Thursday, October 31, 2013

Halloween Memories

It's hard to fathom that it's Halloween today. Where in the world did the month go? Certainly not as I expected. I had planned a house decorated with fall foliage, full of pumpkins and gourds, filling the house with colors and textures of the season. Something that could easily move from Halloween into Thanksgiving. Instead I'm making do with memories of Halloween past.

Growing up with Halloween as a fiber of Americana, I've never been a Christian horrified of the holiday. As a child, I met Halloween with excited innocence, looking forward to not just the reward of mass quantities of sugary treats, but the fulfillment of the perfect costume that set me apart from the rest of the crowd. I was blessed with a mom who sewed my costumes each year. As a voracious reader, my imagination often got away from me and being a prairie or puritan girl was always high on my list of things to be for Halloween. Of course, being a princess, too, didn't hurt.

Those memories were so special to me that I was determined to make my children's costumes each year just as my mom did. At the beginning of each October, we would head to the fabric store, combing through patterns to find the perfect alter-ego for the night. I miss the flurry of excitement those moments the costume came on in anticipation of the big night. It broke my heart when the children finally began to chose store bought costumes over my handmade efforts.

All the costumes I've made, all the costumes my mom made, are lovingly saved in a vintage suitcase in our garage. I was hoping that since I had a girl, she would wear the costumes my mom made for me, but Brie's dreams were different than mine so the only costume that she ever worn of mine, was the clown costume that mom made for me that, ironically, I hated so much as a child. Looking at it with adult eyes, it's the best costume that my mom ever made and I'm so thankful we still have it. I'm even more thankful that Brie willingly wore it one year. She looked so ridiculously cute in it.

Still I keep all the costumes we have in hopes that perhaps one day they will be worn by a grandchild…or two. If not for Halloween then just for dress up when they come to visit. After all, some of them would make great Tea Party attire.

Things for which I'm thankful:

  1. Wonderful memories
  2. Yummy leftovers for lunch
  3. Making it through the radiation planning session
  4. The kindness of the staff at Kaiser
  5. A beautiful sunset on the drive home
  6. The Lord's faithfulness
  7. The strength that I'm feeling 
  8. Pictures of my grand babies in their Halloween costumes
  9. Weekend coming up
  10. My feet hitting the ground when I woke up this morning

Wednesday, October 30, 2013

The Full Makeover

How can I begin to explain the blessing of the prayers that have been said in my name? Prayers of loved ones. Acquaintances. Extended family. And strangers who have never laid eyes upon me. When this all began, I clung to those prayers because often times it was too hard for me to even begin to pray for myself.

The night before my mastectomy, my brothers, sister, mom, children and nephew, gathered around me, laying hands upon me, praying for protection, for healing, for mercy. I will never ever forget the peace I felt that night and how thankful I was for the love of such a wonderful family.

Since that time, others come to pray for me. My mom's cousins came shortly after my hip replacement, gathering around me in our living room, sharing with me scripture, words of hope and encouragement and prayers. A co-worker of my mom's came to our house several time to prayer over me, anointing me with oil, as did a good friend of my sister-in-law's when I went to visit in September.

I am in awe of the generosity of such faithful service to God when someone I don't know very well offers to prayer on my behalf. Yesterday, I was blessed by another experience when a friend of my dad's spoke to a men's group at her church to see if they would be willing to pray for me. They were and yesterday I met them during their prayer group where they lay hands on me, praying over me in tongues, anointing me with oil.

From the moment they first began to pray it was like a wave of rushing water surrounding me, their voices speaking different words, but yet all in symphony. My body shook violently at first, not in pain, but shuddering in response to the warfare I felt happening within my body.

I wish I could say that by the time I walked out of the church I was walking normal, completely healed. I was still in some pain, but I did feel stronger and more confident than before. I have no doubt, no doubt, at all that God has the power to heal me. I have no doubt at all that God will heal me, it's just a question of when.

