Saying ‘Happy Father’s Day’ Doesn’t Do Him Justice

In the summer after 8^th grade, he briefly let go of my hand and smiled awkwardly as he wiped off his sweaty palm, then nervously grabbed my hand again and squeezed. With butterflies in my stomach, I thought it might be love.   

When he was sixteen, we rode up a chairlift on a cold winter day and I rubbed my hands together for warmth. He calmly took each of my gloves and blew into them with his warm breath, then placed the warmed gloves back on my frozen fingers. I looked into his kind eyes and knew it was a love too real for teenagers.

A year later, he had just been baptized and the Holy Spirit filled his heart, he hugged me tight in a crowded church lobby as tears streamed down his face. I thought how much God loved him and I knew he had a plan for us… either together or apart… I knew he would always be my first love.

He was a few months shy of nineteen, sitting on a picnic table in Mueller Park Canyon as I sobbed out the words, “I’m pregnant,” but this is when his eyes lit up and he enthusiastically exclaimed, “Now we can get married!” He held me tight and I thought I would never love him more than at that moment.

Six months later in a hospital room, a squirmy newborn flailed and screamed at the top of his lungs as we attempted to change our first diaper and realized we didn’t know what to do. I panicked and pushed the emergency nurse button. After the annoyed nurse rolled her eyes and reviewed the diapering  procedure once more, he looked at me with confidence and said, “It’s gonna be okay; we can do this.” I was skeptical, but I knew I couldn’t love him more.

Later that year, we each held one of our son’s tiny hands as he laid on a beautiful alter adorn in lace. Our sweet baby smiled at us as Tim looked me in the eyes and promised me forever.  We felt God’s love bless our little family and I thought I couldn’t love him more.

At twenty-three, he convinced me to move to Idaho where we didn’t know a single soul. I complained one night about missing my friends and he said he would be my best friend. The move turned out to be the best thing for our marriage and family; he’s been my best friend ever since and I thought I couldn’t love him more.

When he was twenty-seven years old, he took it upon himself to cook Sunday dinners. Everyone knows he’s a much better cook than I, but having this reprieve was priceless and became a tradition the kids looked forward to ever since. Each Sunday as we sit down for dinner together as a family, I swear I couldn’t love him more.  

At thirty, while stumbling over Legos, army men, and toddler toys, I was holding a baby on my hip and in denial that I could possibly be pregnant again, I watched him as he stood among a pile of laundry and methodically folded the clean clothes. I realized there is nothing more enduring than a man willingly folding laundry. I knew I couldn’t love him more.

At thirty-three, he fished, golfed, coached our kids’ sports teams, and took time off work to go to scout camp. He called home in tears one night as the realization sunk in that our oldest would never be like the other boys. He didn’t express self-pity or disappointment; it was an overwhelming compassion and love for our son as he wept, “I never fully understood.” Regardless of what the future held, I knew we were together in raising him the best we could and I had never loved him more than at that moment.

He was thirty-eight when a rebellious child declared his independent rage and frustration with a mother who was holding on too tight. He looked up to the growing child with a firm tone and warned him to never speak to his mother that way again. We slowly learned to let go, but our love for each other and united front has been a constant. I knew I couldn’t love him more.

At forty-two, he wiped away my tears while calmly explaining college algebra at 1am in the morning. He encouraged me and told me I could do it, that I was smarter than I realized. So whatever degree I would eventually earn, it belongs to him as well. I loved his logic and unwavering support, because college would simply not have been possible without him. I thought I couldn’t love him more... but I was wrong.

At forty-five he holds me tight through the pain and fear of breast cancer. He’s been there throughout the endless appointments, medications and sickness, caressing my patchy bald head and bloated face while insisting I will always be beautiful to him. His positive reassurance is what calms me the most, and his resolve that “We will do whatever it takes to be together another forty years.” There’s no way I could ever love him more. 

The love of my life has continued to amaze me, this incredibly steady and strong husband of mine. He has shown our children what true love is all about and what it means to be a good father… a good man. Whatever challenges, trials, or adventures life has brought throughout the years, I thought I couldn’t love him more – but he continues to prove me wrong each day as our love evolves and grows.      

