About four months ago, I started building a wall. I began laying down bricks, applying mortar, and stacking them up.
I didn't realize until today just how big it had gotten.
(It's not a real wall. It's a metaphor. Stay with me. You'll understand.)
People usually build walls to keep things out - to separate themselves from something, or someone. I have been building a wall to keep reality away. I don't like reality. It's cruel. It's harsh. And it hurts.
...
Last December, I got an early morning phone call from my friend and neighbor, Elisha Skeen. She knows I like to sleep in, so when I heard her shaky voice say, "Hey" - not a "good morning" or "how are you doing" kind of "hey". Just "hey". I knew something was wrong.
I thought maybe her two-year-old son was sick, or maybe her car wouldn't start. I never expected her to tell me she had been in the emergency room because of headaches. Or that they had found lesions on her brain. Or that her cancer was back. "It's not good," she said, "but I wanted you to hear it from me, not on Facebook."
"That sucks, Elisha. That really sucks. I am so sorry this is happening to you." That's what I said. As good as I am at writing, the best thing I could come up with is That sucks.
It did suck. It still sucks.
...
That's when I started building my wall.
Later that week, I googled "brain lesions following breast cancer". There was no good news. So I laid more bricks.
She ended up in the hospital, underwent brain surgery, lost her hair again, messed up her vision, missed her son, strengthened her faith, encouraged her husband, loved her family, stood up to cancer, inspired thousands of people, and moved to Heaven. All the while she trusted God and prayed to God and praised God.
I trusted God too. I prayed to God too. I praised God too.
But I kept building my wall.
...
It's been three weeks since Elisha died.
I stopped crying about a week after it happened. Since then, I have felt sorta numb.
I think it's because of my wall. I kinda got carried away with all the bricks.
You can't see my wall. But I know it's there.
My husband knows it's there too. He recognizes the bricks - shopping, eating out, visiting my sister, going out with my cousin, computer time, reading, watching TV - anything to keep me from having to face the fact that she is gone.
It's easier to focus on something else, anything else, than it is to deal with reality.
...
I was listening to K-LOVE radio today, and 10,000 Reasons (Bless the Lord) by Matt Redman came on...
Bless the Lord, O my soul
O o o my soul
Worship His holy name
Sing like never before
O my soul
Worship Your holy name
This song was played at the end of Elisha's funeral.
I started to sing along, and I thought about the last time we spoke. About the last time we texted. About the last time I saw her.
I miss her.
I miss someone else, too. I miss God.
While I have continued to pray, continued to trust, continued to read, continued to go to church, continued to praise, continued to love... I haven't felt close to God in a very long time.
My wall not only separated me from the hurt of losing Elisha, but it also separated me from my personal relationship with God.
And I miss Him.
...
So I'm getting out of the wall-building business.
I've got more important things to focus on. Like how blessed I am to have known Elisha. How blessed I am to be able to help Steven and Sawyer. How blessed I am to be alive.
And how God is good. All the time.
The Bible says in Matthew 11:28 ~
Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.
I'm tired of building.
Those bricks are heavy; and (as my husband would say) those bricks are expensive.
I'm not a builder anyway. I'm a farmer. :)
...
To hear 10,000 Reasons (Bless the Lord) by Matt Redman, click here...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DXDGE_lRI0E
Thursday, April 25, 2013
Thursday, April 11, 2013
I want to be a farmer too.
My husband and I went to Elisha's funeral on Friday. I have never been to a funeral where I left feeling better than I had when I arrived. But isn't it just like Elisha to have a funeral like that.
When we walked in, there were three screens running through a collage of pictures dating back to her childhood. We were provided a glimpse into the past, when she was young with long dark hair, and big brown eyes. The family included some humorous photos that made everyone chuckle when they came on the screen. We watched her grow up right before our eyes.
Her preacher was emotional, as is expected considering he, like so many of us, prayed diligently and believed she would be healed. What he said, that stuck with me the most, was he is just as disappointed as the rest of us that it had come to this - Elisha being in Heaven, instead of here on Earth. He didn't try to explain how or why this happened. He stood there and mourned for her, just like the rest of us were doing. For some reason, I found that comforting.
Her brother-in-law, Cole... Wow. Now he brought the whole room to tears the moment he started speaking. Or trying to speak. He couldn't get his first few words out because he was so overcome with grief. It was heartbreaking. But then he began to tell us how awesome Elisha was. And you could feel the tears begin to fade into smiles, and giggles. Happy memories began to push away the grief. At least for a little while.
He read from her blog. (http://elisha-everthesame.blogspot.com/) I thought this was genius. What better way to comfort those who love her than with her own words...
Cole shared some texts Elisha had sent to her sister, Karen, about a message she had heard at church one Sunday. Her preacher talked about our role in bringing others to Christ. Following that service, Elisha and her husband, Steven, had a discussion in which she told him that she'd never led anyone to the Lord. Steven told her she was wrong. She had led him to the Lord.
Wow. How awesome is that? I think everyone was truly moved, just imagining that moment of realization for her. She had brought her husband into a personal relationship with Jesus. I wonder if everyone else was thinking what I was thinking. "Who have I led to the Lord?"
