Balancing Hope with the Harshest Reality...

In the world of inoperable pancreatic cancer, there is the hard walk of balancing Hope with the harsh reality of a terminal diagnosis...

And how do you ever find your footing, let alone Hope, when this diagnosis causes such devastating anguish?  It's just too hard...

Yes.  We've been there.  Tears and sorrow and anger and grief... they all vied for top billing during those initial dark days and weeks.

It was mom who pulled it together and lead us all to a place of life and joy and hope.  One of her favorite quotes was from the Olympic skater, Apolo Anton Ohno,

"Winning does not always mean coming in first... real victory is in arriving at the finish line with no regrets because you know you've gone all out."

Yes... we wanted to win... desperately!  For us, winning meant bringing mom through the other side of this fight a cancer survivor.   But "winning" began to take on a different shape as Mom determined to live her one life with no regrets, to go all out... in love, in action, in mercy, in grace.

These became our defining moments during her year long battle with pancreatic cancer.  And yes, choosing to live completely sold out to the people we cherished most, offered a truer Hope than I could have ever imagined.

Whatever you are going through this night... whether it is a test of love or faith, a challenge named cancer, or divorce; the misery of a child lost to addiction, the harsh reality of financial despair...

Whatever it is, may you turn your face to the Light and find Hope carved out of the Devastation... it is there.  He is there.  Learning to trust with the Psalmist,  "Yes, my soul, find rest in God; my hope comes from him.  Truly he is my rock and my salvation; he is my fortress, I will not be shaken." Psalm 62:5-6

It is the only way to balance Hope in the midst of the Harshest Reality.

Resting in Grace tonight,
My Love, Always,
                                           Jane

A Little Grace...

It's been a few days since I have checked in. 

Life has stretched us this past week and Love has trumped the schedule.

A sweet mother-in-law has needed her family and we have spent the days talking low and hugging long...

Lung cancer and the ensuing treatments have left her body weak and her heart failing.  And yet, she smiles... mostly listening to the family visit and share and laugh around her bed.  She closes her eyes and smiles...

It is the Blessing of a Life Well Lived... surrounded by love.

Schedules and Work and Appointments have faded this week past as we have set aside time to soak in the moments with her knowing how quickly they dwindle.

So... a little grace for the posts not yet written.  We will continue this 31 Day Journey in the days to come. 

Tomorrow morning we somehow say Good-bye, and hug her frail frame and dry the eyes that fill with tears and begin the long trip home...

Prayers for Grace are whispered this night.

When the Winds of Life Blow...

Life has a way of throwing curves.

Just as we were unwinding from our trip, the phone rang with news that had us packing our bags again and heading north...

Leroy's mom had been admitted to the hospital in serious respiratory distress.  Her bout with lung cancer several years ago and the mega-doses of radiation had severely compromised her lungs and while the cancer is now in remission, the lungs have been left scarred and weak.

And so, the winds of life blow...

While we were walking the beaches in St. Lucia, we came across this beach at Anse Cannelles... a wild, craggy coastline facing the Atlantic Ocean.

The waves crashed and beat against the cliffs, {it was definitely not a swimming beach!}... still, it had a majestic charm that reeled us in...

We hiked down to the slim sandy shore and poked around amongst the driftwood and coconuts...

And on that far off cliff we noticed the tree line...

...beaten down by the relentless wind, but holding on despite all odds.

And it reminded me of the Biosphere 2 project.  You might remember it?

The Biosphere 2 project was created to be a miniature version of our planet.  It is owned by the University of Arizona and was constructed in order for scientists to study how the planet's ecosystems work together.

In this artificial environment, they created 7 unique ecosystem models, like a small ocean, a rain forest, a desert and a savanna grassland.  Then they produced all kinds of weather patterns and studied plant growth.

And in this tightly controlled experimental model they made a surprising discovery.

They learned of the major importance of wind in a plant's growth and maturing.

In the Biosphere, trees grew much faster than they would grow in the wild.  They also began to collapse before they completely matured.  As it turns out, the lack of wind played a huge role.

Scientists discovered that the pressure of the wind is what strengthens the tree trunk and allows them to hold up their own weight.

When plants and trees grow in the wild, constantly exposed to the wind and wind movement, the plant compensates by growing "reaction wood" or stress wood.  This stress is what makes a tree strong enough to sustain the wear and tear it will face later in life.

And this is where I say Ahhhh.... I see it now.  God opens shuttered eyes... Weathering the storms of life builds our strength.

It's true.  The winds of life will blow.  And if we allow, they will strengthen both our faith and our character.

But it hurts.

And that's the truth.  Our hearts ache as we tuck sheets up and hold the frail hand...

Dr. and Nurses hover.  Family rallies around.  Decisions are made.  There is nothing else to do for failing lungs.  The paramount goal is now keeping her comfortable.  Hospice is called.

Tears refuse to fall as she closes her eyes in relieved sleep.  Fighting is hard work.  This warrior is ready to relax and rest as others manage her care.

Determined to give God Thanks for the gifts we are receiving

even in the midst of this howling storm.

Right now our lives are as bent as the trees on that oceanside cliff

but we are choosing to trust His Hand,

for He alone knows what lies ahead on this wind-swept road.

Resting in Grace tonight,

Knowing the Lover of Our Souls holds the Night-Watch,

My Love, Always,

                     Jane

Grace is Falling

Softly....  Slowly...

