jumping for joy!

(if you're new to this blog, you can go here to catch up on what has happened in the last six months, the first part of this story)

This past Wednesday I had butterflies in my stomach. And I think my face broke out in no less then 5 new pimples. (stress. It gives me the skin of an oily 14-year-old.)

Wednesday was the day my mom had her MRI-- the MRI that would tell us whether her month of radiation had worked or not, the one that would let us know the next step in this journey.

I honestly had prepared myself for bad news. Maybe that was a bad attitude to have, maybe it shows a lack of faith... I don't know. All I know was that while every single part of my being hoped and prayed for good--no, GREAT-- news, I honestly and truly didn't want to get my hopes up. Her last MRI had been so unexpectedly NOT good. And, also on Wednesday, we received sad, sad news about a church family member who is also battling cancer, which broke my heart and brought me to tears. Who was I to expect that WE would hear wonderful news when this family was suffering so much?? It seemed foolish to think that, just like that, the tumor would be gone. I really could not bring myself to get my hopes up. I just couldn't, no matter how much I wanted to be positive.

Well, friends, you know what? God is awesome and amazing. And God has a perfect plan. And thankfully, it doesn't matter what we think is possible or foolish to hope, or how pessimistic or guarded we may be when it comes to our expectations.

On Thursday morning, when I knew my mom was at her follow-up appointment seeing the results of that all-important MRI, right when I thought I couldn't stand another minute of waiting, I got a text message from my sister Lydia. It contained only five words. But I had never received a more wonderful text message.

"mom's tumor is completely gone!!!!"

How do I describe the moment when I read that? It was... amazing. Tears of joy sprang to my eyes, and all I could think was "thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you, Lord!!" I was literally shaking with relief. It wasn't until I read those words that I realized how much I really and truly had not been expecting those wonderful results, because it left me breathless. I know, this all sounds rather overly dramatic, but I want to remember it, remember what it was like. When someone you love is going through something like what my mom experienced, it is always with you. There, always on your mind, waiting to fill your thoughts and make you worried and sad even when you're trying your best not to dwell on it, but to simply trust God no matter what. And then, just like that, for the first time since December 5, that Saturday night when this all started, the weight had been lifted. Gone. I wanted to fly and sing and dance and hug someone while jumping up and down.

It was such a joy, such an amazing thing, to be able to call and text and tell those closest to me the good news-- there was much rejoicing. I spoke with my dad, and of course my mom, and there was a lightness and joy in our voices. I'm pretty sure we all smiled non-stop all day long. I know I did!

I pray with all my heart that my mom and dad, my sisters, and my brother can enjoy this new season of peace and rest after all the turmoil of these past months. I know they need it. We all do.

My family and I were so incredibly blessed by all those who prayed continuously every day for Mom, for all of us. Our prayer warriors. And this includes all of you. There is no way to really tell you what the support and love you've all shown to me and my loved ones has meant, how it has brightened and beamed sunshine into some of the darkest corners within this experience. I am humbled, and grateful beyond what my fingers can type.

If you could keep the prayers coming, that would be wonderful. Lymphomas do have a nasty tendency of coming back; and quite often, if they do, they are bigger and harder to treat than the first time. We are hopeful, and optimistic, that with all of the things my mom is doing to keep herself healthy and of course by God's grace, her cancer will stay gone. There's no way to know for sure except with time. We don't know if this journey is over for good or not... we'll pray each day that it IS.

For now, we'll simply be glad and rejoice in the way things are right now. I am happy. I am grateful. For now, my mom is ok. She's ok!!

A sweet friend shared this song with me after I posted the good news on facebook, and I thought it was so perfect, so rich and sweet and true.

The Healing Hand of God, by Jeremy Camp
I have seen the many faces,
I fear in the pain.
I have watched the tears fall plenty,
From heart ache and strength.
So if life's journey,
Has you weary and afraid.
There's rest in the shadow of his wings.
I have walked through the valleys,
The mountains and plains.
I have held the hand of freedom,
It washes all my stains.
If you feel the weight of many trials,
And burdens from this world.
There's freedom in the shelter of the Lord.
I have seen,
The healing hand of God,
Reaching out and mending broken hearts.
Taste and see the fullness of His peace,
And hold on to what's being held out.
The healing hand of God.

