prophylactic.

I’m predictable. Safe. I don’t make rash decisions or very brave ones at that. When I was 23, a dentist told me I had my very first cavity. In disbelief I went home to process the information. I returned two years later to have the cavity filled.   The shock of “something being wrong” and the fear of fixing it froze me.  So I did nothing. 

Fast forward. I’ve lived a lot of life since then. Marriage. Infertility. Adoption. Moving overseas. Pregnancy. Miscarriage. My own bladder cancer diagnosis.  My mother’s breast cancer diagnosis. My grandmother’s breast cancer diagnosis. Both of their funerals. 

I’m still all of the things I first mentioned. And probably more so. I now understand why “old people resist change.”  I’m one of them. When my mom was sick, we had a lot of deep conversations.  “I’m afraid for my family to live without me.”  “Let’s talk about my funeral.” And this one… “Have you thought about getting genetic testing?”  I didn’t see the point because safe people don’t react unless it’s absolutely necessary. But I obliged. For my mother. 

BRKA negative. I immediately felt safe.  Why rock a boat that doesn’t need rocking?  Why fix something that isn’t broken?  Why add anything else to a plate that most days couldn’t hold salt sprinkled on top?

For me, mammograms brought comfort for about a week.  And then I started holding my breath until a breast MRI 6 months later. It was a viscous cycle of short-lived comfort followed by a lot of anxiety in between. I never had one questionable thing show up. No signs of anything being wrong. But I just couldn’t shake the thought of missing a birthday, missing a Christmas, missing a soccer game. 

And then I added a new word to my vocabulary: prophylactic.  

Definition: intended to prevent disease.

I began to hear my mother’s words so frequently: “If I were you, I’d do it.”  My mother, who was also BRKA negative, but was not safe from this terrible disease. 

So last week I stepped away from the comfort of routine. I signed my name on the admissions papers for a prophylactic double mastectomy.  And guess what? I did it. I walked the same road of my mother and grandmother, but this time by choice with the intention of preventing disease.  

Am I guaranteed to never get cancer?  Certainly not. But I’ve lowered my risk of breast cancer to 1%.  I could get any number of cancers tomorrow but today I just know this was the right choice for me. 

Why do I share something so personal?  Because of the very brave women who shared with me.  A friend who walked this road because of other medical conditions that warranted a double mastectomy. A friend whose family has recently seen cancer roll through her family in unfathomable  ways and decided this was best for her. A friend whose story looks a lot like mine- no BRKA gene, but just didn’t want to worry anymore.  These ladies have been open books, no questions were off limits, and encouragement has been endless. 

I’ve said this before.  One of my favorite verses is:

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.—2 Corinthians 1:3-4

I share that story because if it helps one person, it was worth it! If I’ve learned one thing it’s that our stories are never in vain. Every single thing we walk through can be shared to help, encourage, or comfort others. But only if we share them. 

So there’s my story!  If you’ve ever considered adding the word prophylactic to your vocabulary or cancer forces you to make this choice, I am also an open book.  I don’t have all the answers but I can share the road I’ve walked to comfort others.

Storm Clouds and Rainbows

I recently finished a book that opened by revealing the ending.  I wondered why the author would give away all the good stuff in the first few lines.  But as I began to meander through each and every chapter to see what brought them to such a conclusion, I realized that the ending was only half of the journey.  So if you will, I’d like to start this post with a big conclusion:

Jason and I are expecting our 5th AND 6th babies in early June!

But without the details, I’m afraid you are missing a best-selling novel!  So without further ado….

If you’ve known me for any amount of time, you know that infertility is part of my story.  I didn’t choose it, but it has shaped me in more ways than one.  Shortly after Jason and I married, we were ready to start a family.  And while we were ambitious in our efforts, we quickly found out that we weren’t completely in control of that show!  After at least a year of trying on our own, we looked into medical assistance.  While medical advancements are happening everyday, 2002 left us with very few answers.  After trying a few things that obviously failed, we were tired.  It was an emotional 28 day roller coaster that just seemed to be happening over and over with no happy ending and we finally decided we needed a break. 

While adoption was always an option, I needed to work my way through some other closed doors.  Jason, however, was a HUGE advocate and really throttled us forward.  In 2004 we began a year long process that ended in Ukraine.  There we met a big brown-eyed 2 1/2 year old that needed a mom and dad just as much as we needed him.  And just like that, after all those tears, heartache, closed doors, and questions, we became a family in 2005!

While we considered adopting again, there’s something about that first child. It’s easy to wonder if you should just stop there.  It’s hard to imagine that you could love another baby or that there is room for others in the circle of three. Thankfully, the Lord perfectly orchestrated what we couldn’t foresee.  Just two years later a forwarded letter found us with news of a baby that would be arriving in just a few short months.  Although I had to pinch myself as we waited to be sure it was all real, that adoption worked out in the  most beautiful way.  We welcomed a second baby boy in 2008.  And I would have thought that this was our complete family!

