Friday, October 14, 2016

When God winks...

It happened on October 14th, 2011.  Five years ago, today.  I was extremely humbled and honored to have my very first story published in the on the minds of mom's magazine.  It popped up in my "On This Day," reminder in Facebook, today.  Of course it did.  Just pinch me now.  I couldn't have possibly known, somehow this would be a "God" wink to me.  

It's been a hard week of loss, and grief.  Our dear friend Karla Johnson, the one in the video I shared, who had asked for Matt Cullen's stick for grandson Brody, went home to be with Jesus, last Friday.  Although I had infusion this Tuesday, I wouldn't have missed Karla's prayer service, Wednesday for anything.  Karla has taught me well.  Her love of her family was so much of what she talked about with us at our group.  She was the mom of 6 kids, and grandmother to 3, with the third grandbaby arriving just before our Karla left us.  Karla was also a NICU nurse, at Sanford Health, having worked over 35 years in nursing.  One can only imagine the sheer number of babies Karla took care of.  
As my friends and I drove out to the small town Karla's service would be held, we weren't in the least bit surprised as the sky turned bright pink, on an otherwise cold and cloudy day.  So fitting in keeping with the spirit of Karla. Her family had even strung pink lights across their house, and wore Team Karla shirts. 

We arrived to a very packed school gymnasium.  The stands were full, as were all the chairs lined up on the floor.  Clearly, Karla had touched a lot of people. The vision of a "living legacy," stretched out right before my eyes. 

As we went to sit down, a woman came over to me.  She smiled and said, "I don't know if you'll remember me.  But I was the one who helped you in the ultrasound department when you were first diagnosed..."  Instantly, emotion washed over me.  I'm sure my hands flew to my face, and then somehow we simply embraced- locked in the moment that had happened just over 5 years ago.  I struggled with remembering her name... Michelle.  But that voice, and her beautiful face and the compassion that enshrouds her, brought me instantly back to that moment.  I have longed to go visit her over the years.  She truly felt like an angel, here on earth, sent to see me through one of the toughest days I have ever known.  (see below)

And here she was again- with Karla having brought us together.  Michelle even mentioned the magazine article, I've copied below, where I wrote about what she did for me.  It was a full circle moment of a huge magnitude for me.

I have felt a longing to write, while not clearly knowing what to say.  Psalm 46:10 has been on my heart lately, "Be still and know that I am God."  So I've been trying to listen more than I speak.  To quiet my mind.  Hush my heart.  Feel the sadness, while also remembering the joyful laughter we shared with Karla.  

Karla with her new baby grand daughter, Addyson. We have no doubt, Karla, the baby whisperer, is rocking babies in Heaven.

Imagine my surprise today, to see, it was precisely 5 years ago today, that I shared the story, of my journey with breast cancer, and how Michelle, so graciously shone light through the dark, and steadied my walk.  

I'm so humbled to say, I'm still living my moments, fuller than ever, counting my gifts as the list continues to grow.  

(This is not the news, I've been waiting to share- its coming soon.  But this is what was on my heart in this moment.) 

My story as it first appeared in on the minds of moms, October 14th, 2011.