In closing, Cole told us that Elisha saw herself as "a farmer". Everyone laughed, assuming she was referring to the fact that she lived on a chicken farm. But that's not what she meant. She realized that, through her blog, she was touching lives, and telling people about Jesus. She was planting seeds of faith into the hearts of every person who read her words. She was a farmer.
...
Elisha used to tell me that I am brave. Because of the things I write about on my blog. Which is mostly all about me.
Me? Brave? This coming from the girl who faced breast cancer, chemotherapy, hair loss, sickness, radiation, etc.
I'm not brave.
I just like to write.
Writing about myself is not brave. Writing about myself is safe. No one can get upset with me for the things I say about myself. Except me. That's not brave at all.
Elisha was probably one of the biggest fans of my blog. She loved every thing I wrote. She would text me after most every post to let me know she read it, and she loved it. She even shared some of my posts on her Facebook page.
When she would write a blog post, she would always send a text to let me know. I think my response to every post started off with these three words - "I love it!" Because I did. I loved every thing she wrote. Her posts were awesome. Her words were always powerful, touching your heart and staying with you for days.
...
My posts always tell a story, providing insight into my life, my heart, and my mind.
Elisha's posts inspired, uplifted, encouraged, and always pointed to God.
...
It makes me sad to realize she won't be writing any more posts. Her blog touched so many more people than mine ever will.
I want my blog to be more like Elisha's blog.
Perhaps I should try to incorporate some of Elisha's blogging methods into my future writings. I can tell a story, which is what I do best, and then find a way to point it back to God. To honor her memory, I will try to inspire, uplift and encourage.
Elisha was a farmer. I want to be a farmer too.
When we walked in, there were three screens running through a collage of pictures dating back to her childhood. We were provided a glimpse into the past, when she was young with long dark hair, and big brown eyes. The family included some humorous photos that made everyone chuckle when they came on the screen. We watched her grow up right before our eyes.
Her preacher was emotional, as is expected considering he, like so many of us, prayed diligently and believed she would be healed. What he said, that stuck with me the most, was he is just as disappointed as the rest of us that it had come to this - Elisha being in Heaven, instead of here on Earth. He didn't try to explain how or why this happened. He stood there and mourned for her, just like the rest of us were doing. For some reason, I found that comforting.
Her brother-in-law, Cole... Wow. Now he brought the whole room to tears the moment he started speaking. Or trying to speak. He couldn't get his first few words out because he was so overcome with grief. It was heartbreaking. But then he began to tell us how awesome Elisha was. And you could feel the tears begin to fade into smiles, and giggles. Happy memories began to push away the grief. At least for a little while.
He read from her blog. (http://elisha-everthesame.blogspot.com/) I thought this was genius. What better way to comfort those who love her than with her own words...
"I can look back and see God's hand on my life the entire time.
The devil is good at what he does. He really is. He came to steal, kill and destroy. He wants to steal my joy, kill my body, destroy my family, my relationships, my life even. I'm happy to tell him, He's a big, fat failure. It's just not going to happen.
My decision is to live my life. Regardless of what ... good news or bad news is given to me ... I am going to live for Jesus. I really do give my life to him. I am going to keep on, keeping on. I will be joyful. I will stand by my God. I will keep trying to show his love to others with how I live my life. I will live my entire life thanking God for my family, my blessings. I'm going to live my life praising God until the last breath my body takes.
I don't care if cancer kills me in a year, 10 years, whatever. If I die, I want ya'll to tell people, Yes, she died, but the devil still didn't win. I refuse to be continually discouraged. Jesus loves me, he died for my sins, so I could have eternal life. His mercies (thankfully) are new every day. He wants me to be encouraged, uplifted, joyful, thankful, happy. And that's what I'm going to be. The devil may succeed in ruining a few days now and then. But he will not win over my life.
I know there is a plan for me. Jesus has had his eye on me from the very beginning, even when I was just a little peanut, before my birth, in my mama's womb. He had good plans. He has given me a wonderful life, filled with love and amazing people. I have the soul mate I've always dreamed of. I have a beautiful little boy, if I do say so myself. My decision is to enjoy what I've been blessed with, focus on the positive in my life, and keep trying to be the best I can be.
In totally submitting my life to Jesus, I will answer whatever calling is on my life. If I'm to witness through this blog, if I'm to write a book, if I'm just to give others inspiration with my story, whatever it is, I'm going to do it. The devil picked the wrong girl and he seriously underestimated me and he underestimated my God if he thinks what's happening to me is going to ruin me. It's not. I'm not ruined. In fact, I'm stronger and more uplifted than ever.
This post may be a little bit all over the place, and it might be weird to some reading this, but I've got to say, it's from my heart. I am simply refusing to give in and let this mess over take me. I may have rough days, and I know we all do from time to time. But I'm making the decision to praise God and be thankful regardless of my circumstance.
I'm deciding to put all my trust and faith in the Lord, it's the safest place I can be."
Cole shared some texts Elisha had sent to her sister, Karen, about a message she had heard at church one Sunday. Her preacher talked about our role in bringing others to Christ. Following that service, Elisha and her husband, Steven, had a discussion in which she told him that she'd never led anyone to the Lord. Steven told her she was wrong. She had led him to the Lord.
Wow. How awesome is that? I think everyone was truly moved, just imagining that moment of realization for her. She had brought her husband into a personal relationship with Jesus. I wonder if everyone else was thinking what I was thinking. "Who have I led to the Lord?"