Our rhythm as a family was good.  Jason and I were happy, had jobs we loved, two boys that adored each other, great friends, but we began to wonder if there was more in our future.  This time it wasn’t more babies, but rather moving around the world for foreign missions.  We moved to India in 2011 for an exciting adventure that we could have never anticipated.  

One thing I quickly learned is that the typical missionary family has LOTS of kids.  Maybe the many births of our friends while there was the culprit, but for whatever reason, all those old questions from our years of infertility started surfacing again.  I eventually found a doctor that was willing to look into our situation further.  And for the first time, we had some answers!  Those answers, modern medicine, and the Lord’s graciousness brought us some of the most exciting news in 2013.  We were expecting TWINS… a dream of mine since my dad is a twin!  Although I was overwhelmed with joy, it was quickly overshadowed in the beginning with signs that one baby may have down syndrome.  And while we are pro-life and trust the Lord in how he uniquely makes each of us, it was a long pregnancy full of worries and questions.  Thankfully in 2014, I delivered two healthy babies, a boy and a girl.

In 2018, we celebrated big birthdays for all four of our children… a fifteen year old, a ten year old, and 2 four year olds!  It is easy to say that our quiver is full and we are beyond blessed.  Our house is loud, overflowing, and never dull!  But just as I was settling into parenting a teenager through preschoolers, the plot changed.

In August, I experienced something I’d never experienced in my life… a missed cycle.  Initially I didn’t even notice because it had never happened.  But as I counted back on a calendar, I couldn’t argue that something was going on.  For the first time I bought a pregnancy test and I nearly died when two lines appeared.  THIS WAS UNCHARTERED TERRITORY FOR ME!  I couldn’t even think of a creative way to tell Jason so I just showed him the test.  Not one to believe in a $1 test, he insisted we buy “a real test” and five tests later, we were left with the same results- we were having a fifth baby!

I made an appointment with a doctor but it was a few weeks away. In the meantime, we let the shock settle in and started to talk about this new baby. I was so smitten and couldn’t believe that the Lord had chosen to bless us with this incredible surprise after all these years.  I didn’t even know I wanted a baby…. but suddenly, it consumed my every thought!

And then— it was gone.  While visiting a theme park with the kids one Saturday, I knew something wasn’t right.  And by Sunday morning, it was clear that the pregnancy was ending in a miscarriage.  I tried to shake off the sadness, the disappointment, the void- but I was devastated.  To have never even met this baby, it was a part of me, and I struggled to move on.  I had so many questions but no answers… just a new chapter in my book called miscarriage.  

I went ahead to that doctor’s appointment just to be sure that everything was okay.  They confirmed what I already knew, but I relived the loss yet again. The doctor assured me that my body would return to its normal rhythm soon, and in the meantime, I waited for the sadness to go away and life to carry on as usual.  

But my body didn’t seem to fall back in line.  After waiting another four weeks or so, I finally needed some confirmation that I wasn’t pregnant- that my body was just still healing from the miscarriage.  Imagine the lump in my throat when those two lines so abruptly appeared for a second time in two months.  Again, I rushed to show Jason those  confusing lines.  I needed him to make sense of it all.

While he could confirm that he also saw two lines, I needed to see a doctor, a heartbeat, something, anything!  So I made an appointment for blood work.  The numbers definitely indicated that I was pregnant, but they left me with more questions.  They were awfully high for the timing of a pregnancy.  So I made an appointment for an ultrasound.  My google search told me that those high numbers could be a complication.  I waited with a pounding heart while she carefully scanned my abdomen, afraid to breathe.  And then she stopped.  

I was prepared for the worst.  And then she pointed to a black opening on the screen.  Inside was the tiniest little peanut… a baby.  It was REAL- a beating heart and all.  But she wasn’t finished.  A second sac- another baby- another beating heart.  My stomach flutters as I even recall that moment. How did I go from such fullness from four children, to such loss after a miscarriage, to such joy and the blessing of a second set of twins?  It’s still very surreal!  

I never fully understood the term “rainbow baby” or should I say “rainbow BABIES?”  And then it happened to me.  I won’t say that the idea of parenting 6 children didn’t take our breath away.  Jason actually cried real tears at one point, and I laughed for at least two straight weeks.  I will celebrate my 39th birthday just before they are born and Jason will be 42 in February.  We aren’t as young as we once were- that’s for sure!  But I also trust the Lord!  Clearly He has plans for us that we never could have dreamed up.  His ways are good, and His gifts for his children are abundant.  I couldn’t be more thankful for these rainbows after that unplanned storm. His timing is never wrong... even after 18 years.  