But Grace is settling in to light a path of peace for Millie and Don.

This week past Millie has gradually regained some strength... enough to "graduate" from her hospital stay and head to a rehab unit.  As her mind began to grasp her bodies frailty, we watched as sweetness descended and her countenance relaxed.

She will spend the next few weeks (to months) at the local nursing home's rehabilitation unit.   And blessings abound, for she will have a private room!  We have enjoyed spiffing it up with all her favorite things from home... pictures of grandkids galore, her beautiful orchid plant (gift from Don for 62 years of bliss!), homey lamps and and comfy robes and slippers... She smiles with contentment and drifts off to rest as we fuss with details.

And this is what I've come to realize.  We can fight the changes or accept with grace.  She has seen God's Grace and rests easy. 

There is a beautiful song that speaks it better than I can... the words are compelling... God is our "I Am."  No matter what season of life we wrestle with, He is there.  Always...

 

He is our elbow healer when that is all we understand and our saviour pasture maker when we reach for His Hand... Woven and Spun as the Angels Danced Around the Throne... He cherishes our very being and is there every moment.  He never changes, but meets us where we are, no matter the season of life we are walking...

For Millie, the Grace is Falling Sweetly this night.  She is not looking for what may happen tomorrow, but rests in the truth that the same Everlasting Father who cares for her today will shield her from suffering or give her the unfailing strength to bear it.  It is Peace.  It is Rest.

May we each be Graced with the whisper eternal and sure... 

 I AM

 

and it is enough. for where ever we are.

 

Balancing Act

Well, it's Monday. And we haven't had to call the doctor...yet. Mom's abdominal pain isn't worse, and maybe it's just a tad better, but definitely still a problem. Mom thinks the increased dose of Nexium may be helping. We have our fingers and toes crossed :-)

She is still eating fairly well, but when the pain hits, she says it is like a burning spasm under her rib cage. Not fun. She's been having to take quite a bit of break-through pain medication just to stay comfortable. We covet your prayers for this nagging discomfort.

I think that is probably one of our biggest concerns as we face this terminal illness head-on. Balancing physical comfort with aggressive treatment. And it is a balancing act. We have the toxic Gemzar on board to go after the cancer, and then we also have the Nexium, the marinol, the steroids, the morphine and the vicodin on board to counteract the harrowing effects of the chemo. Balance.

It's all Balance. And when we get the balance right, it's a good day! Praying for wisdom and grace to walk that tightrope well.

Love you all, Jane

Bluebonnet Hills

And it's off to Bluebonnet Hills! After mom's chemo treatment on Thursday, that's where we headed.

Now, just some background before we begin, in case you're not familiar with this Texas beauty. The pretty bluebonnet is the Texas state flower. When the spring rains come, bluebonnets blanket the hillsides. It's absolutely beautiful. And it's tradition to get your picture taken, at least once, sitting in the middle of a field of bluebonnets.

And so, mom and I headed to Bluebonnet Hills. As in the Bluebonnet Hills Memorial Park and Funeral Home.

Not a bluebonnet in sight. Of course, it is the middle of summer and the heat is blistering. Perhaps in April, we'd have more luck finding a field of bluebonnets. But, as you may have guessed by now, we weren't there looking for flowers. We had a date with the director.

Mom has been mulling over final arrangements in her mind for a while now. Terminal illness has a way of clarifying priorities. And this is one issue she felt needed to be handled, decided on, and done with. And so, we tackled it head on. Difficult yes, but somehow necessary and practical as well.

Mom attacked it with her usual pluck and humor. And that's good, because if we weren't laughing, we'd be crying. And, here, let me just say, that mom's health is still very stable. The doctor is pleased with her progress and is cautiously optimistic. No talk of hospice or palliative care at all. So, please don't be discouraged. Mom isn't.

Both mom and dad decided years ago that they wanted to be cremated. One decision down. But where to go with the ashes? How many of us laughed over the scene in "Meet the Fockers" where Grandma's urn was knocked off the fireplace mantle, scattered all over the rug and used hilariously inappropriately by the cat? Not good. Mom does not want to be displayed over the fireplace. So, we started checking things out and found that there is a rather unique way to memorialize the cremated remains in what is known as a columbarium. This is a permanent structure made up of spaces or niches where the urn can be placed. A marble or bronze plaque is then used to memorialize the loved one.

Enter Bluebonnet Hills. They have a variety of columbaria and we decided to check it out.

A little intimidating at first to walk into a funeral home, but we were on a mission. I think the director was a little nonplussed when he saw our notebooks out and camera ready. But nonetheless we got an education. No decisions made exactly, but we do have more questions. Like, should mom and dad be buried in the same niche, or would separate niches, side by side be best? Mom wasn't sure dad could handle the close proximity for all eternity. And we laughed. And the director looked startled. And by the time we finished the tour, we were able to talk quite freely about graveside committal services, death certificates, fake flowers, and respectful memorial tributes.

Not everyday that you grapple with these things, but mom offered this thought. She sees this as her final gift to us, her family. By making sure these decisions are made and finalized now before the end nears, we know that her wishes will be followed. And that does give peace. Odd to realize, but it does.
 
The grief will come and I know it will swamp us, but these decisions lay a path for us to walk when we won't be able to see for the tears. And I will remember the way we laughed at Bluebonnet Hills, and it will make it easier to bear.
 
Love you Always, Mom

p.s. We don't plan on using that columbarium for years and years, just so you know...