Today ... June 15, 2012.
Yesterday ... June 15, 1979.
Both, auspicious days. Both, linked together in an auspicious way. Both, a new creation, a new begining, a Birth.
I can only write/talk/speak/breathe/shout about one of these days ... at this point. And yes, I'm being intentionally vague.
Thirty-three years ago on this day, we arose very early - the Hubs and I - and set off on a hoped for, worked for, planned for marvelous journey. Full of Emotions we were. Excited. Fearful. Thrilled. Nervous. Happy. Full of praises and thanksgiving. Grateful to the Lord for His blessings. Neither of us quite believing that THE DAY had - FINALLY - arrived.
Our second child, our daughter, was born a few hours later. We knew the baby would be special, a girl, and we knew she would complete our family. We already had a beautiful, blue-eyed-blonde son, an active little imp of six-and-a-half who kept us up and on our feet and filled our days with sunshine. We felt so blessed that we'd also get to be parents of a little girl; happy that our family would experience "one of each!"
Our little girl.
Courtney Cathryn Stevens. Blue-eyed and beautiful and blonde, like her big brother. And such a tomboy (stomping her foot at two, saying, "I not wearing that lace!"). Smart, thoughtful and kind Courtney.
We had labored to find two names that started with a C; we had in mind to call her CC. But no. After she arrived, she was clearly not a CC. She was Courtney. She fought to stay out of dresses, despised tap dance but loved gymnastics, and chose her brother's Matchbox cars and Action figures over her Cabbage Patch dolls. Athletic and strong ...varsity letters in softball, basketball and track, but softball was her passion. From T-ball through fast-pitch summer league, travel teams, high school, and college, she was the catcher who ran her teams with percision calls.
Tender-hearted Court, ever the un-selfish child, even as a toddler when she'd share her last bite of ice cream. Creative Court, ever the imaginative child, writing poems (published at age seven), making up games and stories, writing a play for first-graders when she was a fifth-grader, and winning a national short story contest in high school. In college her creative writing side was side-tracked by her intuitive nature as she switched from communications to a major in counseling, but she continued writing skits, keeping a journal and public speaking. She earned two masters degrees and began a career as church youth director, working with children and teens, and continued writing.
With Courtney's birth on June 15, 1979, our family began a fun, adventure-filled ride through life! We have loved her, rejoiced with her, sorrowed with her, and enjoyed every minute, just as we have with her big brother. Her thirty-three years of passions and achievements have kept us busy and "on the road, again" through many different journeys.
We are thankful and grateful for our two children, both truly gifts of God.
And today, June 15, 2012, is no different. Today we arise early, the Hubs and I, setting off on a hoped for, worked for, planned for marvelous journey. Again. Full of Emotions we are. Excited. Fearful. Thrilled. Nervous. Happy. Full of praises and thanksgiving. Grateful to the Lord for His timely blessings. Neither of us quite believing that THIS DAY has - FINALLY - arrived. (Though we both had faith that it would. Someday.)
The emotions of both days are the same, and are linked together by our daughter, Courtney Cathryn Stevens.
And that's all I will say, all I am free to say ... today.
:-D
Stay tuned for Part 2.
Saturday, June 16, 2012
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
A Week in June
"We hit the sunny beaches where we occupy ourselves keeping the sun off our skin, the saltwater off our bodies and the sand out of our belongings." An astute (as always) observation by Erma Bombeck, one of my favorite columnists.
As the first week of June rolled in, our family congregated on a sunny beach in Fort Walton Beach, Florida, 2012, for our every-other-year reunion. Normally, we met in the odd years, but my "nine-decades-young" mother decided that life is too short to wait until 2013. She planned a bonus year trip, and all but the family of one grandchild found a way to arrange a week away from work. We arrived from Chattanooga, TN - Franklyn, TN - Mt. Pleasant, TN - Murray, KY- Bowling Green, KY and Kevil, KY. We occupied four condos at our favorite resort, all close together and on the bottom floor looking out over an expanse of white sand and emerald waves.
Let the "occupying" begin!
The location is well-loved, well known. The oldest of us have been visiting this resort since 1984, and the familiar is dear to us. So are the traditions that have grown through the years. Ours include: a family portrait, an evening meal eaten together at a local seafood restaurant and long days spent under bright blue beach umbrellas with foaming waves nearby and the "biggest sand pile" providing all the entertainment necessary. The adult couples sgn up to provide the rest of the evening meals for the entire group in turns (Family Law : someone must prepare a shrimpboil). The kids expect nightly flash-light crab hunts and early morning shell hunts; the adults gather for coffee on the patio after a daily walk through the bay neighborhoods. There's always the scent of sunscreen and cool Aloe lotion. Sun visors, hats, sunglasses and flipflops, boogie boards and big tubes and floats, sand toys and sand castles, kites and cameras - all make up the sunny fabric of our vacation. There's just no better place than the beach to entertain children of all ages.
