Feeling Loved

This week was Valentines Day. To be honest, Valentines Day was never a big deal for Barry and I. We celebrated our anniversary 4 weeks after Christmas, so when Valentines Day came just 3 weeks after that, it never seemed to be a big deal.  

This year, God continued to be very generous in providing sweet, thoughtful friends to love me and encourage me as I celebrated another "first" holiday without Barry. A friend handmade beautiful Valentines with scripture on them for the kids and I. She even decorated William's with dinosaurs - he LOVED it. Another friend got me a beautiful wall hanging asa gift. And several people emailed or texted to encourage me. Over and over again, they said the same phrase: "I just want you to feel loved today." And I did.

As I sat reflecting on the day Monday night, I realized something very sweet. Yes, I did feel loved by thoughtful friends. And they brightened my day. But, if no one had remembered me, if no one had called, if no one had said a word, I would still have felt very loved. I am confident I always will. Barry loved me deeply and passionately. He constantly found ways to show me how much he loved me - not just on holidays, but everyday. He spoke love over me. He showed me he loved me through gifts, touch, and actions. He wrote me hundreds of love poems. And he continually did the most loving thing any husband can do for his wife - he pointed me to Jesus every day.  

My heart is full. I feel deeply and perfectly loved by God, who has sustained and blessed me throughout the last year. I feel loved by compassionate friends who encourage me daily. And for the rest of my life, I will feel loved by Barry, despite his physical absence.  He loved me well. I am so thankful...

Reflections on Ice

There was a big ice storm in Texas this last week. Most of the country would have continued life as usual, but here in the lovely state of Texas, life came to a screeching halt. From Monday evening until Saturday evening, we could not (or rather would not..) leave the house. Schools were canceled, businesses were closed, life seemed to pause for a few short days. 

As a widow/ single mom, life is different than it used to be. Most days are okay. (By okay, I mean productive, with little drama, leaving me feeling content - but shy of happy.) I am thankful that most days are okay. Some days are sad. Some days are stressful. Some days are lonely. Some days are overwhelming. But most days are okay. Very rarely are my days angry. But let God throw some snow and ice on the ground, and I begin to battle anger. Sorry to be so blunt, but it is the truth.  

On the surface my anger stems from silly things. I HATE to build the snowman for my kids. They are too young to build one yet, but insist on having one, so I endure burning cold hands to build them one. With small kids, your somewhat trapped in the house when the weather is bad. I can't send my husband to the store if we need something. Either we all go, or we go without. And, it is now my job to do those fun chores of scrapping ice off the car, porch and driveway. I know it seems sexist, but I really think that's a man's job - not mine!  

But during the last week, I have realized that God has been doing a very quiet, very sweet work of healing in my heart. When I woke up to ice on Tuesday morning, I wasn't angry. (Maybe it had something to do with not having to build a snowman - I'll take that small victory!) Instead, I was thankful that we had a warm house, full of food to enjoy the day in. When the power went out, after a brief moment of panic, I made a plan for what to do if it stayed off for too long. When people started saying their pipes were frozen, I found my home repair book and figured out how to quickly turn off our water, should we need to. All of these things would have made me angry a few months ago. I would have been angry that I had to do those things on my own, angry that Barry was gone. But, I feel like now it is time to learn those things and own my new role as the head of our family. I am sad he's gone and wish he were here to protect and provide for us in those ways. But I have learned that I am capable of doing those things. And I don't do them alone...

This week, God showed me that He will provide help for me. I have amazing friends. Friends who love me and the kids. Friends who loved Barry. Friends who know how Barry felt about the Biblical role of men and women. Friends who have stepped in to help during the last year. Friends who remembered us this week. Friends who called to check and make sure we were okay. Friends who offered to go to the store for us. It wasn't anything big. It never took them more than a phone call and a few minutes of time. But for me, knowing that they remembered and cared made me not feel so alone. So instead of angry, I found myself thankful. Thankful for friends. Thankful for a week of uninterrupted time to play and enjoy my kids.

So, for my fellow Texans - I hope you enjoyed the ice. I hope you had sweet moments with your families and recognized the generous provision of God in sending ice to slow us down. For my fellow friends walking the long road of grief  - know that the road gets a little easier and you don't have to walk it alone.  

And finally, for my daddy - thanks for driving thirty minutes to come help me scrap ice off my driveway! It is not a fun or easy job. I am thankful that God blessed me with such a generous and faithful daddy. Every day of my life, you have pointed me to God through your actions. I am thankful. And hopefully, William can help us out soon...

Is a four-year-old old enough to shovel snow????

