Sometimes angels come in dog form...

Our angel came to us recently in the shape of a four year old Australian Shepherd named Saucie. We had been talking about the idea of a “companion” dog for Josh for quite a while. As I began to research, I realized it could be years before we received one and Josh might not even qualify for a trained companion dog.

In the meantime, Josh’s anxiety at night grew more and more. Bedtime became a traumatic event. Eventually, we heard in Josh’s own words what the fear was all about.

“Mom, I’m afraid if I go to bed without you or dad I’m going to die in my sleep.”

“Josh, why do you think you might die in your sleep?”

“Because I’ve almost died so many times. First when we had the house fire when I was a baby and my sister saved me. Then I had cancer and almost died. Then I went into anaphylactic shock and almost died. Then I’ve had so many breathing problems and have almost died.”

I couldn’t argue with any of these incidents as they were all true. The house fire story was a little exaggerated, but I knew he’d heard the stories and they had set deep impressions in his soul. I reminded him that NONE of these situations were happening now. Our house was not on fire. The cancer is gone. I’m not giving him any medicine that will cause him to go into anaphylactic shock and he has a stable, solid airway through his tracheotomy.

“Oh” he replied as I watched his 9 year old mind take this all in. But still, bedtimes were tough.

Then we discovered a place where we might find a dog for Josh. As my husband called the breeder and spoke of Josh’s needs, he was told they had the perfect dog for us. And one day they drove out to the breeder’s home. The barn was lined with kennels full of barking dogs, but Saucie sat quietly. The breeder opened her pen and she walked straight up to Josh and sat down right in front of him waiting for him to pet her! Josh and my husband were stunned!

So Saucie came home that evening, Josh fed her and she slept the entire night on his bed and every night since. Gone is the fear and anxiety of death! Saucie follows him around where ever he goes. She watches out for him and waits for him to come home from school. She’s his buddy. She is calm, mellow and very loving. The other night Josh pointed out how she even lies down in the living room facing the entrance just so she could watch over us.

“She’s my guard dog, mom” he said with a smile. I would have never guessed what a difference a dog could make in my son’s life.

She’s an angel…

Why them? Why not us?

Two children who went through cancer treatment with Josh are now dying.
Why them and not us?

One is on hospice care.
Her parents wait for her last breath.
Her parents have fought for her with unheralded valiance.
Brave…they are so brave.
She is unforgettable.
Thank God for hospice.
Thank God for pain medicines.
What are they going to do without her?

The other you would never guess the disease is growing.
His mom shares the fear, the pain, and the loss of hope.
Looking for another plan, another clinical trial.
What if…
What if it doesn’t work?
The odds are so low.
The words…quality of life are paramount.
Number one…quality of life.
Making memories.
I listened to his mother.
She is assured of heaven.
I saw the tears.
I ache with tears filling my eyes.
I cannot take it away.
What would I do?

Why them and not us?

We talked of their future without him, their only son.
My heart breaks.

It never stops breaking.
Why them and not us?

Suffering, I can suffer.
I can do it.
I’ll gladly do it.
But not my child.
Lord, not my child.

Why them and not us?

Why do they have to watch their child suffer, Lord?

Why?

Just a little understanding please...

I am not stuck in childhood cancer. Childhood cancer is a reality of my world. The results of treatment on my son are harsh. They are a constant actuality of ongoing concern.

I am “moving on” though I may not be “moving on” the way you think I should.

I am not the same person I was before childhood cancer entered my son’s body. I will never be that person again. I am forever altered. I’m remorseful you cannot accept me as I am now.

I’m sorry I shared my heart with you. My inner struggles and honesty bothered you. You wouldn’t let me explain, interrupting me and telling me not to get defensive. I only wanted you to see how God miraculously met me at that moment of turmoil.

As your friend, I have attempted to listen to you, support you and encourage you. My mistake was assuming I would receive the same from you. From now on when you ask me how I am my answer will always be “Everything is fine.” I will not share my heartache.

I do enjoy “the moments” of my life more than you realize. Please quit judging me. Please quit criticizing me.

I will NOT walk away from the families who are still fighting childhood cancer. I am connected with them in a way you may never understand.

I will continue to serve with Candlelighters. Who else will show them the light of life after cancer treatment? Who else can empathize with a mother whose baby has just been diagnosed with cancer? After all, “It is better to light one candle than to curse the darkness.”

I will continue to give back what was so graciously given to me. Isn’t that what Christ would do?

Many of my friendships have altered since childhood cancer. You are one of them. I didn’t think you would be. I am saddened.

Just a little understanding please…

Almost 49 and holding...

I’m a December baby and 49 is fast approaching. I don’t mind birthdays, but I do mind aging. With age comes wisdom, but why can’t we get older and not have our bodies malfunction?

For example, I’ve always had 20/20 vision. “Eagle Eye” my family affectionately called me as I was often the first to see the deer in the forest or the hawk soaring through the sky. What’s happened? The print on those vitamins bottles are suddenly impossible to read! I find myself holding my book at arm’s length while my eyes take their time focusing.

I put off buying reading glasses for as long as I could, but one day I realized I wasn’t reading anything! So I broke down and bought a pair. I consoled myself with the knowledge they were the lowest magnification possible. The first time I wore them in front of my children, my youngest daughter cried in her most dramatic voice, “Oh, mommy! You look so old!” Gee thanks honey. I guess I failed at picking out the most “hip” looking pair.

