Sometimes as a parent, you do your best, but...

This morning I awoke with very little expectation of the day. I was looking forward to a low key Saturday, especially this season of the year. As I did my daily morning ritual, I checked my email & then decided to take a quick peek at Facebook. However, on this day, my quick peek turned into one of deep thought & a collision of memories & shock.

The first thing I saw was a thoughtful article posted by my oldest daughter about Santa Claus. I was so touched by what she wrote when she posted the article, I had to ponder her words for more than a few moments. I read the beautiful article, & thus began my trip down memory lane. My Santa years as a little girl, & then my daughters' Santa years as little girls, & now my grandchildren's Santa years begin…

Sometimes as a parent, you do your best, but you know in the heat of the moment, you aren't getting everything right. AND… as you look back on the childhood you gave your children, you know you didn't get everything right. You take comfort in knowing you did the best you could in each unexpected moment, but sometimes, you wish you would have done better.

So when I saw my daughter's post, I realized that at least in her eyes, I got something right. She cherished her Santa years, & now she is blessing her little one in the same way. In this world of terror & so much unresolved baggage, my heart pondered Christmas Past, & I breathed in the warmth. As I scrolled through my notifications, I ran across something so awful, my heart couldn't bear the news.

Yet another friend had lost her son (at Christmastime). New memories began flashing through my brain. And then, my memories began to collide with my thoughts. My walk down Christmas Lane began crashing with heartache for my friend. The realization of how precious each moment of our life is (whether we get it right or wrong) sat like a lump in my throat.

We don't know how many moments we will have. The word "precious" is highly overused (especially by myself), but each moment, each human being in my life, is precious. I look at my grand babies. They are toddlers now. My eyes don't stop with their beautiful faces or their cute little noses. NO, I ponder each little finger & toe. Their tiny voices are developing, & their little personalities are shining through.

Their antics make me laugh even when I am not with them. Time spent with them is good medicine for all my aches & pain (both physically & emotionally). I remember counting my own little girl's fingers & tows, answering their sweet questions, & wiping their tears. NO, I didn't get everything right, but at least I have moments to hold in my heart. My own mother wiped my tears. My Dad looked under my bed each night. I have those precious moments too.

Memories...

With Christmas comes memories. Some are happy, & well… some are painful. As we decorate our tree, memories of Christmas Past seem to flow. Christmas is a mark of how life has changed. We watch "It's a Wonderful Life" and "A Christmas Story" &  realize the vast differences in our broken world from then to now.

We measure change by the Christmas we remember as a child, the Christmas we celebrated with our children, & the Christmas we celebrate now. Memories of loved ones lost always come to mind. In some cases we miss them. Sometimes we just remember…Some of us have voids while others have stockings overflowing. It just is what it is (not to sound cliche).

It helps me tremendously to focus on the true meaning of Christmas. I love (as much as anybody) to get caught up in Santa Claus. In fact, I cherish those moments from my childhood, as a parent, & now as Grandma. But… as this world crumbles around us, & we become more terrified with each new day, I need more than sleigh bells. I need to be reassured that we have a God whose will is going to happen in spite of human interference.

Heartache will continue. Terrorism has become a part of life. Loved ones suffer with illness. Relationships fail us. People are losing jobs. Mental illness is running rampant. The homeless continue to be homeless. Immigrants continue to flee their unbearable lives. The unexpected has a way of slapping us in the face & saying, "Ready or not, here I am, now what are you going to do?"

Here is what I am going to do… I am going to cling to my faith in Christ because He is my HOPE. When I'm slapped in the face, I will seek Him to guide me. I am going to hold onto the people that God has put in my life. I want to walk my journey with grace & dignity whatever my circumstances. That is my prayer. Sometimes I fail.

In the short term, I am going to enjoy each Christmas moment that comes my way… the music, the lights, the movies, my beautiful Nativity, friendship, gifts, precious Grandchildren, my Girls, snow, bell ringing,  a few sweets now & then, & my memories, my precious Christmas memories...

Daniel

Sometimes things happen that quite unexpectedly take you back. Last evening, I entered a funeral home to pay respects to a family who lost their young adult son. The line was out the door. As I waited patiently to hug the family & pay my last respects to Daniel, I couldn't help but think back to the years he attended The ROCK.

As I stood in the funeral home, I saw his best friends. I saw how grieved these young men were. They were no longer the boys who attended my youth group. I was no longer a youth leader. No, they were young men now, & their hearts were raw. They were broken. I couldn't help but wonder what had transpired over the last 5 or 6 years in their lives. I'd lost track of many of them.

Last evening, I stood there. It was surreal. Their tears were real. The look of anguish in their eyes was real. Yet, the whole thing seemed surreal. It just wasn't supposed to happen this way. No… a young man wasn't supposed to die. He had a family that loved him, a family that needed him. He had a family that had hopes & expectations for their son. This couldn't be undone. No matter how much we prayed, we could not undo this unbearable situation.