Sweet friends, if you could think to pray for the ones who did not receive good news on Wednesday, that would be great. Her name is Melanie, and she may not have long left to live. The bitter and the sweet so often come together, and my heart breaks for her and her family even while I rejoice with mine. This amazing woman and her loved ones will need all the prayers they can get. Thank you, as always.

Plan B.

It's what you resort to when Plan A doesn't work. And that's where we're at right now. Plan B.

My mom had another MRI today, one which, quite frankly, we were all hoping and expecting would look really good... maybe even clear! But, as it turns out, that's not what happened. Instead, the MRI showed that her tumor has grown back. I'm not sure on exactly how much, but something like 60% of its original size.

Not good. Scary. It's grown back that much just since her last MRI... which was only around a month ago.

This means the chemo she's been getting for the last two months isn't working anymore, apparently. So. Plan B.

Plan B is full-brain radiation, once a day 5 days a week. And possibly oral chemo with this as well. Plan B means my mom will lose her hair, experience extreme fatigue, and who knows what else. Plan B means that this road, which we all thought just maybe had an end in sight, is going to be much harder and longer than we anticipated.

The doctor is still reasonably positive. He says this by no means indicates that treatment won't be successful. He's seen this before, and it just means it's time for another plan of attack. But....

Plan B scares me. One plan of treatment has already been tried... and it didn't work. So what happens if Plan B doesn't work? Is there a plan C? Or.... is there an or?? or..... is that it?? what if, what if what if???

The one thing I've been clinging to in my head today is this: God doesn't have a Plan B. He just has THE plan. HIS plan. His perfect, unchanging, almighty, loving plan. It's already laid out. He already knows. And it won't change. NO plan B. The next step might be OUR plan B, but it's still HIS original and providential plan. Amen. The truth. Praise God for that.

I know tomorrow is a brand new day, with the Lord's new mercies, a fresh new perspective, and tomorrow I'll probably be able to think positive again, by His grace.

But today, my heart is just aching. For my mom, my dear sweet mom, who has so much more to go through still when she's already been through so much. For my dad, who has to watch the love of his life experience all this. For my sisters and my brother who are right there living it everyday and just as scared as I am. For all my family. My heart aches and breaks. For so many different reasons.

I know I'm just pouring this all out here. Through my tears. And maybe I shouldn't.... I don't know. But in some way it helps to write this all down, to just be honest and painfully real. This is hard. And I'm scared. And I just want, with all my heart, with every breath in every prayer, for my mom to be ok.

A letter to Wednesday.

Oh, Today... you sly little thing, you. You whispered all sorts of promises about the things I would get done and how lovely it all would be, and then BAM! you gave me an incredibly grumpy (and LOUD) baby who refused to nap for any length of time or be set down for more than 5 minutes. How rude.

But, even so, I forgive you, Today. Because even though my youngest darling made me want to rip my hair out of my head and stuff it in my ears, you still managed to redeem yourself. Here's why:

I somehow, miraculously and remarkably, was able to finish a painting project that I've been wanting to do since, oh, September. And now I have a funky blue chair (pictures to come) that I absolutely love. Looking at it makes me rather happy.

Emma was a willing worker for school today. And although we hardly accomplished any (thanks to aforementioned cranky baby), what little we did get done was pleasant.


I got to see my niece's face light up in one of her trademark grins when we delivered birthday balloons to her. My newly-five-year-old Faithie makes me smile.

There were new library books to be perused, which made this little girl, aka She-Whose-Hair-Will-Not-Be-Combed, quite happy and delighted.


Bakery muffins for breakfast. Need I say more?

The sun shone almost all day long, and the girls were actually able to play outside while I gave piano lessons. YAY.

And while Rosalie was a handful-and-a-half, she did have a few moments of happiness and contentment, in which she of course managed to win me over again. Just look at her riding her little horsey! It's a good thing she's so incredibly cute. (this very thought entered my mind no less than twenty times today, and possibly about a hundred.)


