Yesterday was our thirteenth wedding anniversary. We spent the day on the road to St. Louis for a CT scan today and an appointment to follow up with Dane’s oncologist for results tomorrow. We are staying with my great aunt Jean this trip. You may think we should have opted for a hotel on our anniversary, but chemotherapy zaps the resources as well as the need for that luxurious privacy. Besides, we received the greatest anniversary gifts that I must share.
When my mother passed, our cousin Reverend Kurt Stone assisted with her funeral. It was beautiful and the following day I remember being told that every family should have a cousin Kurt. I completely agree. Every family should be blessed with a cousin Kurt, particularly because he came with our amazing Aunt Jean and Uncle Tom, the first Rev. Stone. While Kurt so eloquently helped us say goodbye to Mom, Uncle Tom was there to eloquently set us sail in marriage.
We were treated to a delicious dinner last night by Aunt Jean, Kurt and his wife Linda, complete with a celebratory cake. My aunt has an unrivaled gift of supreme organization and gave us a candleholder that they had received as an anniversary gift from my grandma and a copy of our wedding ceremony.
My Uncle Tom’s words (that were a complete blur to me on that day) are what I want to share with you. In particular, I want to share the words that my Aunt Jean so neatly typed thirteen years ago that are yelling at me from the page today. First, one of his prayers;
"God who gives life to all people and meaning to every moment, we pray that Angela and Dane may ever be faithful to the covenant they have just made. May the home they establish be a haven of peace and love in which all may share. May your grace and love be their constant companion as they fulfill their life together. Amen.”
A haven of peace and love. ...Oops.
Stress and illness weakens us to bark and bicker. My eyes stuck to those words on the page. I could dwell and elaborate on how far from peace we stray, but his wedding homily leads me otherwise.
A. Birds in Bella Vista
a. Largest – turkey vulture
b. Smallest—hummingbird
B. Diets differ greatly
a. Vulture—road kill
b. Hummingbird—colorful blossoms of beautiful flowers (and sugar water)
C. Vulture lives on what was…
a. Lives in the past.
D. Hummingbird
a. Lives on what is
b. Seek new life
c. Fill themselves with freshness & life
E. Each bird finds what it is looking for; we all do exactly that
F. Those of us who know you, love you, and want the best for you prefer you will always seek new life, and fill yourselves with freshness and life.
He continued with quotes from Eda LeShan’s “Going for the Gold” and Garrison Keillor’s book “We are Still Married”. His illustration of the birds of his Bella Vista, Arkansas home, however, is so very clear. We find exactly that which we are searching. We can fill ourselves with freshness and life like the peaceful hummingbird, or pick at the road kill.
Uncle Tom’s conclusion:
A. From Life’s Little Instruction Calendar…
Remember that a successful marriage depends on two things:
a. Finding the right person and
b. Being the right person.
B. God bless you both as you seek new life together, and do remember, “Happiness is never just around the corner—it is always right there in front of you.”
C. Seek new life and fill yourselves with freshness and life.
Dear God, who gives life to all people and meaning to every moment, I thank you that we have been ever faithful to the covenant we made thirteen years ago. May the home we have established be a haven of peace and love in which all may share. May your grace and love continue to be our constant companion as we continue to fulfill this life together, seeking to do so with freshness and life. Amen.
Growing Pains
Our household is suffering through the pains of growing up. My baby now calls herself a first grader. Preschool is long behind us, kindergarten is complete and the countdown of school years is already on. Ouch. It makes momma’s heart ache and eyes water just typing it.
She also lost her baby blanket three weeks ago. This blankie, dubbed yellow and often referred to as smellow, was given to her before she took her first breath. She rubbed it’s silky edges and chewed its corners brown. She loved it until it was holey and took it with her most everywhere, which would be its demise. Smellow Yellow was last seen at the Andover Dillon’s. We were told it was in lost and found for a couple of days but then thrown out, probably because of its appearance. Clearly, lost and found was not monitored by a parent because that blanket’s appearance (and smell) should have made its value obvious. It was a priceless, irreplaceable lovey.