So, here’s to 2019, TWINS, and trying to recall how we actually survived it the first time through.  Certainly we learned a few things the first round and will knock this out of the park!  I think Jason and I can also both agree that six is a good stopping point!  We are certainly blessed!  

Wondering about the gender?

Baby BOY Marlin and Baby GIRL Marlin have a due date of June 9, 2019, but I expect we will meet them before then!  We covet your prayers as they continue to grow strong!

Round 2.

Last week, I turned 38.  I was fortunate to spend the day with my family and my parents who were visiting from Georgia.  On Friday, my children said their goodbyes to Gigi and JD.  After I tucked them all in, I quietly descended the stairs to find my husband praying over my precious mama.

In 2015, my mama battled breast cancer.  She boldly faced weeks of chemotherapy, surgery, and all that goes along with each of those.  A few months into her own battle, she walked through the same nightmare with her mother.  This year would have been her two-year mark, the one everyone pushes towards.  Some high numbers in her bloodwork sent her on a roller coaster the next few weeks.  There were some "we think it could be something"s, followed by some "it's probably nothing"s, that led to a "maybe we'll wait a test again in a few months," that ultimately led to a biopsy.  The biopsy made things clear, and tomorrow, she'll begin Round 2 of a road that no one wants to travel twice.  

A few months before our family moved to India, I came across this verse:

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.—2 Corinthians 1:3-4.

While I can't see the future, I can see the past.  And my mama has exemplified this verse. At a time when she could have wallowed in self-pity, she saw her affliction as an opportunity.  A chance to pray for others who were suffering from cancer.  An opportunity to speak encouragement into the lives of struggling friends.  A time to make items and send to a cancer facility for those who'd come after her and could use a little sunshine in their day.  I've watched her help nurse my grandmother back to health when she herself was struggling physically and emotionally.   And I've seen her be transformed by a disease that could have stolen all of her joy, yet strengthened her in ways I couldn't have imagined.  

Tomorrow she'll undergo surgery for breast cancer a second time.  If you know me, chances are you know my wonderful mother.  There aren't many people in our lives that haven't been touched by her generosity and love.  Maybe she's cooked for you, sewn for you, or just helped you out at school during her many years of being a secretary.  Maybe she's a neighbor to you that goes above and beyond sharing some milk and sugar.  Maybe she's your fellow church member that pours into your little ones on Wednesday night or during VBS.  Maybe you sit in Sunday School with her or share a pew in worship.  Whatever your tie is to her, I know she's been a light to you.  

My family would so covet your prayers and encouragement for her tomorrow.  That she'd have a peace that comes only from the Lord.  That the doctors would have steady hands and make wise decisions.  That she'd walk away from this a second time, healthy and strong.  But most importantly that she'd be a light for Christ along the way.  

Here's to Round 2!  And clinging to the promise that He's got the whole world in His hands... even my precious mama! 

Christmas. 2017

Today is Christmas--- December the 25^th in all its’ glory!  As I look outside my Missouri window, I see beautiful white snow covering every horizontal surface.  I’m slowly taking down years of accumulated Christmas decorations, doing laundry from last night, and nursing sick people, including myself.  Actually, I’m supposed to be sitting around a room with family that we don’t see very often.  But this year, five out of six of our clan have fallen victim to the flu!  It’s been eventful, but not at all in a good way!  All the same, it seems to be what makes Christmas for us!

When I was growing our Christmases were so predictable and safe!  I literally knew every step of them long before they happened.  Each year, we drug out the exact same Christmas decorations… the blue-faced angel my brother colored as a child, the trio of porcelain Christmas mice, the collection of Belkie bears, and a wide-variety of others.  We visited grandparents like clockwork, opened our one present on Christmas Eve, and then awoke to a full room of Santa’s delivery on Christmas morning!  It was perfectly perfect and it never ever changed.  And I liked it very much.

And then I got married (which was a good thing, by the way!)  But that little Georgia Christmas changed.  I lived six hours away from them, and although I still made it home, it looked different.  And nothing about our Christmases has ever looked predictable.  I can’t help but ponder them all today.

There was the Christmas in 2005 when we were waiting on a judge in Ukraine to sign over rights to a two year old and make us the parents we’d dreamed of.  We came home to a house where a church family had put up and decorated a tree for our new family of three! 

In 2008, we were waiting on yet another addition to our family.  Not knowing when Max’s mother might give birth, we were hesitant to drag out lots of decorations, so we pulled down a small tree on Christmas Eve and a few balls.  It was our last Christmas as a family of three. 

In 2011, we spent our first Christmas abroad!  Not thinking Christmas decorations were a priority, we didn’t bring any with us.  Instead we lucked up on the saddest tree you’ve ever seen at a mall in India.  We paid almost $100 for it and loaded it up with homemade ornaments.

