20 Years Together

20 years ago, this was Walt and I, February 10, 1996

On February 10, 2016, instead of celebrating with a night out, I spent the morning in the doctor's office, diagnosed with bronchitis. Walt brought in takeout from Panera and we hung out with the kids.  They are pretty good company.

The next day, I took Ben to the doctor. His cold started over a week ago, slowed him down for a couple of days, and after a couple more days of returning health, he suddenly became sick again, this time with a severe sore throat. We worried it was strep, and with a trip to Canada on the horizon, needed to get him checked out quickly. He did not have strep, but the doctor informed me that it looked like he contracted a second virus, another bad cold, and would be contagious for 3-4 days. Calling Walt on the way home, we both realized that it was best that Ben and I stay home from the trip. I caught a glimpse at Ben's expression, and would have given anything to protect him from the disappointment he felt at that moment.  He quickly rallied as we drove home, despite how miserable he felt. He's that kind of kid. 

When Walt and I walked down the aisle 20 years ago, we never could have imagined all that life had in store for us. Our biggest blessing has been our three kids. We have cried tears of anguish, and tears of joy. We had no idea how mad we could get or as proud. We have experienced countless sleepless nights, some when they were babies, and some now that they are teenagers.

We have traveled to El Salvador and  Canada, Virginia, Florida, California, Wisconsin, Arizona, Montana and Oregon. The smiling pictures from those trips hid the full story of what happened on various trips.  One of our kids might have had a crying fit on an airplane. Or a blown out diaper. Or had a temper tantrum, or ten. Fortunately, for every difficult time, we've enjoyed the amazing family moment, like riding the Thunder Mountain Railroad in Disneyland late at night while fireworks were blasting in the sky. We experienced the beauty of upstate New York, the fun of an Army football game overlooking the Hudson River, and the camaraderie of meeting Walt's classmates and families. We have also been lost late at night driving home from that trip with a sick kid in the back and needing to wake up our family for directions back to their place in Virginia. There have been meltdowns and we- have-no-idea-whose-kid-this-is reactions. But those are part of our story.They have made us who we are as a family. We wouldn't change it for anything.

Traveling with teenagers is so much easier than small kids. They pack their own bags. They carry their own bags. They know how to entertain themselves on long airplane or car rides. Other than a few attitudes to keep Walt's and my parenting skills sharp, it is a pleasure to be with them.  Even though I am sick, I could have made the trip to Canada, throwing a few things together for me. I could have stayed back in the hotel or hung out in the lodge, sipping on tea and reading a book while they skied. I could have watched movies and napped when I needed it. I could have done it if Ben wasn't sick, too. He has been so miserable, too. So, God had other plans. Ben and I are home watching movies and taking care of Sugar, while Walt, Nathan and Becca get to spend time in the snow and fresh mountain air. That's life. This is part of God's story for our lives.  

In the past 20 years, we have endured job changes, address changes, nausea from three babies and six rounds of chemotherapy. We have experienced stitches and ear infections, strep throat twice, bronchitis twice, and lots of doses of the common cold. Most of these things are minor and we have been extremely blessed with good health. Even my cancer diagnosis could have been so much worse, and for that we are so thankful. As overwhelming as Walt's job seems to get, increasingly every year, God provides just enough because Walt will be the first to confess that he couldn't do it on his own.

When I look at the faces in the picture taken twenty years ago, I see excitement and love and promise of a beautiful marriage. Would I have wanted to know any of the things that we would experience in the next twenty years? No, of course not. As God clearly said in his word, "Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own," That's the way God wants us to live, in the moment not storing up worries, fighting through the disappointments of the day so we are prepared for the joy of tomorrow. 

Would I have wanted a more meaningful anniversary? Less sickness, yes, but meaningful, no. Within the disappointment, we realize how well we have done the "in sickness and health" part of our vows, How much more we will appreciate a chance when we can arrange a get away for a couple of days when we can celebrate properly. How much more we know how to love and stand by each other through the good times and bad. How God provides just enough for us to get through each day. Those are meaningful notes on this 20th Anniversary. 

Laughing and enjoying life together

At our wedding, one of our friends sang a song that we thought had lovely words then, but now looking back at it 20 years later with all the years lived in between, the significance of the words jump off the page. Here are the last two stanzas of "How Can I Ask For More?" by Cindy Morgan.

So many things I thought would bring me happiness
Some dreams that are realities today
Such an irony the things that mean the most to me
Are the memories that I've made along the way

So if there's anything I've learned from this journey I am on
Simple truths will keep you going, simple love will keep you strong
'Cause there are questions without answers and flames that never die
And heartaches we go through are often blessings in disguise
So thank you, Lord, oh thank you, Lord
And yeah, how could I ask for more? 

