We celebrated Father's Day surrounded by family!
Monday, July 19, 2010
Jenny's Visit
We were so happy to have Jenny & the kids stay with us for a few days before our family reunion. Andrew loves his neices and nephews and had a great time entertaining them. This shows just a small sampling of the fun!
We enjoyed having everyone stop in for visits. Only Eric & Briana were unable to see Jenny, since Elena's counts were so low.
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We enjoyed having everyone stop in for visits. Only Eric & Briana were unable to see Jenny, since Elena's counts were so low.
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Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Family Reunion
We had a family reunion in "The Hills" of Idaho. Thanks to Tom's family for letting us use their property. Here is our tent city! (Minus Christy & Tom, who slept nearby in the trailor.)
The fabulous, and very popular, train ride! What a great idea!
Kai was in doggy-heaven!
Four-wheeling is always fun.
Keeping Lincoln (& all the others) out of the fire was also a popular activity!
We went on a "hike" to Forty Horse Cave. More like repelling (can you go up when you're repelling?) without gear, on slippery gravel. Thanks to the strong men who helped me make it! Those who survived the hike skipped rocks in this little stream before heading back to camp.
Monday, May 31, 2010
Perspective
Today we wandered around the cemetery, reading the sketchy inscriptions that sum up a person's life. When they were born, when they died, who they married, the names of their children--and occasionally a bit more.
My heart ached for the many parents who buried children who died too young and the children who were left motherless.
I stood before the grave of a woman who bore nine children before she buried her husband somewhere in Ohio on the Pioneer Trail. She married again, and had four more children with that husband--and again, death left her a widow. She married a third time--a brother perhaps, since the last two husbands shared the same last name--and gave birth to one more child.
Fourteen children.
All, without a dishwasher or microwave, without a washer or dryer, without a phone or refrigerator, without a car or indoor plumbing.
Today I feel humbled, and a little more grateful.
My heart ached for the many parents who buried children who died too young and the children who were left motherless.
I stood before the grave of a woman who bore nine children before she buried her husband somewhere in Ohio on the Pioneer Trail. She married again, and had four more children with that husband--and again, death left her a widow. She married a third time--a brother perhaps, since the last two husbands shared the same last name--and gave birth to one more child.
Fourteen children.
All, without a dishwasher or microwave, without a washer or dryer, without a phone or refrigerator, without a car or indoor plumbing.
Today I feel humbled, and a little more grateful.
Thursday, April 1, 2010
The Rollar Coaster
After celebrating our good news yesterday, today Elena woke up with a fever, and is currently being readmitted to Primary Children's hospital. She has a bacterial infection. The fight goes on. Thanks to everyone for your continued prayers.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Good News!
Elena's bone marrow biopsy came back at 3% leukemia cells, down from 80% (I think), which means she's officially in remission! (But does not mean that her treatment will get substantially easier in the near future.) Thanks to all who have been praying for her; please keep praying!
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Last night my throat felt scratchy. My first thought: I won't be able to see Elena for a while.
The new normal.
Yesterday I went back to work as though nothing had happened since I left Thursday. Thursday--the day I rushed out of work with a to do list that looked like this:
The phone call came while I was standing in the baking goods aisle. Eric on the phone, his voice sober. He wanted to put me on alert. The doctor thought Elena had leukemia. Briana wouldn't be coming to the bridal shower. They were probably headed to Primary Children's Hospital.
Again.
They were there two weeks before when Lily was sick and Elena was with me.
"Time for medicine, Elena."
"It's not green."
"No, it's not green."
"It's not blue."
"No, it's not blue."
"It's not purkle."
"No, it's not purple."
"It's pink!"
I wonder if chemotherapy comes in pink.
I returned to work yesterday, as though I was coming back from any other weekend.
"Hi, how are you doing?"
"Did you have a good weekend?"
"The weekend wasn't long enough, was it?"
No. Not long enough to grieve and try to put life back together again. I've never been good at small talk. I don't know how to answer the questions.
Playground duty gives me time to think. I'm grateful for sunglasses that provide privacy as I walk among the children.
Life goes on, but how can I? My heart aches for my angelic granddaughter and for my little boy in a big body, and for my daughter who I never carried, or nursed, or read to--but love.
It doesn't make sense. None of it does. Yet my mind returns to the song our choir sang Sunday.
"In this very room, there's quite enough love for all of us.
And in this very room, there's quite enough hope for all of us.
There's quite enough love, and quite enough power, to chase away any gloom.
For Jesus, Lord Jesus, was in this very room."
We were encouraged to think of the room where Jesus washed the feet of his disciples. Instead, I thought of a hospital room where blessings were given. In that very room there was quite enough love, and quite enough power, for His Spirit was in that very room.
Faith will get us through.
The new normal.
Yesterday I went back to work as though nothing had happened since I left Thursday. Thursday--the day I rushed out of work with a to do list that looked like this:
- Shop for groceries & gift
- Clean the house
- Make a relish tray
- Thread the elastic through the casings on the sister skirts
- Fix dinner for 6 adults and 4 kids
The phone call came while I was standing in the baking goods aisle. Eric on the phone, his voice sober. He wanted to put me on alert. The doctor thought Elena had leukemia. Briana wouldn't be coming to the bridal shower. They were probably headed to Primary Children's Hospital.
Again.
They were there two weeks before when Lily was sick and Elena was with me.
"Time for medicine, Elena."
"It's not green."
"No, it's not green."
"It's not blue."
"No, it's not blue."
"It's not purkle."
"No, it's not purple."
"It's pink!"
I wonder if chemotherapy comes in pink.
I returned to work yesterday, as though I was coming back from any other weekend.
"Hi, how are you doing?"
"Did you have a good weekend?"
"The weekend wasn't long enough, was it?"
No. Not long enough to grieve and try to put life back together again. I've never been good at small talk. I don't know how to answer the questions.
Playground duty gives me time to think. I'm grateful for sunglasses that provide privacy as I walk among the children.
Life goes on, but how can I? My heart aches for my angelic granddaughter and for my little boy in a big body, and for my daughter who I never carried, or nursed, or read to--but love.
It doesn't make sense. None of it does. Yet my mind returns to the song our choir sang Sunday.
"In this very room, there's quite enough love for all of us.
And in this very room, there's quite enough hope for all of us.
There's quite enough love, and quite enough power, to chase away any gloom.
For Jesus, Lord Jesus, was in this very room."
We were encouraged to think of the room where Jesus washed the feet of his disciples. Instead, I thought of a hospital room where blessings were given. In that very room there was quite enough love, and quite enough power, for His Spirit was in that very room.
Faith will get us through.
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