  
• The people God has sent - each with their own unique story and gift - that He has woven together in my safety net. Some of these people I didn't even know before last week, some are casual FB friends, some are people I have known but didn't know all their story.   

The Here and Now is filled with God's beauty and wonder and glory and grace and mercy. Don't miss it!