A Spring of Joy

Some random thoughts, stories, musings and catching up, because life has been so busy.

1. The boys went on a camping trip with Brian and Asher’s school last Friday. The days leading up to it were exciting as they discussed sleeping bags and tents and made Bella cry every time they talked about it because she couldn’t go. Every day Bear would ask me if the camping trip was tomorrow. Finally on Thursday, I was able to say, “Yes, Bear, you’ll go camping tomorrow.” Friday dawned crisp and cool. Bear emerged from his nightly hibernation, rubbing his eyes, and shuffled over to lean against my leg, little green blankie in tow. “Mom,” he looked up, sleepy green eyes filled with excitement, “Today is tomorrow.” Oh, how I love that bear!

As Winnie-The-Pooh would say…

“Time for hot chocolatey mornings, toasty marshmallow evenings, and best of all for leaping in leaves!”

Happy Fall everyone!

Why is it that The Fight Song never gets old?

JMU 52, UMass 38

I was at a bagel shop meeting with my discipler, Angie P., when friends told us what had happened. Pregnant with our oldest child, I couldn’t fathom the disaster of 9/11. I can still feel his little body moving underneath my hand, a hand that automatically rose to my belly when I heard of the horror of that day. I marvel that it’s been seven years, yet it still seems so fresh, so real. And I draw my children a little closer into my arms again today to remember. And I pray for those whose scars will always be fresh and real.

“Have you been outside?”

“Yep. Go outside.”

I opened the front door and stood on the little porch outside my apartment. “Okay. I’m outside. Now why am I out here?”

“Because, it’s so gorgeous that I knew once you went outside you’d say, ‘I have to go on a picnic with Brian.’”

And that, my friends, in all its cheesy glory, is how it all began.

I have a strong-willed child. A very strong-willed child. He has my stubbornness and Bri’s determination all wrapped up into one package. A mixture of Italian and Irish, he is full of passion, with his die-hard relentlessness and headstrong impetuousness. Almost daily we have battles as his fiery temper flares when his independence is thwarted. And I am tired.

At the height of World War II, they married. He went off to war. She stayed home pregnant with their first child. He was wounded and captured in the war but rescued days later. And he was one of the ones who got to return home to his wife and family. Imagine how much the world has changed since then. Imagine all they’ve walked through and shared together. Imagine all they’ve seen–in 65 years!!!

My grandparents have lived and loved well! Happy Anniversary Nan & Pappy!

I write often about the one year marks… finding out I had cancer, the date of my surgery, etc. But I would be remiss to only mark the anniversaries of the hard things.

One year ago today we received the news that my cancer had not spread to any of my organs and that I had been given the all clear! By His gracious mercy, that all clear continues today.

Last year many of you celebrated with us, and I continue to be awestruck at how God has shown Himself in every detail of my life.

When I was small, my parents would read to us each night for family devotions. I don’t remember all the details, but I remember the story of a hen. It’s an old parable handed down for years, and it has stuck with me for decades now.

It’s the story of a mother hen who lived on a farm with her chicks, and there was a brush fire that swept through the barnyard. The mother hen, knowing she could not outrun the fire, surrounded her babies with her own wings, covering them as the fire passed over. She died in that fire, but her chicks lived, safe under the protection of their mother’s love. What a picture of Christ’s love for us! A love so great that He sacrificed His own precious life for us.

One year ago today, my journey through treatment and healing began, and tonight I lie sleepless, tossing and turning. My mind is haunted with the mixture of emotions, memories, fears, struggles, and most of all, gratefulness for how much God has provided and protected in our home. So, please forgive my random thoughts as I try to make sense of their jumbled musings…

What is your only comfort in life and in death?