I get the feeling sometimes that those we love the most are extremely sad we have to walk this road.  That kind of love and empathy is precious to us.  Medicine to our hearts.  This season certainly is more challenging than any we have walked before.  But we are viewing it as a season.  “A tough year”, as my friend Marion said.  She would know.  She walked the breast cancer road 7 years ago.

So that you won’t feel too badly for us, here are a few silver linings we are experiencing along the way:

• A year off from house duties. How many 38-year-old mothers of four can kick back and enjoy a year off from cooking, cleaning, and almost any duty normally required from us parents?  Not many, I can tell you that.  Silver linings.

 

• Lots of time at home with the kids. Those of you that know us well know that we love to travel.  I always have.  I honestly do not remember a year since I was a teenager that I was not going on missions trips, traveling far and near, and going, going, going.  Suddenly, we’re not going anywhere.  For a year?  (I’m honestly not sure if I’ll last.  I’m pretty sure we’ll have to sneak out-of-town at some point!).  But the silver lining since my diagnosis in January has been so much time together at home as a family.

 

• Speaking of time with the kids… How many of my friends who are parents relate to this scenario?  “Mommy, can you read me a book?”  “Mommy, can you play a game with me?”  “Mommy, do you want to color with me?”

Don’t you always want to when those sweet little kiddos ask?  But how often do we make time for it?  Speaking for myself, not nearly  enough.  It’s understandable, I know.  Our careers demands a lot of our time and energy.  Low energy from pregnancy.  A perpetual mess to clean around the house.  Meals to fix for hungry little people.  Carpools to run.

 Suddenly, with three other care-givers in the house, someone else is preparing the meals and wiping cute little bums.  With nothing expected of me, I am free to pull little Will onto my lap to read “The Harbor Book” for the 6^th time simply because he asked.  I have time to color pictures and play more board games with our five-year-old, Abby.  Nate, as any busy toddler, runs up for a short snuggle and is gone exploring about as quickly.  I even get to lay around on the floor and enjoy playing the mimic game with our 10 month old, Kai.  You know how it goes.  He says “Aghhhhhhhhhh”, I say “Aghhhhhhhh”.  We both smile.  And repeat endlessly.

 

• The newly shaved “bald head feeling”. I’m not going to lie.  It’s pretty great.  My resilient hair keeps trying to grow back.  But when it gets to the slightly prickly stage, it “sticks” on your pillow.  The “smooth head feeling” is where it’s at.  So I’ve become a smooth head junky.  Gabe shaved it the first few times for me, but I’ve taken up shaving it myself.  A new razor, a little Head Slick.  Best feeling ever.

 

• Connected. We have never felt more connected to people, and it has been an absolutely beautiful experience.  Most difficult seasons in peoples’ lives (financial, stresses with children, marriage, or work) can be hidden; ours is not.  So many know this is a difficult time in our lives…and so many have come alongside to carry the burden with us.

One example: I have wanted to be mentored for years, but the days with little ones are so busy.  In this unlikely season, God has provided a couple from our church who have already become incredible mentors to Gabe and me.  They have mentored couples for close to thirty years, and walked this road (a breast cancer diagnosis) nineteen years ago.  They have deep empathy and understanding for the stresses of this time, and have become such a safe place for us.

 

• Served. Peoples’ service to us has largely been the avenue for the connection we have felt with folks.  I probably have received more handwritten letters in the last month than in my last 37 years combined!  They have come from dear friends of ours, from high school teachers I adore, from church friends of my sister in Tennessee.  One arrived from my older sister’s mother-in-law’s neighbor (I know you’ll have to read that a few times!).  Every single one has been a treasure.  We read them, we save them, re-read, and are encouraged.

Friends from church, preschool, our neighborhood have brought us a stream meals every Mon, Wed, and Fri since my diagnosis.  And they are still coming!   Even out-of-town friends have had meals delivered to us, or have sent gift cards.  We have been so humbled.  And meals have been a tremendous, practical help in this season.  “Thank you” truly feels inadequate.

Three of our children attend the same preschool, and the parents there have taken turns making lunches for our kids, so we will have one less detail to take care of (and making lunches for three little kids, while trying to feed, dress them, and get them out the door to preschool is quite a large task).

Friends of ours have picked up our kids and taken them for play dates!  Several friends from church have come over to babysit our kids so we can get out of the house.  Even our kids are being blessed in this season.

People all over the world are praying for us.  We have friends who are missionaries in Ethiopia who have reached out to us multiple times.  There is a beautiful school named GGCC (http://www.ggcckenya.org/) for vulnerable children in Kenya that I had the privilege to visit in 2002.  The founders wrote to tell us that the school of 700 students gathered together to call out to God for my healing.  Our church has come around us in special ways to pray.  Friends from all over the country are praying for us.

 

When I began this post, I had a lot of funny little silver linings in mind like the “newly shaved bald head feeling” to make you laugh.  It has turned out to be quite a serious one.  Hopefully, you can sense that we are laughing through this time.  And even more importantly, our hearts are full of gratitude for the countless unexpected gifts that each one of you have given us.  Thank you for praying for us, for serving us, for connecting with us.  We are so thankful for you.