The Strength of our Anchor...

 

It's the storms of life
that prove the strength of our Anchor.

Life is hard.

 

And you probably don't need a blog post to tell you that.  I know.

 

A pancreatic cancer diagnosis is like that.  Hard.  And how do you walk it out?  Reason it through?  Come to grips with it, even a little bit?

 

Would you be surprised if I told you that maybe you can't... Sometimes there are no words when life is this cruel.  When mothers are stricken with terminal cancers, and brothers are taken too young, and spouses lose the fight... What if life is just too hard.  And the storms just overwhelm? And there are no answers...

 

We've felt that way.  And in a grace-gift, my mornings devotion reminded me that we're not alone... For the disciples surely didn't seem to have a handle on the storm that nearly swamped them...

 

³⁵ That day when evening came, Jesus said to his disciples, “Let us go over to the other side.” ³⁶ Leaving the crowd behind, they took him along, just as he was, in the boat. There were also other boats with him. ³⁷ A furious squall came up, and the waves broke over the boat, so that it was nearly swamped. ³⁸ Jesus was in the stern, sleeping on a cushion. The disciples woke him and said to him, “Teacher, don’t you care if we drown?”

³⁹ He got up, rebuked the wind and said to the waves, “Quiet! Be still!” Then the wind died down and it was completely calm.

⁴⁰ He said to his disciples, “Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?”

⁴¹ They were terrified and asked each other, “Who is this? Even the wind and the waves obey him!”

                                                                                  Mark 4:35-41

 

 

 

We see it too.  These storms... they can just swamp us.  It's not the cloudy, overcast days.  Or the chilly winds that blow in.

 

The storms that send us scrambling for cover and quivering with fear can come up like a "furious squall"...  the disciples felt it.  That panicky, overwhelming desperation... the terrifying fight to stay alive, even while the waves break over you in a relentless, overpowering torrent. 

 

And yet, the moment the disciples called on Jesus, the storm broke.  The wind and waves obedient to His voice.  Perfect peace descended where once was fear and chaos. 

 

In the midst of our cancer storm, when the waves of pain and horror and grief threatened to take us under, when our questions keened the heavens...He was there.  

 

And we learned that no storm is big enough to prevent God from accomplishing His will. To draw us in out of the tempest, holding us close in Grace, replacing fear with Peace and pouring Mercy over the heartache.   

 

Perhaps that is why we have no answer for these storms, for when life is hard.  We were never supposed to have the answer. 

 

It is Jesus alone who Anchors our storm-tossed souls.  Who gives Perfect Peace to the grieving heart.  Who Calms in the fiercest of gales.

 

He is the answer.  Always, Jesus.

 

 

May you find a calm in the center of your storm this night,

that comes from resting wholly in the Strength of your Anchor.

 

His Hold is Forever and Always.

 

Honoring our Veterans

 

Thank you Veteran's!

 

Your service is a priceless gift,

hallowed by sacrifice.

 

Hearts spilling over in thanksgiving and remembrance.

May you be honored by the gratitude of a nation today.

 

Everyone Poops...

Well, yes, that certainly seems to be the case, and small children seem to find the book by the same name hilariously funny...

But if you're a pancreatic cancer patient and taking lots of narcotic pain meds to manage the pain, it doesn't necessarily follow that everyone poops and can lead to not so funny moments in the cancer journey...

However, the point of this blog post has nothing to do with either the somewhat inappropriate but hilarious book or the pancreatic cancer pain management journey...

It's just true that everyone poops...

and now we can do it at the Lake Place!

And, really, this is an important development.  Especially if you might be one of the friends or family who visit our Lake Place...

 

First came the water well... now for the septic.

(and I have pictures.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And when they were done, we just stared in awe at our wonderful,

amazing, super-exciting Septic Field... Yay!!

 

 

Then we got busy and planted some Native Prairie seed...

 

 

It might have been a little muddy...

 

 

But we got 'er done!

 

 

It might not look like much now, but just you wait...

come spring time, we'll be knee-deep in beautiful!

 

{Yes!}

 

 

In the meantime, we'll just have to admire the real throne of beauty...

 

 

... because, you know, everyone poops...

 

It's the little things in life that make us smile :-)

 

Praying your day is blessed in abundance

 with all the things, big and little, that give you joy. 

 

My Love, Always,

              Jane

Hope in the Dark...

Trusting in Grace to walk us through the shadow valleys...

there is Hope, even in the darkest moments of this journey.

