Away in a Chamber…A Christmastime update on Marc

As many of you have kept Lance's brother Marc in your prayers, below is an update from his wife Hope.  They both continue to inspire...

Away in a Chamber…A Christmastime update on Marc

Today we casually packed our belongings (can stuff procreate?) and are now settling in for our last night in a lovely one-bedroom bungalow rental in Bend, OR.

During the past two months, Marc has been a client of Bend Memorial Clinic’s hyperbaric center to finish the treatment series he started in Portland four months ago. He did a total of 77 “dives” in the space age looking chambers that combine 100% oxygen with high pressure to infuse the body with the oxygenated blood.

The goal was to revitalize the tissue in Marc’s brain that was adversely affected by the gamma knife radiation. Our hope is that Marc will regain some of the vision that he lost as the radiation became active half a year ago. In 2-6 weeks we will have a better measure of the treatment’s help/success.

Initially, I kept thinking of this as a detour. A treatment to try to remedy the negative effects of a previous treatment. Hmm, that reads like a detour to me. But as we take moments to stand firmly in this experience, I realize that this isn’t a detour—it is life. If we keep looking beyond, we’ll miss what this part of the pilgrimage offers. And Bend has offered us a much needed time of rest, reconnection, prayer, and break from routine.

Tomorrow, December 16th, will be one year exactly since the gamma knife procedure in Seattle. The day will be marked with one last morning walk to Lone Pine Coffee Roasters (our local fave) for a macchiato and a cappuccino. Then we’ll load up our Rav4 and head home, thankful for this time of sanctuary in, not from, our life.

We’re grateful for each and every one of you. We wish you a blessed holy season and a year ahead of mighty grace and peace.

Love, Hope and Marc

Bee a Tervis Tumbler

Every morning I make a pot of Tazo Earl Grey Tea which then sustains me through the day in my Tervis Tumbler. (It’s iced and sweetened of course, I am a good Texas gal and all.)

Those who know me know that my Tervis Tumblers are always at my side. I love them. If you have one, you know what I’m talking about. If you don’t, they are those iconic mid-century insulated tumblers you’ve seen for years.
My goal lately is to be more like my Tervis Tumblers. Why?

Tervis Tumblers are:

Virtually Unbreakable – Now I know I’m not virtually unbreakable. As a matter of fact I am easily broken, but, through faith, this jar of clay can be a Tervis Tumbler…I know it to be true. I just have to keep remembering...

Dishwasher Safe – Yep, that’s right, easy clean up. When things get messy I want to be easy to clean up. No more excuses, no more blaming and no more grudges. Life’s messy. We can either be the that dirty stained wretched glass that must be soaked in vinegar and scrubbed by hand or know, that through the Dishwasher of Grace, we can start all over sparkling clean.

Reduces Condensation – In other words…no sweat. This is a great feature of the Tervis Tumbler. No sweat rings! How I would love it if I could have fewer sweat rings, less stress and more peace. In times of stress when the sweat rings are coming on, I vow to take a moment to reflect on those who model a life of peace. What are they doing? What are they not doing? What can I learn? How can I change?

Double Insulated – The world can be full of things which hurt, challenge, exhaust and deplete. We can hide from them, lash out at them or, insulate ourselves as best we can through a strong faith. It’s not easy and even the Tervis Tumbler doesn’t always keep the hot hot and the cold cold. Sometimes the hot is just too hot and the cold is just too cold. I hope to work daily on building a faith that can buffer even the hottest hots and coldest colds life can offer.

So…striving to be like a Tervis Tumbler? Yep. I’ll let you know how it goes….

Bee Thinking:
2 Corinthians 4:7

Buzzzzzz:
Peace, Love and Happiness
G. Love and Special Sauce

Bee a Working-Stay-at-Home-Helicopter-Single-Republican-Democrat-Fill-In-the-Blank-Mom

I have finally come to some acceptance that I am a working mother.
Now, that's pretty convenient in light of the fact that my youngest just started Kindergarten.
The pressure to be a stay-at-home mom is a little less.
No more feeling guilty over missing play groups, park dates, MOPS meetings or having that special Sesame Street time together mid-morning.
Fewer "How do you do it?" inquiries in a tone that is more accusation than compliment.
Less internal battles over the stay at home vs. working mother guilt wars.

Wow.

Do I wish I had more stay-at-home time? You bet.
Do I have regrets? Wish I didn't but I do.
Do I feel I miss out? The fact is, I did and I will.

What have I learned from this?