Four weeks of chemo remaining...

Four weeks of chemo remaining...

Distractions are wonderful: June has brought much needed relief; summer has arrived, Jake has moved back home after graduating from ISU, Mason is preparing for a National IT Skills Competition in Kentucky, my sister Jill came from Austin, TX to visit and help us, the girls are both playing summer basketball for the high school throughout June and we love watching their games! Cheering them on and berating poor referee calls has been a great distraction. Having only four weekly chemo treatments remaining has given us something to look forward to as well. It seems we are over the worst of it, or my body has finally adjusted to the newer chemo treatments, or I am holding down more food, so I have more physical strength. Whatever it is, I feel renewed and can see light at the end of the tunnel even as I lose my eyelashes and eyebrows. The past three months were a real test, and I feel like I have crawled back from the abyss of darkness. It is interesting; my body is weaker than it’s ever been in my life, but I feel an unexplained spiritual strength. Is this the refiner’s fire? We still have a long way to go this year, but making it through these months of chemo and the subsequent physical (and emotional) changes has forever changed my perspective and spiritual outlook.

Thank you to our loved ones: Words cannot explain how much we have appreciated the caring thoughts, sweet cards and care packages from friends and family from around the country. Support from loved ones has carried us through a very dark time of medical upheaval and financial stress. Although we are still living in a limbo of unanswered questions and uncertainty, we know God is looking out for us. We know we can make it through whatever comes, and it is mainly because of our incredible support system. Thank you.

The scoop: As previously mentioned, we have four weekly chemo treatments remaining, with the final treatment around July 7^th. So, what’s next? We’ll have an MRI and other tests to see how much the chemo has reduced the size of the tumor. I can feel that it is smaller and it seems to have released the pectoral muscle, because the pain in this area has subsided. We will meet with our surgeon again to work out our game plan and discuss the surgical options. It seems we’ll have surgery around the first week of August, take four to six weeks to heal and then follow it up with radiation treatments. The oncologist says the radiation treatments will probably last six weeks, with treatments everyday Monday through Friday; roughly 30 radiation treatments in all. This seems like a lot, but we are prepared to do whatever it takes to rid my body of this cancer. 

In other news: God continues to answer prayers when we least expect it. I had applied for the BSU Communication Graduate Program before I was diagnosed and this spring we found out I was selected to receive one of three Graduate Teaching Assistantships. This is a substantial award, which waives the tuition costs of graduate school and includes a small stipend. I will have a small office on campus, be considered part of the Communication Department staff, take classes and train to receive my college teaching certificate. The department heads have been very supportive regarding my medical situation and we are sure this will open doors for our family in the future. Although we aren’t exactly sure how everything will play out with my surgery and radiation, we know where there is a will, there is a way! This opportunity is a blessing for our family; we are confident and have faith that God has blessed us with this opportunity for a reason. Part of the assistantship includes training and teaching Communication 101 classes, which were originally supposed to start the week of August 22^nd, but due to my medical issues, they have agreed to let me receive the training throughout the fall and start teaching next semester (in January). I love to teach and knowing the BSU Comm Department sees my potential has been a real confidence booster; exactly what we needed to make it through this trial. We just have to get through the next few months of surgery and radiation, but knowing some of what our future holds helps me personally feel empowered, which was exactly what I needed after losing my prior job in the middle of my chemo treatments. Isn’t it amazing how blessings arrive when we are at our lowest, when we least expect them? Isn’t it amazing to sit back and let God steer our lives? We just have to trust that he knows where He is taking us. He knows us better than we know ourselves; he knows what we are capable of achieving. He knows each of us and wants the best for us, we just need to trust in Him and let Him steer. Being the ultimate backseat driver (just ask Tim & the kids), it is never easy to relinquish control and let others steer, but if we have learned anything recently, it is that we must learn to let go and trust in Him. There have been days and weeks over the past few months when I was not sure I was going to survive and still often feel I am just hanging on by my feeble fingernails throughout this journey. Although we are far from finished, we know the trick is to hang on to what matters and to let go of everything else, to have faith and to trust in God. He loves us and knows what we stand in need of; He will see us through.  