In closing, Cole told us that Elisha saw herself as "a farmer". Everyone laughed, assuming she was referring to the fact that she lived on a chicken farm. But that's not what she meant. She realized that, through her blog, she was touching lives, and telling people about Jesus. She was planting seeds of faith into the hearts of every person who read her words. She was a farmer.
...
Elisha used to tell me that I am brave. Because of the things I write about on my blog. Which is mostly all about me.
Me? Brave? This coming from the girl who faced breast cancer, chemotherapy, hair loss, sickness, radiation, etc.
I'm not brave.
I just like to write.
Writing about myself is not brave. Writing about myself is safe. No one can get upset with me for the things I say about myself. Except me. That's not brave at all.
Elisha was probably one of the biggest fans of my blog. She loved every thing I wrote. She would text me after most every post to let me know she read it, and she loved it. She even shared some of my posts on her Facebook page.
When she would write a blog post, she would always send a text to let me know. I think my response to every post started off with these three words - "I love it!" Because I did. I loved every thing she wrote. Her posts were awesome. Her words were always powerful, touching your heart and staying with you for days.
...
My posts always tell a story, providing insight into my life, my heart, and my mind.
Elisha's posts inspired, uplifted, encouraged, and always pointed to God.
...
It makes me sad to realize she won't be writing any more posts. Her blog touched so many more people than mine ever will.
I want my blog to be more like Elisha's blog.
Perhaps I should try to incorporate some of Elisha's blogging methods into my future writings. I can tell a story, which is what I do best, and then find a way to point it back to God. To honor her memory, I will try to inspire, uplift and encourage.
Elisha was a farmer. I want to be a farmer too.
Monday, April 8, 2013
The Girl Next Door
My friend and neighbor, Elisha Skeen, spent the last 18 months fighting cancer. It was a roller-coaster ride with more downs than ups, and it ended very badly.
She died last Tuesday.
I can't quite wrap my brain around that.
I've spent the last hour and half re-reading her blog. I swear when I read her words, it's like she still lives next door. It feels like I could get a text from her any minute telling me what she ate for lunch and asking me if my meal choices were any better than hers. For the record, most of the time, they weren't. We shared that weakness.
I miss her.
There are so many things I want to tell her about. Things I would tell her because she would totally get it.
Like, the week before last, my husband brought home six baby chicks. WHAT?! We're not chicken farmers! Her husband, Steven, is a chicken farmer, thereby making Elisha a chicken farmer. But I am NOT a chicken farmer. Except now it seems I AM a chicken farmer.
Again, WHAT?!
Elisha would understand my shock and confusion. I never expected to be married to a man who wants me to go out every evening and gather eggs. How did this happen?
I want to tell her he brought home a rabbit that week too. What is happening here? Who is this man, and what did he do with my husband? This is all Steven's fault...
I can totally see Elisha and I walking up and down "the compound" talking about how crazy all this is. We'd be taking turns pushing her son, Sawyer, in the stroller, all the while talking, cracking jokes, laughing... It makes me smile.
It also makes me cry.
...
It's not like Elisha and I were best friends. We somehow ended up living on the same road, married to childhood best friends, each of us right next door to our in-laws. If that isn't enough to bond us for life, I don't know what is. It was inevitable that our lives would be intertwined on a daily basis. We were neighbors, and we were friends.
We didn't see each other every day. But we chatted via Facebook or text on an almost-daily basis. And it was always funny. Even when things were bad for her, she somehow made it funny. That's just who she was.
I hate saying "was".
...
I spent the first four days following her death trying to focus on how to help Steven and Sawyer. That somehow made it easier to cope. It wasn't until I woke up Saturday morning that I found myself sobbing uncontrollably. That continued much of the day. I am so heartbroken.
Understand. I am not heartbroken for Elisha. Not anymore.
I know she is so much happier in heaven, finally living pain free, and singing praises at the feet of Jesus. How awesome is that to imagine?
I'm heartbroken for me.
Because there are some things that only the girl next door would understand.
...
She died last Tuesday.
I can't quite wrap my brain around that.
I've spent the last hour and half re-reading her blog. I swear when I read her words, it's like she still lives next door. It feels like I could get a text from her any minute telling me what she ate for lunch and asking me if my meal choices were any better than hers. For the record, most of the time, they weren't. We shared that weakness.
I miss her.
There are so many things I want to tell her about. Things I would tell her because she would totally get it.
Like, the week before last, my husband brought home six baby chicks. WHAT?! We're not chicken farmers! Her husband, Steven, is a chicken farmer, thereby making Elisha a chicken farmer. But I am NOT a chicken farmer. Except now it seems I AM a chicken farmer.
Again, WHAT?!
Elisha would understand my shock and confusion. I never expected to be married to a man who wants me to go out every evening and gather eggs. How did this happen?
I want to tell her he brought home a rabbit that week too. What is happening here? Who is this man, and what did he do with my husband? This is all Steven's fault...
I can totally see Elisha and I walking up and down "the compound" talking about how crazy all this is. We'd be taking turns pushing her son, Sawyer, in the stroller, all the while talking, cracking jokes, laughing... It makes me smile.
It also makes me cry.
...