But, the very best thing about you, Today, is that my mom had another MRI done. And that MRI showed us that her tumor has SIGNIFICANTLY and impressively shrunk in size. There's not much left of it at all! This is good news. GREAT news. And while this does not mean it's all over and behind us, it does give us hope and reassure us that we are indeed moving forward. She will continue to receive chemo treatments until the tumor is completely gone; there's another MRI scheduled for March. The doctor wants to make sure that the tumor (lymphoma) is completely gone... because the thing about these lymphomas is that they have a nasty tendency to come back again (something I honestly try not to think about too much). My mom still needs lots of prayers, as we don't know what all may still lie ahead and there are many things she's dealing with as side effects from all this treatment... but we'll take any positive news that comes and rejoice in it!

So, Today, you might not have been exactly what I had planned on. And you may not have been the very best of your kind. But, dear Today, I don't mind... because I know you were exactly the way you were supposed to be. And for that, I will not thank YOU, Today... rather, I will thank my oh-so-loving, gracious God and Father, the giver of all good things and Perfect Planner of every circumstance. He is immensely good and wonderful, even, or should I say especially, in the midst of teething babies and brain tumors.

Paper snowflakes.

This morning, since today is the one day this week where we didn't have to be somewhere, I decided to put off cleaning the house or finishing up presents (or showering) in favor of something much more delightful and very appropo for the first day of winter: making paper snowflakes.

Once Rosalie was down for her nap, I got out the paper and scissors and sat down on the living room floor with Emma and Annabelle, who were all a-bounce with excitement and glee. I had been promising them this activity for quite some time, and they just couldn't wait to get started.

After I folded up the paper properly, both girls eagerly began cutting. Annabelle soon deserted the idea of snowflakes when she realized that there was a certain way it had to be done. "No, mommy, I'm not going to make snowflakes," she told me calmly as she looked up at me for moment. "I'm going to make a skirt. A ruffly skirt." And so she did. The skirt was soon followed by a cut-out of a sleigh with a door-- or at least that's what she told me it was. Whatever it was, she was quite pleased with her own little creations, even if they weren't snowflakes.

Not Emma, though. We set out to make snowflakes, and she was going to make snowflakes! She sat quietly, working her scissors as best she could, her tongue sticking out just slightly as she concentrated. As I worked on my own cutting, I noticed that her face had begun to fall. Gone was the excitement and glee, and instead she looked worried. Soon she sighed and slumped her shoulders. When I asked her what was bothering her, she replied "This is NOT pretty. It doesn't look like a snowflake at all!!"
I couldn't help but smile slightly, but I quickly told her it would be all right. "Just wait until you're done... then you get to unfold it, and it will be so pretty! You'll see, I promise."

Soon, she was indeed finished with her cutting, and she slowly unfolded it, watching her paper carefully as if she didn't quite believe me. And then, she saw her completed snowflake, each little cut-out perfectly and amazingly intricate and symmetrical, and her face lit up. "Look!! It really is a snowflake!! I love it! I want to make some more!!"



I handed her some more paper, and again, she set to work intently cutting. And yet again, soon, her little face began to look worried. "This doesn't look at all like the other one! It's not the same, and it won't work..."
More reassurance from me, a few more cuts, a new snowflake to unfold, and for the second time I watched her face beam with joy. "This one's even prettier! It looks like a different snowflake! I want to make even MORE."

And so, for the third time, I handed her a piece of folded paper and she began to cut. But this time, as I watched her, there was no sad look of disappointment creeping across her face. Instead, as she cut out little triangles and made dents and gashes here and there, she bounced up and down, a smile on her face. "I can't WAIT to see what this snowflake will look like, Mommy. I can't WAIT to unfold it and see!" She finally understood, finally realized what I was telling her all along, and she knew that she didn't have to worry about the way it would turn out. She knew what was waiting for her to see at the end.


How often, in our own lives, do we question and worry about the way things are right now? Isn't it SO easy to wonder how in the world the things we're dealing with will ever come out right-- or how they could ever be a part of something perfect and lovely?