Even as the doctor talked to me on Tuesday explaining that my skeletal structure was very weak, all I could think was God could make it strong again. I felt very much the same thing I felt when the doctors would warn me to get my things in order. The doctors see scans and test results. God doesn't need to see those things to know what's going on in my body. He knows exactly where I need to be touched, where healing needs to occur, what needs to be done. That gives me hope.

Today I felt more confident than I have all week. I moved around more, the tentativeness gone. It still hurt to walk, but the fear that has taunted me since last Thursday was gone. This evening I thought about moving around more, but there was this voice inside me telling me to rest and let the work that God began last night to continue to work. I satisfied myself with a quick stroll around the backyard and have been resting ever since.

I am very hopeful that by the time the next four weeks are up, that I will be strong again, that the doctors will look at me and wonder what in the world happened. Their plan is to make me comfortable, not make me whole. God has other plans. Until then, this time is about being still and listening to God. I need healing in more than one way. It's not just my body that needs work, but my mind and my soul. Might as well get the full makeover. I could use one.

Things for which I'm thankful:

  1. A lovely lunch at home with Brie today
  2. A body of Christ who prays so faithfully
  3. The sound of my mom and dad laughing together yesterday
  4. A wonderful phone call from Matt this evening
  5. Feeling stronger both mentally and physically
  6. A very good night's sleep
  7. My sister's love
  8. The support of my co-workers
  9. A warm shower 
  10. My feet hitting the ground as I got out of bed this morning

Wordless Wednesday

Tuesday, October 29, 2013

The Goodness of the Moment

After a long day, fighting with emotions, the evening started to look up. In the early evening hour, right after my mom got home, I walked outside for a few minutes. It had rained earlier, but the skies had cleared just enough to make for a wondrous composite of clouds, blue and reddish yellow hues.

As I shuffled across the sidewalk, a light drizzle began, cleaning off all the angst I had felt earlier in the day. My hope began to spring again. I only wished I could have stayed out there longer soaking in all the goodness of the moment.

I wasn't about to take any chances with the pain so I downed my douse of steroid and two pain meds sometime after 5pm. They both helped a lot, as did an unexpected visit from some friends in the neighborhood and a FaceTime call with my little family in the desert.

This morning I woke up in much greater spirits. The hardest part is trying to figure out how much pain I  should mask and how much activity I should endure. I do not in any way want to aggravate my fractures any more than they are already. I have hope for healing and want to do everything I need to do to make that happen.

Adding to my peace and comfort are the prayers I know are being sent up in my name. Yesterday I received a sweet card from my cousin's wife. While it made me cry, it also made me feel so loved and happy. That's what is so important. And it's equally important for me to find a way to love on my loved ones even with limited mobility right now.

It's why I also feel a compulsive need to find thanks all day long. In the little things and the big things.

Things I for which I'm thankful:

  1. A delicious spaghetti dinner prepared by my mom and enjoyed around the table by the three of us
  2. Brie so willing to run errands for me, including refilling my steriod prescription
  3. A lovely rain yesterday that I enjoyed with windows open experiencing the full effects of the cool air and drip drip drops of the raindrops falling
  4. Working today with the sliding glass open, the fresh air stirring my soul
  5. My feed hitting the ground as I got up from bed this morning
  6. My lovely daughter in law who shares her children with me so wonderfully
  7. Friends who stop over with See's Candies for support
  8. A sweet card in the mail 
  9. The ability to wake up my daughter for school this morning
  10. A day in which to give Thanks and Glory to God

Monday, October 28, 2013

Finding Peace

I wish I could say that there weren't times when I feel fear rising over me, threatening to take me under into depths that I don't want to go. I cling to the Word, my hope and my promise as tight as I can, but there are moments when it's hard. Today is one of those days.