One day I lost them while going through the security in an airport. I’ve attempted to replace them a couple of times, but the cost is ridiculous. I refuse to pay $20-$25 just to look OLD! So one of these days I’ll break down and head over to The Dollar Tree and buy a pair for a buck. In the mean time I ask my kids to read those tiny labels on food boxes or coupons for me. Hopefully, the trauma of mommy looking old has passed.

Then there’s my knee. When did it start hurting? I kept thinking it’d go away as I was hiking regularly. I iced it, I babied it, stretched it and I rested it. But it never got better. It just plain hurt EVERYTIME I hiked. So I broke down and bought a knee support at Walgreens. I tried it out today and it was a success. Thankfully it is winter and I can hide it under my long pants that way no one can see my weakness. My kids don’t know about the knee brace yet. I hope they can handle it when they find out.

I trust my good knee holds out longer. Then there are those other aches and pains: my hips and my lower back. Maybe my hips hurt because I carried five babies! Maybe my lower back hurts because my tummy is too flabby from having all those babies. Should I tell my children it’s all their fault? Either way, I feel like it’s a losing battle. Gravity and time certainly take a toll on these earthly soul houses.

Finally, my 9 year old son added the biggest insult to injury as he climbed into my lap just the other day. I was focused on my writing as I happily typed away at my laptop. It took a while before it dawned on me what was going on; he was gently and affectionately playing with the loose skin under my chin…my waddle! Until that very moment, I didn’t even KNOW I had a waddle!

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” I cried as I pulled away in shock. “Are you playing with my waddle?!” And he mischievously and lovingly smiled up at me and said, “Yes, mommy. I like it. It’s soft and squishy.” I felt my sense of beauty ebb away. Oh vanity, vanity. All is vanity.

Almost 49 and trying to stay there…

My angel mermaid...

When I was a little girl I wanted more than anything to be a mermaid. I loved the water, swimming for hours pretending I had a beautiful silver-green tail with long golden hair gliding gracefully through the water. The magic of Hawaii brought back those memories as I spent as much time in the ocean as I possibly could, floating on the waves, snorkeling, scuba diving and boogie boarding.

Our trip to Maui was just about perfect. The weather, the warm water, the peace, the calm, the lack of any stress, the books I read, the time spent with Don just being. We hadn't been back to Maui since our honeymoon 27 years and 7 months ago. This time away was just what my mind and body needed, but as our departure day drew near, I felt the familiar anxiousness starting to creep back in. Our last dinner there was spent in tears as I thought about all of the cares I seem to carry. Again I grieved over the losses we've experienced in the last five years. I remembered with longing the family trip we took to Hawaii just 7 months before Josh was diagnosed with cancer. I wondered if Josh would ever be able to swim in the Hawaiin ocean ever again. I went to bed that night asking God for His strength and His peace knowing I would soon be re-entering real life.

On our last morning, we awoke early and walked down to the ocean. I desired one last long morning swim. Don wanted to go for a run. As we approached the beach I saw an older woman with silver hair bobbing around in the mellow waves. I recognized her from the night before. She had been celebrating the sunset with a group of local residents. Their gathering was complete with wine, sushi, chicken wings and much fellowship. I had noticed she was new to the group as she was introducing herself to everyone except the gregarious lady who seemed to be the hostess. Then the hostess wrapped her arms around the new woman and said, "Let's go swim my mermaid friend." And they walked arm in arm towards the waves. I thought they were beautiful with their short silver hair and brown bodies. I longed for a mermaid friend too.

I grew excited when I saw her in the ocean and I suddenly knew God had something special in store for me. I walked into the waves diving under one and swam towards her. I seemed to be drawn to her. She was glowing and I approached her with a smile commenting on how lovely the ocean was. We began to talk. Before I knew it she shared with me in her Mississippi accent her miracle of healing from a brain tumor through a vivid vision, her love of God and His mysteries, her children and their lives, her childhood traumas. And I began to share about my life. God's love flowed through her and tears ran down her face as I talked about Joshua. She infused me with God's love, with encouragment and she hugged me deeply floating on the waves. She had already been swimming earlier that morning and had gotten out when she felt compelled to go back in the water. She said God had set up our meeting. We shared for an hour and I really can't put into words all that was said and felt. It seemed divine. Then Don swam over having finished his run. I introduced them. As she said it was time for her to leave she pulled me into her loving arms and began sweetly whispering angel prayers into my ear. She was praying in tongues for me. I began to quietly cry. She kissed me gently on my cheek and swam away.

I can't really explain what my angel mermaid did for me other than my anxiousness and fear are gone. I feel divinely renewed. Don and I marveled over this experience together with grateful hearts. As I shared this story and our time in Hawaii with a friend, he commented how he tries to live "Aloha" everyday. He lived on the islands attending Bible School a few years back. For me my angel mermaid reminded me "Living Aloha" means trusting in God and His ebb and flow of life. Birth, death, tragedy and miracles all blending into our journey of life. My angel mermaid was emphatic Josh would live a long life. She said we would all be back in Hawaii one day celebrating Josh's trach removal as we watched him swim through the blue-green waters. May it be so.