She also lost her baby blanket three weeks ago. This blankie, dubbed yellow and often referred to as smellow, was given to her before she took her first breath. She rubbed it’s silky edges and chewed its corners brown. She loved it until it was holey and took it with her most everywhere, which would be its demise. Smellow Yellow was last seen at the Andover Dillon’s. We were told it was in lost and found for a couple of days but then thrown out, probably because of its appearance. Clearly, lost and found was not monitored by a parent because that blanket’s appearance (and smell) should have made its value obvious. It was a priceless, irreplaceable lovey.
Thing 2 with her Yellow
She cried and has mourned her most favorite blankie ever. Me too. We’ve talked about how losing a lovey is part of growing up, and what a big girl she’s becoming. She’s playing T-ball, going into the first grade, and while we miss yellow and are so sad it’s gone, it is ok because she no longer needs it. There’s no replacing yellow, but she’s making her own big girl blanket now and even has her first wiggly tooth. She’s growing up, and dragging me along kicking and screaming.
Two weeks ago, Mrs. 1inamillion parted ways with her BFF. When I was sixteen, I got a dog and named her Harley. We were told she was Yorkshire terrier and Pomeranian, but we later determined she must also have had a bit of Himalayan rat in her as well. She was too big to be just a Yorkie-Pom and nowhere near fluffy, but she was absolutely fabulous. Harley had such character and accompanied me in college, getting married, moving to Indiana, Florida and back to Kansas again. She comforted Mr. 1inamillian through several recoveries, and welcomed our children into our family.
Harley J. Hooley, 4/9/1992-6/4/2010
Harley was with me for more than half my life; eighteen years, 126 if you do the dog math. She had hacked like an eighty year old smoker for quite a while. I had prayed many times for the Lord to take her home peacefully when it was time and not let me struggle with that decision. There were multiple occasions when sleeping so sound, I laid down beside her and told her I loved her and if she saw a light or Mom, it was okay to run. She’d lift her head up and look at me like I was nuts. But two weeks ago when Harley was sick to her stomach and unable to stand on her own, we looked at each other and knew that it was in fact time. We shed tears and said goodbye. Thing 1 and I took her to the vet who helped her make it to Glory quickly and peacefully.
I am still crying and mourning my most favorite dog ever. I left that vet’s office to comfort my children, to get a flat tire fixed and a dead car battery replaced and work to pay the bills. I am struggling to be a grown up. I may look and act the part, but inside I‘m kicking and screaming about it all.
Now we are facing the fact that another lovey may be gone. After a day of massive clean up at our house, we discovered last night that Buster is missing in action. Buster was Mr. 1inamillion’s Victory Bear that he received on his very first day of chemotherapy and had given to Thing 1. After three years of lots of snuggling, Buster was undeniably a lovey. We are talking about the story of The Velveteen Rabbit, about how our love can be magical. We are shedding more tears, mourning the loss of a most favorite bear ever.
Tylenol helps ease the pain of wiggly teeth and aching joints, but there’s no replacing our loveys. This summer’s growing pains hurt. Amidst them, though, we have managed to kick off the training wheels and begun jumping from the high dive. We are growing into new adventures. It is easier to run free without toting a blankie, a raggedy bear or worry about a 126 year old friend that just longs to run free, too. We are treasuring our memories, but focusing on sharing our love with those we still have and doing our best to learn what we can and welcome the joys that await us. Hopefully with a little less of me kicking and screaming along the way.
Thanks for Asking
We have always been very open about Mr. 1inamillion’s cancer with anyone and everyone in our lives. Occasionally we do pay for that, but I grew up in a family and community with a very powerful prayer chain and believe that if people don’t know about it, they can’t pray about it. We are always, always, grateful for the prayers and firmly believe in their power. The kindness we receive from others is touching. I am appreciative of the questions and concern I receive on behalf of my husband. Except of course when I‘m not.
