Sunday August 27

   It's Sunday evening and the only sounds around me are the turning of pages of my husband's book and the chorus of crickets outside.  Martha informed us tonight that she likes the crickets after I told her about them playing in the orchestra with their fiddles.  She's so funny with her comments lately and we have to laugh a lot with her.  Oh, to be sure, we have our multiple frustrations as well with her very determined personality, crazy temper tantrums and very strong will but we love her to bits.  I look at her and I think... I want to be here to see her grow up, I want to be the one who teaches her things and goes through experiences with her and yes, even through those grueling teenage years and then I think so much about whether the chemo is working as it should and whether it is effective or whether things are growing despite the treatments and I can get so so fearful.  So worried about a future I can't control or determine.  So scared of what it would look like.  Will it be chemo for the rest of my life?  More painful surgeries?  More time away from family?  Will I be around to celebrate important milestones with my dear husband and kids?  And the questions are endless... and yet, somehow, we had a sermon this morning about Psalm 46 - and sang the words as well - and I was forced to think - is God really my refuge and strength?  My ever present help in time of trouble?  Is it truly the core and the dependence of my life?  I know, more questions and the answers are inside, lurking away, sometimes fearful to be voiced, because if He is my refuge truly, then I cannot depend on anyone or anything else.
    I sometimes feel like I hold things back and yet our pastor prayed this morning that we can follow the first commandment - to have no other gods before our God - and this includes gods we make ourselves - our family, our time, our friends, our work, our lives.  Knowing that I have to be bare and honest before Him, to surrender all to Him and completely trust in Him is so humbling, so raw, so scary in ways and yet should be so comforting - that there is nothing between Him and me...all my emotions, my worries, my feelings, my doubts should be surrendered somehow and I should walk with Him daily - trusting in Him - knowing that He knows those inner, deep, concealed, mind-numbing and tear producing fears and yet He still loves me and forgives me when I forget Him, when my mind runs away with me, when I am lost in pools of despair.  I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper and not harm you.  And in my feeble human mind, I think I know better, I think, God, how can this be your plan?  How can my/our plate be so full that it is crumbling like a cheap paper plate when you load it up with too many things at a picnic and it folds and dumps it all in your lap in a messy heap?   I feel like my lap is full to overflowing with difficult things - worries about parents, worries about my kids, worries about my husband, feeling sad that I no longer seem to have an identity as an nurse (when I worked for over 17 years - is it all for naught?).  And yet we are told, "Be still and know that I am God".  Be still, you have to be still to hear the quiet whispers in the midst of the maelstrom of life, in the storms, in the howling winds, in the crash of the waves.

    Wow, how does all that come out of me?  What lurks below the surface of things?  This past week was a time to recharge batteries, to get out of the routine of every two weeks and do something different.  We were able to spend a week at a cottage with Timothy's family up near Buckhorn.  It was so freeing to get out of the city, to be breaking free of the confines of Hamilton and to head north, following our faithful gps and our noses to the place of relaxation.  Of course, the PICC line still comes along, the shower wrap, the meds, the daily blood thinner injections and the emergency numbers, but it's packed alongside life jackets, coolers full of yummy food, sunhats, sunscreen and oh so many other things that it is enough of a mass to weigh out, to blot out slightly, to cover over the ugly realities of chemo and cancer and all the mess that it's created in our lives.  The week was full of swimming (well, wading for me), riding in the boat, fishing (not too much catching but that's not the point right?), watching sunsets, roasting marshmallows, naps, reading and strengthening family bonds even in the midst of a nearly day long power outage due to a fierce storm which tried patiences all around.  There was lots of delicious food, plenty of deep frying by my dear hubby, good sleeps in the cool night air, time for games, for fellowship, for some eclipse watching.
    You may wonder how my mom is doing - when we came home, it was good to hear her voice was stronger, that my dear sister Rachel had been spending time and helping Mom in her most efficient way and that my dear Tanan from Holland was now at Mom's bedside along with my Dad.  She's walking around the driveway in little loops, taking lots of naps to restore strength and in general being very compliant in taking rest, not something she's used to at all.  We're used to her fixing things, painting this or that, making art, being busy in the home and it must be an odd reality for her to have to sit and ponder and relax and take it easy.  But we're thankful that her heart is on its way to recovery.
    And as for us, this week brings us squarely back to reality.  Tomorrow morning, bright and early to beat the rush of other pregnant ladies, we have our ultrasound booked at 7:30 at MUMC, then to see the obstetrician and see how our dear Ava is doing (judging by the strength of the kicks, those legs are just getting longer and stronger).  We are also scheduled to meet with the neonatal team to discuss their potential role, if any, in her birth.  We understand at present that they will be on-call to us, that if Ava isn't born too early, that they may not even need to be involved, but in any case, it's better to be prepared and to understand the situations that may arise.  I'm slightly intimidated by an article I read in the Hamilton Spec this afternoon at my parents talking about the shortage of staff and beds at the MUMC NICU and I don't honestly want or need to add the worry of having Ava shipped off to some far away hospital because there's no room for her - I would fall to pieces, I think.  I can't even begin to start that worry train - hopefully someone will derail those fears tomorrow for me.  From MUMC, we head up to the JCC for a blooddraw and an appointment with the oncologist. Lots of questions for him too and likely a long wait to ask them - it's always hard to wait....I hate waiting, but I know that it means that they're likely taking time to answer other people's questions and concerns and so it's difficult to get too angry - I have to remember we have a health care system, my house is five minutes away, we don't live remotely, we are so blessed to have such a great team and place to look after us in crisis.  Deep breath, meditate, and get used to your chair....

   And so, that's it for now... It's getting late, I'm heading for bed... I'll share a few pictures of our week away and covet your prayers for peace, for a closeness with God, for a good report about our dear daughter, for good blood counts at the oncologist and for patience and strength for the week to come.  I so appreciate all the cards, encouraging hugs, meals and special gifts (today, a beautifully handknit gray/silver sweater with the most adorable buttons and accompanying booties from a dear lady at church for our dear Ava.  Can't wait to see her in it...)  And thanksgiving that tomorrow morning will mark our step into 31 weeks of pregnancy.  What a blessing that we've made it this far, phew, and that so far things have been going relatively well!!  Hopefully I'll be able to slip in a little update tomorrow evening as to the progress of our day...