Prizes and Rocky Rides

On June 8th, Joel & I celebrated my parents' 59th wedding anniversary with them. On that same day, in this blog, I wrote a prayer thanking God for them, and asking that same God to please open The Door for my mom--to greet her with with cooler air, lighter breathing, and open arms. I admitted I was ready for her to be released from the pain and suffering that the stupid, f***ing cancer had brought upon her.

The next day, on June 9th, at the end of a very long and difficult day, I received an email from a dear friend with the subject line "Your Good Fortune." At a time when "good fortune" seemed to be totally contradictory to everything in my life, our good friend Brad indeed offered it to me in the form of great seats for good music with good friends over good food.

On June 25th, sixteen days after that email, my sweet mama walked through death's door and into God's open arms. And tonight, about three months later, that "good fortune" was realized, and I enjoyed an earthly prize for my rocky ride. A 2nd row table with Joel, (aka the love of my life), some treasured family and some great friends at Chastain Park for an Indigo Girls show. Seriously--if you know me, then you know that in this lifetime, the prize cannot get much better. And just because the cake needed some icing, after seeing them countless times in concert, and after years of waiting not-so-patiently, just three songs into their set, they played my favorite song.

"There's no way construction of this tricky plan was built by other than a Greater Hand. With a love that passes all our understanding watching closely over the journey. But what it takes to cross the great divide seems more than all the trouble I can muster up inside. We get to have some answers when we reach the other side. The prize is always worth the rocky ride."

Now this is a beautiful song regardless of where you happen to be when you hear it, but never has a song touched me so at a concert. Tears welled up in my eyes as I sat there with people who had walked alongside me on some very hard life roads these past few months, listening to a song that has assured me for many years now that regardless of the tired wood that is sometimes my life, a Greater Hand is at work making all things new, watching closely over life's journey.

I don't think I realized just how much I needed both the night and the reminder of the presence of God's Greater Hand. Amidst the threat of rain, with friends new and old all around me, I thanked God for both the rocky ride and the promised prize. As Emily reminded us all that "no one gets to miss the storm of what will be...," I realized again for the millionth time that life is indeed a journey; that we are not promised an easy road, but we are assured of that Greater Hand watching closely over us each and every step of the way, showing and giving us what we need, when we need it, despite how hard life might be from time to time.

Despite the fact that the threat of rain loomed over the night, despite the fact that the day (indeed, the week) had not gone so well, despite the fact that I enjoyed a bit too much wine and am paying (and will pay) the price these next few hours, the night was good. The night was good because God was at work. God was at work weaving the threads of my life with deeper relationships and memories that will sustain me when the storm of what will be comes my way again, bringing with it heavy downpours, thunder, lightening, and even flooding. God was at work reminding us all, every one of us there, that if the weather holds, we'll miss the point. God was at work assuring us, assuring me, that no matter how tired our wood gets, She is watching closely over the journey that is life.

And all will be well. TB2G.

A Moment of Truth

In dire need of some quality family time, the five of us watched Marley & Me last night. In this cute Jennifer Aniston / Owen Wilson movie, the adorable puppy who seems to eat everything in his sight enters their life post-marriage / pre-kids. This cutest terror you will ever see is with them through thick and thin of becoming a family, and the movie is simple and heartwarming. While I don't want to spoil the end for you, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to realize that the average dog lives, oh, ten to fifteen years, and the average family lives forever. At one point during the movie's end, in my rough effort to lighten things up a bit, I whispered into our darkened den lit only by the glow of our big-ass (sorry if that offends you...) TV, "Raise your hand if you are NOT crying." No hands went up.

For me, it was like opening the floodgates. I cried tears like I've not cried in years. It didn't take too long for me to realize that the tears moved beyond those sweet tears elicited by Hollywood to real gut-wrenching, life-induced tears after about the first two minutes. I tried to hold them back because I just did not want to deal with them, but I couldn't. So out they came, and with them, a flood of realization.