Take, for example, the fact that tomorrow, a mere three days before Christmas, my mom starts chemotherapy for the cancer that is currently residing in her brain. I think I can safely say that NO ONE in my family envisioned this for our Christmas. No one expected it, or wanted it for this person that we love so much. It's cancer-- it's ugly, and scary, and sad.
And sometimes, it's hard to trust and believe that this truly will work out exactly the way it's supposed to, that it truly is a perfect part of God's plan for her and all of us.

Here's the beauty of it, though: we CAN believe that it will work out, thanks to our heavenly Father. We CAN believe that somehow this is for a reason. No matter what.

We all, every single one of us, have trials and sufferings, hard things that come upon us in life and surprise us, things that make us sad or scared, worried and unsure of what the future might hold. When we're in the midst of those things, we can't know how these circumstances of our life will fit together in the end. We can't know what the outcome will be when it all unfolds.

But, we can trust in this:
In the end, it will be beautiful.



"Weeping may endure for a night,
But joy comes in the morning." ~psalm 30:5

Update.

Hello, friends. Just popping in to give you the latest update-- so much has happened since the last time I posted. It's been a whirlwind of a week. I'm sorry that I haven't been better about updating... We of course by this time have new information concerning my mom, but it's just been SO busy. And I think I've been processing it all, taking the time to think and pray about it all and just take it all in. Taking the time to rejoice in the positive little things and, sometimes, cry about the scary and hard things. Like I said, it's been a total whirlwind. Less than two weeks ago (wow, really?? It seems ages) I had not an inkling of any of this and now our whole lives, our whole perspectives, have shifted and changed rather drastically. I know this is even more the case for my mom, dad, sisters, and little brother, since they are right there in the thick of it. Me, I'm here, many miles away and busy with my "normal" life because that's really all I can do. Even normal life is not the same now though... anyone who's ever had a dear one with a serious illness must know exactly what I mean. It's hard sometimes.

Anyway, allow me to fill you in. As you already know, my mom had her biopsy last Tuesday night. Jeremy and I were so thankful to be able to be there-- it made it so much easier, and we were able to actually enjoy the time before she went in, just spending time as a family, being our normal goofy selves. She then spent most of Wednesday in the ICU, simply because the hospital was so full that they didn't have a room to move her to, but she was really doing quite well and the biopsy went great. We had to head home again on Thursday, and on Friday my mom got to go home, just short of a week spent in the hospital. Since then she's been doing pretty well, feeling ok and just taking it easy. She's learning her limitations, which I'm sure is frustrating sometimes, but she is blessed with wonderful caregivers in my dad and sisters.

Friday was also the day we got the results of the biopsy back. I should tell you, we've been all over the place with what they thought the tumor might be, first one thing and then another, and we'd been told it probably was NOT certain things too. I guess it just goes to show that you never know for sure until those results actually come in. The results told us that it was a lymphoma-- cancer. My mom has cancer. It's honestly quite surreal to type that...

BUT-- but, while that is most certainly not good news, there are some positives, the first one being that we actually know about it and can now treat it. The doctor is very optimistic, and says the prognosis is good. She and my dad are meeting with the oncologist today to discuss treatments and lay out a plan, so I'm anxiously awaiting to hear the outcome of that meeting and what lies ahead. Whatever it may be, I breathe a huge sigh of thankfulness and relief in knowing and trusting beyond a shadow of a doubt that the Lord already knows every outcome and that He will sustain and strengthen my mom every minute of every day.

I won't lie, this has been hard. Really hard. But it's strengthening all of us and refining our faith, bringing us closer together... and even amidst tears, sadness, fear, and whatever other emotion may come (there's a whole plethora of those, believe me), it's still possible to give thanks to our God for so many things.

My sister Lydia was the one who brought my mom home on Friday, since my dad was taking care of prescriptions and such, and she and mom happened to hear this song while in the car after leaving the hospital. She shared it with me, and I was amazed at how perfect it was. I love what my mom put on her facebook after listening to it, and I couldn't say it better myself: "The sweet silver lining is the promises of God to work all things together for our good." Yes!! Amen.