As time passed, I could no longer hold my resolve. I believe it was the sight of a beautiful teenage girl who attended The ROCK with her parents. She was just a little mite back then. I remember her dressed as Cinderella one Halloween. I looked at her. Flashbacks ran through my head. I hugger her. Her hair was so shiny & soft. Her youth so beautiful. She had recently gotten her braces off.

As I hugged her, I was frantic. I wanted to whisper all the things I could think of in her ear to keep her safe. I wanted her to know her worth. I wanted to tell her she was beautiful. I wanted to protect her from the evils in this world. My heart cried. My eyes cried. This world is too painful. Things happen that are undoable. Young people do things without realizing the cost.

As we reached the parents, I wanted them to know that the love they poured into their son was something we all knew. We share their heartache, but only they could know such depth. Their son will always hold a special place in our hearts. He will long be remembered for his loyalty, how he protected his younger sister, his sense of humor, his love for others. He will be missed. Their love was not in vain.

Haunted!

It's Halloween, & I am haunted. Thursday was a very special day. It was a luncheon & a fashion show for breast cancer survivors. It was fun to see my very special survivor friends. They are dear to me. I sat next to a woman who is a longtime cancer survivor. She said the fashion show made her want to cry. It broke her heart to see such young women suffering the grueling treatments of cancer.

I was having the same thoughts. It's such a day of mixed emotions (same as The Race for The Cure). It's  a bond so strong with other women, yet the connection is so bittersweet.  It's a lump in your throat. It's sharing the same pain & fears, yet each story has its own little twist. It's a real live nightmare with the loving arms of others who are having the same dream wrapped around you.

As I was scrolling through Face Book last night, I came across a post that troubled me deeply. I understand that people are sick of hearing about breast cancer. I understand that even other cancer survivors are sick of it. I am sick of it. I didn't ask for it, & if given a choice of which cancer I would choose, I don't really have an answer. They all suck!

This post was speaking of another disease which I will not mention. I will just say I have a loved one effected by it, & I do not take its impact lightly. However, the post stated that the said disease isn't sexy. It isn't pink. It doesn't involve boobs, football players, or cute shirts. I read the post, & I did a double take. My heart sank. I sat on my couch stunned.

Please tell me that nobody on this earth thinks that breast cancer is sexy. It takes all the strength & courage a woman can muster to have her so called "boobs" amputated. The repercussions are great. I will never be the same, nor will my relationships. There is nothing sexy about it. I am appalled that a human being could be so heartless as to think, promote, or state such thoughtless words.

I am haunted by my disease. I actually have a number of diseases, & they all haunt me. It takes my all to live life to the full in spite of my circumstances. It's a choice & a daily discipline. It's not easy, but it's the only way to live, alive, vibrant, & full. I don't want a pity party. One disease is not more glamourous than another. They all potentially rob you of your dignity, your femininity or masculinity, your life, & your grit.

"At least you're alive."

So… it's Breast Cancer Awareness Month, & some people are rightly so in being sick of hearing about Breast Cancer. Even I am sick of hearing about it, tired of thinking about it, & heartbroken for my dear friend who is battling with all her might & suffering unimaginably from the side effects. It isn't just breast cancer. It's colon cancer, it's cancer caused by Agent Orange, it's every kind of rotten caner known to man & animal.

If you have not been diagnosed with cancer & somehow have avoided thus far loving someone who has, you may wonder what toll it takes on a family. I was at a meeting a few months ago where a newly diagnosed young woman said she wanted the world to know… "It's about the patient." I felt ill at ease, but I had to speak my peace. NO… it's not just about the patient.

Being the patient is awful, but being the family in despair is just as awful (only in a different way). I can honestly say that cancer has changed almost all if not every fiber of my being. It has effected my life on every level imaginable. It has done the same to those closest to me. It has caused depression. It has robbed my family of joy.

Sometimes I get angry at cancer. Sometimes it makes me cry. Other times, I thank God for it because it has forced me to have experiences I would otherwise never have known. I believe life on this earth is all about being refined for the next life. It has certainly refined all of our hearts. The effects are so deep, yet sometimes, we are not even aware of them. It has connected me to some of the best friends I have, & then it has taken them away from me.

We need research, because research changes treatments. Research brings life. Research recognizes specific DNA's of cancer genes, & allows for specific treatment that works. We need research into how to help the patient & the family deal with the devastation. Yes… we have support groups, but too often the answer from the doctor is, "At least you're alive." This statement is true, but it is not comforting.

The cancer patient & the family members often feel very alone even when they are not alone. It's a disease that can cause you to recoil. It can build a wedge in your relationships. It causes grief, & people grieve differently. Sometimes, it steals your dignity. Sometimes it scares the you know what out of you. It's a mixed bag of tricks. No 2 cases are alike, yet connective threads always exist.