In 2012, the same tree was in place, but an accident with a saw would leave our little family of four sitting in an Indian hospital praying that Jason’s arm would be okay.  Luckily, he would heal, but it scared us all!

In 2013, we sat on a beach in Thailand.  I was VERY pregnant with twins.  We buried a little tree in the sand and shared our last Christmas as a family of four.  It was an absolute dream.

And then there’s this year.  The flu.  Lots of laundry, Tylenol, and Tamiflu.  Hopefully Jack will remain standing!  Fortunately, in preparation to head south for Christmas, we opened presents with our kids last week.  So everyone had a few days of health to enjoy all of their toys! 

Maybe we will make it south soon, but there’s a chance we won’t!  All the same, this is what Christmas is made of for our family of six!  And each of them… the good ones, the bad ones, the scary ones, the exciting ones… they are perfectly perfect!  And I like them very much!

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

a teacher's fingerprints.

I'm a teacher.  I began at the age of four with a few lifeless dolls.  I've taught in church, covered a variety of grades in public school, and have even taught my own children.  I'm in a new season these days... substituting a little on the side.  I have forgotten so much in the last few years.  A teacher's job is so difficult.  Meeting federal mandates can often be tricky enough, but don't forget that states, districts, and even individual school administrations have their own plans for you.  Much of your day is spent managing individual behavior plans, modifying lessons to meet ALL students, and somehow trying to keep your own sanity.  And even after my short, infrequent days of substituting, I often recall those feelings from my past of "Why did I choose this?"  Much of a teacher's time is spent dealing with anything BUT teaching.  And let's be honest... we've all found ourselves one discipline referral away from complete burnout!  But every afternoon I pick up a nine year old.  He may not be nine or a boy, but he's in your class.  His presence is often overshadowed by all that is going on, but he's there. And on the days that you go home and begin listing all the other possible professions you could take on tomorrow, I wanted to remind you about him!

He's the kid that cries on the first weekend after school starts.  Real tears.  Because he wants to go to school.  Every.  Day.

He often calls his mama "Mrs. Johnson," because you actually spend more waking hours with him than I do.  When I make him fresh, out-of-the-oven muffins in the morning, he always wants to know if there are enough to bring one for you!  Often times he comes home and is deeply troubled at the way another student treated you, struggling to understand the actions of a student that has wronged you.  The little seed that you buried in class and sent home as a tiny seedling--- it's sitting on our kitchen counter.  It's a seventh member of our family, and I sweat every time it begins to droop.

When you do a project in class, he's quick to come home and duplicate it for us all.  He is eager to share your joy of teaching with his entire family.

His bulletin board is littered with things that bring him joy, and so many of them are from your class.
 

When he makes his birthday list, you are at the top.  In fact, he thinks to invite you to almost anything... because you've showed him that you value him and that means surely you'd want to see his three minute shepherd performance in the church Christmas program!  And when you actually show up--- well, that's enough to explode his little heart (and his mama's!)  When you read a book aloud in class, he begs to check it out from the public library so he can follow along as you read each day.  At dinner, rather than chit chat about his day, he takes time to tell us all how our hamburger is like a main idea and everything else on it is a detail... certainly something he's heard from you.  A chance meeting with you in the grocery store is equivalent only to meeting an extinguished dignitary!  You are so much more than an 8 AM to 3 PM figure in his life.

He says that one day he's going to be a  doctor or a preacher.  And maybe he will be.  But whatever he becomes, your fingerprints will be on it, because you loved him, encouraged him, and taught him.  He'll be better next year than he was last year, because you stayed the course and made learning fun and engaging!

So heads up, Teachers!  There are a lot of these boys--- and girls--- counting on you.  Tomorrow when you correct that child for the fifth time and the tardy bell has yet to ring, when that student still can't do long division even though you've shown her just shy of a thousand times, and your administration sends out one more thing that has to be done today, just remember how powerful your fingerprints are!  Place them carefully and remember why you do what you!  And know that he wakes up every morning wondering what incredible thing you have planned for him today!  No pressure... he already thinks you are amazing!

more little things.

{a list of gratitude.}

1.  Fall weather and homework on the porch.

2.  My future Picasso.

3.  His determination to do things his way (and boots that have been around for all three boys)

4.  A husband that prays over his children.

5.  The way she always asks her to "paint [her] toes!"

  

6.  His creativeness with my blush.

7. His amazing growing skills.

8.  The way she loves a baby.

  

9.  Partners for life.

10.  Tomatoes that grow a little too close, but sweet neighbors that still love little thieves.

  

11.  His ability to tap into his "girly side" when she asks him to play.

12.  Toothpaste.  Lots and lots of toothpaste.

13.  Long chats with an eight year old after some hard days.  And the notes he leaves for me in "our notebook."  Praying he always keeps me in his loop!