Let me preface all of this by saying that I know a big whine-fest is forthcoming. It will make me sound spoiled beyond belief to any of you who think I have a "perfect life." Even now as I sit it with it all bubbling up in my heart, eking ever-closer to my head where my feelings will be put into words and make their way out through my fingers and onto this screen, I am telling myself that I am crazy for even considering putting this out there in internet-land. But it's 4:30 in the morning, and God speaks to me most clearly at this time, and she (the God who speaks to me this early in the morning is most-decidedly the female nature of God) has made it quite clear that this is what I am to do, and quite frankly, I am too worn out to argue. I'd lose anyway.

It has just been one of those weekends where I just feel like my life is full of things that are just getting too big, too difficult, too hard. And those few things that I really do enjoy doing are made harder than they used to be because those yucky things take so much of my time. I enjoy caring for my family, including my parents, but that's harder than I want it to be because of soccer practice, writing assignments, and college-student angst. I enjoy spending time with my husband, but that is nigh-unto impossible lately because of the crazy schedules we keep, the pressing need/s of so many folks around us, and our mutual inability to tell the world to stop so that we can enjoy a few moments of time together without interruption. I enjoy hosting friends for dinner, but that was harder than I wanted it to be this weekend because of soccer games, my inability to express to the aforementioned husband what I am feeling or what I need, and his, more often than not, total oblivion to either anyway. I enjoy the 11:00 worship service on Sundays, but that has long been impossible for me these days given congregational politics, dreadfully slow hymns from the Dark Ages, and a resentment because all too often, the hard work that Joel is doing and the sacrifices we, as a family, are making result in misunderstanding and even abuse by a small handful of mean, angry, bitter folk. The things that really make me happy, that I really want to do, the things that I really NEED to do are complicated by things around me that are less fulfilling, less enjoyable, and yet seem to loom larger.

I have got to figure out how to re-focus, how to re-frame life so that the things I enjoy move to the foreground, and the things that make them harder than they need to be move to the background. I fear, however, that I am so mired in that I can't make or find my way out.

My friend Whitney blogs about her own "glimpses of grace." She pulls this from one of my favorite Frederick Buechner quotes: "Listen to your life. See it for the fathomless mystery that it is. In the boredom and pain of it no less than in the excitement and gladness: touch, taste, smell your way to the holy and hidden heart of it because in the last analysis all moments are key moments, and life itself is grace."

I'm listening, Freddie. I'm listening, God. Speak to me words of life. Speak to me words of grace. Because I'm kinda needing a big dose of both...

A Woman's Prerogative

Tom, Calli, & I received this email from Mom this morning, and I share it here with her permission. The subject line read: Change of Mind.

"Last night I went to bed shortly after Ned got here & slept til 4:30 without even waking up. That was a gift!! Then I began re-thinking my decision to take the Tarceva. I prayed about it & prayed about it & thought about all of the ramifications. They really don't know how it will work for me, they say I will be tired & have diahrreah & can't go around anybody who is sick etc, etc, & they don't know how much time it will buy for me. SO I HAVE DECIDED TO JUST RIDE OUT THIS CANCER & "treat the symptoms" as they say. I believe my quality of life will be just as good if not better doing it this way. And who knows...I might live just as long & have a better quality of life leaving off that poison!!! I have not told your dad yet, but I think he will be just fine with this decision. I will get the pain medicine filled because I think I will need that down the road. It just sounded more & more like it would be doing something that would in the long road not make my life any better. I have lived 80 wonderful years, I want the last years to be as good as possible, with my knowing what is going on as long as possible.
So there is my FINAL DECISION!! Jill you can stop the wheels from turning about the insurance coverage...how ever you need to do that!! And we will just enjoy the time we have to the fullest...all of us!!!
The birds are singing outside & I take that as affirmation!!!
God bless you everyone!!! "

I have hardly stopped crying since I read it about an hour ago--a wild mix of tears of sadness, relief, assurance, fear, respect, and selfishness. We have said all along, the three of us, that this is Mom's cancer and that it's Mom's decision--one we would respect wholeheartedly no matter what she decided. And we do. But that doesn't make it any easier.