"I'm whispering in their ears a lot lately, repeating the same messages. “When you need me and I am not there, you know you can always find me in your heart.” “I love you to the moon and back forever," etc. I have such an urgency for them to know my heart.
My youngest son is nine. Our relationship has grown especially tender. He still holds my hand when we walk to the park. He brings his blanket and curls up beside me to watch “cooking shows,” watching and pretending not to notice when I doze off. He has changed a lot these past few months, in all the ways 9-year-olds do, and in ways no mother wants for her child.
My 11-year-old is changing too. He is taller and faster. He consumes enormous quantities of food and is still starving 5 minutes later. But he has turned down three birthday parties and two sleepovers with his friends. Instead he sneaks upstairs to our room and sleeps on the floor next to my bed, just to be near me. He is stronger on the outside, but it belies how soft he is on the inside. My heart swells and aches for him.
The lump in my breast appeared last December. I knew the feel, the slightly jello like wiggle encased in what I assumed to be cysts again. I kept a careful watch on them. I cut back on caffeine. I got enough sleep. And yet they grew. In March it was time to see the doctor.
I recall at that time, I feel no panic, no worry. I've been here before. The exam, the mammogram and then the ultrasound. But urgency rears its ugly head. I am sent immediately for the ultrasound. The ultrasound tech, briefly examines me, lowers her eyes, walks out to speak with the doctor. She is somber, quiet when she comes back into the room. She flips on the ultrasound image. Its then that I see the blood-red, angry splashes leaping from the screen. “We think it has many characteristics of cancer... no, we know,” she says, “its cancer. I'm sorry to tell you, you have breast cancer. The doctor agreed I could tell you. I think you should be prepared. A lot is going to happen very quickly now. Surgery as soon as next week. Chemo and radiation too.” I find myself crying. Just like that? A few seconds and you can tell? I haven't even had a mammogram yet, or a biopsy. I learn that day, you can see cancer on an ultrasound if it’s big enough. Clearly, my tumor is big enough.
The tech brings me kleenex and my phone. How am I going to do this? I am filled with regret, worry, concern. My husband, my kids, my mom. What will this do to them? She, the tech, is compassion and concern. And it dawns on me, she is brave. She made a decision to be the one to tell me, and not wait for the doctor. I marvel at how she did that. And she hasn't left my side. In all my blubbery, salty-teared sobs, she stands witness, as my heart breaks. Yet a seed plants in my head. She is also courage. And she is showing me how to do this.
Later, it occurs to me, I chose the word “alive,” this year. Each year I choose a word as a theme and watch how it manifests in my life. I went with the word "alive" after my Dad died. I simply wanted to feel "alive" in everything that I do. “Fighting to be" alive was not how I hoped to experience the word. Life is funny like that. And oddly, 6 months past my diagnosis, breast cancer has kicked open the door to feeling my aliveness in ways I couldn't have anticipated.
After much reflection, I realize I have both an urgency to live, while at that same time, wanting to slow down enough to savor every moment of each day. And the key to really doing that? Expanding your time, instead of worrying about extending your time.
I feel more and notice more in the tiny moments of my day. The sweet smell of sunshine and sweat mixed in my son's hair after playing outside in the sun. How golden the sunshine is in August. How water lapping at my feet soothes my aching soul. How joy tickles and spills over when you delight in the small. And how gratitude in everything, even cancer, leads to wanting for nothing.
I have discovered grace can be found even in the most painful and seemingly hopeless times. Like the time my youngest got up in front of his entire second grade class at sharing time and boldly told them his mom had cancer. And that she was going to get better. The seeds of grace sewn by my second grader.
That was just the beginning of a tidal wave of grace and blessings I would receive, and cancer has made me take notice. I've learned to live my moments, feel my aliveness. Put my “grace glasses” on and live my best day today. To expand. Count my gifts. I am finding you can see them in the tiniest moments. If you are open to seeing them, they are all around us."


  1. i love how God gives us what our hearts long for.

  2. God love you, Vicky, and all of Karla's dear family and friends. I am SO very sorry. I hurt for you all and stand with you in your sadness. She was obviously a person who came to make a huge difference here on earth and she did. Thank you for sharing your beautiful and deep words - then and now. Grateful for the angels in your life. Praying for you all. With love. Always.

  3. My heart is so full for you. You loved Karla well.

    And the picture of of her with her precious granddaughter---no words big enough.

  4. Oh honey,
    Tears are streaming down my face. I am so sad, right along with you. Praying for Karla's family. What an angel she was for you and so many others. That picture of her with her precious grand baby...well, as a grandma myself, it touches me in the very center of my heart and soul.
    And the article you wrote, sweet Colton was nine and Nolan eleven. How grateful I am to God that you have had the last five years with those you love so dearly. Thank you, thank you for reminding me, over-and-over again, to CHOOSE JOY! Thank you, thank you for reminding me that no matter what, each day is so precious.
    I love you, dear soul sis, to the moon and back!

  5. I love how God places those in our lives that we that very moment....and later.
    He is an amazing Creator, and I am thankful for all He has done for me and for those I love.
    Stepping back with you in time via this post is humbling and heart-tugging.
    You have blessed me.
    Others have blessed you.
    God blesses us all.
    Life comes full circle, and I am glad to be in the circle of life with you.
    Love you, my sweet friend.
    I do.

  6. what a most precious, strong voice you send to me today as I am holding in love and light three dear friends, all facing the challenges that come with a journey with cancer. Your blog always lifts me up and helps me to stand strong in faith and love for these dear ones. Blessings always to your and your family as you travel the journey with a strong faith and trust in the Lord.

  7. This post is beautiful in so many very sorry for the loss of your dear friend. Blessings to you

  8. Your boys are such babies here! Priceless! I am so glad you have been around for these 5 years, seeing them grow up and helping them grow into great men.


I welcome what you have to say. Thanks for taking the time to grace me with your thoughts and words!

When you get lucky

When you get lucky

Popular Posts - MN Weather, Map, Businesses and Blogs
Page copy protected against web site content infringement by Copyscape