I haven't had a Christmas with my whole family since Jody and I got married. I've had Mom and Dad come, and I've had Ginny and Daniel come but we haven't all gathered together for a Christmas in years. I'll admit, I'm having a bit of a boo hoo that Daniel won't be sent home a bit early from Afghanistan so he can have Christmas with us but it'll be mighty close to a full family Christmas. Apparently Abby is so excited that we're coming that she has cleaned her room and purged it twice. Not only that but she's avidly creating little origami boxes and such for who knows what. Gin acts like it's a trial due to all of the bits and pieces that are always lying around but I know she loves Abby's active mind and nonstop ideas.
On our end, we're shopping and wrapping gifts already. We managed to get Marcy and Jerry their gifts and sent with them to Minnesota so it's one less package to agonize over. Whew, I've given myself a target of one more week to get Daniel and the Barry's packages off and two weeks to write my Christmas letter and get a family picture done. There, it's in writing so I have accountability.
Last night Marcy and I took Eden and Kait to The Nutcracker which was fantastic. We all put on our finest and dressed to the nines. We went to the Mackey in Boulder and it's old and beautiful. We sat in the third row of the balcony and the second row was empty, so the girls neither one had to look over a head. The cathedral ceiling of the auditorium was breathtaking and the girls absorbed every detail. Kait made it through about three sets before she told me that she thought there were going to be words and that she was sad there weren't any words. I don't know how I failed to describe the performance as a ballet but those are the little surprises of parenting. Eden was completely enthralled. She loved the music, the tricks of the stage and all of the amazing costumes. She knows the story of The Nutcracker well, so there were few surprises and many fulfilled visions for her. During the intermission we all shared a giant cookie and the girls drank hot cocoa in their beautiful Christmas dresses. It was one of those moments. I saw it in Marcy's face and I felt it in my heart. We were so glad we lived it. We were so glad we made the effort and made the memory and made the investment in the girls. Marcy got them each a trinket to remember our outing. After the second act started Kait again bemoaned that there were no words. I made up some words like I was a narrator but she was across Marcy so I didn't do it for very long. Pretty soon I could hear her just chattering away in quiet voice and leaned over. Marcy told me Kait was narrating it for herself. It's a fine jewel in my treasure chest of memories. We all had a wonderful time.
I told the girls that this year we are going to live up the Christmas season like never before. We're going to the tree lighting in town, we're making cookies and decorating ornaments with friends, they're singing in the Christmas production at Church and we're doing every other festive thing I can think of. What's the point of life if you don't live it?
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Traditions of time...
My childhood Thanksgivings were grand. It was the embodiment of the true spirit of Thanksgiving. Mom was always overwhelmed. She never knew how many turkeys she was going to have to cook. She didn't know how many chairs and tables she would set but somehow she always muddled through, linens starched, crystal and china washed and silverware polished.
We formed some traditions that died before we had a chance to get too used to them but some still hang on. About a year after Mom and Dad bought Culligan Mom announced that she was postponing Thanksgiving dinner to Saturday so she would have time to prepare for it. It stuck. Instant tradition. It was a double edged sword though. Yes, she had more time to prepare but practically nobody we knew would be otherwise engaged the Saturday after Thanksgiving... and the number of people who get invited to a house when six people are doing the inviting gets a little bit out of hand. Mom stuck to her southern hospitality with fervor though. Some people who came were a thrill and some were less than thrilling. I prefer to reminisce about the thrilling people. We loved to invite the Torrijos family every year and embrace the diverse heritage and the shared thankfulness for America. Gilberto and Elesia were first generation Americans hailing from Columbia with a mysterious fascinating background and beautiful foreign accents. I can hear Gilberto's hearty laugh as I sit here. He was like a grandfather to me in some ways, maybe a great uncle or something, I don't know but he was grand and funny. Aunt Bonnie and Aunt Jessie always came with our cousins Diane and sometimes Michael. Aunt Bonnie personified joy, her voice rang clear and high above the din and her shattering laugh was her hallmark. Aunt Bonnie and Gilberto now laugh for Jesus in heaven. That tradition is gone but I've saved it as an example I would like to pull out and apply in my own home someday. Striking vibrant people who are the jewels of a party. Aunt Nancy and Uncle Roger usually came. Uncle Roger would be pressed into service repairing a car and Aunt Nancy would industriously charge into the kitchen and start delegating tasks that Mom had been trying to shoulder on her own.
We always bought huge bags full of mixed nuts to shell for the fruit salad and the nut pies. That one carries on. Kids love to shell nuts.
Homemade rolls were a staple and Gin and I both hold to that tradition as well. What is Thanksgiving dinner without homemade rolls. Ah the funniest story of all lies in the homemade rolls but that will have remain untold... regrettably.