An Unexpected Response

I so desperately want to share with you what God did in my heart during the time between William's biopsy and when we got the second opinion back that his tumor was benign. It is not a pretty story. In fact, it is the darkest time I have ever experienced. And it is not an easy thing to share - no one wants to admit their weaknesses. Hopefully, this will all make sense...

When Barry was in the hospital and in the days after he passed away, I had never felt so loved and covered by God. I realize that may sound crazy, but it is true. In the weeks prior to his death, God had stripped me down and revealed a major idol in my life that I had been blind to. It was excruciating, but God was showing me through the pain just how much better He was than even the best things in my life. As I said goodbye to the man I loved most in the world, I felt the arms of God wrap tightly around me and carry me through everything. Please don't misunderstand - the grief was incredibly painful. During those first few days, it was not my goal to make it through the day or even the next hour. I was just trying to survive the next five minutes. But in that pain, I knew God was there, helping me breathe, helping me hold on. I wasn't angry. I did not doubt that he loved me. I knew He was taking care of me.  

As the weeks and months passed, I was overwhelmed with gratitude for the generous way that God was working in my heart and life. I was confident in Him and His plan for me. I faced a lot of challenges in the months since losing Barry, but God has protected me and continued to carry me through them. So, when William fractured his leg, I wasn't afraid or overwhelmed. I knew God would take care of him. And when the cast came off and the doctor told me there was a tumor, I wasn't afraid. I knew God would take care of him. And when William had his MRI, I wasn't afraid. I knew God would take care of him. But when the oncologist started talking about cancer and chemo, the fear came rushing in. To be honest, it was specifically when they told me about putting in the port for future treatment that I began to really be afraid.  

I don't think any parent is surprised that I was afraid. And I wasn't embarrassed to admit that I was afraid. But lurking underneath the fear was something that I did not want to admit was there. Not to myself or anyone else. I was angry.  

It had been nine months since Barry had died. Nine months. We were getting ready for Christmas. Christmas was supposed to be hard - it was our first Christmas without Barry. It was not supposed to be hard for fear of cancer in my 4-year-old. I spent a lot of Christmas wondering if it would be my first without my husband and my last with my son. Hadn't I suffered enough? Sure, I knew that life would have more suffering, but could it wait a little while? Like another month? Year? Decade? A very quiet anger was gnawing at my soul.  

But I didn't want to admit I was angry. Because I knew where that anger came from and I hated its source. My anger came from the sin of entitlement. I felt entitled to a little peace and comfort. Not comfort in the way most see comfort. Not in money or things. But I did feel entitled to the comfort that comes from not being in the middle of grief and crisis for a season. And I asked the question that I hated myself for asking, "Does God really love me?" Because, in the midst of my anger and pain, I doubted His love. What a slap in the face to the God whose very nature is the definition of love. Thankfully, He's big enough to face my ridiculous, insulting questions.  

God, being rich in mercy, only allowed me to think my son had cancer for three days. I know there is much more going on than what I can see right now. God has been working all of this for His glory and for our good. One thing I do know, one of the reasons He allowed for us to have to wait on biopsy results and then receive bad results was to show me some areas of sin that needed to be removed from my heart. And as painful and ugly as it has been, I am thankful that He didn't just allow me to stay stagnant in my sin. That's real love...

On the night the oncologist called to tell me the tumor was benign, I was on my way to have dinner with two of my closets friends. I called them on the way there to tell them the good news. We met. We celebrated. We had a good time. But they were confused by my countenance. I wasn't bubbly, excited and cheerful. I was thankful and relieved. But I was also very aware of what I desperately needed to do next. I needed to fall on my knees, confess the sin that was torturing me and allow God to heal me of it. It was not exactly what you would expect a response to such sweet news to be.  

So why am I telling you this? My pride would much rather me keep it to myself. But I know two things: First, there is freedom in honesty and confession. I do not need to confess my sin to you. But in letting light in on the dark parts of my heart, I continue to put sin to death and heal. Secondly, what I have faced in the last 10 months is nothing compared to what others face. Yes, I am a widow. Yes, we face some challenges. But so many people out there face so much more. And so many face tragedy without the hope and love found in Jesus.  

So, for those of you out there just trying to make it through the next five minutes...

For those who are angry...

For those who feel abandoned and alone...

For those who wonder, "Does God really love me?"...

He loves you. He sees your pain. He knows your fears. He knows your sin. And He loves you. We are not entitled to anything but death and separation from Him. But God, being rich in mercy, gave us Jesus and salvation. Trust in the cross. Find your comfort in the cross. Find your confidence in the cross. If you look to the cross, you will find all you need.