We Do Hard Things

There was a sign hanging in a friend's house. It said, “We do hard things.”  We are not above engaging in hard labor. We were raised to pull weeds, whistle while we worked, and put our shoulders to the wheel. I personally believe that if both hands are not busy, then I am not being productive. We have never had a housekeeper, hence our house has never been spotless. We have made our kids clean and tolerated eye rolls as we’ve demonstrated the correct way to clean bathrooms. We have threatened to take away phones, bribed with allowance and have done everything in our power to instill some sort of work ethic in our children. Sometimes the only way to get it across to them it to physically show them. Showing we can accomplish unpleasant items demonstrates to them, “We can do hard things” which will someday add up to bigger accomplishments.  The big picture of this might be lost on teenagers sometimes, but similar work ethic is necessary when accomplishing school work and studying for tests as well as carrying over into the workplace.  We might not like everything we are asked to do, but to prove our ourselves capable in the world, “we do hard things.”

Cancer is hard. Chemo is hard. Coming to terms with my own physical and mental limitations has been excruciating.  This month has been plagued with uncontrollable coughing, nausea/vomiting, dry heaves, rampant diarrhea, stomach cramps and dehydration.  There have been things this past month that I wanted to do and needed to do but simply was not able to do them to the caliber I am accustom. We have had to learn how to function with limitations. We have learned to say, "good enough pig” from the movie Babe & just accept our efforts as is. We have added extra IV fluids and last week we postponed my chemo treatment all together to give my body a chance to catch up. There have been exhausting moments filled with tears in the bathroom and rants when I have sworn I could not go on. But realizing my own limitations makes me realize once again I can only do my part and it’s time to put my trust in God. To ask for priesthood blessings, and to be reminded of God’s promise in Matthew 10:29-31, “Are not two sparrows sod for a farthing? And one of then shall not fall on the ground without your Father. But the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear ye not therefore, ye are of more valve than many sparrows.” He knows the (lack of numbers) of hairs on my head  and just like the loving farmer from Babe, has helped me realize that, “good enough pig” will have to do right now. He knows us; He knows what we are suffering through; He will get us through this.

   

Throughout the past couple of weeks, we have had a rollercoaster ride. I lost my job, but I was also able to spend time with friends and family who help put things in perspective. I graduated from Boise State University in Bachelor of Arts; Communication on Saturday, with honors Cum Laude and a minor in Nonprofit Management. We watched our son earn his bachelor’s degree from Idaho State University in Health & Sciences Physical Education. We can’t wait to see what the future holds for him. We moved him

home and our house is full again, which I absolutely love. Even though I am weaker and sicker than I have ever been in my life, God is opening doors. He is blessing our family with the kindness of others and other tender mercies. He knows the hairs on our heads; he knows what we stand in need of.  Sometimes we just need to “do hard things” and get on with life. 

Moms

There are times in our lives when we need someone who knows us inside and out to sit by our side, listen to us vent, and reassure us that we can make it through whatever it is we are currently going through. Sometimes we just need our moms. 