The steroid I've been taking has helped. A. Lot. It was initially prescribed for me to take two tablets for five days, once in the morning and once in the evening. It's been an elixir. With it I've been able to forego the Hydrocodone and use Tylenol instead for the little extra aches and pains. Starting yesterday, I was supposed to go down to one tablet in the morning. By 10pm, I could hardly walk. Brie had to come and rescue me, helping me get from the kitchen table to my recliner.

As I sat in shuddering pain, Brie brought me another dose of steroid followed by a chaser of Hydrocodone. I wanted two, but settled for one. I didn't get up again until between 1am and 2am. It's unnerving knowing that without the steroid, I can barely stand. If the episode was designed to scare me, it more than did its job.

The fear carried into the morning. My cellphone remains planted by my side as I pray for the call from the Neurosurgeon to come. In the meantime, I pray that I don't allow the fear to overwhelm. I will be strong in the Lord. He will be my strength. In Him, I shall find peace

Thankful for:

  1. Brie's loving and willing assistance yesterday
  2. Cellphones by my side, just in case
  3. The ability to put my feet on the floor this morning
  4. A job where I can work from home
  5. Knowing that I can give all this to God
  6. Last minute face-timing with Max and Rori
  7. A cool Autumn day
  8. A decent night's sleep even after all the went on
  9. Food in the house
  10. Steroids and pain meds

Sunday, October 27, 2013

Finding the Gift in it All

A few years ago, when I went up north to visit my sister, she suggested we spend one evening at The Painted Cork, a little local establishment where patrons could paint a picture and enjoy a little vino while creating their masterpiece. I wasn't so sure about the whole thing. Me with a paint brush, painting something other than solid lines? I could barely draw stick figures.

Eliz was so enthusiastic about the whole thing which was really astounded me. Being such a perfectionist it's often hard for my sister to start an art project because she is afraid of making a mistake. I couldn't tell her no. And after one look at the art studio, I was glad that I didn't. No matter how horrendous my painting would be, I would at least be assured of some decent pictures of the night.

It turned out to be much more fun than I thought. The instructor took us step by step through the process and spurred on by a little wine, I found myself dipping my paintbrush into the paint as though I was the next Van Gogh. The best part of the whole evening was watching Eliz create with such ease and confidence. Seriously, that girl should walk around with paintbrushes in her hand.

Knowing my best friend loves to paint, I tried looking for similar classes here in the south, but none appeared to compare….until a few weeks ago when I happened upon a little place in Newport Beach. There was a painting class coming up in which the scene was a postal card of the Eiffel Tower. Perfect! I sent the link to Liz, asking if she was interested. The next day, I was signing us up for class. I was determined that I would be well enough on that day to go.

That day is today. It's not to be. I'm disappointed, but not as crushed as I thought I would be. Instead, I'm thankful I have a friend who is likely disappointed, too, but loves me more than spending the day in Newport Beach painting. Today we will spend a quiet afternoon together, maybe get something to eat, drink a little coffee. I may even convince her to help me clean out my room a little more. If I'm going to be more of a homebody, it'll help if my room looks pretty hang out in.

Yesterday passed slowly. With ups and downs. Tears and joy. I had planned to power through, but I just can't. I can't afford to put myself in a position where I do more damage. I managed to go to the book store for about thirty minutes and then drove through the Starbucks for a mocha and morning bun to lift my heart. I need to take advantage of this time of rest and mending and find the gift in it all. It's not easy to do when places in my heart call out to me.

But there were quiet happy moments, too. I took my camera out and took a few pictures. Not great ones, but it was a start. And I didn't let my emotions get carried away when they came. I let them come, but said goodbye as quickly as I could to the ones that shouldn't stay. Today my back aches more which makes me thankful that I was honest with Liz last night and finally told her that I didn't think I should go. I'm praying that the Tylenol I took a short while ago takes the edge off so I can stay off the pain meds prescribed by the doctor.

There are still a few days left of October. I'm going to make the most of them as best as I can. This day day is a gift. For that I give thanks.