Winter Doldrums

Here we are, pushing our way into February. I don't know about you, but we are feeling weary around here. Kids are finding it difficult to hold the course in school. I'm finding the daily meal responsibility, teaching writing in our co-op, scheduling Ben's school, creating the curriculum I was so excited to write in the fall, all beginning to feel stale. Even burdensome. Walt and I are challenged in our parenting. He is overwhelmed by work. A friend received some disappointing news. Each day seems harder and harder to start.

These algebra books, my bible, and a couple dish towels leftover from yesterday's laundry alongside my computer.

This is our island at the moment: cold medicine, chocolate milk and macaroni and cheese

Don't even ask me how I feel about the after-school and evening activities that must be coordinated. How do we get three kids to different places with only one vehicle? (Thankful for friends who live closeby!) Are you going to play in the pep band for the basketball game night? Where are you going and with whom? You want to try out a new barn? Sure, I'll stand out in a cold barn for a couple of hours so you can work with a new trainer and ride your favorite animal around an arena. Actually, except for the cold feet, it was fun to watch her direct a horse she barely knows to trot, canter, turn, trot, walk, all at the press of a thigh or position of her seat. Yes, I know the season of watching her ride isn't forever, and it was worth it last night. Yet, now that I've signed the waivers and met the trainer, I'll gladly release that responsibility to my driving teen and give myself a fighting chance at night to get through dinner prep, bagging lunches, cleanup and laundry before exhaustion sets in.

Despite the busyness of having teens, I've come to realize that what I struggle with at this time of year is winter. I grew up in Wisconsin where, even though it often was bitterly cold, the snow was fresh and the sky could get blindingly blue. In Seattle, we experience different shades of gray. The unraked leaves and barren branches outside my kitchen window sure could use a fresh covering of snow.

My unfiltered view of the backyard today

When the darkness closes in, which happens early this far north, all I want to do is stay home. In this season of sogginess, I want to curl up with a book, my favorite mug and enter into someone else's world. Somewhere where it is sunny.

Now that we are into February and the daylight creeps past 5 o'clock, some of the burden is lifted from my day. I no longer need to squeeze in my daily walk by 3 o'clock or risk returning in darkness. I can take the kids to an after-dinner activity with a bit of light hovering in my memory. Since I've lived in this area as long as I have, I should remember how I feel every the winter. Maybe the extra long days in summer, or the sweet fragrances of spring cause a bit of amnesia to set in every November. It's can't be that hard, I try to reconcile as the days get shorter and my activity list inevitably grows longer.

On top of this, the other day I started getting nervous about something. I couldn't put my finger on this increasing worry until I realized that I have passed the four month point since my last cancer screening. Since 2013 when I finished with active treatment, I visited the doctor at least every four months. I sat in waiting rooms, wondering if this time the blood test would reveal something scary. I obsessed about cancer until I heard the words, "Your mammogram looks fine," once again.

I don't have my next appointment until the end of April. Other than trying to lose a few pounds that have creeped up during the holidays, I should be able to forget about cancer. To be honest, I can't entirely. I hear of another person I know or know of who has been diagnosed. I feel an ache in my head or a limb and wonder, could it be cancer? Of course, the pain goes away and I forget about it again, until something pulls my thoughts into the scary arena once more.

While the possibility of cancer's return diminishes the longer I am from diagnosis, the thoughts still hover. I'll never be 100% safe from cancer's return. The dreariness of winter reminds me of that.

If I'm truly honest, I know spring is around the corner. The days will be longer. My walks will be refreshing instead of enduring. Hope will return. Reality intertwined with optimism. Yes, cancer might return, but I have today. Today I'm healthy. Today is mine to enjoy. The end of school is on the horizon. I've survived another winter.

Until then, I'll remember to enjoy the small moments of light in the cloud-covered skies. I'll enjoy watching Ben work out a tough algebra problem, proud that he's overcome some of his winter doldrums, too. I'll enjoy hearing what the kids talked about at youth group, despite navigating the dark and rainy streets home. I will appreciate the chatter about the school day, even if undoubtedly something needed will will be added to my to-do list. I'll realize that today I'm healthy. Sometimes achy. Sometimes I make poor food choices. Sometimes I worry too much instead of pray. But, I'm here. I have this moment. I can lean into God a bit more.

Spring will come. As I read in Psalm 38 this morning, "But, for you, O LORD, do I wait." In my strength, I see darkness and rain. When I add God to the equation, I see joy and hope.

Yesterday, Psalm 37 reminds me, "Be still before the LORD and wait patiently for him."

Spring will come!

Enjoying a hike last spring