living our moments- full…

We had such a big weekend filled with all kinds of memory-making moments.  We had sadly learned the other goalie who shares with Colton in the goalie duties for the team,  had come down with a fever and was too sick to come this weekend.  Colton would have to be "on" for however many games we played.  We've prayed all weekend that Luke would recover soon.  

It was the first time I heard Colton admit he was a little nervous.  But he didn't act the part, and seemed calm and focused as we arrived in Park Rapids.  

We were facing teams we'd played all season long.  We knew any of them, including our team, could come out victorious.

The sun had warmed the temps to above zero.  The outdoor rink looked really enticing...

The arena in Park Rapids is just a quonset building and a slab of ice.  It was one of the colder rinks we've experienced this year.  

Colton getting focused as the team prepares for the opening face off.

Nolan had a game later Friday night.  He would play in his own district game a couple of hours away.  But first he got to watch his little brother play for one of the first times all year.

He was duly impressed.

It just wasn't our night.  We lost to Alexandria 7-4.  We would play the early morning game Saturday against Walker at 8.  It means a 7 am drop off at the rink and it becomes a very early morning.

But… 

With Grandpa's help in getting Colton to the rink, Rick and I had time to stop to catch the sun coming up over the frozen lake by Grandpa's lake cabin.  It was the perfect start to our morning.

Because, while our boys got off to an early lead against Walker and started tallying goals- the rest of us had our eyes glued to another game going on…

The USA Olympic game against Russia.  It had just gone to the shootout, and TJ Oshie ( a Northern Minnesota native who we had the pleasure of watching in high school, then college, and now as an Olympian!) was doing what so many of us have watched him do for years- score goals for his team!! 

We all crowded around- and watched another big moment in the making- Team USA beating Team Russia- in another standout moment in history!  

And don't you love what TJ had to say when he was being called a hero?  "The American heroes are wearing camo," he replied. "That's not me."

Colton's team went on to beat Walker 12-1.  

So we went back to the lake to rest up for our next big game Saturday night.  If we won we'd go on to play Sunday morning.  But if we lost, Colton's season would come to an end.  

We were playing Brainerd and knew the game could go either way.  We'd lost to them twice before, but hoped the third time would be the charm.

While we got down two quick goals right away, the team did a good job of holding off their offensive rushes.  Colton, affectionately being called "Rooster," made save after save and his whole team rallied to help keep the puck out of the offensive zone.  

But when the 4th puck got by Rooster, it started to feel like it would be too much for us to overcome.  

In a bittersweet end, the other team managed two more goals, while we mustered one at the very end-it simply wouldn't be enough.  

The Peewee B's lost and were eliminated from the District tournament.

For one of the first times, Colton's head was down and he was visibly shaken.  

It was a long time before they came out of the locker room.  We waited in a crowded lobby, knowing our kids would be devastated.

Colton held it together until our eyes locked through the crowd of people.  Tears sprang instantly to his eyes and he finally broke down.  He folded into my arms and the tears streamed, unabashedly.  He felt so responsible for the losses.  I uttered every word I could to try and help him see they both win and lose as a team- never as an individual.  

My momma heart was fresh with the pain of watching her son take the loss so hard.  

And yet, it also surged with pride, as parent after grandparent, after coach,  took the time to come over and speak heartfelt and encouraging words to him. 

Even Rooster's big brother told him how proud he was of his work and effort.  

It was later that night that Rooster crawled in bed with me to warm up for a few minutes.  I asked him if he was feeling any better.  In a moment of pure clarity of thought and emotion this is what he had to say.

"Today was one of my most favorite games.  I was only sad we lost because it was a district game and it means our season is over.  Otherwise what I care about is for everyone to see how hard I am willing to work.  I am just hoping everyone will see that I did everything I could- I was willing to face the hard shots and not back down, I didn't lose focus, and I tried so hard.  I want to move up a level next year.  And I am just hoping everyone saw today, that maybe I deserve that chance too."

Clearly he left it all on the ice- blood, sweat, tears- with a smattering of hopes and dream- it was all there.  

I could only hug him a little harder.  

Superman graciously composed a video of some of Rooster's saves from the game below.

While the weekend was truly centered around Colton's district tournament, Nolan had a district tournament too.  Only two teams comprise Nolan's district, so win or lose they will both move on.  However, they were seeded based on who won or lost.

I am happy to say the Moorhead Bantam AA's came out on top and earned the top seed in the District tournament!  Nolan had two goals and an assist and the team won 6-1.

Sunday, became our rest and recovery day, and a pretty fun day!  

The lake cabin had no tv reception and no wifi.  I have to say it was refreshing, and even the boys found plenty to do.

Welcome to the Westra's version of the "luge."  

All that's needed is a sled, a slope, and some slippery snow.  

Tuesday I have a full day at Roger Maris.  I need to go in early to get my labs done, then I see Dr. Panwalkar after almost 6 weeks of not seeing him, then I will have infusion.  Rick is traveling so I am going it alone.  My lymphedema has skyrocketed over this past week.  My right hand balloons on and off into a pretty moderate degree of swelling and becomes quite useless and uncomfortable.  I've got my beautiful compression sleeve and glove on at all times and will see if I've earned the golden ticket back to PT.  More details to follow soon…  

What I found in the MRI tube...

Tuesday, for the second day in a row I wake to this.  Moments later the sun darts behind the clouds for the day and I am glad I've glimpsed the blazing glory of God's handiwork in the sunrise two days in a row.