What Every Cancer Warrior Needs

A Letter from the Battlefield:

what every cancer warrior needs

I need to say 'I Have Cancer'

without everyone falling apart around me.

I need your tender reminders for appointments and meds and meals,

my mind has been somewhere else lately.

I need to laugh...
and I need to cry.
And your sweet permission to do both.

I need you to make cancer stop,
and I will love you crazy for trying so hard.

I need your touch,
and I need my space... Give it with Love.

I need someone to ask how I'm doing,
and really want to know the answer.

I need you to be my foundation strong
when the storm bears down.

 I need your forgiveness when the outbursts and anger overwhelm,
my emotions have been in a rage ever since cancer came calling.

I need you to bring those sweet desserts and savory soups,
along with your understanding when I can only sample a bite
and your compassion when my strength fades in the midst of your visit.

More than anything, I need YOU...
Your support, Your encouragement, Your Love.

I can't ever imagine walking this cancer road alone. 

It has been pure joy to share mom's heart for this 31 day series.  

While this cancer journey can be filled with fear and pain and despair, it can just as easily be  walked out with love and grace and strength of spirit.  Mom lived her convictions right out loud, even in the midst of crippling fear and pain.

This life is what we make of it.  And yes, we found, through mom's example, that you can live life well, no matter the valleys.  It's a beautiful dance when we get it right... but it's still a dance through the minefields.

I would love to close with an unconventional song, that just fits somehow.  It's called Dancing in the Minefield, by Andrew Peterson.  The song is a tribute to his marriage and a nod to the Battlefield that it can become... So much like this cancer journey.

Listen with your heart.  We are all Dancing through this Minefield, together...

"And we're dancing in the minefields,

We're sailing in the storm

This is harder than we dreamed,

But I believe that's what the promise is for.

'Cause we bear the light of the Son of Man

So there's nothing left to fear.

So I'll walk with you in the shadowlands,

Til the shadows disappear.

'Cause he promised not to leave us

And his promises are true.

So in the face of all this chaos, baby,

I can dance with you."

We didn't know that Cancer had saved the last dance for mom... but we danced it together, right through the minefields, into the shadowlands with her.  The beat still echoes powerful in our hearts.

May you find strength and courage deep when this dance pulls you out onto that Battlefield.  It is our prayer, always, that God will lead with Hope, and give you the Grace you need for each step of the way.

Always, My Love,
                       Jane

Previous

I will not watch you die!

So, there's this movie... Sommersby.

And it's the kind that gets under your skin, and even though it was released years and years ago, it came back to me, like, yesterday, especially the cliff-hanging finale... hence the memorable, dramatic quote from the end of the movie above (my blog titles aren't usually quite so melodramatic, please excuse...)

But this movie...

It reeled me in with the mystery, the romance, the redemption... a beautiful tribute to the strength of the human spirit.  And once I was totally hooked?  The killer-twist of an ending... the pile of Kleenex at my feet was, well...

So, first of all, Spoiler Alert... I can't imagine anyone who hasn't already seen this classic, but, it could be... If that's you, then step away from your electronic device now... cause I just can't help it, we're going there.


To refresh our memories, here's the story:

Set in the aftermath of the Civil War, Jack Sommersby returns home after 6 years to find his plantation and home devastated by the ravages of war.

 

Jodie Foster plays his wife, Laurel.  And we find that their life together before had been a war in itself.

 

The Jack Sommersby she remembered was a hard man, abusive and mean.  The Jack who returned from war was a changed man.  Time away, perhaps the war had softened him and he is now a man passionate about restoring his marriage and town.  Everyone, including Laurel, are taken by his transformation... And this is the part of the movie that died-in-the-wool romantics simply love... ok, I was smitten, a hopeless romantic I am...

But then, the sinister music starts to play.  Nothing good ever happens when that music starts... 

Jack is arrested for killing a man somewhere in the past, and the local townsfolk begin to question the identity of this reformed Jack.  Could he be an imposter?  Laurel has fallen deeply in love with this man and staunchly defends his honor, but even she knows deep down that he is not the same man.

The past comes back to haunt, and the web of lies and deceit soon unravel.  Murder charges play out in court.  If this man is Jack Sommersby, he will hang.  If he is indeed an imposter, he faces the shame of his community and the loss of his land and marriage.

Love and Honor collide, forcing the heart to speak truth. 

Laurel begs him to confess and escape death.  Jack holds tightly to the love that has grown and believes that to honor that love is more important than life itself.