Being a mother is filled with the best intentions, effort and decisions we can make at the time.
We are hard-wired at the birth of our first to make choices in favor of our child's best interest.
I’ve wasted a lot of energy trying to be a working-mom who tries to do all of the stay-at-home-mom things simultaneously and perfectly.
Doing things is not the same as being a mom.
All moms are doing the best they can at the time with what they know to be true for their children.

So...

I haven't really come into some acceptance that I am a working mother at all. What I have come to accept is that I am Just-A-Mom.

Being Just-A-Mom trumps working mom, stay at home mom, strict mom, lenient mom, helicopter mom, independent mom, single mom, and the list goes on. Just-A-Mom is just enough for our kids. They know that and we would be better served to know that too. These young years go by fast, embrace yourself with the love that your children embrace you.

One day, I will have a heartfelt and incisive examination of this time in my life. Right now, I simply don’t have the time…
…being just a mom and all.

Bee Thinking:
Psalm 90:12

Song of the Hive:
Wash Away
Artist: Joe Purdy

Bee Hopeful...Even When the Rain Comes

This post is going to be a bit different. Hope and Marc are beautiful, strong individuals. We pray for Marc's healing and Hope's strength as they continue on their journey. Marc and Hope, many are lifting you up and holding you in their hearts.

From Hope

Hi Friends and Family,

During Marc’s Seattle check-ups in mid-July, they told us that Marc needs hyperbaric treatments (high pressure/pure oxygen) at high levels right away if we are to have a chance of preserving and/or improving his failing vision. He has radiation necrosis and hyperbaric is commonly used to help the body rejuvenate areas of soft tissue (or bone) that are starting to die off (we want the evil-spawn cells to die, but unfortunately vital tissue and cells are also dying or narrowing from the radiation he had in Dec. to help squelch the last of his neuro-malformation.)

Insurance denied the initial pre-authorization and our follow up appeal. We loaded them with data, letters from doctors/surgeons etc., but no green light. We can’t wait for the corporate “yes” because each day matters. But we can follow the instinct/God leading “yes” that pushes us forward.

Soooo….Marc’s first appointment was Monday at Providence hospital in Portland. (The only hospital with this treatment in the region.) Marc needs 60-80 daily treatments. We'll fervently pursue all the appeal levels as we also explore other facility options (including out of country) that are not the financial equivalent of signing up for the "car of the week club." (Don't sign up for that, by the way, even if an eager, hardworking teenager appears on your doorstep with a clipboard and a smile.)

In Portland, Marc is close to his doctors and he can live with my sister, Dawn, and her family. (Thank you, Cadwells!) They happen to live 5 minutes from this hospital...a great blessing in all this.

It feels very good to move forward with the support of family and friends as we pray for wisdom at each turn. And healing…oh yes…bring on the healing.

"No eye has seen, no ear has heard, and no mind has imagined what God has prepared for those who love him." 1 Corinthians 2:9

In this, we rest in the unknowing and are grateful for the peace that comes in spurts and waves...as it did during our road trip up here on Monday.

With gratitude for each of you. I know you walk alongside us, prayerful and compassionate. We take these gifts with us every time we venture forth.

Love, Hope (and MARC!)

Bee Thinking: 1 Corinthians 2:9

Song of the Hive:

When the Rain Comes
Artist: Third Day

Bee a Miss Dodger

I watched a quirky movie over the weekend - Phoebe in Wonderland. I'm no movie critic so I'll spare you the summary, critique and commentary. But, it struck a chord in me.

One of the more powerful moments is captured below and in the trailer linked above. Watch the whole thing if you can, the trailer if you can't or just take a moment to read the quote below. It's beautiful...

Miss Dodger: At a certain part in your life..probably when too much of it has gone by... you will open your eyes and see yourself for who you are.

Especially for everything that made you so different from all the awful normals. And you will say to yourself, "But I am this person." And in that statement, that correction, there will be a kind of love.

Bee Thinking:
2 Corinthians 12:9-10

Song of the Hive:
Shine
Artist: Anna Nalick

PS-To those who drop by my blog, thanks for sharing this process with me.

Bee Crystal or At Least Try

This is from a friend of mine's blog that is worthy of following. She has a bazillion kids, responsibilities and reasons to go nuts each day yet keeps it all in perspective.

Crystal & Co.: Crystal's Life in Stacks

Bee Thinking:

Matthew 6:25-34

Song of the Hive:

Watch Me Fly

Artist: Dana Parish

Bee-Fuddled

Back when I was in graduate school, upon writing my thesis, I became stuck on a section of statistical analyses that I couldn’t get past.

I knew that I needed to have this particular function to appropriately analyze my results but I just didn’t understand how it worked.

It killed me.
I read.
I studied.
I tried different types of analyses to perform the function I needed.
I made my major advisor crazy.
I made myself crazy.