The gulf resembled a clear aqua lake the first few days. It was float paradise and easy supervision for parents and life guards. Mid week there was a full moon. The weather people claim the moon and the tides had nothing to do with the sea change that occurred, but overnight the water erupted into huge rollers and breaking waves at nine and ten feet high, something usually tied to the effects of a tropical storm. The skies remained sunny and there was no storm to explain the rough seas, but there was a powerful undertow and a fierce rip tide. The life guards flew red flags and warned swimmers to keep their feet on the sand and to go no further than thigh-deep, something that was difficult to maintain, given the ferocity of the waves. Only the surfers and paddle-boarders defied the warnings on our beach. But five miles away, out from Destin Harbor, three boats capsized at different times and pitched boaters into the water. The ten people were rescued, though there were some injuries. But two swimmers, an eighteen year old boy and a thirteen year old girl, drowned. Caught in the riptide, they were unable to last until rescuers could reach them. My heart breaks for the families these two teens left behind. Their loss is unimaginable.
Each summer, the thought of what could happen, of what is possible, briefly enters my mind as I fold clothes into suitcases and stuff beach things into totes. The sea is no amusement park ride, no thrill with tightly snapped seat belts and controlled action. We step into the salty brine and act as if we are in charge. We flirt with the seas and the awesome power of God, with creatures who see us as prey, and we believe we are invincible. As much fun as it is to ride the big waves, it is never wise to ignore their power.
We'll still go. We'll still brave the rough water and protect ourselves from the sun. There will be another trip, another week where we enjoy the beach, meet old friends and have a wonderful time in the sand. But as we delight in the awesome orange, purple and pink-streaked sky at sunset and the pastel sunrise at dawn, I can only be grateful that my family is safe. I pay homage to Almighty God for the beauty of the world He created, and I revere His power in creation.
And I'm very thankful that our week in June was such a marvelous one.
As the first week of June rolled in, our family congregated on a sunny beach in Fort Walton Beach, Florida, 2012, for our every-other-year reunion. Normally, we met in the odd years, but my "nine-decades-young" mother decided that life is too short to wait until 2013. She planned a bonus year trip, and all but the family of one grandchild found a way to arrange a week away from work. We arrived from Chattanooga, TN - Franklyn, TN - Mt. Pleasant, TN - Murray, KY- Bowling Green, KY and Kevil, KY. We occupied four condos at our favorite resort, all close together and on the bottom floor looking out over an expanse of white sand and emerald waves.
Let the "occupying" begin!
The location is well-loved, well known. The oldest of us have been visiting this resort since 1984, and the familiar is dear to us. So are the traditions that have grown through the years. Ours include: a family portrait, an evening meal eaten together at a local seafood restaurant and long days spent under bright blue beach umbrellas with foaming waves nearby and the "biggest sand pile" providing all the entertainment necessary. The adult couples sgn up to provide the rest of the evening meals for the entire group in turns (Family Law : someone must prepare a shrimpboil). The kids expect nightly flash-light crab hunts and early morning shell hunts; the adults gather for coffee on the patio after a daily walk through the bay neighborhoods. There's always the scent of sunscreen and cool Aloe lotion. Sun visors, hats, sunglasses and flipflops, boogie boards and big tubes and floats, sand toys and sand castles, kites and cameras - all make up the sunny fabric of our vacation. There's just no better place than the beach to entertain children of all ages.
The gulf resembled a clear aqua lake the first few days. It was float paradise and easy supervision for parents and life guards. Mid week there was a full moon. The weather people claim the moon and the tides had nothing to do with the sea change that occurred, but overnight the water erupted into huge rollers and breaking waves at nine and ten feet high, something usually tied to the effects of a tropical storm. The skies remained sunny and there was no storm to explain the rough seas, but there was a powerful undertow and a fierce rip tide. The life guards flew red flags and warned swimmers to keep their feet on the sand and to go no further than thigh-deep, something that was difficult to maintain, given the ferocity of the waves. Only the surfers and paddle-boarders defied the warnings on our beach. But five miles away, out from Destin Harbor, three boats capsized at different times and pitched boaters into the water. The ten people were rescued, though there were some injuries. But two swimmers, an eighteen year old boy and a thirteen year old girl, drowned. Caught in the riptide, they were unable to last until rescuers could reach them. My heart breaks for the families these two teens left behind. Their loss is unimaginable.
