Manager of the Year!

Josh was given a plaque the other night at the Tualatin High School Football Awards Dessert.

"Manager of the Year!"

It was wonderful to sit on the bleachers
hearing coach praise him
and his efforts to serve the team. 

I wrote about Coach Hastin 
and how he made a life changing impact for Josh here: 
When Good Men Step Up!

It's all very positive
full of happy tears
and good character.

And I love it,
and I'm grateful,
but it's not the whole story.

There's the flip side too.

It's the side we keep quiet
and try not to focus on.

It's the chronic pain Josh deals with,
so bad sometimes that he can barely function.

It's the Ibuprofen and Tylenol that doesn't even touch it,
 the hot packs 
and the tears.

It's the picking him up from school, 
because he feels like crap
or the days I let him sleep it off, 
 or show up late, 
because he needed an extra long hot shower
to help him feel just a bit better.

Survivor-ship isn't for wimps.

It's the sadness my husband and I go to bed with
after a wonderful evening of  awards,
dreaming about what sport Josh would have been playing
IF he hadn't had cancer.

And we know it's futile thinking about the "what ifs",
but it settles into our hearts whether we want it to or not
for a time, 
until we push it out telling ourselves
to focus on "what is" instead.

And we remind ourselves:
we are the lucky ones,
Josh survived.

And when we hit this place,
just as we have before 
and will again,
we give way to grief,
just for a bit.

And we remind ourselves life is short,
it's unfair,
and it has meaning.

Look closely at that picture of Coach and Josh.

He went to school that day
for a science test, then his English class.
He came home and spent the rest of the day 
with hot packs, Ibuprofen, Tylenol and tears,
gearing up mentally for the awards dessert.

He knew he needed to go for his team,
 he pushed through the pain and went.


He didn't know he was going to get an award himself.
Manager of the Year indeed! 

What will you do next, mom?

I've spent my life

doing what I knew I was made to do.

Raising children,

being a mom,

I'm my kid's biggest fan.

My children,
mostly adults now.

From my 1 and 1/2 pound first born Miracle,

to my Joy who "marches to the beat of her own drum",

to my musical, peace-keeping, nature loving red head,

my feisty, soccer loving, drama-queen

and finally

 my son who fought cancer.

From home school lessons,

Africa adventures,

field trips,
dress up,

Keepers of the Home Club

to skinned knees,

bare feet, 

soccer games

neighborhood dramas,

tree forts

time spent caring for and riding Freedom,
hours and hours of reading great books aloud,
and the sudden crisis of hospitals
and cancer treatments. 

It's all past me now.

And I sit here alone,
feeling as if 

I'm not able to assimilate into this new world.

I just resigned,

by mutual agreement,

from my new job.

I thought I could learn the skills necessary
for this brave new world.
I worked as hard as I could,
but it wasn't enough. 

I feel like such a failure.

What will you do next, mom?

She asks me on the phone.

Excited.

Believing in me

more than I do

more than I can.
My Joy.

What will I do next?
What a great question,
so full of promise
and yet so blank,
right now.

I feel like such a failure.

But each one of my children,
incredible people,
amazing human beings,
cheer me on,
encouraging me,
believing in me.

After the tears
and sadness
and the ugly feeling of failure subsides,
I will begin again.

I have so many ideas,
dreams,
hopes,
and thoughts.

What will YOU do next mom?
Let's wait and see...

Finding My Joy...

Recently, I went on a road-trip to find My Joy.

My precious second daughter,

the one who graduated with a degree in studio art.

The motorcycle riding blacksmith,
with forearms and biceps
 made of concrete.

My Joy,   

who shaved her head bald

right before her sister's wedding,
just because.

My bad-ass daughter.

My Joy who took her senior picture 

with our horse, Freedom.

The girl who climbed trees late at night,

in her flowing prom gown

with bare feet and tiara, 

just to sit on the roof of our house

and gaze at the moon.

It was a sweet visit.
A time of bonding.

It was a tough visit,
she's no longer a child. 

It was a trip down memory lane,

as we unpacked an old trunk 

 stuffed full of her high school treasures.

We read through her journals,

each with different names. 

Her child self had written of mundane things,
daily happenings,

her first broken heart,
 a little drama.