It's not like Elisha and I were best friends. We somehow ended up living on the same road, married to childhood best friends, each of us right next door to our in-laws. If that isn't enough to bond us for life, I don't know what is. It was inevitable that our lives would be intertwined on a daily basis. We were neighbors, and we were friends.
We didn't see each other every day. But we chatted via Facebook or text on an almost-daily basis. And it was always funny. Even when things were bad for her, she somehow made it funny. That's just who she was.
I hate saying "was".
...
I spent the first four days following her death trying to focus on how to help Steven and Sawyer. That somehow made it easier to cope. It wasn't until I woke up Saturday morning that I found myself sobbing uncontrollably. That continued much of the day. I am so heartbroken.
Understand. I am not heartbroken for Elisha. Not anymore.
I know she is so much happier in heaven, finally living pain free, and singing praises at the feet of Jesus. How awesome is that to imagine?
I'm heartbroken for me.
Because there are some things that only the girl next door would understand.
...
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
I miss my thyroid.
There's only one thing I love to hear just before I drift off to sleep each night, and that is the sound of my husband's voice when he is praying. There are many reasons this is so special to me.
- I am reminded of how blessed I am to have a Christian husband.
- His prayers provide a glimpse into what is on his heart and mind.
- Nothing invokes a greater sense of peace than giving it all to God every night.
- Sometimes his prayers crack me up.
Keith makes me laugh sometimes when he prays. If his back is hurting, he says, "Lord, please be with my back." If Camden's foot is hurting, he says, "Lord, please be with Camden's foot." If Bryson's head is hurting, "Lord, please be with Bryson's head." And when my blood work comes back showing my thyroid levels are off, he says, "Lord, please be with Marci's thyroid."
This cracks me up every single time because I don't actually have a thyroid. My thyroid died eight years ago.
I should actually reword that. My thyroid was killed eight years ago. Gasp!
I know. It sounds awful. It is awful. A tragic story really. She was acting up, threatening to hurt me. So I had her put down. May she rest in peace.
Don't feel bad for her! You know how the old saying goes, "You don't what you've got, until it's gone." I can vouch for that.
I first went to the doctor in July of 2005 due to shortness of breath. I was having episodes when I couldn't breathe well, making my heart rate go up, and I was passing out. Since my dad has asthma, I figured I would be diagnosed with asthma. BUT that was not the case.
The doctor determined my increased heart rate was causing my shortness breath, rather than the other way around. She also noticed that my hands were very shaky. My hair was falling out. And I had lost 17 pounds in less than one month. I thought the weight-loss from joining Weight Watchers, even though I was totally cheating on my points. Heeheehee.
So, she ordered blood tests and determined I had an overactive thyroid - hyperthyroidism - Graves' Disease. The doctor was very concerned about the level of overactiveness (I made that word up, but you know what I mean). She recommended Radioactive Iodine Therapy to kill my thyroid as soon as possible to avoid the potentially dangerous long-term effects, which included bulging eyes and damage to my heart and kidneys.
I was very frightened. I got up every morning and looked in the mirror to make sure my eyes weren't bulging out. And all I could think was I didn't want to hurt my heart. I am a mother. I need my heart. I need it for a very long time.
At the advisement of many loved ones, we sought a second opinion. That doctor agreed with the first doctor. My thyroid had to die. Her behavior was unacceptable and, if left untreated, could be life-threatening.
So, more out of fear than anything else, we went to the hospital to kill my thyroid. It was actually a very simple process. We went to radiology. I swallowed a pill, and we left. There was no drama. My thyroid didn't cry out in pain. She just shriveled up and died, later to be absorbed by my body.
Weird and anticlimactic. I know.
Little did I know, even in death, she would haunt me. My lack of thyroid declared an even bigger war on my body - hypothyroidism. It's a battle I've been fighting ever since.
Hypothyroidism is an ongoing nightmare it seems you'll never wake up from. I've spent the last eight years trying to live like a normal person, while my body refused to cooperate. There are so many everyday tasks that I've had to struggle to perform, while learning to live with the symptoms of living without my thyroid.
- weight gain
- inability to adjust body temperature
- chronic fatigue/exhaustion
- hair loss
- dry skin
- achy joints
- carpel tunnel
- irregular menstrual cycles
- moodiness
- depression
- brain fog
- panic attacks
- low immunity
- slow recovery
I've seen four different endocrinologists, all of whom have told me we did the right thing by killing my thyroid. But I still wonder. That decision cost me so much.
The year following the death of my thyroid was the hardest year of my life. I was not prepared for the emotional strain caused by the physical hardship, and there were many days I struggled to get out of bed. I felt completely out of control of my body and my life. It was so hard on me.
What made it even harder was the toll it took on my family. Keith was amazing, often times working 40 hours a week at work, only to come home to an unclean house with no food on the table. I put my boys in day care one full-day and two half-days each week, while I came back home to sleep or watch TV.
I look back on that time of my life, and an anger fuels in the pit of my stomach. I hate that year. I hate who I was. I hate what I did. I hate what I didn't do. I hate it. If there were ever a year I could do over, it would be that year.
Thankfully, I eventually got used to my thyroid-less self. I pulled my kids out of daycare, and spent my days trying to make up for ever asking someone else to be responsible for them. I vowed to be a better me, and I've been trying to fulfill that vow ever since.
I can just see my thyroid now, thinking she got the last laugh. The joke is on me. Hahahaha!