The fruit salad Granny used to make remains and though every one of us made it without celery at Dad's request for years, it turns out that Ginny, Mom and I all found ourselves wanting to put it back in last year.
Then there was the pie situation. No amount of reminiscing over Thanksgiving would be complete without reliving the pie drama. Every single person in the family wanted a different kind of pie and some all of their own. Dad wanted a walnut pie and a mince meat pie. Louis wanted an entire pumpkin pie all to himself. Ginny wanted apple pie, Daniel and I wanted pecan pie and Mom wanted coconut cake. We then had to calculate the number of additional guests and divide it so at least 1/3 of a pie had been allocated per person. I believe the record set on this was 14 pies to be divided among 32 people. Yes, the math isn't quite right but I am certain we had 32 people in my parents little house sitting at tables made for anywhere from 2 people to 8.
It's funny how we never took pictures. We didn't even realize we were making memories we might want to relive someday. If I had a picture of Mom, Aunt Bonnie and Aunt Jessie doubled over in laughter, faces flushed from the hot kitchen and tears of hysterical laughter running down their cheeks when Aunt Jessie accidentally put baking soda in the gravy instead of corn starch, it would be a prize. If I had a portrait of Gilberto's face when he tasted a persimmon that wasn't ripe against Dad's advisement, I'd have something to make me laugh on my darkest day. If I had a picture of Gin's consternation when I insisted on dying my hair black (though it turned out gray) and wearing my Native American dress to Thanksgiving dinner, I'd post it on my facebook page every Thanksgiving.
This year, Jody's dad and Marcy will come have Thanksgiving with us. It sounds so small but making Thanksgiving Dinner for seven people is a big deal. It gives me some empathy for Mom. What a wild scene our house was as a kid and I didn't even know it.
We formed some traditions that died before we had a chance to get too used to them but some still hang on. About a year after Mom and Dad bought Culligan Mom announced that she was postponing Thanksgiving dinner to Saturday so she would have time to prepare for it. It stuck. Instant tradition. It was a double edged sword though. Yes, she had more time to prepare but practically nobody we knew would be otherwise engaged the Saturday after Thanksgiving... and the number of people who get invited to a house when six people are doing the inviting gets a little bit out of hand. Mom stuck to her southern hospitality with fervor though. Some people who came were a thrill and some were less than thrilling. I prefer to reminisce about the thrilling people. We loved to invite the Torrijos family every year and embrace the diverse heritage and the shared thankfulness for America. Gilberto and Elesia were first generation Americans hailing from Columbia with a mysterious fascinating background and beautiful foreign accents. I can hear Gilberto's hearty laugh as I sit here. He was like a grandfather to me in some ways, maybe a great uncle or something, I don't know but he was grand and funny. Aunt Bonnie and Aunt Jessie always came with our cousins Diane and sometimes Michael. Aunt Bonnie personified joy, her voice rang clear and high above the din and her shattering laugh was her hallmark. Aunt Bonnie and Gilberto now laugh for Jesus in heaven. That tradition is gone but I've saved it as an example I would like to pull out and apply in my own home someday. Striking vibrant people who are the jewels of a party. Aunt Nancy and Uncle Roger usually came. Uncle Roger would be pressed into service repairing a car and Aunt Nancy would industriously charge into the kitchen and start delegating tasks that Mom had been trying to shoulder on her own.
We always bought huge bags full of mixed nuts to shell for the fruit salad and the nut pies. That one carries on. Kids love to shell nuts.
Homemade rolls were a staple and Gin and I both hold to that tradition as well. What is Thanksgiving dinner without homemade rolls. Ah the funniest story of all lies in the homemade rolls but that will have remain untold... regrettably.
The fruit salad Granny used to make remains and though every one of us made it without celery at Dad's request for years, it turns out that Ginny, Mom and I all found ourselves wanting to put it back in last year.
Then there was the pie situation. No amount of reminiscing over Thanksgiving would be complete without reliving the pie drama. Every single person in the family wanted a different kind of pie and some all of their own. Dad wanted a walnut pie and a mince meat pie. Louis wanted an entire pumpkin pie all to himself. Ginny wanted apple pie, Daniel and I wanted pecan pie and Mom wanted coconut cake. We then had to calculate the number of additional guests and divide it so at least 1/3 of a pie had been allocated per person. I believe the record set on this was 14 pies to be divided among 32 people. Yes, the math isn't quite right but I am certain we had 32 people in my parents little house sitting at tables made for anywhere from 2 people to 8.