Things I am thankful for:

  1. A good nights sleep
  2. My best friend who understands and is coming to visit today
  3. My mom's company
  4. My walker that arrived yesterday
  5. My dad who will come and put the walker together
  6. Good magazines
  7. Belle
  8. My cameras
  9. Online shopping
  10. Today

Saturday, October 26, 2013

Scary Words

Scary words were spoken this week. The kind that I want to push back from my brain like a dream, but  there is no way to deny them. No matter how I try to protect myself, there is no way to escape them. It was the same feeling I had almost five years ago as I lay in hospital preparing for surgery asking the doctor how long the artificial hip they were about to implant into my body would last. The surgeon looked at me as though I was a stupid insect and told me simply, "You need to get your things in order".

As I looked at him, I was suddenly conscious of every blink of my eye as though they could wipe away the words that he so callously cut into my heart. My mind rebelliously thought, "you don't know", even as my heart beat with fear.

This week did not go as planned. After last Friday, I had hope for a good, painless and productive week. Instead, Monday the pain was so immense, I could barely walk, calling for a trip to UrgentCare which at least offered some relief. A steroid was prescribed to help with the pain. Thankfully, it produced the desired effect almost immediately.

Tuesday was my appointment with the Radiation Oncologist, a young sweet doctor who spoke in soft tones and looked at me with kind eyes as she told me what she felt additional radiation would and wouldn't do. It offered me a 80% chance at decreasing the likelihood that my femur wouldn't break at some point so I agreed it would be the best course of action.

The only thing that made me nervous was the fact that I would need to lie on my back for the planning stage and the treatment itself. I had been sleeping on my recliner since Saturday night as sleeping in a flat position was painful. With my MRI on Wednesday, I knew that would be the test as to whether I could do it.

With the steroid and two tablets of the pain killer the doctors had prescribed, I was able to walk down the hall of the medical center to radiology on Wednesday for my MRI. With God by my side, this claustrophobic scaredy cat was able to withstand almost an hour in the little narrow tube they encase you in for the scans. The knocking of the machine didn't bother me. I found comfort in it knowing that meant the machine was one, working and I wasn't lying there forgotten. Even more of a miracle was the fact that I was able to do lying on my back. As they pulled me free from the tomb, I gave thanks, whispering, "I did it". Truth be told, God did it.

When Dr L called on Thursday afternoon to share with me the results of the MRI, I wasn't surprised. In many ways it was a relief, the explanation I needed as to why walking and standing up have become such a trial…stress fractures in my spine caused by the cancer and compression. They would treat these with radiation, hitting them when they work on my femur. There was also a rise of fear. Now I knew for sure. My bones were more frail than I wanted to admit. There were questions I knew I had, but couldn't think to ask. He told me that he would call Dr H and she would get a copy of the results.

I called my dad, talked to my sister and shared the news with my mom. Each call brought a round of questions that I couldn't answer. Answers to questions that I didn't want to ask. If I don't know I can pretend that things were more normal than they are. But one movement of my body and the truth is there, even a full jug of milk is hard for me to carry.

I had planned to call Dr H on Friday just to make sure that she saw the MRI results so the lower spinner would be included in the radiation planning session that I would have on Halloween. Turns out I didn't need to do it. Sometime before lunch, Dr L called again telling me he had called Dr H to review the results. Since she wasn't in, he conferred with her colleague who wants to refer me to a neurosurgeon. I pushed back the rising fear I felt as I asked the Dr if there were precautions I should take in the meantime.

The rest of the day was spent working as I lay in my recliner. Sometime after 4pm, I stopped working and just lay there numb. My biggest fear of all, losing my joy, losing my faith. I kept telling myself that no matter what, my life can matter. I can have the joy of the Lord. I can still be the creative being that God has called me to be. I can still love on my family, but it hurts to know that I can't just get up and drive to the desert on a whim to see my babies there.