BUT while my husband has asked God to be with my thyroid, he's also prayed diligently for me. and Hallelujah, God answers prayer. Just last week, I was introduced to an integrative thyroid specialist whose practice is in Winston-Salem. This doctor specializes in a hypothyroidism treatment that takes a totally different approach to my well-being. He is 100% against the medication I've been taking for the last eight years, and is totally convinced that his treatment will help me to feel normal again, without the daily struggles I've faced every day since my thyroid died.
His name is Dr. Wiggy. His treatment is called Nature-Throid. I've been taking it for six days. I am already seeing improvements. I have been getting up by 8:00 every morning, and I've not growled at anybody in days. This is huge! I've also lost 3 pounds. Woohoo!
I've got a long way to go to get back to 100% normal. But I am so happy to have that hope. Thank you, Keith, for praying for me everyday.
Not a day has gone by that I have not missed my thyroid. I guess that's what I get for killing her in the first place. But perhaps, I'll have the last laugh after all.
Friday, January 11, 2013
Five on Friday: Five Things I Should Have Asked For Christmas
I'm sure you enjoy those days off at Christmas time just as much as I do. We took two weeks off of school starting December 21st. What an awesome two weeks it was. We slept in. We watched movies. We played the wii. We had playdates. We took naps. We ate cookies. It was a very UNstressful time. I thoroughly enjoyed it.
We started back to school this past Monday. And it was "back to life, back to reality" in a very unpleasant way. As I'm still adjusting to the decreased sleep and increased responsibility associated with my normal routine, I'm realizing what I should have asked for Christmas.
1. a sledgehammer -
You know. To bash my alarm clock when it tells me to wake up. I mean who gets up before 8am?
Or to remind my computer that I am smarter than it is. Because I AM smarter than it is.
Or to shut up that noise-making toy I put in my son's Christmas stocking. What was I thinking?
My computer probably wouldn't have given him that toy. Maybe I'm not smarter than my computer.
2. clothes -
I didn't ask for clothes this year, but I should have. Then it wouldn't matter that I haven't done laundry in weeks. And I could continue to ignore the ever-growing pile of dirty clothes that is almost as tall as I am.
3. a plane ticket - Because my best friend just moved from Kentucky to Kansas, making it a 16-hour road trip from my house to hers. I'm not very good at traveling. Four hours straight in a moving vehicle is about the maximum amount of time I can handle. So you see, Kansas is just too far away. It would take me four days to get there. She wasn't able to come home for Christmas. So we haven't been in the same room together since October, and probably won't be again until June. This is much too long. I am showing symptoms of withdrawal. Depression. Fatigue. Crying fits. This could also be attributed to the alarm clock issue mentioned in #1... or the clothes issue mentioned in #2... or the boys issue mentioned in #4...
4. ear plugs- I homeschool my two boys, ages 8 and 10. That means I am with them all the time. ALL THE TIME! And for some reason they are completely obsessed with making "gassy noises" ALL THE TIME. I'm surrounded by crazy little people!
Another reason I could use that plane ticket.
5. Dr. Pepper - Seriously, you can never have too much Dr. Pepper. Dr. Pepper! Give me the news! I gotta BAD CASE of loving you!
It's a good thing my birthday is only 2 months away. If you're wondering what to get me, any of the above items would be greatly appreciated.
We started back to school this past Monday. And it was "back to life, back to reality" in a very unpleasant way. As I'm still adjusting to the decreased sleep and increased responsibility associated with my normal routine, I'm realizing what I should have asked for Christmas.
1. a sledgehammer -
You know. To bash my alarm clock when it tells me to wake up. I mean who gets up before 8am?
Or to remind my computer that I am smarter than it is. Because I AM smarter than it is.
Or to shut up that noise-making toy I put in my son's Christmas stocking. What was I thinking?
My computer probably wouldn't have given him that toy. Maybe I'm not smarter than my computer.
2. clothes -
I didn't ask for clothes this year, but I should have. Then it wouldn't matter that I haven't done laundry in weeks. And I could continue to ignore the ever-growing pile of dirty clothes that is almost as tall as I am.
3. a plane ticket - Because my best friend just moved from Kentucky to Kansas, making it a 16-hour road trip from my house to hers. I'm not very good at traveling. Four hours straight in a moving vehicle is about the maximum amount of time I can handle. So you see, Kansas is just too far away. It would take me four days to get there. She wasn't able to come home for Christmas. So we haven't been in the same room together since October, and probably won't be again until June. This is much too long. I am showing symptoms of withdrawal. Depression. Fatigue. Crying fits. This could also be attributed to the alarm clock issue mentioned in #1... or the clothes issue mentioned in #2... or the boys issue mentioned in #4...
4. ear plugs- I homeschool my two boys, ages 8 and 10. That means I am with them all the time. ALL THE TIME! And for some reason they are completely obsessed with making "gassy noises" ALL THE TIME. I'm surrounded by crazy little people!
Another reason I could use that plane ticket.
5. Dr. Pepper - Seriously, you can never have too much Dr. Pepper. Dr. Pepper! Give me the news! I gotta BAD CASE of loving you!
It's a good thing my birthday is only 2 months away. If you're wondering what to get me, any of the above items would be greatly appreciated.