It's funny how we never took pictures. We didn't even realize we were making memories we might want to relive someday. If I had a picture of Mom, Aunt Bonnie and Aunt Jessie doubled over in laughter, faces flushed from the hot kitchen and tears of hysterical laughter running down their cheeks when Aunt Jessie accidentally put baking soda in the gravy instead of corn starch, it would be a prize. If I had a portrait of Gilberto's face when he tasted a persimmon that wasn't ripe against Dad's advisement, I'd have something to make me laugh on my darkest day. If I had a picture of Gin's consternation when I insisted on dying my hair black (though it turned out gray) and wearing my Native American dress to Thanksgiving dinner, I'd post it on my facebook page every Thanksgiving.
This year, Jody's dad and Marcy will come have Thanksgiving with us. It sounds so small but making Thanksgiving Dinner for seven people is a big deal. It gives me some empathy for Mom. What a wild scene our house was as a kid and I didn't even know it.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Eden is eight...
Well, actually she has been eight for about three weeks but I never did write my birthday blog for her. I could say what she's done this past year or how she's changed since her seventh birthday but I don't think it would do because in all of the ways that define Eden, she has never changed. She is like the deepest water of the ocean. She doesn't chatter. She doesn't jitter. She isn't domineering or controlling. She's present. She's beautiful. She's vivid. She's profound. She's not tied to convention nor is she fettered with time. She hears your inputs but she has her convictions and if they don't concur, well you're better off trying to move a silent, placid mountain. She speaks sparingly but with depth that usually shocks me at first hearing and makes me want to cry with the retelling. I gather a lanky child in my arms with legs that take up my whole lap, I smooth her satin silk blonde hair that now falls in a cute chunk over one eye (like Ms. Baxter), I look into her beautiful blue wide set eyes with the light sprinkle of freckles on her nose when she speaks and smiles and I hope I always remember that child, the beauty and the simple joy for life. If it makes sense to say, I think Eden is the one who is patient with me. While I beg, cajole and scream for her to conform to this world, she smiles and tries to cooperate with almost a tolerance while knowing I can't understand her big picture. I think she knows my faults and failings better than any other member of the family because I can't see it and I don't always understand her and it physically drains me. She's referred to as "an old soul" by many and I think with good reason.
This year at our parent/teacher conferences, I've no doubt that the teacher thought she would be revealing a great surprise about Eden when she told us that Eden is an extremely bright child and her only struggle was completing tasks in a timely manner. She said with great concern that she might sit for 20 minutes with a paper untouched because she had a question and had never raised her hand for help. Through a series of events I've also discovered that not only has Eden held up the entire drive line at school while stopping in to check on Ms. Baxter in the afternoon, but she has also been tardy for the same reason. Apparently it's very important to her that she visit Ms. Baxter no less than three times per day. I think it's a perfect example of her perspective of the existence of time and how her priorities rank. I rather imagine she pities the world for being so obsessed with time and prioritizing schedules.
A few weeks ago, I asked her if recess had been cold because it was an insanely windy day.
She said "yes but I love to hear the wind. Sometimes when the wind blows, I feel like it's trying to say something to me."
I said "really, what do you think it's saying?"
She said "well, I don't know, I don't speak wind, but maybe it's trying to bring me a message. I bet my sister Michelle loves the wind and she sends me messages. Like it's our own special thing, just the two of us thinking about each other. But all of our family, I mean you and Daddy too."
I told her that was a beautiful idea. It was so sweet and soulful. She's eight years old, sitting there with the fall melancholy we all get, articulating it all so beautifully and making sure she doesn't hurt anyone's feelings to boot. Special, special girl.
And tonight was rather entertaining as well. She told me that she has started a page about Jody in her creative writing book and that she had written that he is great to wrestle with and loves to take her to the arcade. I thought those were great and then she told me that when she's all done she'll write a page about me.
I said "Really? What will you write about me?"
She said " Oh I don't know, that you work really hard and clean up after everyone?"
I raised my brows and nodded, I'm sure I was wincing.
She said "(giggle) and that you like to take us to thrift stores."
I just took them to the Museum of Nature and Science for the day so that was a bit of a blow but I nodded all the same and said "okay."
Then just for good measure she said "and you make really yummy hot cocoa for us when we're cold."
Considering the effort put into hot cocoa compared to the pot roast I made today I had to wonder... if my children really don't care if they eat good food or go to fancy museums and those things really don't impress them... maybe I AM wasting a lot of time like they all say.... ;-)
No, that can't be the case. On her birthday, Eden was so sick with a terrible cold and we offered to get her food anywhere. She told me she wanted a home made cake and home made spaghetti because it was made with love. She got exactly what she asked for.