My Thesis Committee waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Finally, one day, my major advisor had enough and assigned me to work with a doctoral candidate with a subspecialty in statistical analysis for the health sciences.

Finally a breakthrough was near.

I met Captain StatMan on campus in the bowels of the computer lab to go over my area of concern/complete block. He read my thesis, reviewed the format of my data and quickly ascertained that I indeed needed to use the dreaded function that I didn’t understand.

I explained to him this was all well and good but I needed to understand the function, not just use it.

He asked, or rather stated, “Why.”

I tried to counter that to be true to my thesis, I needed to understand every last piece of it to believe in it and defend it to my committee.

He stated, “Why.”

I rambled on about intellectual integrity, life long learning and something about all the dead crickets in the computer lab basement floor (they were very crunchy when stepped upon and the sheer volume of squished dead crickets made the floors slick but that’s another story for another day) and the tragedy of all the dead crickets.

He remained nonplussed with my reply and queried back, “How did you get here today?” I was fairly certain he was trying to see how quickly he could extricate himself from the crazy girl trying to finish The Thesis Fated Never to Be Completed so I quickly shot back “My car, why.”

“How does the carburetor work on your car?”

Now, he should have known not to ask a girl from South Hurst how a carburetor works (yes, this was before fuel injectors) as I explained in painful detail everything except the Bernoulli Principle and fluid dynamics.

He realized he was going to have to try harder.

“Okaaay…does the carburetor work without you knowing HOW it works?”

“Well, duh of course it does what’s the point anyway, I can see you need to get home and thanks for your help and, oh…I see.”

*Blink*

*Blink*

*Sigh*

“I still have to know how the function works to incorporate it into my thesis.”

At this point he said, “Let me show you.” He chicken pecked in my representative data, wrote the code and voilà, after the clatter- whirr- whine- pause- line feed-swish of the dot matrix printer, the results were there in grey, sorta recognizable numbers.

“Too easy.” I said, “It works but I don’t understand how.”

“Not important-just make it work for your thesis and know that it does.”

Long story short, I gave up on my quest shortly thereafter for understanding the “how” of the analysis and trusted that it would indeed work.

Amazingly it did and my Thesis Committee had no interest in the intricacies of the statistical analyses. I graduated and lived happily ever after, or at least, finished my thesis.

Knowing the "how" is great, unless we lose the bigger picture of why we want to know in the first place. It's a lesson I keep re-learning...

Bee Thinking:
Proverbs 3:5-6

Song of the Hive:
Soul Shine
Artist: Beth Hart

Bee Thinking About This...

My Favorite Facebook String of the Week

Status Update:

KL* just Twittered his MySpace Friends that he's updated his Facebook profile that will tell everyone to follow him on Twitter... ....then a freak wormhole opened up in Narcissitic Space. BLOG that!

Comment:

Dude, that post rebooted by iPhone, Blackberry, iMac, PC, MacBook, Android G1, and those little electrode things I use to control my social media seizures. Sad Whale. Bing. Ack.

Reply:

my Blackberry just powered down in dissent, and my remote control is stuck on Lifetime network...doesn't matter, the TV is porting all the close-captioning to Mandarin.Hope Floats, in Chinese, kinda translates to "You're a loser, round-eyes"Gadget Conspiricy, just like Assimov predicted.....

*-Authors are not identified to protect the, well innocent doesn't work here, but maybe intelligent does...

Bee Splotchy

A friend of mine recently commented that I wear a lot of black. I think she was trying to tell me to add some color in a round about way. I went back to my closet to take inventory and indeed she was right. I wear a lot of black.

My clothes just don't start out that way.

There is my favorite Banana tee that was worn so many times that any more bleach or bluing would render it a tattered mess. Just a bit of Rit Dye Black and voilá, the new black Banana tee formerly known as the white Banana tee was born.

There are my best, softest bamboo yoga pants. They are my favorite thing to wear except for my favorite jeans which are older than my first born but that’s not the point. The point is, I LOVE them. Unfortunately, I spilled bleach on their cobweb greyness one day and they then looked tie dyed in all the wrong places and one of the splotches looked like Jesus which I found distracting and well, you get the idea.

Again, Rit Dye Black.

As I looked through my closet I noticed all the clothes that had once been a color other than black. In my mind’s eye I still saw them as their original color but in reality the Rit Dye Black now covered up all the living, blemishes and splotches they once held.

Covering up splotches is what we do. It’s natural. It’s human. And, when it comes to favorite clothes, it’s recessionista chic.