Each summer, the thought of what could happen, of what is possible, briefly enters my mind as I fold clothes into suitcases and stuff beach things into totes. The sea is no amusement park ride, no thrill with tightly snapped seat belts and controlled action. We step into the salty brine and act as if we are in charge. We flirt with the seas and the awesome power of God, with creatures who see us as prey, and we believe we are invincible. As much fun as it is to ride the big waves, it is never wise to ignore their power.
We'll still go. We'll still brave the rough water and protect ourselves from the sun. There will be another trip, another week where we enjoy the beach, meet old friends and have a wonderful time in the sand. But as we delight in the awesome orange, purple and pink-streaked sky at sunset and the pastel sunrise at dawn, I can only be grateful that my family is safe. I pay homage to Almighty God for the beauty of the world He created, and I revere His power in creation.
And I'm very thankful that our week in June was such a marvelous one.
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
My Big Fat Greek (NOT) Praise!
The last time I posted was about the Big C, my 83 year-old mother-in-law's breast cancer, and her strong faith in the midst of stress and uncertainty. On the whole it was a pretty positive post. Her cancer was diagnosed early, caught by a routine mammogram; and if you have to have cancer, it was the "best" kind for a woman to have: hormone driven and not in the lymph nodes. The surgeon had given her a choice. Have a mastectomy with no radiation or chemo (unless it had spread to the lymph nodes) or a lumpectomy followed by a precautionary course of radiation treatments daily for five or six weeks. She chose the lumpectomy and was fortunate that it had not spread.
But still.
The radiation. Simply the idea of having to be somewhere every day for six weeks: getting up at a certain time, dressing for an outing instead of staying at home, eating by a certain time, dealing with whatever the weather might be when you have arthritic joints and an intolerance to cold, being driven twenty-something miles everyday for a two-minute treatment ... it's daunting at that age, at any age. In the month between surgery and that first appointment with the oncologist, while her body recovered, my mother-in-law didn't say much about it, but there must have been many doubts running through her head. My husband and I certainly had them. We did the internet searches, talked to friends with personal experience, did some soul-searching, and sent up a truckload of prayers for guidance.
Yesterday, we met with the oncologist. Oh, MY. After he reviewed her case and gave his recommendation for her, she turned to me and said, "It's all those people praying! It's all those prayers!"
Because, you see, the doctor did not recommend radiation treatments for my mother-in-law. He looked beyond the conventional, almost automatic recommendation that follows a lumpectomy and went right to the heart of THIS case, to the heart of THIS lady, and saw what was important and what was RIGHT for HER. In her case, radiation wasn't the most important treatment. It is PRECAUTIONARY and not as necessary as her WELL-being, not as important as the quality of her life. The stress and anxiety the treatments would cause are not worth the benefits they MIGHT have. And instead, this wise doctor prescribed just a tiny little pill, an estrogen blocker, that she will take daily for the next five years. Further, he explained, the radiation would only target the remaining healthy tissue in the one breast where she had already had surgery, but this "miracle" pill would target healthy tissue in BOTH breasts - a much better prospect - and would help cut her risks for the reoccurrence of a hormone-driven cancer in half. (Conventional treatment for my mother-in-law's type of cancer with no spread typically combines both radiation and the daily pill.)
Let me tell you, my sweet, arthritic mother-in-law practically danced to the car! She was euphoric! Talk about being on CLOUD NINE! At one point, the words "Will you TEXT (so-and-so) to let them know?" actually came out of her very low tech mouth!
At first, sitting there in the doctor's office, my husband and I were practically speechless. We smiled and acted right, but he didn't say much and neither did I. I'm not certain how he felt, but it was almost as if That Doctor stole our thunder!
It was like ... I was still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like ... did I HEAR him correctly? I mean, I was SO excited. But OH, was I ever surprised! See, we had gone armed with a list of questions; actually printed them out on a yellow pad. Top of the list: how worth it is it to put her through the radiation treatments? How much difference will it make? We were prepared to be relentless with our questions, because we wanted to KNOW. In the end, I suspect, we'd have caved. If the doctor had said, SHE MUST DO THIS, I'm sure we'd have said "okay" in this tiny, little whisper of a voice. BUT we wouldn't have liked it, and we would have dreaded it. But you know, you just have to do what you have to do for your mama.
It hit me, really HIT me, by the time we got to the car. No radiation. Oh, wow. OH, WOW.