Sunday, January 6, 2013
Elisha's Peace
If you are a friend of mine on Facebook, or you read my last blog post, you know that my heart has been heavy for my friend and neighbor, Elisha Skeen. Metastatic cancer has declared war on her body, and she is literally in a fight for her life.
Until yesterday, the last time I had seen Elisha was when she and her son, Sawyer, came over to check in on me a few weeks after my surgery. I guess that would have been early to mid-November. At that time, she was healthy (considering she was recovering from breast cancer), happy and strong. We tag-teamed Sawyer, not quite 2 years old, who was curiously exploring every bin in our homeschool room. Our visit was cut short when he made a "special gift" in his diaper that just couldn't be ignored.
It really struck me yesterday as I sat at the foot of her hospital bed at the Cancer Center, how much has changed since that day. Now, just 8 weeks later, Sawyer is officially 2 years old. Elisha is no longer healthy. Her husband, Steven, is spending his days at the hospital instead of on the farm.
What struck me even more, is what had not changed. Despite the fact that she is battling cancer for the second time in 14 months... Despite the fact that she had brain surgery just days ago... Despite the fact that she has a button at her fingertips to dispense enough pain medication to cause cardiac arrest in any other person... Elisha is still happy. Elisha is still strong.
She texted me yesterday morning to let me know I could come see her. I was thrilled to hear she was feeling well enough to welcome visitors, and very eager to chat with her. But as we got closer to the hospital, I became more and more nervous. What should I say? What shouldn't I say? What will we talk about? What if she starts crying? What if I start crying?
My heart rate kept climbing the more I thought about it. So I stopped thinking about it, and just prayed. Dear God, please help me to be an encouragement to her. Please guide my words. Please guide my actions. And please help me not to cry.
We met up with her husband, Steven, before going into her hospital room. I know this was a God-send. He updated us on her entire medical journey, and he told me exactly what to expect when I walked in the room.
The entire visit lasted 30 minutes. It was nothing like I expected, and so much better than I prayed for.
Elisha looked great. She had on a cute hat to cover to her "battle scar" from brain surgery. She was wearing glasses, which I'd never seen her in before. And she was smiling. She was so peaceful. I sat at her feet, and we talked about the same things we've always talked about. Our husbands. Our kids. Our bodies. Our hobbies. Our food. It was so... normal.
I've tried to put myself in her shoes and imagine how I would handle the same situation. I just can't believe I would be so at peace. Of course, Elisha and Steven have said they wouldn't be either, if it weren't for God.
I don't know exactly where it is in the Bible, but I know it says that God can provide "a peace that passeth understanding". In the midst of that hospital room, with four different fluid bags pumping all kinds of meds into her body, with bruised arms and IV-scarred hands, with a chemo-dispensing device surgically placed in her brain, there was a peace that passeth understanding.
I walked into the room asking God to help me encourage her, but I left the room feeling encouraged myself.
...
I don't know why all this is happening to Elisha. But I can say that I am amazed, inspired, encouraged and awed by the way she is handling it.
I can also honestly say, her battle has changed my life. I am more aware of how quickly life can change, and more thankful for the days I have.
Every Sunday, our pastor leads the congregation in singing I am Blessed. It goes like this...
I am blessed.
I am blessed.
Everyday that I live I am blessed.
When I wake up in the morning,
til I lay my head to rest,
I am blessed.
I am blessed.
When I sang those words this morning... Well, I couldn't sing because I couldn't stop crying. As everyone else sang, I stood there with my head in my hands, and I sobbed. Because of Elisha, I know just how blessed I am.
I am so thankful to have the honor to continue to pray for her. I pray God will heal her body, and make her whole again. I pray she and Steven will grow old together and watch their son become a man. I pray that she and I will get to walk up and down "the compound" for many years to come. I'm still asking you do the same. Thank you.
Until yesterday, the last time I had seen Elisha was when she and her son, Sawyer, came over to check in on me a few weeks after my surgery. I guess that would have been early to mid-November. At that time, she was healthy (considering she was recovering from breast cancer), happy and strong. We tag-teamed Sawyer, not quite 2 years old, who was curiously exploring every bin in our homeschool room. Our visit was cut short when he made a "special gift" in his diaper that just couldn't be ignored.
It really struck me yesterday as I sat at the foot of her hospital bed at the Cancer Center, how much has changed since that day. Now, just 8 weeks later, Sawyer is officially 2 years old. Elisha is no longer healthy. Her husband, Steven, is spending his days at the hospital instead of on the farm.
What struck me even more, is what had not changed. Despite the fact that she is battling cancer for the second time in 14 months... Despite the fact that she had brain surgery just days ago... Despite the fact that she has a button at her fingertips to dispense enough pain medication to cause cardiac arrest in any other person... Elisha is still happy. Elisha is still strong.
She texted me yesterday morning to let me know I could come see her. I was thrilled to hear she was feeling well enough to welcome visitors, and very eager to chat with her. But as we got closer to the hospital, I became more and more nervous. What should I say? What shouldn't I say? What will we talk about? What if she starts crying? What if I start crying?
My heart rate kept climbing the more I thought about it. So I stopped thinking about it, and just prayed. Dear God, please help me to be an encouragement to her. Please guide my words. Please guide my actions. And please help me not to cry.
We met up with her husband, Steven, before going into her hospital room. I know this was a God-send. He updated us on her entire medical journey, and he told me exactly what to expect when I walked in the room.