The family that surrounds a patient tends to blend into the shadows of a sarcoma. We are generally pretty accepting of that. We are the trees that are strong because we are flexible. We bend in the wind, go with the flow. Our wants and plans were tossed out the window on the way home from the oncologist. That’s just the way it goes, and usually that’s okay. Fighting cancer clearly outweighs most topics. There are some moments, however, that our presence should not be overshadowed. We should be acknowledged and be the point of concern. It might sound bitter and selfish, but it’s true. Sometimes the concern for Mr. 1inamillion is poorly timed and not appreciated. Occasionally I‘m even kind of offended by it.
Offended by concern for your hubby? Surely not! I know that might be what you are thinking, so I’ll share some examples and weigh them out for you.
Example # 1
Last fall Thing 1 confessed to me that he did not like going to Scouts since Mr. 1inamillion was sick. This was because most of the adults there asked how his Dad was doing and he didn’t want to talk about it all the time. This example weighs in as annoying. He’s a child and Scouts is supposed to be his opportunity to be just that. Let him be like any other boy there, focused on fun.
My suggested response for him to use when questioned was “He’s hanging in there, thanks for asking. How’s your Dad?”. It’s short, sweet and would catch them a bit off guard because they’re older and their fathers have probably passed to Glory already. Some may not appreciate the hint of sarcasm in my coaching, but I find humor to be a super coping mechanism. Besides, my father taught me well and it would be wrong not to pass on the gift of sarcasm to the next generation.
My request of adults is to simply let my kids lead on the topic and direct your questions to me. If they bring it up, please feel honored by their trust and let them talk. Otherwise, let Gabe and Lucy be all about Gabe and Lucy.
Example # 2
Perhaps we cross paths and you greet me with “Hey! How’s your husband?”. This is by far the most common occurrence and it is not annoying, but it does not rank as sincerely appreciated, either. I’m accustomed to it but I recommend leading with “How are you?”. It is just polite and will be met with gratitude. Otherwise you may just receive a "He's hanging in there, thanks for asking. How's your husband?".
Example # 3
This last example is probably over-sharing, but it really is the experience that has offended me and makes my point like no other example could.
Last week I had a doctor’s appointment of my very own. This is the doctor that delivered both Things 1 and 2. He is clearly familiar with our family and it’s certainly not odd for him to inquire about Mr. 1inamillion. This appointment was for an IUD placement. The kind doctor was questioning me about my husband’s health as he was rooting around inside me. He also asked how Mr. 1inamillion was handling the latest set back emotionally, because it is such a tough battle.
I understand his intent was likely an effort to distract me from the extreme pain he was causing, but a lighter topic of conversation would have been more welcomed at that very moment. It also might have been appropriate for MY doctor messing with MY hormones to have inquired about MY emotional health as well. But he didn’t.
After I was home from my appointment, Mr. 1inamillion asked how it went. He also asked about kind doctor and if kind doctor had asked about him. It might have been more appropriate for him to have inquired about risks to my health, side effects or how long I might be in pain. But he didn’t.
When cancer takes hold of one member of the family, everyone else tends to become an afterthought. That just becomes the norm, and in a lot of instances that’s okay. Except of course when it’s clearly not. Now kind doctor did say he would put us in his prayers. I am very grateful for that. He’s right, cancer is a tough battle. It’s also a little risky to have a family overshadowed by it, a mom with hormones unbalanced and emotional health unchecked.
The family that surrounds a patient tends to blend into the shadows of a sarcoma. We are generally pretty accepting of that. We are the trees that are strong because we are flexible. We bend in the wind, go with the flow. Our wants and plans were tossed out the window on the way home from the oncologist. That’s just the way it goes, and usually that’s okay. Fighting cancer clearly outweighs most topics. There are some moments, however, that our presence should not be overshadowed. We should be acknowledged and be the point of concern. It might sound bitter and selfish, but it’s true. Sometimes the concern for Mr. 1inamillion is poorly timed and not appreciated. Occasionally I‘m even kind of offended by it.