"Fear not, for I have redeemed you;

I have called you by name, you are mine.

When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;

and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you;

when you walk through the fire you shall not be burned,

and the flame shall not consume you.

For I am the LORD your God,

the Holy One of Israel, your Savior.

I give Egypt as your ransom,

Cush and Seba in exchange for you.

Because you are precious in my eyes,

and honored, and I LOVE YOU." (emphasis mine)

Isaiah 43:1-4

William in November

On November 2, William fractured his femur. On December 3, his orthopedic specialist told me he had developed a tumor that we needed to see an oncologist about. On December 13, we met with the oncologist who told me he was "very concerned" and wanted William to have an MRI. On December 14, William was put under general anesthesia and had an MRI. On December 18, the oncologist scheduled a biopsy to determine if the tumor was benign or malignant. On December 22, William again underwent general anesthesia to have the biopsy. If the tumor was malignant, a pediatric surgeon would place a port in William's chest for future treatment. The biopsy result were inconclusive, so we waited for 7 days for results.  

On December 28, we met with William's oncologist for the results of the biopsy. By this time, I was in a very dark place. I suspected the tumor was malignant. The pathology report told us that William had osteosarcoma, bone cancer. I was absolutely heart broken. Nine months earlier, my husband had died. Now, the doctor was telling me my son had cancer. Really?!?! My mind immediately clicked into action mode. Time to fight. But the doctor wanted a second opinion. For some reason, he was skeptical of the diagnosis. He sent everything to the Mayo Clinic and told us to wait another (ANOTHER!) week for the results.  

On December 30, at 6pm, my phone rang. It was the oncologist. The second pathology report had just come in and William did not have bone cancer! He told me we would meet the next week to discuss treatment.  

William has heterotopic ossification. When he fractured his femur, his body responded to the trauma by producing bone where there should not be bone. Unfortunately, there is nothing that can be done to treat it for the next 12-18 months. If we tried to remove it during that time, it would just come back. So we wait. For a year. Then, William will have surgery to remove all of the new/unwanted bone.  

After being told your son has cancer, I think they could have told me that he had an alien living inside his leg and I would have been overjoyed.  I am thankful.  Thankful that he doesn't need a port and chemo. Thankful that we don't have to fight cancer. Thankful that God heard the prayers of hundreds of people and had compassion on us.  

During the last year I have become very confident in two things: First, my God is big and he is generous. He is sovereign over all that has happened and generous to walk through it all with us. He gives strength to face challenges and brings healing.  Second, my little man is a fighter. During the next year, he will continue to have trouble walking, running and playing like most kids. But he will face those challenges with joy and determination.  

William's teacher emailed me on Thursday to tell me about William's week. She shared the following with me:

"I wanted to tell you the story, so you know how “determined” your little daredevil is….  He was trying to climb the rock wall at recess on Tues but was having trouble pushing himself up with his hurt leg.  I was standing behind him in case he fell.  It seemed as though his injured leg didn’t have the strength to lift him up so I helped him down and suggested he wait a couple weeks and let his leg heal a little more.  Before I knew it, he was headed up the wall again.  I positioned myself behind him (I am a bit of a nervous Nelly!) but did not help.  He climbed all the way to the top with a big smile on his face. J  He was not about to let his leg get in the way of reaching his goal."

Thank you for walking this crazy journey with us. Thank you for your prayers for William - God heard and answered so generously. Please continue to pray for us. Pray for William's tumor to shrink in size. Pray for him to adapt well. Pray for our hearts as we continue to grieve the loss of Barry and walk this road without him. We all miss him so much. Pray against fear.

We will continue to learn to walk in the land of the living... laughing at the irony of it all.

Fear

I was hoping for answers today. I did not get them. Our oncologist was not satisfied with the information we got from the pathology report, so he is sending it off for further testing. We are hoping to know more next week.  

In the past few days, anxiety began creeping into my heart. And with so may questions left unanswered, my imagination has gone to some very dark, very scary places. Tonight, as William and I read the Bible before bed, the Lord used a favorite story of ours to very strongly encourage my weary, fearful soul. Here is an exert from our reading:

Then Jesus turned to his wind-torn friends, "Why were you scared?" he asked.  "Did you forget who I Am? Did you believe your fears, instead of me?"

Jesus' friends were quiet. As quiet as the wind and the waves. And into their hearts came a different kind of storm.

"What kind of man is this?" they asked themselves anxiously.  "Even the wind and the waves obey him!" they said, because they didn't understand.  They didn't realize yet that Jesus was the Son of God.