So Eden, I pray for you that you will follow the will of the Lord. That he will show you great things. That your life will be a testimony to everyone who knows you of Gods unfailing and beautiful love. I pray that the angels will guard and protect you. I thank God for making you so wonderfully with so many amazing skills and attributes that can bring him boundless amounts of glory. And I thank Him for entrusting you to me, so I may enjoy you for this short time.
I don't know how many more springs I'll get to watch you hunt for Easter Eggs, or all of the other wonderful childhood pass times but I can't say that I mourned the passing of Barney or your diapers, so bring on the middle years. Let's see how we do.
That's about all I can say about my amazing #1 girl. I'm so glad God found such a great way to get my life on track. Blessing us with Eden has been a beautiful, joyful ride.
The halloween rock star.
This year at our parent/teacher conferences, I've no doubt that the teacher thought she would be revealing a great surprise about Eden when she told us that Eden is an extremely bright child and her only struggle was completing tasks in a timely manner. She said with great concern that she might sit for 20 minutes with a paper untouched because she had a question and had never raised her hand for help. Through a series of events I've also discovered that not only has Eden held up the entire drive line at school while stopping in to check on Ms. Baxter in the afternoon, but she has also been tardy for the same reason. Apparently it's very important to her that she visit Ms. Baxter no less than three times per day. I think it's a perfect example of her perspective of the existence of time and how her priorities rank. I rather imagine she pities the world for being so obsessed with time and prioritizing schedules.
A few weeks ago, I asked her if recess had been cold because it was an insanely windy day.
She said "yes but I love to hear the wind. Sometimes when the wind blows, I feel like it's trying to say something to me."
I said "really, what do you think it's saying?"
She said "well, I don't know, I don't speak wind, but maybe it's trying to bring me a message. I bet my sister Michelle loves the wind and she sends me messages. Like it's our own special thing, just the two of us thinking about each other. But all of our family, I mean you and Daddy too."
I told her that was a beautiful idea. It was so sweet and soulful. She's eight years old, sitting there with the fall melancholy we all get, articulating it all so beautifully and making sure she doesn't hurt anyone's feelings to boot. Special, special girl.
And tonight was rather entertaining as well. She told me that she has started a page about Jody in her creative writing book and that she had written that he is great to wrestle with and loves to take her to the arcade. I thought those were great and then she told me that when she's all done she'll write a page about me.
I said "Really? What will you write about me?"
She said " Oh I don't know, that you work really hard and clean up after everyone?"
I raised my brows and nodded, I'm sure I was wincing.
She said "(giggle) and that you like to take us to thrift stores."
I just took them to the Museum of Nature and Science for the day so that was a bit of a blow but I nodded all the same and said "okay."
Then just for good measure she said "and you make really yummy hot cocoa for us when we're cold."
Considering the effort put into hot cocoa compared to the pot roast I made today I had to wonder... if my children really don't care if they eat good food or go to fancy museums and those things really don't impress them... maybe I AM wasting a lot of time like they all say.... ;-)
No, that can't be the case. On her birthday, Eden was so sick with a terrible cold and we offered to get her food anywhere. She told me she wanted a home made cake and home made spaghetti because it was made with love. She got exactly what she asked for.
So Eden, I pray for you that you will follow the will of the Lord. That he will show you great things. That your life will be a testimony to everyone who knows you of Gods unfailing and beautiful love. I pray that the angels will guard and protect you. I thank God for making you so wonderfully with so many amazing skills and attributes that can bring him boundless amounts of glory. And I thank Him for entrusting you to me, so I may enjoy you for this short time.
I don't know how many more springs I'll get to watch you hunt for Easter Eggs, or all of the other wonderful childhood pass times but I can't say that I mourned the passing of Barney or your diapers, so bring on the middle years. Let's see how we do.
That's about all I can say about my amazing #1 girl. I'm so glad God found such a great way to get my life on track. Blessing us with Eden has been a beautiful, joyful ride.
The halloween rock star.
Friday, November 12, 2010
This is me?????
I just found this old blog I wrote and never published. I was hoping it would slide into when I saved it as a draft in May but it didn't. Ah well, I've messed up the order. Anyhoo, very funny story on Kaity. I'm going to tag another one on here about her playdate tea party. I have also promised myself that I will write a special belated birthday blog for Eden. I can't believe I didn't write one this year and I just noticed it! It'll be forthcoming tomorrow.
This was from May:
When I consider where I came from, I find it nothing short of mind blowing to think that I'm an urbanite with three kids enrolled in soccer, running around volunteering to feed 50 1st graders ice cream and buying and selling furniture willy nilly all the while listening to Kaitlyn's never ending tirades in the back of my mind.
"Mom, Grandma Barry and I have a secret and we're not telling anyone!"
"Okay."