Offended by concern for your hubby? Surely not! I know that might be what you are thinking, so I’ll share some examples and weigh them out for you.
Example # 1
Last fall Thing 1 confessed to me that he did not like going to Scouts since Mr. 1inamillion was sick. This was because most of the adults there asked how his Dad was doing and he didn’t want to talk about it all the time. This example weighs in as annoying. He’s a child and Scouts is supposed to be his opportunity to be just that. Let him be like any other boy there, focused on fun.
My suggested response for him to use when questioned was “He’s hanging in there, thanks for asking. How’s your Dad?”. It’s short, sweet and would catch them a bit off guard because they’re older and their fathers have probably passed to Glory already. Some may not appreciate the hint of sarcasm in my coaching, but I find humor to be a super coping mechanism. Besides, my father taught me well and it would be wrong not to pass on the gift of sarcasm to the next generation.
My request of adults is to simply let my kids lead on the topic and direct your questions to me. If they bring it up, please feel honored by their trust and let them talk. Otherwise, let Gabe and Lucy be all about Gabe and Lucy.
Example # 2
Perhaps we cross paths and you greet me with “Hey! How’s your husband?”. This is by far the most common occurrence and it is not annoying, but it does not rank as sincerely appreciated, either. I’m accustomed to it but I recommend leading with “How are you?”. It is just polite and will be met with gratitude. Otherwise you may just receive a "He's hanging in there, thanks for asking. How's your husband?".
Example # 3
This last example is probably over-sharing, but it really is the experience that has offended me and makes my point like no other example could.
Last week I had a doctor’s appointment of my very own. This is the doctor that delivered both Things 1 and 2. He is clearly familiar with our family and it’s certainly not odd for him to inquire about Mr. 1inamillion. This appointment was for an IUD placement. The kind doctor was questioning me about my husband’s health as he was rooting around inside me. He also asked how Mr. 1inamillion was handling the latest set back emotionally, because it is such a tough battle.
I understand his intent was likely an effort to distract me from the extreme pain he was causing, but a lighter topic of conversation would have been more welcomed at that very moment. It also might have been appropriate for MY doctor messing with MY hormones to have inquired about MY emotional health as well. But he didn’t.
After I was home from my appointment, Mr. 1inamillion asked how it went. He also asked about kind doctor and if kind doctor had asked about him. It might have been more appropriate for him to have inquired about risks to my health, side effects or how long I might be in pain. But he didn’t.
When cancer takes hold of one member of the family, everyone else tends to become an afterthought. That just becomes the norm, and in a lot of instances that’s okay. Except of course when it’s clearly not. Now kind doctor did say he would put us in his prayers. I am very grateful for that. He’s right, cancer is a tough battle. It’s also a little risky to have a family overshadowed by it, a mom with hormones unbalanced and emotional health unchecked.
Happy Mother's Day
One of the greatest challenges that face working moms is daycare. It's a heavy burden that carries so much worry and guilt. It’s easy to find someone to watch your children and not that difficult to find someone who will really care for them. The true treasure we seek, though, is someone who will love them. A person that abolishes the worry, a little of the guilt and lightens the load. Someone who loves them as their own, who becomes a member of our family and accepts us into theirs.
I am the baby in my family, yet I am a proud big sister. My mom provided childcare in our home when we were young. There were several kids for which she genuinely cared and there are a few lucky moms for whom she was the true treasure. Brandy was brought to us when her mom, Jane, first returned to work after maternity leave. She was loved beyond measure by our mother and became a member of our family. She’s amidst the family photos and, as a baby, even looked the part. Just with thick, beautiful curls. Brandy Jane was picked on like any younger sibling should be by us and my mom dreaded her growing up and going off to kindergarten like her true mother. She begged Jane to have another when Brandy turned five, but instead they packed up and moved. It was crushing.