Selfishly, I thought about what this meant for me and my photography. How I've scaled it down for the last few months and how it's been on my heart to start picking it back up.

This may present a new challenge, but it doesn't mean it's not doable. I have not given up hope. Not at all. Not when I know that my Lord, Jesus Christ is right along side of me, as well as in front and behind. Yesterday was a day of reflection, absorbing the shock waves, processing the meaning, trying to figure out what it all meant, how do I balance taking care of myself and not giving up independence, the things that I love.

It all comes down to this. I may need to do it. But there is one thing I will never need to give up, one thing that has and will never leave me. My Lord. And with him walking beside me the whole way, guiding me down this path, I know it can be done.

Today, I am thankful for:

  1. Being able to get dressed by myself
  2. My feet hitting the cool floor this morning 
  3. A sister who prays faithfully for me
  4. My mom
  5. A comfortable patio to drink in the morning delights
  6. The sun shining
  7. Sweet times with my baby girl before she heads off to her dad's
  8. The sounds of the early morning
  9. Feeling rested after a good nights sleep
  10. The peace of the Lord that dwells in me

Saturday, October 19, 2013


I came home from the doctor's on Wednesday armed with a high powered pain medication. Well, at least with more kick than the Tylenol I've been relying on for the past month. Since I had just taken some Tylenol a few hours before the prescription was filled, I was biding my time until I could take the relief I so desperately wanted. But a strange thing happened as the hours passed, so did the pain. When the time had come that I could take the pill, I decided to wait and see what would happened.

An hour went by, then another and soon it almost nine o'clock at night. I discussed the pros/cons of taking the pain medication before the pain really set in versus waiting until I really needed it with my mom. Uncertain, I grabbed the white bottle that promised to mask the pain and typed in the name of the drug into my computer's search bar. Everything I ever wanted to know about the drug suddenly appeared before my eyes. The side effects alone made me decide to wait until I needed it. I haven't regretted that decision.

I went to bed that night for the first time able to lay comfortable on my back and turn side-to-side while I slept. I awoke yesterday morning feeling like a new person, the pain on my left side virtually gone and I was able to stand much straighter than before. It was a day of reprieve. It was what my heart and soul needed.

I began to make plans for today. I would go out with my camera, take a drive to The Pie Hole where they are celebrating their two year anniversary with Banana Cream Pie. Banana Cream Pie. There must be some nutritional value in that. I would even take my camera with me. Maybe, just maybe, I would feel a spark of creativity again.

My excitement was short-lived. I woke this morning with the pressure in my abdomen again. Not as pronounced as Tuesday or Wednesday, but it was (and is) still there. Disappointing to say the least, but I am not defeated. I know this will pass. I believe it with every fiber of my being. And even if it doesn't, I will still find joy. In my life. In the every day.

Thursday, October 17, 2013

Silver Linings

It could have been a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. After all, I cried eight times between the hours of 9am and 11am. But in between the rain showers were silver linings.

  • Kindness of strangers
  • Compassionate nurses
  • A loving mom
  • A sweet text from my BESTEST
  • Support from my dad and sister
  • A doctor who heard my concerns and thinks I'm worth fighting for
  • A God who has not and never will forsaken me
I was so sure that I would be able to make this doctor/chemo appointment on my own and when things began to fall apart, it took me a while to dial the phone and call in the calvary. In part because I still wanted to be strong enough. Why is it so important to do things on my own, I kept asking myself. Because giving in feels like a slippery slope especially when I'm facing such an uphill battle.

This morning I got up with so much hope. Even after a night that ended in such pain that I could hardly get dressed for bed, I was thankful that despite my discomfort, I'm happy and that Brie can see that. Still at breakfast, I had me a good talking to with God, asking him why he hasn't he healed both Kim and I. 

As I sat there, head bowed, at first I couldn't pray at all. As I asked God to understand that I had no words, they suddenly just started flowing. My frustrations, my hurts, my impatience. It felt so good to get them off my chest. Because even though I believe and trust in him, it doesn't mean I don't like that what I'm going through. I don't. It sucks. 