AS I close this blog, I ask you to be aware. Do the right thing. Don't put off tests that are recommended. They really do save lives. If this journey becomes your's, let people into your life. Let them share your journey. Let them help you. It's healing for both the patient & the loved one. Be your own advocate. Ask questions. Never feel stupid. Whatever part you have in this journey, acknowledge the truth, & seek  help for your needs.

DadderBoy

Today,  just an ordinary day (the day before Father's Day), I look through old photos & reminisce about my childhood. In particular, I've been looking at photos with my DadderBoy. That was my special name for him. He was tall, dark, & handsome. Although, as a child, I never thought about that.

He was a character in so many ways. I think he lived everyday of his life to the full, whether it was tying up his beef steak tomatoes or caring for an elderly person in his life. He spent most of his summer mornings fishing on the pier. Some mornings, he'd bring home 70 perch. He'd sit & clean every one of them. A fish fry always followed, hushpuppies & all.

He was a Godly man (in his own way). A servant heart to be sure & a love for people. He delighted in supporting his friends on the school board. He could silk screen signs faster than a payed professional. He loved his job almost every day. He picked up his brief case, kissed my mom good bye, & headed out the door to school. He taught high school math for 30 years. He defended the needy. Most every night & early morning were spent grading papers.

He grew up on a farm, & the farm never left him. He planted a garden every year. He watered it diligently, & we enjoyed the yield. He took his 3 young children to buy a family dog. He took us to our doctor & dentist appointments. He took me to buy new shoes. He told me a I was cute, & I knew it didn't matter to him if I couldn't sing a note in tune.

He didn't much like helping me with math because he felt it wasn't fair to the other students. Every summer, we loaded up the station wagon & took a trip. We always went by car. Because he was a teacher, we didn't have time constraints so we saw the beauty along the way. He'd stop at a rest stop while my mom pulled out the 3 day old ham & cheese. He's eat it like it was the best thing he'd ever tasted.

The best part of him was that I always knew he loved me. I knew he liked me too. I never doubted either of those 2 facts a day in my life. He'd paint my bedroom the color I wanted it. He even paneled it as I grew older. He was my chauffeur. He made home made ice cream. It was my job to sit on the top of the barrel while he did the churning. He built beautiful campfires. Yes… he was my DadderBoy.

Life ain't no fairytale!

It's marriage time. It seems everybody is getting married. I cannot help but think about the video I posted on Facebook a few weeks ago. It showed a couple just about to join hands in Holy Matrimony, but as if with a crystal ball. A make up artist aged them over the next 60 years or so. At different intervals,  the video showed them looking into each others eyes as they went through each stage of life.

The strange thing was… there was no adjustment period. This sweet couple didn't have time to gradually age together. The shock was apparent, & so was the love. For me… the video signified so much  more than just our physical changes that take place as we age. Yes… that's a huge part of the picture, yet somehow, there is so much more.

I don't really know what our expectations are as we enter into marriage. Many of them may have to do with our backgrounds, what we witnessed growing up, & then our determination to repeat or to break those cycles. I am sure our temperaments, our self esteem, our chemistry, our differences & our likenesses all play significant roles not only in our expectations but in how we live out our realities.

It makes me cringe to say it, but life is no fairytale. When you add daily stress, raising children, health issues, job issues, relationship troubles, & all the things of life that come our way, we don't always gel & work through our circumstances in a fairytale sort of way. We are human. Our endings are not always happy. Sometimes they are hard, long, & never resolved this side of Heaven.

Heartache is one of the many things we cannot account for when we stand before an officiant & take our vows. If we had a crystal ball, we would see things we couldn't bare. Some of these things would be a slow process that would evolve over time, & some of them would be total shock. Some of them would be mountaintop highs, while others would be bottom of the barrel lows. Either way, the fairytale is only a fairytale. What matters is our reality & how we accept it & live it out.

After almost 31 years of marriage, when I attend a wedding, I don't hear what others hear. In sickness & in health is replaced with specific words such as "cancer & anxiety." For better, for worse is replaced with words like "in a tornado." For richer, for poorer depends on the timeframe of our marriage. When we went through marriage counseling some 31 years ago, we were starry eyed. We had hopes & dreams, but as the bride, I know I didn't have a strong dose of reality. It would have broken my young heart.

My joys have been overwhelming. From raising 3 beautiful daughters to now being Grandma. The friends I've met along the way have poured so much into me. Words cannot express the special place they hold in my heart. Some of the curves that God has allowed if not caused in my life have been truly unbearable. If I'd have had a crystal ball on that day of Holy Matrimony, I would have told my husband to run.

Even though my fairy tale hasn't been a fairy tale, it has been so much more. It has given me depth of faith I never could foresee or even know was within reach. It has stripped me of every false security I clung to, & given me the ability to relate to others with heartaches of even greater magnitudes than my own. It has taught me to appreciate today whether it's a good day or a bad day. It has developed my core being & taught me to sort out what really matters. The life lessons I've received have been painful but greater than any fairytale.