No. That should be OH. MY. GOD. Literally. PRAISE GOD from whom all blessings flow! Give credit where the credid is DUE, for God's sake. Why is it that we human units are SO prone to ASK and then so stupidly surprised when we GET? I had prayed for guidance, hadn't I! SOMEtimes I am so slow, I just never quite GET it, it seems! Not true of my mother-in-law. First words out of her mouth: "It's all those people praying! It's all those prayers!"
And it was, of course. A whole family praying. A whole church praying. A whole set of friends praying. And the unshaken faith prayers of one sweet 83 year-old lady faced with the Big C.
So THANK YOU, Lord, for reminding me that You always know what we need and You take care of it, even when we numbly stand on the shaky ground of "I think I have to do it myself;"
and ... for being patient with me yet again, for reminding me one more time ... that all our blessings do, indeed, flow from You.
But still.
The radiation. Simply the idea of having to be somewhere every day for six weeks: getting up at a certain time, dressing for an outing instead of staying at home, eating by a certain time, dealing with whatever the weather might be when you have arthritic joints and an intolerance to cold, being driven twenty-something miles everyday for a two-minute treatment ... it's daunting at that age, at any age. In the month between surgery and that first appointment with the oncologist, while her body recovered, my mother-in-law didn't say much about it, but there must have been many doubts running through her head. My husband and I certainly had them. We did the internet searches, talked to friends with personal experience, did some soul-searching, and sent up a truckload of prayers for guidance.
Yesterday, we met with the oncologist. Oh, MY. After he reviewed her case and gave his recommendation for her, she turned to me and said, "It's all those people praying! It's all those prayers!"
Because, you see, the doctor did not recommend radiation treatments for my mother-in-law. He looked beyond the conventional, almost automatic recommendation that follows a lumpectomy and went right to the heart of THIS case, to the heart of THIS lady, and saw what was important and what was RIGHT for HER. In her case, radiation wasn't the most important treatment. It is PRECAUTIONARY and not as necessary as her WELL-being, not as important as the quality of her life. The stress and anxiety the treatments would cause are not worth the benefits they MIGHT have. And instead, this wise doctor prescribed just a tiny little pill, an estrogen blocker, that she will take daily for the next five years. Further, he explained, the radiation would only target the remaining healthy tissue in the one breast where she had already had surgery, but this "miracle" pill would target healthy tissue in BOTH breasts - a much better prospect - and would help cut her risks for the reoccurrence of a hormone-driven cancer in half. (Conventional treatment for my mother-in-law's type of cancer with no spread typically combines both radiation and the daily pill.)
Let me tell you, my sweet, arthritic mother-in-law practically danced to the car! She was euphoric! Talk about being on CLOUD NINE! At one point, the words "Will you TEXT (so-and-so) to let them know?" actually came out of her very low tech mouth!
At first, sitting there in the doctor's office, my husband and I were practically speechless. We smiled and acted right, but he didn't say much and neither did I. I'm not certain how he felt, but it was almost as if That Doctor stole our thunder!
It was like ... I was still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like ... did I HEAR him correctly? I mean, I was SO excited. But OH, was I ever surprised! See, we had gone armed with a list of questions; actually printed them out on a yellow pad. Top of the list: how worth it is it to put her through the radiation treatments? How much difference will it make? We were prepared to be relentless with our questions, because we wanted to KNOW. In the end, I suspect, we'd have caved. If the doctor had said, SHE MUST DO THIS, I'm sure we'd have said "okay" in this tiny, little whisper of a voice. BUT we wouldn't have liked it, and we would have dreaded it. But you know, you just have to do what you have to do for your mama.
It hit me, really HIT me, by the time we got to the car. No radiation. Oh, wow. OH, WOW.
No. That should be OH. MY. GOD. Literally. PRAISE GOD from whom all blessings flow! Give credit where the credid is DUE, for God's sake. Why is it that we human units are SO prone to ASK and then so stupidly surprised when we GET? I had prayed for guidance, hadn't I! SOMEtimes I am so slow, I just never quite GET it, it seems! Not true of my mother-in-law. First words out of her mouth: "It's all those people praying! It's all those prayers!"
And it was, of course. A whole family praying. A whole church praying. A whole set of friends praying. And the unshaken faith prayers of one sweet 83 year-old lady faced with the Big C.
So THANK YOU, Lord, for reminding me that You always know what we need and You take care of it, even when we numbly stand on the shaky ground of "I think I have to do it myself;"
and ... for being patient with me yet again, for reminding me one more time ... that all our blessings do, indeed, flow from You.
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