But it could be worse. When the nurse asked me if there was someone I could call. There was. And they both came. My heavenly father and my earthly mother. 

Monday, October 14, 2013

I Still Have Hope

Went to bed last night with the lowest pain level I've had in a long time. I was hopeful that meant today I would awake with this behind me or as least able to forego my daily downing of Tylenol. I was wrong.

My devotional's title today was "Be Prepared to Suffer for Me". Really Lord? I didn't want to, but I read it anyway. "Pain and problems are opportunities to demonstrate your trust in Me. Bearing your circumstances bravely - even thank Me for them - is one of the highest forms of praise." I don't know that I'm bearing it all bravely, but I do trust in Him. I'm just thankful I'm not in that dark place I was this time last year.

Here's what I don't understand, the why. Earlier this year, a wonderful, beautiful person I have been lucky to meet was diagnosed with cancer. It was found in her lungs and other vital organs and she was given a mere six-months to live. This was in early March. Her journey has been a painful and exhausting one. Yet, she has trusted in God throughout.

Her caringbridge journal has almost 100K hits since it was created just 7 months ago. She has touched the lives of so very many. If you knew her and her devotion to God, you would agree she is someone God should heal. But he hasn't yet. She has endured one setback after another, with grace and dignity because she trusts in the Lord. Her latest setback came last week and she was told by her doctors it would be a miracle if she makes it to Christmas.

Yesterday my sister-in-law went to visit Kim and while she was there they worked on "getting her things in order". It broke my heart to read the news. It hurts my hands to type this now. Yet, I still have hope. Kim may very well outlast me. I haven't given up on a miracle in Kim's life and in mine. As long as we draw breath, I still have hope.

Sunday, October 13, 2013

Enough for Me

This morning mom asked me if I was in more pain. More pain than what, I asked. I didn't mean to be facetious. More pain than yesterday? No. I just hadn't taken any Tylenol. More pain than two months ago? Definitely.

There are things I miss about my life. Things I long for. Things for which I haven't given up hope.

I miss walking about without giving a thought to it. To stroll along the beach or the city streets without wondering if I can make it from point A to point B. To just be focused on the surrounding beauty around me.

I miss standing straight and tall. It's so ironic that growing up I wished I were short. In high school it seemed that the small petite girls got the attention. In college, I learned to appreciate the value of being tall. Not that I was ever really tall at 5'6", but more importantly, I wasn't short. With the compression of my spine, not only am I short, but I'm awkwardly curved, too. There are days when I long for my heavenly body.

Yet, even though I'm in pain and long for healing, I'm thankful that I'm not in a dark place. I feel a tremendous sense of trust and peace in God. If I think about the future, I get nervous, but I learn to let it go. I can only take it one day at a time.

Today, I got up, got ready for church, met a friend there and had a good visit at lunch with her afterwards, the weather was gorgeous. All in all it was a good day. That's enough for me.

Saturday, October 12, 2013

In the Game

October 12. The month has almost half past. Where did it run off to? If I'm going to live, then I'm determined to live and it seems that for the past few weeks, I've been somewhat going through the motions. I say somewhat because this time around I feel like my head and heart are in the game, it's just this body of mine that isn't cooperating.

Still I know there is more I can do. Because it's hard to move, I come home, sit on my recliner, wasting far too many minutes (hours) on the internet and watching too much TV. That must change. Starting. Now.

Even in this state, I know there is something more that the Lord wants of me. It's my job to understand what that is and then do it. I can make excuses or I can find a way to live. For the rest of this month, I want to:

  1. Make a trek to Crystal Cove
  2. Finish at least three more portraits for my photo project
  3. Work on two assignments from the Visual Toolbox guide I bought
  4. Finish hanging my pictures on the wall
  5. Go out at least twice with a camera in my hand
  6. Pray every day thoughtfully, specifically, devotedly for six people in my life
  7. Find ways to spend more time outdoors
Time to get to it!