With treatment of some kind, we were given the hope of a year or two, maybe even three. Without treatment, all signs point to months rather than years.

As I was sitting at the counter just now, working the Tuesday crossword through my intermittent tears, Daniel, unaware that I was upset, said "Happy Early Birthday, Mom!" I thanked him and said that I thought it would be a sad one this year. He came over and gave me a hug and said, "I know." I explained to him that Attee had decided to forego treatment, and that she would likely not be here for my next birthday. "I know, Mom. We just have to enjoy the time that we do have with her now."

He's twelve. He's wise. He's right.

So let's all do that, shall we? And who knows? The prayers of many and the strength of one spunky 80 year old lady just might be stronger than any cancer drug out there. I pray so.

Sandwiches and Peace

According to Wikipedia, the source of common knowledge for all things, except maybe God, the term "sandwich generation" is used to describe the generation of people who are caring for their aging parents while simultaneously supporting their own children. There is even a website by that name, designed to connect, nurture, and support those of us who are in that category. Many people may consider it a burden to be caring both up (for parents) and down (for children) simultaneously. However, I consider it a great blessing to have two wonderful parents and three terrific sons, and there are few greater privileges than to walk beside them in this life--laughing and crying with them, loving and caring for them. To have a loving, supportive spouse that willingly and patiently travels this road with us all is mere icing on the cake.

The gospel writer Mark often uses a "sandwiching" style in his writing. A "Markan sandwich" is a literary technique whereby the gospel writer interrupts a story with what appears to be an unrelated story. A classic example can be found in Chapter 5--the healing of Jairus' daughter is interrupted by the healing of the hemorrhaging woman. Anyone who has studied this, or others of Mark's "sandwich" stories knows that the interrupted story and the middle story are far from unrelated, although they may appear to be at first glance.

Yesterday, I began my day by leading the youth of Decatur Presbyterian Church, in which 2 or our 3 sons are participants, in their "break fast" service of communion from their 30-hour famine lock-in. While I did not observe the fast, I do know that starting the day with the Lord's Supper at 7AM was a rare blessing--a wonderful way to begin the day. (I must confess, however, that I did drink my coffee before I partook of the elements. Priorities, my friend, priorities!) And I ended my day in a similar way, leading the youth of Columbia Presbyterian Church in their "break fast" service of communion at 5:30 in the afternoon.

And in between, I cared for my mother. Since she cannot yet shower because of her recent medical procedure, I washed her hair for her in the kitchen sink, as she did for me on countless Saturday nights when I was a little girl. Then I carefully and deliberately followed the step-by-step instructions for draining the fluid from her pleural cavity for the third time--a procedure we currently have to do every other day. As she recovered from the pain that ensues each time we do that, I held her and stroked her hair. I reminded her of all the years she spent caring for me when I was a child, and assured her that it was, it is, indeed, a privilege to be able to care for her now, even as she continues to take care of me as well.

Just like a Markan sandwich, at first glance, those two "stories" may seem unrelated. It may seem a bit odd that my services of "breaking fast" were "interrupted" by my caring for my mother. But the meal that God gave us is a meal that provides strength and sustenance--bread for the journey of life, if you will. And the double reminder, those two meals of strength, sustencance, and nurture with which I was blessed yesterday, were reminders of the bond we share as Christ-followers--when we are at that table, and when we are out and about doing the work to which God calls us.

God called me to be both a daughter and a mother. And God, and God alone, can and will give me the strength, patience, and endurance that I need to live into those callings each and every day. There will be good days and bad days, I know. And while I'd still rather put this piece of chocolate in the nearest trash can rather than to claim it as "my piece," there is nothing more important to me right now than being present with and for my family--both up, down, and sideways. (That's you, Joel, as well as Calli & Tom...)

I continue to be overwhelmed with gratitude for the many prayers that are being offered on our behalf--for me, for my mom & dad, for my siblings, and for Joel & our boys. I can truly say that for the first time in my life, I am experiencing a peace that passes all understanding.

Thanks be to God for both sandwiches and peace!