"Okay Mom, it can be a secret with just you and me and Grandma Barry."
"Okay."
"I told her that you and Eden called me a party pooper this morning and she thought that PROBably hurt my feelings."
Long pause.
"Okay."
"I have been having lots of bad days Mom. One day I got a hole in my head and they had to put STAPLES in it, the next Eden hit me on accident, and today I scraped my leg on a ROCK." (I feel the need to insert here that it almost sounds like Kait puts a "g" on the beginning of words starting with "r" so it sounds like "grock".)
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Are you ready to go to Target?"
And this one was from November 9th:
I was invited to an exclusive Kindergarten Rockers preview show today. As I entered the room, I saw child sized chairs in a neat row apparently for spectators to sit in. They were facing the ottoman and couch. The ottoman had been draped with a sheet and Fiona stood in a dramatic pose with her body turned profile. A sparkly cap perched jauntily on her head with short curls peeking out. A little to her left and behind her, in a relaxed pose sat Katelyn R. With the guitar laying against her and a sweep of hair across one eye, she strummed with a faraway look. Behind Fiona, Kaity Kat and Abby stood on the window ledge above the couch. Abby was frozen in a pose with one knee crooked and her fingers forming a sideways v across one eye. Kaity Kat stood with feet planted wide. Her arms were stiffly at her sides and her hands were turned palm flat and her body was stiff. Fiona jumped and turned 90 degrees to face me and began to sing a song she had written this afternoon. "One daaaay, I was sittin lookin out the window, lookin out the window for my friends..." Kaity Kat and Abby started dancing like there was no tomorrow and Katelyn began to hit it on the guitar. I sat stunned. I have not exaggerated a single bit of this.
This was from May:
When I consider where I came from, I find it nothing short of mind blowing to think that I'm an urbanite with three kids enrolled in soccer, running around volunteering to feed 50 1st graders ice cream and buying and selling furniture willy nilly all the while listening to Kaitlyn's never ending tirades in the back of my mind.
"Mom, Grandma Barry and I have a secret and we're not telling anyone!"
"Okay."
"Okay Mom, it can be a secret with just you and me and Grandma Barry."
"Okay."
"I told her that you and Eden called me a party pooper this morning and she thought that PROBably hurt my feelings."
Long pause.
"Okay."
"I have been having lots of bad days Mom. One day I got a hole in my head and they had to put STAPLES in it, the next Eden hit me on accident, and today I scraped my leg on a ROCK." (I feel the need to insert here that it almost sounds like Kait puts a "g" on the beginning of words starting with "r" so it sounds like "grock".)
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Are you ready to go to Target?"
And this one was from November 9th:
I was invited to an exclusive Kindergarten Rockers preview show today. As I entered the room, I saw child sized chairs in a neat row apparently for spectators to sit in. They were facing the ottoman and couch. The ottoman had been draped with a sheet and Fiona stood in a dramatic pose with her body turned profile. A sparkly cap perched jauntily on her head with short curls peeking out. A little to her left and behind her, in a relaxed pose sat Katelyn R. With the guitar laying against her and a sweep of hair across one eye, she strummed with a faraway look. Behind Fiona, Kaity Kat and Abby stood on the window ledge above the couch. Abby was frozen in a pose with one knee crooked and her fingers forming a sideways v across one eye. Kaity Kat stood with feet planted wide. Her arms were stiffly at her sides and her hands were turned palm flat and her body was stiff. Fiona jumped and turned 90 degrees to face me and began to sing a song she had written this afternoon. "One daaaay, I was sittin lookin out the window, lookin out the window for my friends..." Kaity Kat and Abby started dancing like there was no tomorrow and Katelyn began to hit it on the guitar. I sat stunned. I have not exaggerated a single bit of this.
Monday, November 1, 2010
My Family Tree is a Fig Tree
Last night, for the first time, I simply thanked God for our house in Minnesota. I could feel those words straight from the Holy Spirit and it felt so comforting. I think I can link it to the small epiphany I had in church yesterday. We were reading Luke 14 but my eyes strayed to Jesus' parable of the Fig Tree in chapter 13. When I read it, I identified with it immediately. Here's the story, then I'll tell you how I related to it.
6 Then he told this parable: “A man had a fig tree growing in his vineyard, and he went to look for fruit on it but did not find any. 7 So he said to the man who took care of the vineyard, ‘For three years now I’ve been coming to look for fruit on this fig tree and haven’t found any. Cut it down! Why should it use up the soil?’
8 “‘Sir,’ the man replied, ‘leave it alone for one more year, and I’ll dig around it and fertilize it. 9 If it bears fruit next year, fine! If not, then cut it down.’”