They visited each time they returned to Kansas, wrote letters and sent Mom cards and Christmas gifts through the years. As a grown up, Brandy is fabulous. She’s tall, has completed multiple mission trips and speaks fluent Spanish. Clear and apparent signs she is not really ours. But after Mom passed, she and her family were here with us sharing the burden of grief. She shared the hurt with the man she soon married and explained, in Spanish, how a only child can have thirteen nieces and nephews.
When the first of our nieces was born, Mom was able to watch her and spare my older sister the challenge upon returning to work. After it became too much, she still saved Shelly from difficulty and pointed her straight to a true treasure. My nieces and nephew are loved and demonstrate natural abilities that clearly were not genetically inherited. They are athletic. We watch in amazement and say things like, “Look at that! Where’d that come from? It must be the Kendrick in them.”
I have faced the decision challenge of daycare a few times as a working mom. I easily found someone to watch Gabe when I returned to work. He was in good hands, but not great. Shortly after, I struck pay dirt. My father took an early retirement. Mom’s Parkinson’s was too far advanced for her to watch him on her own, but as a tag team they were the jack pot. Gabe and Lucy are completely self-confident children and often think the world revolves around them. In their defense they had Grandma and Grandpa’s complete, undivided attention for so much of their early years so in their reality, it sort of did.
We found people that cared for them at the local daycare after Dad broke his leg. When that daycare abruptly closed, I found my true treasure. The woman that had been cleaning for us was watching her grandsons and while she had no intentions of watching additional kids, she took on our Things 1 and 2. And loves them. She has become a part of our family over the last two years and we love her. We no longer depend on her full time care, but she takes them when needed and sometimes just because they want her to. There are some signs of her nurture overpowering a bit of our nature, too. Lucy loves to drink ice water and does not really care for chocolate. That is something she certainly did not learn from any of her actual relatives.
This Mother's Day, I am especially grateful for the true treasures that lighten and help balance the loads of parenting and work. For Debby who has loved my nieces, nephew, and my sister, through so much. For Purnie who recognizes my needs as much as my kids'. I am also grateful for Brandy Jane, who shares with us memories of my mother and proves the value of a true treasure is beyond measure.
I am the baby in my family, yet I am a proud big sister. My mom provided childcare in our home when we were young. There were several kids for which she genuinely cared and there are a few lucky moms for whom she was the true treasure. Brandy was brought to us when her mom, Jane, first returned to work after maternity leave. She was loved beyond measure by our mother and became a member of our family. She’s amidst the family photos and, as a baby, even looked the part. Just with thick, beautiful curls. Brandy Jane was picked on like any younger sibling should be by us and my mom dreaded her growing up and going off to kindergarten like her true mother. She begged Jane to have another when Brandy turned five, but instead they packed up and moved. It was crushing.
They visited each time they returned to Kansas, wrote letters and sent Mom cards and Christmas gifts through the years. As a grown up, Brandy is fabulous. She’s tall, has completed multiple mission trips and speaks fluent Spanish. Clear and apparent signs she is not really ours. But after Mom passed, she and her family were here with us sharing the burden of grief. She shared the hurt with the man she soon married and explained, in Spanish, how a only child can have thirteen nieces and nephews.
When the first of our nieces was born, Mom was able to watch her and spare my older sister the challenge upon returning to work. After it became too much, she still saved Shelly from difficulty and pointed her straight to a true treasure. My nieces and nephew are loved and demonstrate natural abilities that clearly were not genetically inherited. They are athletic. We watch in amazement and say things like, “Look at that! Where’d that come from? It must be the Kendrick in them.”
