Gifts You're Glad You Can't Smell

My children decided to make me some early birthday and Mother's Day presents:

First they gathered some purple and white wildflowers and greenery

and wrapped the stems in a skunk cabbage leaf.

Have you ever smelled skunk cabbage?

It came by its name honestly.

Then they made multiple trips up our back hill to get the supplies to make me these two beautiful yellow wreaths 

out of Scotch Broom.

The leftover supplies joined my collection of "too beautiful to hide inside" bouquets on the front porch. 

Who needs roses?!?

I've got noxious weeds colorful flowers on my front porch!

Happy (early) Mother's Day!

Sunsets

There are so many little things I've thought about posting since we've been home.

When I swept up two dustpans full of dirt and dust bunnies after the house sat (mostly) empty for a month, I thought that could make a funny post.  But I didn't write it.

I'm behind on my Reading Record posts, so I thought about telling you that I read one book in January, and two in February.  Maybe I would even admit that that the two in February were C.S. Lewis' The Magician's Nephew and The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.  Somehow I didn't get around to that, either.

I could tell you that I've renewed my battle with the mice.  Of course they waited until we were home again before they stole six more Scrabble letters.  And got out of two traps.  That could have been a funny post too, but it didn't get written.

I haven't felt much like writing.

***

In early February, my dad was trying to remember one of his favorite quotes from George MacDonald, but couldn't quite get it, so I looked it up for him.  As I did, I stumbled over this one:

"How strange this fear of death is.  Yet we are never frightened at a sunset."

***

I think I'm ready to write now.

***  

God's timing is incredible.  In the month that we spent at my parents' house, every single hard thing worked out perfectly in God's timing.  Sometimes we were aware of His hand in things as they happened, and sometimes we had to look back to see it.

Based on the doctors' estimate of how long my dad had left to live, we went down to my parents' house for a week long visit in early February.  My brother and his family were planning a trip over from Montana in late February, and we planned to return a second time at the end of their visit so we could see them too.   The day after we got there, all of our plans changed.  My dad's oncologist called and recommended that we have my brother come over early, as he was now estimating that my dad had only one to two weeks left, at the most.  So my brother and his family came over and stayed for a week, and four days after they left, my dad's condition deteriorated and he wasn't quite himself any more.  In God's timing, we had one last really good week together as a family.  All twelve of us.  In our timing, it would never have happened.

The last full week of February, there were so many details through which we could clearly see God's timing, from "big" things like financial stuff to "little" things like meal provision.  In fact, it would probably take a full week for me to list them all!

And then there was Dad's Hospice nurse.  I am sure that any Hospice nurse would have cared for my dad just as well as "ours" did, but God knew that my mom and I needed Robert.  On Monday morning,  February 25, after my mom spent a very difficult sleepless night caring for my dad, Robert came out to my parents' house to check on my dad and help us arrange the next level of care.  He confirmed what we already suspected, that my dad had less than 48 hours left, and then our quiet, unassuming nurse prayed with us before he left.  That prayer was absolutely incredible; simply spoken, profound, and exactly what we needed, right when we needed it.  As he prayed, Robert reminded us that God not only knows what pain and grief and death are, but that He experienced them all Himself when Jesus died on the cross in our place. 

With that reminder fresh in our minds, my mom and I watched my dad breath his last breaths as he died three hours later.  After weeks of mounting pain, confusion, and weakness, his last moments were quiet and peaceful, followed by complete relief from all pain.  Forever.

Death is like a sunset, and we are never frightened at sunsets.  At least we need not be.  Once the sun sets on our earthly lives, we who love God and confess that Jesus Christ is Lord can look forward to a new day coming, a new sun rising.  An eternity spent perfectly worshipping God.

We can look ahead past the sunset, with Hope.

The Passing of the Storm

I don't remember what the weather outside was like, but for my family December was a stormy month.
Physically stormy.  Mentally stormy.  Emotionally stormy.

In the month of December, my dad spent 21 of 24 days in two different hospitals.  He was admitted to the first hospital for another round of aggressive chemotherapy, and while it took longer than it should have, it was scheduled and intentional.  His second hospital stay was two weeks long, began with a trip to the ER, and went downhill from there.  

The second, unplanned hospital stay was characterized by fevers, interrupted sleep, multiple doctors, increasingly worse lab test results, lack of appetite, confusion, pain, a small blood clot, a full-body rash that baffled the doctors, and exhaustion.

He was very sick, and he just wasn't himself.

It was awful.  Indescribably awful.
And it was a blessing in disguise.

***

The storm of alternating improvement and decline in my dad's health has passed, and he's been home for a week now.  His appetite is returning, the lab test results have improved (for the most part), he's getting more sleep, and he's resumed most of his usual routine.
He is still sick, but he is at least himself again.