Jesus' fiends had been so afraid, they had only seen the big waves.  They had forgotten that, if Jesus was with them, then they had nothing to be afraid of.  

No matter how small their boat - or how big the storm.

(The Captain of the storm, the Jesus Storybook Bible)

I am uncertain of just how big this storm we are facing will be. But God loves William more than I do. And He is the one in charge of the storm. So I will trust. God, grant me faith.

Continue to pray with us. Continue to hope. We will continue to fight, no matter how hard it gets. Come, Lord Jesus, come...

Waiting

My sweet little William did so well during surgery today! Around 7:30 this morning, the doctors did a biopsy of the tumor that is in his knee. They originally told me it would take about 15 minutes to do the biopsy - it took an hour. So, there I sat in the waiting room, surrounded by friends and family, waiting. And waiting. An hour isn't a long time to wait, but when you are waiting to hear news about a tumor in your baby, each minute takes forever! And then the doctor came out...

The results of the biopsy were inconclusive. They will be doing further testing to determine whether or not the tumor is benign or malignant. So we wait.  

I am a pretty patient person. I wait well. Or so I thought. I have discovered that I wait well for trivial things. But over the last few weeks, as we have waited for Will's cast to come off, waited to get an appointment to see the oncologist, waited for MRI results, waited for surgery, waited for biopsy results, I have learned that I suck at waiting. I want results. I want a plan. I want the world to stop so that we can get William healthy. And every moment that I have to wait makes me feel helpless, fearful and angry.  

As I have waited over the last few weeks, I have been given a glimpse of what is was to wait on the coming Messiah. For Israel, waiting all of those centuries for the promised Savior was painful. Every time they were taken into captivity, every time someone waged war against them, they were reminded of the yet-to-be fulfilled promise of a Savior coming to rescue them. The words of the Christmas carol show us the pain of their waiting so well: 

O come, O come, Emmanuel,

And ransom captive Israel,

That mourns in lonely exile here

Until the Son of God appear.

They mourned while they waited. But their weeping ended - just like the night. Morning broke -  God was faithful. He sent Jesus. And yet, we still wait. Not for the birth of the Messiah, but for the second coming. Romans 8 tells us that all of creation waits eagerly, with groaning for the return of Christ.

So this week, we remember and we wait. We remember the first coming of our Savior, long ago, in the town of Bethlehem, one starry night. We wait, with eager anticipation, for the return of our Savior who promises to rescue us and make all things new. And I wait - for biopsy results and a plan, knowing that no matter what they might be, a sovereign, loving God promises that He will work all things for our good and His glory. May I feel the angst of the need for Jesus and the peace that comes from being His child.

Thank you for all of your prayers and encouragement over the last weeks. They have been a sweet blessing. Please continue to pray and hope with us. I am confident He is able to do far more than we could ever ask.

 

Words

I haven't blogged in a while. I haven't had the words needed to describe what has been going on in our lives.

While there have been no words to write, there have been an abundance of words running around my mind. It has been hard to quiet my mind. Hard to focus. Hard to sleep deeply.

And there have been lots of words spoken to me. Words I don't want to hear. I like to call them "dirty" words. They are not profane or vulgar. They are not R-rated. But they are words that make your heart cringe. Simple words like "concerned" and "abnormal." And more complex words like "growth," "tumor," "oncologist," "MRI," "surgery." It's even worse when these words are spoken about your child.

During the first week of November, William fractured his leg. It was a frustrating experience because there was no event that would explain a fracture. No fall. No traumatic episode. Just unexplained pain and swelling. We saw a doctor and had numerous x-rays. He was put in a cast that went from his thigh to his toes. He was grumpy and in pain. And we waited. We waited for the fracture to heal. After a month, we took the cast off. His fracture was healed, but we discovered a growth in his knee. We were referred to an oncologist who ordered an MRI for the next morning. We met with the oncologist today for the results.

William has a tumor that starts a few inches above his knee, goes down the side of his knee and wraps around the bottom of his knee cap. On Wednesday morning, William will have a biopsy done. We will immediately know if the tumor is benign or malignant. The doctor has a course of action planned for both scenarios. We would appreciate your prayers.

In all of this, the Holy Spirit has impressed upon me the truth about words. When I have no words, He interceded to the Father on my behalf (Romans 8:26). When "dirty" words cause me to fear, He reminds me that Jesus upholds the universe and my son with His word (Hebrews 1:3). And most importantly, He reminds me that my hope is found in The Word, Jesus (John 1:14).