There were Bible verses galore.

We reminisced about her desire to be Peter Pan

or feisty Jo from Little Women,
She usually played at being an adventurous boy,

never a demure girl.

My Joy was home educated,

through high school.

Scripture was most important.

She read through the Bible

more than once.

My Joy,
an adult,
moved in

with her boyfriend of two years.

She is not living 

how I had imagined she would 

when she was a child.

"He's my partner, mom."
"We don't need to get married"
Such a sweet tenderness between them.

She and I walked and explored,

talking of her beliefs,

her desires,

her dreams

her morals,

her spirituality.

We soaked in a Mugswort tea filled hot tub
and smiled at each other.

Her life now doesn't meet up with what I thought it would be,

when she was a babe in my arms,

when she was waddling on chubby legs,

when she was gangling and awkward,

a mouth full of metal,

when she was a fresh college student,

young and innocent.

I found my Joy,
a confident woman,

 living her life her way,
with grace
and love.

I don't grieve her choices,

not in the same way I see many

Christian parents saddened.

My Joy is complete.

My Joy is loved.

My Joy is happy.

My Joy is at peace.

She's My Joy.

And she always will be.

And now
I have to let her go...

When Good Men Step Up!

My son just started high school.

It's a huge school.

None of his middle school friends are there.

It’s scary.

Unkind words have an impact,
Like being called a "Freak" in English class.

Read my curse word blog here!

My son's anxiety grew,
like a large uncontrollable beast.

I reached out to the football coach.
A Christian man,
a PE teacher, 

who had been there for our daughter,

during her two years there. 

The PE teacher requested a meeting

early the next morning.

I waited for my son in the Student Affairs Office,

a safe place, 
where my son was spending a lot of time,
lying down with stomach aches
and headaches.

I waited while he met with the coach.

When my son came back from the meeting,

he looked stronger.

He hugged me good-bye with a firm: 
"I am fine mom."

Coach had told him
the school was like "the world" 
with mean people, 
but also kind people.
Josh just needed to find the kind ones.

Then he asked my son to be the Team Manager

of the football team!

Josh accepted.

Later coach introduced my son to the team

reminding them that 

some people are dealt a difficult hand in life,
others are not.
Then he briefly explained Josh's history.

And finally coach said to Josh:

"No longer will you have to walk the hallways alone and afraid.
Now 120 football players and their coaches have your back!"

Cheers erupted all around!

The football players check on him in his classes.
They invite him to sit with them at lunch.
They come to visit him if he's lying down in the SAO office,

with one of his stomach aches or headaches.
They high-five him in the hallways.

My son's a different kid now.

He still has anxiety, 
but the love, 
caring
and power of the football team
and their coach 
has changed everything
for my son.

When good men step up!

"Love your neighbor as yourself. I am God."

(Warning: curse words ahead...)

My son just started high school.

It's a huge school.

None of his middle school friends are there.

It's scary.

And he's walking down the hallway

when an upper class-man gets in his face and says:

"What the hell is that fucking thing in your neck!"

Really?  Are you serious?

And my son ignores him,

continuing on his way,

 completing his task,

then dashes into his counselor's office

where he bursts into tears

 once the door is shut.

My son is a survivor, 

a cancer survivor.

Why does he have to put up with this shit?

As a mom, 

I want to find that jerk of a kid and scream in his face,

making him feel small and worthless and stupid,

maybe even gouge his eyes out.

Mommabear.

And then I text Joseph,

someone God brought into our lives,

my son's life.

He's taking Josh to lunch today.

And he texts back:

"Josh is being something in the end, 

that only matters.

An example of Grace, 

compassion,

 love 

and being used by Jesus 

whether he knows it or not.  

He will soon.  

Shitty happens to all 

and it sucks more cause he is young, 

undeserving of it 

and y'all's kiddo.  

But God will make beauty out of ashes.  

We will just keep lifting Josh in love 

and encouragement.  

And soon 

guys like the one who said what he did 

will become a passing fade 

and instead of making him sad, 

it will make him ache for such a lost 

and pathetic human being."

Thank you Joseph.

And then I read:

"Don't seek revenge or carry a grudge against any of your people. 

Love your neighbor as yourself.  

I am God." 

Leviticus 19:18