Please continue to keep praying-- it means so much to us all. This could be a long, hard road-- we don't know. We're taking it a step at a time, celebrating the little victories when they come along (Mom, you know what I'm talking about, I won't share them here ;)), and simply trusting. Tomorrow morning Mom has to have further testing done, to make sure there are no lymphomas anywhere else, so she'll be getting a PET scan, a bone marrow biopsy, and a spinal tap. NOT a fun day. I hate to think of it... :( Extra prayer for quick procedures, skillful hands on those administering the tests, a special measure of grace and comfort for my mom, and hopefully small amounts of pain.

I'll leave you with some pictures of our last-minute trip to Denver last week. Because everyone loves pictures! Whee!! (Side note: these are not in chronological order. Also, the lighting in hospital rooms is not conducive to attractive pictures. Hence the black and white on many of these. hehe)

Dad and I on Wednesday, in Mom's swanky new room.


Mom received some lovely flowers on Tuesday before her biopsy. Of course, we had to banish them to the nurses' station since they bothered her allergies.... but not before we took a picture of them. The title of this shot is "Girl in a Garden". ;)


Mom was also blessed with a bundle of all sorts of goodies-- just look at all that loot! I especially love the hat and scarf, which are handmade by a woman in South Africa.


This was LATE Tuesday night, back at the house finally, after the biopsy. I think this picture perfectly sums up how we all felt at that moment. Mostly, just SO TIRED.


Of course we enjoyed our sister time, even if it was under not-so-perfect circumstances. Love these girls, don't know what I would do without them.


Speaking of sisters, this one looks awfully confused. Or angry. But doesn't she look cute in that hat?


My older brother Tyra was able to fly in from Chicago to be there, and he quickly became our resident researcher and obssessive question-asker. He's a good one. And this is one of the only shots I got of Josiah, because the hospital kicked him out later that day. He's under 18. Boo.

I snapped this while driving to the hospital in the late afternoon. I love the Denver skyline.


This picture melts my heart and makes me want to cry all at the same time. (Doesn't my mom look gorgeous? I could never look that good if I'd been in the hospital for days.)


And this one, well, this one makes me wish I was by her side again to spend time with her and be there for her. Love you, Mama-la.

our hearts are trusting in the Lord

If you are my friend on facebook, you most likely already know that on Saturday my mom was diagnosed with a brain tumor. Well, we don't know too much more than that so far even yet, as the results of her MRI are not yet known, but we're still just praying and hoping with all our hearts that it is benign and easily removed.

In the meanwhile, she is most likely going to be having surgery tomorrow (tuesday) sometime, so Jeremy and I are flying out this afternoon from Bakersfield so that we can be there no matter what happens. We leave for the airport at 2:30, and this all came to pass only about an hour ago, so as you can imagine I am running around like a chicken with my head cut off and trying desperately to get everything ready in time. The kids will be staying here with Jeremy's mom, who has been simply amazing and was able to take some time off work to be with them.

I don't have time to go into the whirlwind of emotions and the thoughts that have gone through all our heads since finding out this news of my very own mother, but it has been hard. I cannot wait to be there with my family and hug them one and all.

Even in the midst of it all, I am thankful. Thankful for the amazing support and love that my mom and dad and all of us have been shown in this all, thankful for the MANY many prayers that have been lifted up on her behalf, thankful for the WONDERFUL people we are all blessed with in our life, including all of you. And most of all I am thankful that we can trust in our gracious God for EVERYTHING that we need, even in a dark time, and for the fact that He already knows every outcome and always cares for His loved ones, no matter what. Thankful for the peace that passes all understanding, and for His perfect will, for His comfort and His grace when we need it most.

After hearing the news I opened my Bible at random and this was literally the first passage my eyes saw:
"Unto the upright there arises light in the darkness; He is gracious and full of compassion, and righteous... surely the righteous will never be shaken; They will be in everlasting remembrance. he will not be afraid of evil tidings, his heart is steadfast, trusting in the Lord. His heart is established, he will not be afraid." from Psalm 112:4,6-8

Amazing. I am thankful for THAT.

I'll keep you all posted as much as I can... meanwhile, keep us all, especially my mom, in your thoughts and prayers. It means SO much.

Love.