First, I identified with the fig tree not bearing fruit. Jody and I have known Christ as a couple for our entire marriage and I have known Christ since I learned how to talk. We have not born any fruit of our relationship with the personification of love though. Of all of the things Christ told us to do, from the great commission to feeding the orphans and widows, to Loving the Lord our God with all of our soul, might strength etc.., we really hadn't practiced it. Of all of Paul's admonishments to the early church, Jody and I did not throw ourselves into the work we're all called to do as Christians.
Secondly, I noticed the caretaker did not cut the tree to bear more fruit like the parable of the grape vine. He tilled the soil around it. That is what we have experienced. We've felt very uncertain for the last three or four years but never have we had a piece of us cut off... unless you count Jody's thyroid gland and 50 or so lymph nodes in his neck. We've felt the earth shake and questioned our foundation but our family unit has remained intact. He's provided for our needs and healed Jody's wounds. I figure I should make a list of fertilizers. Maybe your caretaker will use these.
The day we accepted that Jody's uncle would not be paying Jody a paycheck anymore was the first tough blow. It was a very terrifying experience. We had moved to Minnesota in a small non-metro area for a job which had been presented to Jody as a sure thing. We bought the house everyone recommended and presumed life would be stable. Now we realized, our house was worthless and there was no other job to fit Jody's two skill sets within 75 miles of our residence. I can't imagine how it must have felt for Jody. He's the provider for a wife and three children ages five, two and six months. I know I felt it, but he felt it more. He found a job in Boulder and we packed up lock stock and barrel and moved across country the first week of January 2008 to rent a small house sight unseen and rented out our house month to month to a single mom. It was the move from hell. Eden was sick the entire drive. I have tried to block that memory but it actually haunts me.
The next blow came about 6 months later when the housing crisis was coming into full swing and we thought we had sold our house for a loss. I opened a letter. It was a notice that the earnest money check had bounced. We were on our last straw, so we rented it out again. Our life was on pause. There was no way to buy a new house, so we just had to wait.
About three months later, Jody called to tell me he had thyroid cancer. He sounded so empty. I told him to come home immediately. I sat there with that horrible ache in the back of my throat wishing I could cry. I called my sister and best friend, but they didn't answer their phones. I tried to breath, I tried to pray. I kind of cried but it felt more like I was suffocating. I tried to read up on it, and got lost in the stages, the kinds, all of the things I didn't know any answers to. Jody came home and we laid on the couch together. The worst part was just that we didn't understand. The cancer story is so long and was so up and down, not because of Jody's health but because we just never felt like anyone explained anything and we didn't even really know if we should be afraid. His first surgery was in November. He thought it would be easy, in and out. He didn't want extra people in the house. So, the neighbor came over and I drove Jody in to the surgery. The doc made it sound so easy. Three hour surgery tops, overnight stay in the hospital. His thyroid would be gone and he'd take synthroid forever. A bummer but doable. My friend Shawna who I am thankful has a very special relationship with God felt she had to drive down from the mountains to be with me. We sat there forever. I can't remember how long that surgery took but I know it ran at least an hour over but maybe two hours over. I was talking crazy to Shawna and she just nodded and listened. Finally the doctor came out and every question I'd had pent up for the last few weeks came pouring out. He was a surgeon, not an endocrinologist and he had just been through a very harrowing surgery as I later assimilated. He and I did not hit it off. Jody's cancer was much worse than the doc had anticipated and he had spent hours scraping it off of Jody's vocal chords so his speech wouldn't be impaired and selectively removing lymph nodes. He had a particularly hard time working around the parathyroid glands, so Jody had to stay in the hospital an extra day or two because he wasn't producing calcium. He said "I beat them up pretty bad." As it turned out, Jody and I went to the wrong doctor. He did his best, but it wasn't good enough. If you ever need a surgery, do your homework. A month later he had a dose of radioactive iodine. They locked him into a chamber with lead walls, gave him the iodine and slipped his meals through a special little trap door. He said the isolation was terrible but it was worse when he came home and felt like he shouldn't touch anyone because he was so toxic. Then I went with him to the scan. I watched his body image on a big screen light up wherever he had absorbed iodine and felt fear all over me. They hadn't explained what it would look like or what it would mean. We had to wait for the results. It went like that with every step of Jody's cancer. Nothing was ever explained until after the fact. I got to the point of hysteria several times. At each checkup they took Jody's blood. Finally one day, they said it was time for an ultrasound. I asked Jody why and he told me they said it was routine. We'd seen his blood work every time too but it had never been interpreted for us and gave us no idea of what we were about to find out. When they did the ultrasound, they found three masses in the left side of Jody's neck that the first surgeon had missed. I cried and cried. I called Jody's mom and cried. The doctor ordered a PET scan to be sure the cancer wasn't in Jody's lungs which is where it goes if it travels down lymph nodes. I felt like my body was trembling all over 100% of the time. Finally, the week before the PET scan Jody and I fasted together. It was a first for us and we really bonded through it. It brought peace. I came to the realization that my security comes from God, not the presence of my husband or dad or any other person on this earth. The day after the PET scan, the doctor called Jody in to see him. He told us in person that it was all clear. Again, the ground around us had been tilled, but the little fig tree stood. We went to the Mayo Clinic for the next surgery because we trust them, we know they're the best and they are the pioneers of an experimental non-invasive procedure called alcohol ablation. Unfortunately, Jody's tumors were too big, so they did the surgery and it was hard again. I've never been there with someone going through surgery so I had no idea how it knocks a person flat. All the way through I just asked God not to make Jody go through this again. He came out with an incision all the way across his throat curving up almost to his ear. It was huge. Then we got the bill. The insurance company said they weren't going to pay it even though we had called them to be sure it would be covered if we went there. It was $33,000. Jody was angry. He said we should have just gone back to the hack. I argued back that there was no price too high for his health. Still, I did wonder why we'd paid into insurance for all of those years. We went about five rounds with the insurance company and today we got the word that they had finally completely paid their part, about 17 months after the surgery.