Our lives are very much the same. We look for the Rit Dye Black to cover up all the messes, heartaches, grief, shame and just plain living that we do. This is not a bad thing. It works and we can go on a little less splotchy.

But…
it does make it harder to see our own original color or that of those around us. We often miss the Passion Red or Honorable Purple or True Blue or Sunshine Yellow.

Yep, there’s a lot of Rit Dye Black around and it’s not a bad thing- as long as we remember to see the color too.

Bee Happy With the Chaos

Friday's Five Things to Bee Thankful For or The Keebler Elves, Crown and Crumbs

The Keebler elves must have had a party in my pantry over the weekend. No really. I think they got tired of working, ran away from the hollow tree and landed in my pantry for a rockin' night out. Perhaps they found the Crown stuck in the back, took a few sips and proceeded to just get a little jiggy with it.

Anyway, you should see the elfin aftermath.

So...today's things to be grateful for:

1. I have a pantry.

2. I have a pantry with food.

3. The food, wrappers, crumbs and chaos aren't so bad.

4. The dog will help clean up.

5. A pantry devolved into chaos is a great motivator for a clean, organized pantry.

Now if only I had a little elfin magic.

Bee a Transformer

Today's Graces:

1. Knowing that even when the Sunday School lesson goes completely awry, the 5 year olds don't care and yes, you and they can turn Transformers into a beautiful object lesson.

2. Loving the 5 year olds.

3. The 5 year olds loving back.

4. Being asked to teach.

5. Teaching.

Bee Cool

Friday's Five Things To Be Thankful For:

1. Air conditioning
2. Ice
3. Deoderant
4. People who wear deoderant
5. Fall

Bee a Censor

Image via Wikipedia

Five Phrases to Be Erased From Our Family Lexicon Starting Tomorrow

1. Insert Name of Person Who Apparently Doesn't Speak at a Decibel Recognizable to Nine Year Olds -say whaaaat? *Bulge eyes for effect and look incredulous*
2. Um, not so much. *Roll eyes for effect*
3. Oh no you di n’t! * Include 3 part Z-Snap*
4. OMG!!! *Includes crossed arms and minor stomping*
5. I know…right?

Let me illustrate....

Conversation in my house:

Me: OK, time to turn off the computer.

9 Year Old: Crazy- Turnin’-Off-Computer-Momma say whaaaat? *Bulge eyes for effect and look incredulous*

Me: You heard me, enough computer time for today love. Don’t you think you’ve played enough?

9 Year Old: Um, not so much. *Roll eyes for effect*

Me: Well, regardless, time to turn it off.

9 Year Old: Oh no you di n’t * Include 3 part Z-Snap*

Me: Oh yes I did young lady and no more computer for the rest of the week, and Hannah Montana and iCarley and whatever else I can think of!

9 Year Old: OMG!!!

I know…right?

h69wzeqntg

h69wzeqntg

Bee Indignant...if only for a bit.

An excerpt from a real letter from a real person to a real company (who shall remain nameless) who is letting me share her wit, wisdom and ability to keep the big picture in focus. Hysterical and oh so true.

What in the world are you trying to do to me? How can you sleep at night knowing what you require of consumers when they think they are going to get a rebate for buying one of your products? Please indulge me for just a moment as I walk you through the painful process that prompted this email .

First you tell me I must fill out the form correctly (Print my name in all caps??? are you kidding??), then I must make sure I use the right address label that you have provided for me (don't fill that envelope out yourself, that will surely void the rebate!) Finally, I almost lose a finger cutting the bar code label off of the box. ( Don't forget to send in the UPC code AND proof of purchase!! Almost got me there!!)

I double check my assignment, make sure I have enough postage ...good Lord, the envelope is almost two inches thick. I truly believe that too few stamps is probably what trips up most consumers........(thank goodness for my in-home postage meter) And then maybe if I haven't screwed up any of the 14 steps , I might be lucky enough to actually get that rebate.....

Not so fast Mrs. Hardworking-short on time-we thought you needed a craft project consumer: Now what we are going to do is send you a prepaid card that requires another 5 steps to redeem it!!!

She certainly will have lost her mind by now and won't be able to make it through this last stage of the process!! I easily see through this thinly veiled effort to try and get me to give up, your are obviously hoping that if the average "Bubba" does manage to actually get his origami project mailed in on time, there is not a chance in hell that he will have the fortitude to make it through the last 8 steps to activate said card?

Well gentlemen, I hate to inform you, but I've been to this rebate rodeo many times before. And this cowgirl isn't going to give up. Not only am I going to activate my card, choose a pin, verify my information and re verify my pin, but after doing so I am going to take sheer pleasure in marching down to my local grocery store to spend my twenty dollars.