I've realized a few things this week.  Like how well I understand facets of my body now.  I also have learned how to advocate for myself.  On Monday when I showed up for my CT scan, they took me back to the iv room.  I said "no, not today, no contrast for me."  The tech said "Well we don't have orders that say no contrast."  I told him "I've had two reactions, even with steroids last time, it wasn't good."  He didn't disbelieve me, but he didn't quite know how to proceed.  Again, I surprised myself by simply saying, "No, I am not pre-medicated, and I refuse the contrast."  

Apparently those were the magic words and he lead me right back to the scanner.  Wow, who is this girl?  I'm not so sure I would have stood up to him had this been a year ago.  What normally takes me 2 1/2 hours was done in 15 minutes.  And he said the images looked clear enough to be read.  

 

Tuesday I arrive to an empty sedation room.  My blood pressure registers at an alarming 156 and I am so awed by that, I don't even register the lower number.  My heart rate is 122 as well.  I've set a new record and giggle a bit at how hard Dr. Panwalkar would laugh at me.  I reassure the nurse its high, but normal for my first reading, and it should come down.  She gives me the 2 Xanax and five minutes later I register 125.  I can't even tell I have anxiety anymore, its so automatic and internal.  I feel fine on the outside, but my heart belies the truth of the matter inside.

I am placed on the scanner bed, a pillow inserted under my knees, headphones for my ears and I have learned to ask for a towel for over my eyes so I can't see.  I then ask the tech if he will please talk to me through the various segments of the scan.  He gives a small laugh and says, "You will be holding your breath a lot for me, don't worry you'll hear from me more than you want to."  They then place a cage over my chest area and hand me the panic button to hold onto.

I feel my arms and legs being pulled in towards my body, as the scanner bed pulls me up into the tube.  I am reminded of the orange push-up ice cream treats we had growing up, where you pushed the ice cream up through the cardboard tube so you could taste the ice cream.

True to his word, the tech tells me when it will be loud, when to take a deep breath and how long I will need to hold it.  Over the course of an hour I manage to follow all of his requests without dozing off. But in the car on the way home, I fall asleep.  I go straight to bed and sleep for 4 1/2 hours.


I awake to a delicious meal from the Kunka's and a beautiful Kellie Rae Roberts present.  I took a close up below so you can see what it says.  It couldn't be more perfect!  I am such a fan of Kellie's work!  Thank you Julie!

But there was more... I can't wear jewelry this week and I can't wait, can't wait!  Melissa, with her adorable twins, (um they're fifth grade, can I still say they are adorable? Cuz they are.) brought this while I was sleeping- and chocolate too, (smile.)  Yes... such a simple message, and yet so hard sometimes.  But I am paying attention.  

Its busy Wednesday in the sedation room.  I am not allowed to bring anything back with me.  But I've armed myself with all the words given to me for Valentine's day.  I am offered magazines dating back as far as November 2010.  Oddly my mind can't seem to get excited about "decorating for fall" as the article in Good Housekeeping suggests.

Next the nurse with the "good meds" gets paged to come see me.  Otherwise the room is filled with 5 other beds with patients getting ready to go into surgical procedures.  Its noisy and I marvel at how I will convince myself to fall asleep.

She takes my pulse and its a steady 125 and I am only slightly tachycardic at 109.  Letting go... I think...

So I begin, praying for all the requests that have come my way.  So many people, going through so many hard times.  I'm still alert when they take me back to the scanner.  I quickly shut my eyes as the cage goes down over my head.  This day is the brain scan.  Again the tech talks me all the way through, and I pray in between the sound of his voice.

He tells me they are pulling me out to inject the dye in my arm and then I will have 6 more minutes left.  As the minutes count down, I can't help myself, I squint one eye open.  And do you know what I saw?  Light.  As dark as you would think it would be in the tube, in between the bars of the "jason mask" or cage around my head, is nothing but a yellowish glowing light.  And I felt like God climbed right up in that tube with me and filled in all the spaces around me.  

I think of all the things this week has entailed and most of them would have put me in a tizzy at one time in my life.  Needles?  No way.  IV's?  Are you kidding me?  Scans and tubes and sedation?  Shudder.

And Tuesday.  Next week.  The day I will find out what all of these tests reveal.  Probably some blobs, and some spots, and a swearing bone (that has a gag order placed on it) and God filling in all the in between spaces.  I'm holding onto to hope, to light and to the grace that continues to see me through.

One thing different...

I thank you God for this most amazing day, for the leaping greenly spirits of trees, and for the blue dream of sky and for everything which is natural, which is infinite, which is yes.  ~e.e. cummings

Crosby wakes us before the sun rises every morning.  Usually Superman gets up with him as I am still in a drug induced unconscious haze.  But every so often Rick needs a break and I take a turn, (with the help of some extra coffee.)  I've long been craving an unobstructed view of the sun coming up, but I would have to leave and go in search of that view.  Last Thursday, only mildly dizzy, I decided to do something about it.  

I grabbed the dog.

My extra large mug of coffee.

The camera.

And drove towards the glow in the sky. 

I first stopped by our church.  

I then drove as far East as the road would allow.  I came to rest near a farmer's field.

  

I anticipated the orange and the golden tinges, but I hadn't realized the magic of a pastel palette.  The deep purples, the lavenders, the pinks, all splashed against glimpses of a  powder blue sky.

I had an epiphany... what if I did one thing different each day?  What if I simply started from a place of "yes?" instead of the instant no.  How different might my days look?  

I drove home with a full heart at the start of my day and arrived to everyone just getting up.  

I capped off the perfect morning with homemade pancakes.

Just one thing different, may just lead to a whole lot of different.  

Anyone else want to try?