This last spring we tried to sell the house again. It sat vacant, for sale, for $20,000 less than we owe on it for 6 months and we never got an offer. Now we have renters again. We're still renting a two bedroom townhome, while we pay $300 more in our mortgage payment than we receive in rent each month.
That is why I say, the earth around my family has been tilled. I'd like to tell you what figs are like even if they said in Rush Hour that it would be our only reward :-) Just this time, we'll use our story to motivate others in lieu of our heavenly reward. Figs look like the faces of my children as they sit in rapt attention at Rush Hour each Sunday. Figs smell like the pages of a Bible. Figs taste like food for hungry neighbors. Figs sound like the praise my children lifted to Jesus when they led praise and worship at church in the Kids Choir. Figs feel like a warm coat for someone who needs it.
6 Then he told this parable: “A man had a fig tree growing in his vineyard, and he went to look for fruit on it but did not find any. 7 So he said to the man who took care of the vineyard, ‘For three years now I’ve been coming to look for fruit on this fig tree and haven’t found any. Cut it down! Why should it use up the soil?’
8 “‘Sir,’ the man replied, ‘leave it alone for one more year, and I’ll dig around it and fertilize it. 9 If it bears fruit next year, fine! If not, then cut it down.’”
First, I identified with the fig tree not bearing fruit. Jody and I have known Christ as a couple for our entire marriage and I have known Christ since I learned how to talk. We have not born any fruit of our relationship with the personification of love though. Of all of the things Christ told us to do, from the great commission to feeding the orphans and widows, to Loving the Lord our God with all of our soul, might strength etc.., we really hadn't practiced it. Of all of Paul's admonishments to the early church, Jody and I did not throw ourselves into the work we're all called to do as Christians.
Secondly, I noticed the caretaker did not cut the tree to bear more fruit like the parable of the grape vine. He tilled the soil around it. That is what we have experienced. We've felt very uncertain for the last three or four years but never have we had a piece of us cut off... unless you count Jody's thyroid gland and 50 or so lymph nodes in his neck. We've felt the earth shake and questioned our foundation but our family unit has remained intact. He's provided for our needs and healed Jody's wounds. I figure I should make a list of fertilizers. Maybe your caretaker will use these.
The day we accepted that Jody's uncle would not be paying Jody a paycheck anymore was the first tough blow. It was a very terrifying experience. We had moved to Minnesota in a small non-metro area for a job which had been presented to Jody as a sure thing. We bought the house everyone recommended and presumed life would be stable. Now we realized, our house was worthless and there was no other job to fit Jody's two skill sets within 75 miles of our residence. I can't imagine how it must have felt for Jody. He's the provider for a wife and three children ages five, two and six months. I know I felt it, but he felt it more. He found a job in Boulder and we packed up lock stock and barrel and moved across country the first week of January 2008 to rent a small house sight unseen and rented out our house month to month to a single mom. It was the move from hell. Eden was sick the entire drive. I have tried to block that memory but it actually haunts me.
The next blow came about 6 months later when the housing crisis was coming into full swing and we thought we had sold our house for a loss. I opened a letter. It was a notice that the earnest money check had bounced. We were on our last straw, so we rented it out again. Our life was on pause. There was no way to buy a new house, so we just had to wait.
