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Wishes, Wants, and Secret Fantasies: Surviving the Storm Series
I wish I could pen an eloquent post, something thought-provoking and inspirational. I’ve started thirteen different drafts with thirteen different topics. I even downloaded some cool visual aids. But every time I try to finish this blog, my fingers freeze on the keys and all the energy I thought I had to put into some life-changing revelation drains away. I wanted to write a beautiful story of the way my family has bonded and pulled together over Kyle’s fight with cancer. I wanted to say I’m a servant, a martyr, willing to do anything and everything for my son with an attitude of grace. I wanted to say Kyle is…
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When Life Stops: Surviving the Storm
Life is complicated. Full of out-of-reach dreams and in-your-face commitments. We are busy with bosses and deadlines and spouses and kids and extended family obligations. Even time with friends doesn’t always come baggage-free. Throw in a few hormonal teens, an excess of extra-curricular activities, an aging pet, and piles of laundry and dishes that never deplete, and peace feels far-fetched. However, amidst the chaos, it’s essential to find moments of solace. Whether it’s through playing ยูฟ่าเบท โบนัสและเงื่อนไขพิเศษ, engaging in hobbies, or simply taking a moment to breathe, managing stress is crucial for maintaining balance in our hectic lives. Sometimes I want off the Tilt-a-Wheel. Sometimes I need to be more…
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STRANDED
I’m afraid to fail. I always have been. The day we did kindergarten placement testing, I came home crying because I couldn’t answer every question—when most of the questions weren’t meant to be answered. Because we all came from diverse backgrounds, the assessment was a gauge to help the teacher know who would need extra help with letters and numbers and colors. Some of us lived and breathed Sesame Street. Others not so much. That test wasn’t an indicator of how we’d do in college. But even at five, I took it that way. Today, I’m a wife and a mother to kids way past kindergarten age. And nothing’s changed.…
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Jump out of the Box
Jump out of the Box Two words that unleash a whirlwind of emotions, unlock a pile of memories, and bring back the rush of new experiences. First dance. First kiss. First heartbreak. First public humiliation. New friends. New choices. New games like 벳무브 가입. New opportunities. New temptations. A glimpse of how we will handle the uncensored side of people, the often-confusing multi-dimensions of ourselves, the possibilities for our future and the pain of our failure. So when my only daughter, Maddy, and I had a real discussion about changing things up and going the public school path, the words middle school came with a daunting punch. Maddy has been…
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Conceding Christmas Part Two: The Response
Conceding Christmas is the story I wrote about our Christmas in 2004, less than two months after Kyle was diagnosed with leukemia. This blog is one of my favorites. Here is Part Two. Conceding Christmas I curl up in a ball. Think about that verse from Matthew 11. “Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” Do I believe it? Can I live it? Release him. Trust me. Every moment I don’t let go, fear eats away at me. I live in bondage to the terror that Kyle will…
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Conceding Christmas Part One: The Call
Conceding Christmas is one of my favorite past posts and tells the story I wrote about our Christmas in 2004, less than two months after Kyle was diagnosed with leukemia. Here is Part One: Conceding Christmas 3 AM I burrow deeper under the covers, the bed large and lonely. Thirteen days until Christmas, but I’m not planning a celebration. Arranging a funeral seems more likely. My husband stayed at the hospital tonight with our ten-year-old son. This time, Kyle struggles with fever, low blood counts, and multiple infections—staph in his central line and fungus in his left lung. The neighbor’s Christmas lights shine through my curtains, pulsing red and green. An ache…
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Parking Lot Prayer
Some miracles are hidden. And they don’t feel like miracles at all. At least not in the moment. Eight years ago today, I sat on a blue plastic chair, hands clasped in my lap, in a sterile examining room and struggled to process four words no parent ever wants to hear. Words that carried enough power to punch a hole in my world and rip up the foundation. My son’s doctor, an older man with glasses sliding off his nose and a brown-striped tie, balanced on a tiny round stool. He rested his arms on a laminate desk that extended from the wall and took in a breath, as if…
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The Price of Passion
Maddy slid open the van door and threw her piano books on the floor so hard they scattered across the gray carpet. “I’m quitting piano.” “What?” I glanced in the rearview mirror at my ten-year-old daughter, piano prodigy extraordinaire. “I messed up.” Giant tears hit first, heavy sobs lagging only a second behind. “I practiced all week.” She sunk in the seat, yanked on the belt, and clicked the buckle in place. “And it was hard.”
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When Life Poops On You
Last week, I had coffee with my friend, Gloria, before a lunch conference six miles away from her house. After an energetic conversation, I slid into my car pumped about my novel and excited about the 12:30 meeting. My clock read 12:02. Before I drove off, I realized I forgot her food processor, I’d been meaning to take it off her hands since before Christmas. I left my keys in the ignition, didn’t bother to shut my door, and dashed back into her house. When I returned, a large gray bird had taken up residence on my dash.
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Where Is The Miracle? Part One
I follow a lot of CaringBridge sites. CaringBridge allows a family in medical crisis to post updates, prayer requests, and needs to a page that friends and family can access. The sites I follow have catchwords like “children” and “oncology.” My rooting in the pediatric cancer community comes out of the four years our family spent battling leukemia with our oldest son, Kyle. Because we’ve tread our own rough journey, people send me CaringBridge links, ask me to write encouraging emails, and pray for their friends and family that are dealing with similar struggles. I consider their requests a privilege. The way I see it, if I can’t take something…
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