My parents have dealt with a multitude of medical issues over the past few years.  Chemotherapy.  Drug reactions.  Unexplained fevers.  A stem cell transplant.  Hospitalizations.  And opinions.  Lots and lots of opinions.

They sorted through all the opinions and made decisions about treatment.  Some of them were hard decisions, some were unexpected, and none of them were fun.  But the hardest decision they knew they were going to have to make has been with them from the very beginning.

When does it stop?
How long does the chemotherapy continue?

After the two-week-long storm that was my dad's hospitalization, the answer became clear.

Chemotherapy treatment stops when it's no longer effective; when it hurts more than it helps.
For my parents, the decision to discontinue chemo was partly reached in the middle of the chaos of hospitalization, and partly in the calm quietness of their own home.

Separately, not knowing what my parents had already decided, my dad's doctor reached the same conclusion.

No more chemo.

***

The storm is over, and although it's still raining, it's calm.
And we have peace.

Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.
Philippians 4:6-7

Reading Record: December

On Joy

"What brings you the most joy these days?"

It's a beautiful question, I think.

Perhaps you've heard or read about people who keep Gratitude lists - lists of all the things, people, and moments for which they are thankful.  Thankfulness and gratefulness are good things, but more often than not, they need words.  It's hard to be thankful for something without consciously naming it.  On the other hand, for me at least, joy needs no words.  

Joy is that heart-full feeling when rays of sunshine streak through the clouds; it's that gladness when I witness a sweet self-sacrifice from one of my children for another's benefit.  Joy is that wordless praise that fills my heart when no words are possible.  Joy is the ability to sing at the top of my lungs the words of the song "Glory to God" along with Handel's Young Messiah...while tears are streaming down my face and I'm choking on sobs.

"What brings you the most joy these days?"

It was a question asked in a not-very-joyful situation, from a father in rapidly failing health to his daughter shortly before he died.  Although her blog post about his rapid decline and death is four years old, I read the story again a few days ago with new eyes and a new understanding, and that question has been with me ever since.

"What brings you the most joy these days?"

Two Saturdays before Christmas, my dad was admitted to the hospital.  He was diagnosed with Multiple Myeloma (a cancer of the bones' plasma cells) in August 2010, and the most recent round of aggressive chemotherapy has been harder on his body than any of us expected.  He's still in the hospital, and the end of his stay is not yet in sight.

We are thankful that he's being cared for by the professionals.

We are grateful that it's not worse than it is.

But there's nothing that can top the joy of knowing that God is in control.

No matter what.

***

...Once we give ourselves up to God, shall we attempt to get hold

of what can never belong to us -- tomorrow? Our lives are His,

our times in His hand, He is Lord over what will happen,

never mind what may happen...

Today is mine. Tomorrow is none of my business.

-- Elisabeth Elliot, Keep A Quiet Heart

Nut2012shell

(I crack myself up...Nut2012shell = 2012 in a nutshell...Get it?!?  Alright.  Moving on.)

There are at least 476 reasons why I have fallen off the blogging wagon, posting pictures infrequently and writing thoughtful posts...um, even more infrequently.  I won't bother listing all my reasons for you because they'll bore you and exhaust me; I'll just give you a quick peek into the last year and pretend I've stayed caught up all along.

In January, we survived a 3 1/2 day power outage.

In February, we visited both sets of grandparents.

March saw a major increase in our "pet count" when we got chickens!  We started with 15, and we're down to 13...and holding steady.

In April we started work on the chicken coop and run.  That was back-breaking work, and I'm tired all over again just thinking about it.  Sometime in April (or was it earlier?), our three girls started riding horses once a week through a program at our local Christian Camp.

Projects outside around the property kept us busy for most of May, along with a memorable trip to the dentist.

With the girls' Horse Encounters taking a break over the summer, June and July were packed full of flag football practices and games for my five-year-old son.  (HE can't wait until football season comes around again this year.  ME, not so much.)  And all four kids are looking forward to a repeat next July of a week of Day Camp, also at our local Christian Camp.

Also in July, we started the monstrous project that was (and is) refinishing, resealing, and cleaning up the outside of the log house.  THAT only kept us busy for part of July, all of August and September, and most of October.

We started our new school year in August...my first year of (formally) teaching all four kids, and in October all three girls started piano lessons weekly and Horse Encounters again every other week.

November was full of visits to and from family and friends, and December flew by.  I'm not even really sure where it went!

And now I'll do my best to crawl back onto the blogging wagon...

Reading Record: November

It wasn't a very productive month, but 

Northanger Abbey was entertaining,

The 13 Clocks was cleverly funny,

and Made in America was intriguing, although from a liberal, evolutionary point of view (but was not a keeper).

I enjoyed reading Joni again,

Ten Tortured Words was an interesting read,

Friend Within the Gates proved Edith Cavell both human and worthy of admiration,

and The Father Brown Omnibus...well, I love Chesterton's writing, I love his Father Brown, and I learn something new every time I read these stories.