About three months later, Jody called to tell me he had thyroid cancer. He sounded so empty. I told him to come home immediately. I sat there with that horrible ache in the back of my throat wishing I could cry. I called my sister and best friend, but they didn't answer their phones. I tried to breath, I tried to pray. I kind of cried but it felt more like I was suffocating. I tried to read up on it, and got lost in the stages, the kinds, all of the things I didn't know any answers to. Jody came home and we laid on the couch together. The worst part was just that we didn't understand. The cancer story is so long and was so up and down, not because of Jody's health but because we just never felt like anyone explained anything and we didn't even really know if we should be afraid. His first surgery was in November. He thought it would be easy, in and out. He didn't want extra people in the house. So, the neighbor came over and I drove Jody in to the surgery. The doc made it sound so easy. Three hour surgery tops, overnight stay in the hospital. His thyroid would be gone and he'd take synthroid forever. A bummer but doable. My friend Shawna who I am thankful has a very special relationship with God felt she had to drive down from the mountains to be with me. We sat there forever. I can't remember how long that surgery took but I know it ran at least an hour over but maybe two hours over. I was talking crazy to Shawna and she just nodded and listened. Finally the doctor came out and every question I'd had pent up for the last few weeks came pouring out. He was a surgeon, not an endocrinologist and he had just been through a very harrowing surgery as I later assimilated. He and I did not hit it off. Jody's cancer was much worse than the doc had anticipated and he had spent hours scraping it off of Jody's vocal chords so his speech wouldn't be impaired and selectively removing lymph nodes. He had a particularly hard time working around the parathyroid glands, so Jody had to stay in the hospital an extra day or two because he wasn't producing calcium. He said "I beat them up pretty bad." As it turned out, Jody and I went to the wrong doctor. He did his best, but it wasn't good enough. If you ever need a surgery, do your homework. A month later he had a dose of radioactive iodine. They locked him into a chamber with lead walls, gave him the iodine and slipped his meals through a special little trap door. He said the isolation was terrible but it was worse when he came home and felt like he shouldn't touch anyone because he was so toxic. Then I went with him to the scan. I watched his body image on a big screen light up wherever he had absorbed iodine and felt fear all over me. They hadn't explained what it would look like or what it would mean. We had to wait for the results. It went like that with every step of Jody's cancer. Nothing was ever explained until after the fact. I got to the point of hysteria several times. At each checkup they took Jody's blood. Finally one day, they said it was time for an ultrasound. I asked Jody why and he told me they said it was routine. We'd seen his blood work every time too but it had never been interpreted for us and gave us no idea of what we were about to find out. When they did the ultrasound, they found three masses in the left side of Jody's neck that the first surgeon had missed. I cried and cried. I called Jody's mom and cried. The doctor ordered a PET scan to be sure the cancer wasn't in Jody's lungs which is where it goes if it travels down lymph nodes. I felt like my body was trembling all over 100% of the time. Finally, the week before the PET scan Jody and I fasted together. It was a first for us and we really bonded through it. It brought peace. I came to the realization that my security comes from God, not the presence of my husband or dad or any other person on this earth. The day after the PET scan, the doctor called Jody in to see him. He told us in person that it was all clear. Again, the ground around us had been tilled, but the little fig tree stood. We went to the Mayo Clinic for the next surgery because we trust them, we know they're the best and they are the pioneers of an experimental non-invasive procedure called alcohol ablation. Unfortunately, Jody's tumors were too big, so they did the surgery and it was hard again. I've never been there with someone going through surgery so I had no idea how it knocks a person flat. All the way through I just asked God not to make Jody go through this again. He came out with an incision all the way across his throat curving up almost to his ear. It was huge. Then we got the bill. The insurance company said they weren't going to pay it even though we had called them to be sure it would be covered if we went there. It was $33,000. Jody was angry. He said we should have just gone back to the hack. I argued back that there was no price too high for his health. Still, I did wonder why we'd paid into insurance for all of those years. We went about five rounds with the insurance company and today we got the word that they had finally completely paid their part, about 17 months after the surgery.
This last spring we tried to sell the house again. It sat vacant, for sale, for $20,000 less than we owe on it for 6 months and we never got an offer. Now we have renters again. We're still renting a two bedroom townhome, while we pay $300 more in our mortgage payment than we receive in rent each month.
That is why I say, the earth around my family has been tilled. I'd like to tell you what figs are like even if they said in Rush Hour that it would be our only reward :-) Just this time, we'll use our story to motivate others in lieu of our heavenly reward. Figs look like the faces of my children as they sit in rapt attention at Rush Hour each Sunday. Figs smell like the pages of a Bible. Figs taste like food for hungry neighbors. Figs sound like the praise my children lifted to Jesus when they led praise and worship at church in the Kids Choir. Figs feel like a warm coat for someone who needs it.
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