The entire visit lasted 30 minutes. It was nothing like I expected, and so much better than I prayed for.
Elisha looked great. She had on a cute hat to cover to her "battle scar" from brain surgery. She was wearing glasses, which I'd never seen her in before. And she was smiling. She was so peaceful. I sat at her feet, and we talked about the same things we've always talked about. Our husbands. Our kids. Our bodies. Our hobbies. Our food. It was so... normal.
I've tried to put myself in her shoes and imagine how I would handle the same situation. I just can't believe I would be so at peace. Of course, Elisha and Steven have said they wouldn't be either, if it weren't for God.
I don't know exactly where it is in the Bible, but I know it says that God can provide "a peace that passeth understanding". In the midst of that hospital room, with four different fluid bags pumping all kinds of meds into her body, with bruised arms and IV-scarred hands, with a chemo-dispensing device surgically placed in her brain, there was a peace that passeth understanding.
I walked into the room asking God to help me encourage her, but I left the room feeling encouraged myself.
...
I don't know why all this is happening to Elisha. But I can say that I am amazed, inspired, encouraged and awed by the way she is handling it.
I can also honestly say, her battle has changed my life. I am more aware of how quickly life can change, and more thankful for the days I have.
Every Sunday, our pastor leads the congregation in singing I am Blessed. It goes like this...
I am blessed.
I am blessed.
Everyday that I live I am blessed.
When I wake up in the morning,
til I lay my head to rest,
I am blessed.
I am blessed.
When I sang those words this morning... Well, I couldn't sing because I couldn't stop crying. As everyone else sang, I stood there with my head in my hands, and I sobbed. Because of Elisha, I know just how blessed I am.
I am so thankful to have the honor to continue to pray for her. I pray God will heal her body, and make her whole again. I pray she and Steven will grow old together and watch their son become a man. I pray that she and I will get to walk up and down "the compound" for many years to come. I'm still asking you do the same. Thank you.
Thursday, January 3, 2013
Elisha
I wrote a lot about friendships last year. I have never been the type of person to take my friendships lightly. I cherish the people who call me their friend, and allow me the honor to call them mine.
My favorite post from 2012 is the one I wrote about how God has reunited me with my best best friend from my early childhood years, Michelle. From the number of pageviews for that particular blog series, I would say it was your favorite as well. Thank you for that.
I remember a particular conversation I had with Keith about how thankful I am that God brought Michelle back to me. It struck me at that moment that God had done the exact same thing for Keith...
Keith is an only child. I usually say "spoiled-rotten" only child. But I'll refrain this time. Wait... oops. I can't find the backspace button... Heeheehee :)
Anyway, my dear sweet husband had no siblings while growing up. So God blessed him with fellow youngsters in his neighborhood with whom he played pretty much all the time. His best friend lived right next door. His name was Steven. They played basketball. They rode bikes. They had sleepovers. They spent a lot of time together during their elementary years.
As they grew up, they too grew apart. Not for the same reasons and Michelle and me, but it did seem their season of friendship had come to an end. Until a few years ago...
About the same time Michelle had come back into my life, Steven came back into Keith's. In fact, he moved right next door, with his new wife - Elisha.
Guys are so much different than girls. It took a little while before Michelle and I felt the spark of our friendship had truly been rekindled. Keith and Steven just picked right back up where they had left off. I mean, they're not racing their bikes up the road and having sleepovers. But there was no awkwardness at all. They just shook hands and started talking again. Guys are so weird. :)
Keith met Elisha before I did. I remember him coming home and saying, "You have got to meet her. You'll like her." I was like, "How do you know?" He said, "I just know. You'll like her."
I finally got to meet her soon after they brought their new baby, Sawyer, home from the hospital. We took a meal over to them, and Elisha and I sat there talking liked we'd known each other for years. She showed me all the pictures from Sawyer's birth. (I remember being shocked at some of those pictures, one imparticular. Elisha ~ you know which one I'm talking about ;) And she told me everything she was feeling as a new mother. Things you don't normally do with someone you just met. But like I said, it just didn't feel like we'd just met.
We didn't get together often after that. They both had crazy work schedules that just made it difficult to socialize. When Elisha changed jobs, we were able to have them over for supper a few times.
Then Elisha found out she had breast cancer. I will never forget. We go to church with Steven's parents, and Keith would always ask how Steven and Elisha were doing. Steven's dad told Keith, then Keith told me. I have no idea what was being preached at that service. All I could do was think about Elisha. I came home and cried for her.
She spent the next six months fighting for her life, completing chemo and radiation. When Elisha was feeling well, we invited them over for supper. She and I would retreat to our homeschool room, play with Sawyer and talk nonstop. One time we hid out in my scrapbook room, just to get away from the husbands and kids (sometimes this is just necessary to maintain our sanity). Keith and Steven literally had to drag us out of there. I laugh just thinking about it. It was funny.
Soon after that, Elisha and I decided we needed to exercise. So we started walking together, at least 3 times a week. We walked up and down "the compound", her word for the first mile of the road we live on, which is home mostly to her husband's family and my husband's family. During this time, we talked about everything. I mean EVERYTHING. Our husbands, our kids, our families, our friends, our jobs, our hobbies, our bodies, our food... EVERYTHING. It was so nice because we didn't know each other well enough to judge, but just well enough to know it was a safe place to be completely honest.
