Hanging by the hem of HIS garment

 “When you are hanging on by a tread, make sure it is the hem of HIS garment”.

Some days I am doing okay. There are things I feel really good about. There are truths I embrace and let flood my soul. There are places where no doubts creep in. There is the feeling of success and purpose and completion. There is a future, a promise, and expectation of things still to come. There is JOY, even in the midst of my sorrow. Those are my okay days…

Then there is the really struggling days. The days when I just cannot pull it off. Where my pillow in a darkened room seems the best place to lay my weary body and my aching soul. These days leave me spent, with nothing to offer. I am filled with doubt, not about the goodness of God and heaven, but about the here and now. Doubts about whether I will survive this grief. Doubts about my ability to carry others when I am too tired to carry myself. My mind floods with the crazy thoughts that fight truth, wanting to say, “What if” or “but maybe that doesn’t apply to me”. My throat feels thick, my stomach hurts, it is hard to catch my breath during those times. Only a cleansing flow of tears can bring any clarity to my grasping mind.

Still other days I am left hanging in the balance, somewhere between okay and losing it! This is the time where I can offer compassion to another while still wiping my tears for Millie. I can complete my daily task while stopping briefly to think about my girl and how much I miss her. I can choose to live in the here and now, but learn from the ‘could of, should of’ been thoughts.

As I fight this constant battle for peace, my mind keeps going to the verse about a sound mind.

2 Timothy 1:7 “For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.”

I often beg the Lord to flood me with a sound mind to replace my fear. I did not realize it spoke of God giving us a spirit of power and love also until I read it just now. That power is something I am left search for. I need that power to overcome the fears. Fear of disappointing those we are closest to. Fear of rejection, of being misunderstood, or being unloved. We all have fears, but they are not from GOD. The spirit of fear comes from the great deceiver. The one who would have you believe half truths and outright lies. The one who says this will never get better, that you are not enough, that you will never measure up. If he can keep us fear filled, then he has control over our lives…. GOD however gave the power of victory to US! With this power comes love and the peace of a sound mind. AMEN!

I know so many momma’s in the cancer world right now that need this sound mind. Mommas that are laying their babies down for the last time this week. Mommas who are clinging to the side of a hospital bed begging for healing for their babies. Mommas who are asking for their child to have comfort as they wait for heavenly healing. Mommas who are breathing a prayer of peace as they wait for that test or scan or answer to come. Mommas who are rejoicing in the success of being off treatment, while silently holding the breath of anxiety for the what if that might come. Mommas like me who pray daily to make it through this day and the next and the next without our baby…our flesh and blood…that we wait to see again. Before cancer, I never dreamed it was so big, so far reaching, so impacting. I was blissfully unaware of this life…

Tonight, as I am hanging by the thread of his garment, please know I am wrapping it around myself, tying it tight, determined to fight the good fight for myself and my family. I pray you are doing the same.

Philippians 3:14

14 I press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus.

Hebrews 12:1-3

1 Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, 2 fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. 3 Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.

Pictures say a 1000 words...

 My goal for Thanksgiving weekend is almost complete. It was to sort Millie’s pictures digitally and get them ready to print. As I sorted her baby years, I have sweet memories of her and what a happy baby she was. We had so much fun as a family of…normal…

Next, I sorted toddler pictures. They were filled with smiles, fun trips, lots of snuggles, and the start of a personality. We took her camping, then to Disney World, and then a visit to Cocoa Beach. She traveled pretty easy, slept well, and was a pretty compliable baby…EXCEPT in church. Every Sunday I was taking her out as she quickly figured out if you made noise we would head for the back.

When I got to Millie’s two-year-old photos, there are good memories but also many memories of the ‘Terrible Twos’ that were seemingly starting. So often she was whiny and cried. She was more difficult to take care of. She demanded to be held, OFTEN! I wondered how long this hard age would last. I wondered if we would survive it. At 2 ½ the tummy pains and fevers worried me more than the behavior. And then the diagnosis came….

Something I often think on and am perplexed by is that as much as I LOVED those first 2 ½ years, I do not miss them. Like all my other children, I had a precious baby who grew to be a toddler, who grew to be two. The natural progression of growth was one I celebrated with great joy, but do not long for a return of it. Just as I celebrated my other children leaving babyhood, I celebrate that Millie grew past that stage.

Once she turned 2 ½, life sped up for Millie. We took a little baby without many language skills into a big hospital to learn the way of the cancer world. She learned when it is ok to get out of bed and what medications prohibited that. She learned what machines caused discomfort and that a morphine pain pump brought relief at the press of a button. She learned how to tell jokes, tease her nurses, and demand her way. She learned that the few things she could control in life were dear enough to demand her way and get it. Things like when she refused to wear any pullups without Minnie Mouse on them, even though half the bag had ‘Toy Story Jesse” on them.