He refuses to confess that he is an imposter.  He is ordered to hang for his crime.

And this is where the crying began.  I just couldn't believe they would hang him... Seriously, wasn't some super hero on a white horse going to come in and rescue him at the last minute?  And then, happily ever after??

I kept waiting... the Kleenex pile growing... no white knight... no super hero...

Just a rope.  And a man.

The Judge gave Jack and Laurel one final moment together, and the agony in that conversation simply haunts...

Jack says, "...if I know you'll be there with me, I can do this thing right."

In anguish, Laurel replies, "Please don't ask that.  I can't.  I will not watch you die!"

They lead Jack off to the gallows and Laurel fades away into the crowd.

In panic, as they begin to drape a hood over his head, he calls for her.  The voice is raw.

Through tears that have swamped the last of the Kleenex, we see her turn back. Jack steadies himself with her presence...

And he is hung.

Who makes movies like that???  I was traumatized for days, well, years, really, because I just relived it all again tonight.

And yet, that movie got one thing right, well, maybe two...

There is incredible resilience and strength in the human spirit.

And Jack knew that if  "you'll be there with me, I can do this thing right."

We need each other.  During the joys of life as well as the heartaches.  And to be sure, this cancer journey is filled with more than it's share of heartache.

If you'll be there with me, I can do this thing right...

We have that promise to hold onto every step of this journey, for Grace has pledged

"And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age."

         ~ Matthew 28:20 

We can do this thing right.  Our rescue truly arrives in time... Always.

Previous                                                                                        Next

Never Alone...

More than anything, I need YOU...

Your support, Your encouragement, Your Love.

I can't ever imagine walking this cancer road alone.

This cancer journey is the hardest thing a person can ever go through.  Mom shared often and passionately that she could never do it alone....

We circled her constantly.  Held her up.  Prayed her through.  Hugged her tight.

When someone you love finds themselves on the cancer battlefield, you have a choice.  Back quietly away because it's just too hard...

or

Answer the Rallying Cry and put yourself in harm's way for the sake of the one you love.

Throughout mom's cancer journey, we journaled her experiences, prayers and daily updates at our CaringBridge website.  It was an integral part of the support system that kept us going during the grueling, dark days of the cancer battle.

The uplifting notes from loved ones were an encouragement sweet to our sore hearts.  When mom's strength dwindled, and she could barely lift her head from the pillow, we would find her reading the day's comments, being cheered and inspired by words of love and solidarity that made us weep.

It was grace poured out to us at a time that our emotional tanks were parched and near empty.

When mom lost her battle to pancreatic cancer on December 4, 2011, this community of love held the line while our grief simply overcame.

Our final CaringBridge entry was posted on December 18, 2011...

We were never alone...

Thank you for following our journey on CaringBridge.

It has been an honor to share mom's story this past year.  To all of you, our gratitude knows no bounds.  We have felt the touch of your hands as you held us close in thought, in word, in deed, and in prayer.  A linking together on a journey that none of us wanted to take.  We were never alone.

I am humbled deep by the love you have expressed.  The blessings have been profound, completely beyond measure.  Never doubt the power of your ministry over us.

When mom was first diagnosed with pancreatic cancer almost 13 months ago, she shared that her deepest desire was to walk this road with grace and dignity, no matter how difficult the path.

In all ways, she succeeded.

Mom's courage and strength in the face of this brutal battle has been of such inspiration to me. Perhaps that has been her greatest gift, for while teaching us how to live life well, she ultimately showed us how to face the fear of our own mortality.  To embrace both the life we know here, and the life to come, eternal and perfect.

She taught us well.  Her legacy is one of joy and love, intentional and personal, each day lived with no room for regrets.  She danced through the door to eternity with grace unparalleled.

Mom had a poem tucked away in her dresser, creased and worn.  We came upon it the other night, and I find it to be such a fitting way to close our journey together.  I can almost hear her speak these words to our very hearts, voice soft and sure, a promise in her smile:

Ascension

And if I go
while you're still here...
Know that I live on
vibrating to a different measure
behind a thin veil that you cannot see through.
You will not see me,
so you must have faith.
I wait for the time when we can soar
together again,
both aware of each other.
Until then, live your life to its fullest.
And when you need me
just whisper my name in your heart,
and I will be there.

No matter where the journey takes you in this life, my prayer is that the road brings you safely Home to fall gently into the arms of Love.

Resting Always in His Grace,  Jane

And because of Grace,
we will never, ever walk this road alone.

Previous                                                                                                     Next