As I approach the express lane, I will lift my rebate card high over my head, and laugh an evil, blood curdling laugh knowing you didn't get the best of me. All the while realizing that the time it took to fill out your tedious nerve wracking forms is time that I can never get back.....time spent away from my husband and children, time I could have spent volunteering at my local food bank, time that is gone forever.

My hat is off to you.....enjoy your golden parachute, while I scurry off to claim my gallon of milk and box of tampons.

Just Bee

Every St. Patrick's Day since 1989 I took a special moment to observe the day Susie left. Her mom calls it "transitioning" which is beautiful. "Left" is how it felt at the time and "died" is the word I use now. The finality of the word "died" does not frighten me any more so it is the one I choose. If you knew Susie, it would not frighten you anymore either.

I usually find some way to send a note to a friend, find a place to be alone or even drink green beer in her honor. That is until this year. Somehow March flew by like the wind, April a blur and May, well who knows. It was only this day, that I realized that March came and went without any observance on my part whatsoever.

Susie is laughing. And reminding me again. And teaching me again. And doing all those things she did while here that made me crazy, and mad and happy all at the same time.

So Suze, it is on this day that I vow to slow down. Choose to be. Have time to remember my friend. Thank you again for the reminder. I needed it.

Green beer anyone?

Bee a Sparrow

Below is a feeble tribute to Susie written in my younger days looking back at my even younger days...

St. Patrick’s Day. A day for celebration, and wishes of good luck. A day to say good-bye. As I approached the college chapel I noticed how beautiful the campus was in spring. Trees budding with life, flowers celebrating with dashes of brilliant color and green, green St. Patrick’s Day grass.

I had a driving need to be at the chapel before anyone else. When I arrived I wondered why. No flowers, no people, just the unique silence a place of worship holds when not filled with believers. Sunlight streamed through the windows and onto the pews as if preparing a palette of light for those soon to be seated. I slowly walked down the main aisle needing and yet dreading the upcoming day’s events.

I ascended the stairs and busied myself with the necessities of the afternoon service. Ministers appraised, music sifted through, family and friends notified.

Eulogy written, rewritten, torn up, and written again. What words could possibly mean anything?

I fervently prayed for strength to get through the next hour and a half without succumbing to the overwhelming grief that had enveloped my life since hers had ended. I looked at what I had written. Words so inadequate for a life so wonderful, a fight so valiant and a comrade so dear.

Would she understand? Would those who loved her? Would I be belittling a spirit with words so seemingly weak? I shoved the words into my pocket as the minister and her parents walked in and welcomed them. Enough time for reflection.

I was amazed at how many people fit into the tiny chapel as I peered over the podium. The music had been beautiful, the minister’s words consoling and now there was me at the podium with a feeble declaration of her life’s impact. As I began to read my voice faltered.

I stopped and peered into the sea of people who now looked to me for… what? While gazing out into the crowd, my eyes locked with an old friend sitting in the middle of a pew crammed full with the many young faces present. Something drew me past his tears and out the doors of the chapel which were opened on the warm spring day. A sparrow had perched herself on the chapel’s stair landing and at that moment decided to sing to her heart’s content. Her chirps were loud and clear and captured the essence of what my eulogy struggled to convey. Although her euphony lasted only a few seconds, it was long enough to celebrate the life of a friend.

In those few seconds, the message became clear. The service was not about my words, her chirps or biblical verse. It was about the grandeur of grief. A sadness so deep over the loss of a person so treasured. New valuation, acceptance and release of the fight that was fought. Overwhelming love for the person that was and the Spirit that is. Words could never do justice. Just a collective consciousness drawn from the depths the souls who knew her.

As I finished reading my poem, I knew I had contributed my piece. A single note in a symphony of retrospection, emancipation and celebration. But a note nevertheless.

Like the death of a close friend, loss visits us in many forms; a cancer diagnosis, a layoff from a job, sending a child off to college, ablation of a dream, separation from a loved one, a project nullified, a friend wronged and so on. All losses deserve the opportunity to be grieved-be they major or minor. Through grief, powerful healing and growth can occur.

Grief drives us to review the important and unimportant in our lives. Grief lends us the strength to accept the unacceptable. Grief compels us to touch parts of our souls we did not know existed. Grief links us to others in ways we never imagined. Grief redefines what Happiness is.

So my friends, think of each of your losses as the death of a dear friend, and give yourself the freedom to mourn that loss. There is no wrong or right way. It is a deeply personal process. Simply put, it is not the way in which we grieve; it is that we do grieve. So, shed a tear, scream into a pillow, write a poem, reach out to a friend, or even…lend an ear to a sparrow’s song.