As her language skill grew, her bravery did too. She knew she would cry and scream while receiving a shot, but often assured us she would not kick. She gained self-control with each poke. She learned to pray each time I heard her beg the Lord “please take my cancer away” or “heal Ady, Jesus”. She would even pray for her nurses healing, as if they arrived on 10W to battle their own cancer rather than all the children they cared for. By the time Millie was 3, she spoke well enough that we knew her and knew her well. She loved BIG! She had a deep conscious when she hurt others, being willing to forgive and ask forgiveness. I still laugh though thinking of her telling me she was sorry and telling me she forgave me when she acted naughty.

All this comes to mind so readily as I sort through the pictures. Ones that I remember taking and memories that are blurred from a year of trauma. Some of the pictures are so vivid and real it makes me think I can reach out and touch her. I still feel her little hand in mine. Her body weight as I rocked her. Her fuzzy head on my lips as I stole a kiss. It takes my breath away. I often have to back away for a minute or risk falling into that abyss of regret and longing. I miss the 3-year-old Millie so much! I miss what we had and what we do not have now. I had planned in my mind to have a big ‘end of cancer treatment’ party where you all could meet her. Instead we had a celebration of life that I know was beautiful but much of it runs together in my mind. I often pause and wonder if certain people were at the funeral. I have been known to ask precious friends if they attended, though I cannot imagine they would not attend. I just have little memory of this spring. As I have typed the names on the photos “Mother’s Day 2020” I’ve have had to correct myself from putting the wrong dates. All 2020 dates seem a lifetime ago. It feels so long since I have held her. I sure miss my Millie Joy.

+2

A soft answer turns away wrath

 With any given problem, your vantage point can greatly change your perspective. All too often people will get in an argument not because one is in the right or one is in the wrong, but rather because they are focusing on different things and not recognizing what the other person sees as valid.

When we see this type of issue developing, we often have to make a split-second decision... Do we join in with the argument or do we choose to become a mediator? Can we be a voice that sees both side and calms the waters OR do we fan the flames joining in the attack? I had to deal with this type of situation today and was given the perfect example of the scriptural principal that says,

Proverbs 15:1 -- “A soft word turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger.”

By offering a soft answer rather than a harsh blast, I felt I was able to (at least) encourage each side to at least hear the other side. Interestingly enough, both sides were operating out of a very real FEAR of losing their child to the same devastating cancer that we did. One parent was sharing her fear openly and honestly with our group. The other parent could not handle this perspective and seemed to view it as simply being negative and discouraging. Not realizing that the first parent shared out of her own FEAR, but rather insinuating that she shared her perspective to instill greater fear in the rest of the parents in the group.

Now from where I stand, neither parent was wrong with their stance. The way they each viewed it was coming from where they are currently standing. And we all know if you are not standing in the same place, you are likely to see it differently. You might wonder why I am bringing that up? Because even two parents standing side by side like David and I, see our loss of Millie differently. Two mothers standing side by side who have both lost children, see our losses differently. Any two people are going to react to things differently, so why then do we expect people’s thoughts and views to line up to ours? Why can’t we accept that we are different, especially in how we grieve? We can share encouragement, pick each other up, and pray for one another, but we can not expect the other person’s thoughts to mimic ours. The moment we understand that is the moment we gain an insight to compassion. It is where we can say “I may not understand, but I still support you.”

So, does this different perspective hinder us? I believe it actually helps us. On days that things look so bleak, David is usually able to gather me in his arms and support my sobbing frame. On days that he just cannot quite get it together, I can usually step in and run interference. On the days we stand in the same place, feeling the same devastation at the same time, is the day we are a sad mess. It leaves us clinging to one another with wet pillows and broken hearts. It leaves us muddling through the mess. Thankfully, the Lord is present even on those darkest days as our trust is him is all that carries us. He is that third cord that binds us together and keeps us from breaking.

Ecclesiastes 4:12 “Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.”

Word Wise

 I rarely share the simple things about me. You daily hear my heart, my deep thoughts, my loneliness, my joy, the things I think the Lord is speaking to me about, and the routine life of our family, but what about me personally? About the things I love AND those I really do not. The things that change every so often when something new grabs my attention. The things I would share with my closest friends over a cup of coffee or a chance lunch date. None of it is life changing information really, it is however a way to pass a few minutes as you imagine joining us for a steaming mug and a piece of leftover pie. Would you like a view into that part of my life?

To start with I think I must be a logophile. You do know what that means, right? A logophile is a person who loves words, Because it is not all that commonly known, logophile is probably mostly used by logophiles themselves. Truthfully, I did not even know what that word was until today. Maybe I am just a self-proclaimed amateur logophile. I love words, but not all words. I love words that elicit HOPE and HAPPINESS and things with those type of words on them:

Books

Scrapbooks

Planners

Journals

Bible

Wooden Signs

Plates / Mugs

Jewelry

Some of these are longtime obsessions like books that I have loved since the 3rd grade. My all-time favorite fiction book series is “Love Comes Softly”, but if you have only watched the movies then you have missed out!