I was so excited to have a friend that lived right next door. Even though our walks only lasted an hour a day, three days a week, we became very close during that time. It was the start of a very special friendship.
Of course, then life got in the way. Her family went to the beach, then my family went to the beach. Then I got sick. Then my boys got sick. Then Sawyer got sick. Then I got sick. Then Sawyer got sick. Then I had surgery. Then it was Thanksgiving. Then my whole family got sick. Then her whole family got sick. And now, her cancer has come back, and it is viciously attacking her body. And right this very minute, she is undergoing surgery to insert a chemo device into her brain.
Last night I couldn't sleep at all because I have pretty much become completely obsessed with her situation. I am overcome with emotion. That's why I'm writing. I don't know what else to do. She is all I can think about. Yet I am so incredibly useless to her at this moment.
So I keep praying. Please God, heal her. The doctors can't heal her. Her family can't heal her. Her friends can't heal her. Only You can heal her, God. Please do.
I'm asking you, please pray for her too.
My favorite post from 2012 is the one I wrote about how God has reunited me with my best best friend from my early childhood years, Michelle. From the number of pageviews for that particular blog series, I would say it was your favorite as well. Thank you for that.
I remember a particular conversation I had with Keith about how thankful I am that God brought Michelle back to me. It struck me at that moment that God had done the exact same thing for Keith...
Keith is an only child. I usually say "spoiled-rotten" only child. But I'll refrain this time. Wait... oops. I can't find the backspace button... Heeheehee :)
Anyway, my dear sweet husband had no siblings while growing up. So God blessed him with fellow youngsters in his neighborhood with whom he played pretty much all the time. His best friend lived right next door. His name was Steven. They played basketball. They rode bikes. They had sleepovers. They spent a lot of time together during their elementary years.
As they grew up, they too grew apart. Not for the same reasons and Michelle and me, but it did seem their season of friendship had come to an end. Until a few years ago...
About the same time Michelle had come back into my life, Steven came back into Keith's. In fact, he moved right next door, with his new wife - Elisha.
Guys are so much different than girls. It took a little while before Michelle and I felt the spark of our friendship had truly been rekindled. Keith and Steven just picked right back up where they had left off. I mean, they're not racing their bikes up the road and having sleepovers. But there was no awkwardness at all. They just shook hands and started talking again. Guys are so weird. :)
Keith met Elisha before I did. I remember him coming home and saying, "You have got to meet her. You'll like her." I was like, "How do you know?" He said, "I just know. You'll like her."
I finally got to meet her soon after they brought their new baby, Sawyer, home from the hospital. We took a meal over to them, and Elisha and I sat there talking liked we'd known each other for years. She showed me all the pictures from Sawyer's birth. (I remember being shocked at some of those pictures, one imparticular. Elisha ~ you know which one I'm talking about ;) And she told me everything she was feeling as a new mother. Things you don't normally do with someone you just met. But like I said, it just didn't feel like we'd just met.
We didn't get together often after that. They both had crazy work schedules that just made it difficult to socialize. When Elisha changed jobs, we were able to have them over for supper a few times.
Then Elisha found out she had breast cancer. I will never forget. We go to church with Steven's parents, and Keith would always ask how Steven and Elisha were doing. Steven's dad told Keith, then Keith told me. I have no idea what was being preached at that service. All I could do was think about Elisha. I came home and cried for her.
She spent the next six months fighting for her life, completing chemo and radiation. When Elisha was feeling well, we invited them over for supper. She and I would retreat to our homeschool room, play with Sawyer and talk nonstop. One time we hid out in my scrapbook room, just to get away from the husbands and kids (sometimes this is just necessary to maintain our sanity). Keith and Steven literally had to drag us out of there. I laugh just thinking about it. It was funny.
Soon after that, Elisha and I decided we needed to exercise. So we started walking together, at least 3 times a week. We walked up and down "the compound", her word for the first mile of the road we live on, which is home mostly to her husband's family and my husband's family. During this time, we talked about everything. I mean EVERYTHING. Our husbands, our kids, our families, our friends, our jobs, our hobbies, our bodies, our food... EVERYTHING. It was so nice because we didn't know each other well enough to judge, but just well enough to know it was a safe place to be completely honest.
I was so excited to have a friend that lived right next door. Even though our walks only lasted an hour a day, three days a week, we became very close during that time. It was the start of a very special friendship.
Of course, then life got in the way. Her family went to the beach, then my family went to the beach. Then I got sick. Then my boys got sick. Then Sawyer got sick. Then I got sick. Then Sawyer got sick. Then I had surgery. Then it was Thanksgiving. Then my whole family got sick. Then her whole family got sick. And now, her cancer has come back, and it is viciously attacking her body. And right this very minute, she is undergoing surgery to insert a chemo device into her brain.
Last night I couldn't sleep at all because I have pretty much become completely obsessed with her situation. I am overcome with emotion. That's why I'm writing. I don't know what else to do. She is all I can think about. Yet I am so incredibly useless to her at this moment.
So I keep praying. Please God, heal her. The doctors can't heal her. Her family can't heal her. Her friends can't heal her. Only You can heal her, God. Please do.
I'm asking you, please pray for her too.
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