Embarrassing Mothers: When our children were 16, 14, 8, 6 & 4, I took them to a dollar movie. Side note: the movie actually cost $2 or $3, but we still call it the 'Dollar Theater' because it used to be $1 and it is relatively less expensive than paying full price at the ‘New Release Theaters,’ of which we rarely attend because why pay full price when you can wait a few months and see it for a fraction of the price? At any rate, I regress, back to the story: we were walking through the parking lot, the older boys were up ahead as I was holding the girls hands and walking several steps behind when our oldest child, Josh lamented, "This is so embarrassing... going to a movie with your family." The 14 year dryly replied, "Thanks man," to which the oldest said, "Not you, you're okay, but mom (quick glance back), Jeez..."  I was crushed... wait... what the what? I did a quick glance at myself… was I wearing something embarrassing? I was not sporting a Hawaiian muu-muu, hair curlers, tacky jewelry or anything I thought would be embarrassing to the general public. In fact, I was looking downright fashionable and taking our happy offspring to the movies... with unlimited popcorn and soda... so what the what?! All I could muster was a dejected, "You know I can hear you, right?" There was some murmuring involved, but no real response. All throughout that movie, I simmered and had the strongest urge to throw popcorn at that thankless kid’s head, run up to the row he was sitting in (because sitting with his family would have been social suicide) and announce to the entire theater that mommy was bringing him more napkins for his buttery fingers or seeing if he needed a potty break intermission. But I swallowed my prideful revenge, admitted he was going through a snotty teenager phase and sucked it up for a couple of hours. Then I did what any true martyr would do: I gave him the silent treatment, lamented for the evening about where our once sweet boy had gone, and accepted crushed visions of close teenage relationships with our brood. Then I hugged our littler munchkins and whispered in their ears, “You still like me, right? Mommy needs some sugar” and gratefully accepted as many kisses and hugs they could muster while searching for a way to freeze time, keeping them young and sweet for as long as possible.
Fast forward 48 hours: Josh came home sick from school with the flu and a fever, which I half-believed was sweet justice. I gave him medication, an empty puke bowl and a cold, wet  washcloth for his forehead with instructions to go lay down. He might have been halfway to miserable delirium, but as he curled up in the fetal position, he reached out one hand to me and croaked, “Mom.” That’s right, folks; all that this smelly, 6’2, gangly boy was missing... his mom! So I melted like a popsicle, sat next to him, held his head in my lap and brushed his hair back with the cold, wet cloth while humming Primary songs I used to sing him to sleep with when he was young until he finally passed out. Okay, lesson learned: sometimes you need your mom and sometimes you need to appear to not need your mom, and it is all part of the mother/child relationship. Although the former was like a dagger to the heart, there are times when people will simply need their moms... or a close friend or somebody in their lives who they can turn to when life's trials threaten to eat us alive.  
  
4th A/C Chemo Treatment: We received my 4th and final A/C chemo treatment on Friday and look forward to moving on to the hopefully less invasive treatments over the next few months. Our oncologist told us things would become cumulatively worse with these first four intensive treatments during the initial eight weeks. I thought I could muscle through this initial chemo, but the past couple of weeks had progressively gotten to a point where I could not do everything I wanted or needed to do. After Friday's treatment, we have about two weeks of the horrible side effects and ramifications, then starting April 21st, we will have 12 weeks of a less horrible, somewhat less invasive weekly chemo that is supposed to be easier to manage while still progressively getting worse over the following 12-week period and completing around the beginning of July. We are praying our oncologist and nurses are correct regarding the next chemo series being easier to handle physically and mentally, because we have lives to live and things to accomplish over the next few months. We need to get back to some sort of normalcy. Maybe it's a fascade, maybe the chemo brain and side effects will still linger, but we are hoping everything will be easier to manage as we move forward.


Sweet Relief: With the past two weeks being fairly horrible and limiting my ability to attend work and school, I had decided I was slowly falling into an abyss, when a 74 year-old ray of sunshine walked up my entryway and I practically melted in her arms. My mom came to visit! I can not explain the feeling of overwhelmed relief just having her enter our home. I started crying. I think I may have actually sobbed uncontrolably at one point. I basically fell apart... much to the shock of our three teens who were watching slightly horrified. But maybe it was good for them to see that everyone has their limitations and there are days when I just need my mom too. It has truly been a blessing to have her here, keeping everyone fed and on top of the laundry, but most of all, it has been her unwavering support and reassurance as I've felt so defeated by these treatments.

Other tests: Ultrasound Echo-Gram & Chest Xrays: Because of several side effects, I had an ultrasound echo-cardio gram to test my heart. All of this chemo is tough on the heart muscle, but according to the test, my heart is pumping away and doing fine, which is good news. Chest Xrays were also given because I've pick up a cough, which seems to have more to do with allergies and time of year than anything else, bring on the Zyrtec!

Happy thoughts and other uplifting tasks to help us get through the next few weeks: Trying to rest as much as possible and drink plenty of liquids, plant a few seasonal flower pots, soak up a little vitamin D theapy, attempting to work when possible and finishing up the final weeks of school while savoring time with mom... who is helping to make it all possible.