My favorite scrapbooks are the “Creative Memories” Brand. I was a consultant for 18 years, so I have made LOTS of scrapbooks! My closet holds 60+ finished ones and many more waiting to be worked on. In them is written love, admonitions, memories, and even scripture, mainly to my children but maybe even their children will read it some day.

Jewelry however is a new favorite for me that began this year when I receive bracelets and necklaces with scripture engraved on them. It ranks up there as a favorite along with my scripture tees to keep my mind focused on things above as I wear them.

Another long-term love with a new twist is a place to record my thoughts on paper. I have always jotted notes in a notebook or on scraps, but then end up discarding them with no way to organize them. Sometimes I have used a journal or prayer pages but wanted all my stuff in one place. Recently I found an elegant, hard back, spiral bound planner that is my new favorite! Called a Spaces Planner, it has all the features of a regular planner with the extra room for big ideas, lists, dreams, and more. It is a great mix of being a goalkeeper, my thought coraller, an idea maker, and action book all in one! I have used it for 2020, even wrote Millie’s book in the "Big Plans" pages. Now I will be ordering my 2021 version... It is on sale this weekend. I cannot wait to get my new one!

I am also happy to use my new plates, soup mugs, and placemats that all remind me I am “Blessed” “Thankful” and “Grateful”, simple inexpensive reminders that I found at Walmart and Dollar General. They keep these positive thoughts right in front of my face.

Another thing that catches my eye and grabs my attention is signs of any kind. I enjoy giving them as gifts, buying them for myself, but especially just savoring them. It does not matter what style, both metal and wood signs call me as I walk through Hobby Lobby. I could stand for hours reading them and dreaming where I would place them. I can agree with their truth, admire the presentation, and laugh with the comical statements. Signs give you a view into the authors mind. Some are meant to draw you to a reverence. Some want to entertain you. Some state facts, while others simply give you a different viewpoint. They all represent something important by using the written word.

Last but not least, is my Bible. I bought my current bible for myself on my 23rd birthday. Yes, I know that was a long time ago! Since that time, it has seen a lot of use. The pages are full of writing, underlining, and spilling out in the margins. Where there was once white space there is now thoughts and prayers written. This bible has lost its cover and gained a lot of box tape to hold it all back together. It has my children’s birth, and now Millie’s death information recorded in the pages. I have started a page with all my grandbabies birthdays listed. This bible has been my road map for so many years as I have read it cover to cover more than once. Even thought it is not in the best shape, (who am I kidding, neither am I?) I would not dare replace it.

This by no means finishes my lists of favorites, ranging from candles, lotions, candy, movies, music, or places. It does however cast some light on why I enjoy talking and writing so much. The written word is a form of connection. It fights the loneliness, shows us the world beyond our little corner, and brings us together.

Now to find someone who wants to share a pot of coffee with me, any takers?

Counting our Blessings

 As Thanksgiving 2020 rolls to a close I have had plenty of time to reflect today. I have thought about the good and bad that has come this year. I have thought about the hurt and sorrow, mixed with the joy. Our family had to say goodbye to Millie. We got to welcome a new grandson. Our hearts have ached, broken with grief, but in the same time been bursting with JOY.

Our Family has been sick this last week so we chose to spend the day quietly with just our household. Daddy and Katherine cooked Shepard’s Pie, Mac and Cheese, and hot dog rollups. We had no traditional Thanksgiving Day foods. After I ate, I had to take a nap. The kind where the Lord and I talked as I held Monkey and washed my face in tears.

We spent the afternoon watching Little House on the Prairie and then the Home Alone movies. The family curled up on the couch just being together. Tonight, the girls are baking pies...just because. I heard tale of an apple, cherry, and pumpkin all from scratch. I’ve gotten to visit with a few of my ‘cancer mom’ friends via messenger or text. Each are missing their little ones as much as we miss Millie. For some this is the first year, like us. For others, they have a few years behind them of Thanksgivings without their child. I think either way, the wound feels just as fresh. You never get past that empty spot. You always think about the one not here. From deep sorrow to just a mist of sadness, the intensity may fade some, but it will linger forever.

I hope as you met today that you have a deep gratitude for those around your table. I hope the petty irritations faded away and that genuine happiness flooded your home and those that were there. I hope you remembered to “Praise God from whom all blessings flow”.

Please hold my friend Katie up in prayer. Her son will soon join Millie in heaven. Her heart will be broken just as so many of our hearts are. She knows he will be healed, happy, and finally pain free. She also knows she will be filled with pain from grief.

Children and cancer, children and sickness, children and death just do not seem like words that should be said together. Thankful I know the final chapter of the story...