Friday, October 11, 2013

Friday's Letters

Dear Brie,

Lunch was fun. Thanks for finally giving in and saying yes to the Cheesecake Factory. The brownie sundae made it all worth it, but next time we order that first. I don't like eating my desert in a hurry.

Dear family in the desert,

It was so good seeing you again even if it never seems like we stay long enough. It did my heart good to see your smiles.

Dear Photography,

I miss you. I miss dialing in the aperture, the shutter speed and the sound of the snap. I miss chasing the light and keeping my eyes peeled for the moment that clicks. I miss downloading the results in anticipation and the honest critique of the shot I got. I'm hoping this weekend we can catch up a bit.

Dear Lord,

To steal the lyrics from one of my favorite songs because they've never been more true than than they are now. I need you. Every hour I need you. You're my one defense, my righteousness. I need you.

Dear Kim,

Your news hurt deep. I don't understand. Not one bit. But I won't give up hope so I will continue to pray. For healing for you, for healing for me, for grace and mercy for our families.

Wednesday, October 9, 2013

He is Able

My daily devotion speaks to me. It's been such a blessing in light of the way that I've been feeling. Mentally, I'm doing well. Physically, the struggle to walk without pain in my lower back has been wearing on my body and at times on my psyche. If I didn't have to move I would be alright, but I need to move and that's what makes it hard.

If it weren't for the daily inspiration, I would probably be a weepy, depressed mess. It is as if God is speaking directly to me, encouraging me, reminding me, promising me...

  • That He is with me every step of the way
  • That He is in control
  • That I can trust completely in Him
It is what I cling to as I walk from my car to the office, from my office to the conference room, basically, anywhere more than five steps away. And just when I think, I can't do it anymore, I find solace in his words, knowing that in my weakness, He becomes strong, stronger than I could ever be on my own. 

At first it was hard. I had to let go of those things I've been stubbornly holding on to, such as my 365 photography project. Within the depths of my soul though, I knew that I had made photography my idol and it was time to let go. It's also hard to let go of my desire to travel. I still long to heal enough to take that trip to NYC and roam the streets with my camera in hand, stopping only for coffee served in real cups. 

I like to imagine that God has put me in this position for some reason. Perhaps to write, but even then I haven't done much of that either. 

Still I don't give up hope. Hope that God will heal me. Hope that I will be able to walk without pain again. Hope that I will be able to stand up straight (and tall). Hope that I will be able to turn to photography without turning into my idol. Hope that I will write something meaningful. I don't give up hope because I know without a doubt that God is able.

Wordless Wednesday

Tuesday, October 8, 2013

Not Ready Yet

We headed east to the desert. My heart was full, as content as it had been in a while. Ahead was the rising sun, hovering above milky white clouds against a perfectly sky blue backdrop. It had been too long since I had last seen my babies.

Brie had fallen asleep just a few miles into the drive. Before she did, she had turned off the car radio so for a while I basked in the silence, taking in the view before me, happy just to soak it in with my eyes.

If this wasn't heaven, then we certainly have something to look forward to. But I'm not ready yet.

Friday, October 4, 2013

Friday's Letters

Dear Dodger's,

Here's hoping you take it all the way. Won the first game, lost the second, but I still believe. Don't tell my family though because if you were playing against the Angel's all bets would be off.

Dear Wednesday,

You were the hardest day of the week. A little In and Out helped a lot.

Dear Ashley,

Your October series has gotten off to a great start. I feel like you really found your voice. The subject, the honesty, the photos. The first four days have been great. Don't lose your momentum. I'm loving it.

Dear Grandpa,

It's been too long. I miss you still. I miss the sound of your voice, hearing your deep chuckle, seeing your smile, just being in your company. It's been more than twenty-six years since I've heard you call me your little Debbie-doo. I miss that too.