I have faced the decision challenge of daycare a few times as a working mom. I easily found someone to watch Gabe when I returned to work. He was in good hands, but not great. Shortly after, I struck pay dirt. My father took an early retirement. Mom’s Parkinson’s was too far advanced for her to watch him on her own, but as a tag team they were the jack pot. Gabe and Lucy are completely self-confident children and often think the world revolves around them. In their defense they had Grandma and Grandpa’s complete, undivided attention for so much of their early years so in their reality, it sort of did.
We found people that cared for them at the local daycare after Dad broke his leg. When that daycare abruptly closed, I found my true treasure. The woman that had been cleaning for us was watching her grandsons and while she had no intentions of watching additional kids, she took on our Things 1 and 2. And loves them. She has become a part of our family over the last two years and we love her. We no longer depend on her full time care, but she takes them when needed and sometimes just because they want her to. There are some signs of her nurture overpowering a bit of our nature, too. Lucy loves to drink ice water and does not really care for chocolate. That is something she certainly did not learn from any of her actual relatives.
This Mother's Day, I am especially grateful for the true treasures that lighten and help balance the loads of parenting and work. For Debby who has loved my nieces, nephew, and my sister, through so much. For Purnie who recognizes my needs as much as my kids'. I am also grateful for Brandy Jane, who shares with us memories of my mother and proves the value of a true treasure is beyond measure.
Present Plans
Each year the classes at our Mayberry’s elementary school write and illustrate a class book. Lucy’s class book is titled “When I Grow Up…”. For her page, she wrote “When I grow up I want to be a doctor”. She’s only six but I admit I am already prodding her a bit in this direction. I want her to be able to support me in a manner of which I hope to grow accustom. Her brother already demonstrates a great motivation to help others and to gab with all people he encounters, so I think he’s destined for politics or the ministry. I am likely too much of a liability for a successful politician and those folks don’t look truly happy anyway. There‘s really no money in the latter, so the pressure is on Thing 2 to keep me comfy in cruise line deck chairs.
We were reading her book last night and after a bit of very dramatic discussion about the fact that the picture that accompanied her page was NOT what she drew, we headed to the kitchen for desert. She chose a fortune cookie and chomped away while I read her the tiny strip of wisdom. “Your present plans are going to succeed.” “What does that mean?”, she asked. “It means you will be a doctor just like you wrote in your book.”
“I’m going to go into space.”
“You are? When will you do that?”
Without pausing a moment to contemplate it, Lucy replied, “After I get fired from my job.”
“Really? Why do you think you will get fired?”, I ask.
“For not doing my job right. I don’t really know how to be a doctor.”
Very valid point. Med school and aerospace? That’s pretty big and varied plans for a little girl who throws fits over kindergarten homework. Maybe it’s time to nudge towards acting. That might be a less expensive education and allow her to pretend to be all sorts of exciting things when she grows up. Truth be told, not being a doctor but playing one on TV could very well keep my face lifted and my rear comfortably planted poolside.
We were reading her book last night and after a bit of very dramatic discussion about the fact that the picture that accompanied her page was NOT what she drew, we headed to the kitchen for desert. She chose a fortune cookie and chomped away while I read her the tiny strip of wisdom. “Your present plans are going to succeed.” “What does that mean?”, she asked. “It means you will be a doctor just like you wrote in your book.”
“I’m going to go into space.”
“You are? When will you do that?”
Without pausing a moment to contemplate it, Lucy replied, “After I get fired from my job.”
“Really? Why do you think you will get fired?”, I ask.
“For not doing my job right. I don’t really know how to be a doctor.”
Very valid point. Med school and aerospace? That’s pretty big and varied plans for a little girl who throws fits over kindergarten homework. Maybe it’s time to nudge towards acting. That might be a less expensive education and allow her to pretend to be all sorts of exciting things when she grows up. Truth be told, not being a doctor but playing one on TV could very well keep my face lifted and my rear comfortably planted poolside.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)