holding on

Life's like a novel
With the end ripped out
The edge of a canyon
With only one way down
Take what you're given before its gone
Start holding on, keep holding on... Stand by Rascal Flatts

Knowing last Monday was our last full day in Yellowstone, we had some decisions to make.  With many of the sights of the park 50 to 75 miles away and speed limits of 25 to 45 mph, you have to plan accordingly.  

I got to pick and chose something close- Mammoth.  On our way to Mammoth, were the upper and lower falls. We arrived at the upper falls only to discover a fair amount of stairs to climb to get to an unobstructed view.  We decided to skip the steps and keep driving to the lower falls.   We were not disappointed.

I could hear the water falling over the rocks as we walked up the trail.  It was still a bit of a climb.  But I was surrounded by people with canes, the elderly, and people who were in no better shape than I.  

Plus, there is an undeniable energy that fills the air with excitement.  You truly never know what is right around the corner from you.  Its both exhilarating, and awe-inducing. 

And- it was totally worth it!  

You can clearly see the "yellow stone."  This canyons is also called the Grand Canyon of Yellowstone.  

Rick couldn't believe I leaned over to grab this next shot.  I wasn't standing anywhere unsafe and always stuck to the trails as suggested, but it wasn't hard to get some pretty amazing vantage points with a little leaning and bending.  The white part is ice!  

This is what you will see at the end of the trail.  There is almost a hushed silence that falls over people as they first lay eyes on the tumbling water.  The colors were so vibrant.  As dry as the air was, the lodge pole pines were richly green. 

You wouldn't think after such a spectacular start to our adventure, that we could possibly top that, would you?

But you just know we did, right?

In my mind anyway... the coolest thing yet, was just a short drive away.

Learning to Stand...

"When push comes to shove, you taste what you're made of. You might bend 'til you break 'cause it's all you can take. On your knee's you look up, decide you've had enough. You get mad, you get strong. Wipe your hands, shake it off. Then you Stand"  Stand, Rascal Flatts

It follows me everywhere.  Cancer.  There is no real break.  Its been a bad week for my stage iv cancer sisters.  Two of them have departed their earthly home, for their new heavenly home. So many have followed the journey of Jen Burgess Thompson and her loss has been felt 'round the internet and back again.  While breast cancer claimed the life of Hutch, another online cancer sister, two more breast cancer sisters have been told they are near the end of their battle.  I can't help but be profoundly sad.  My mind swirls with the weight of all that I can't possibly know... 



Yet, it steels me, girds me, fills me with resolve... somehow...  hurry up and get on with living.



A week ago, Sunday, Rick and I left for Idaho.  Having lived in Twin Falls for nearly 10 years, we are no strangers to the drive between Minnesota and Idaho.  Its 1135 miles, 18 hours, with few stops.  And its no cake walk.  


Our most intense day of driving turned out to be the first day of our trip.  Rick had reserved a room for us at Old Faithful Inn at Yellowstone Park.  Without stops, the drive would take 13 hours.  Even with an early morning departure, the sun began setting before we entered the park.  The entrance, tucked in between two mountain ranges on either side, was fraught with switchbacks, rockslides, and ever increasing elevations.  The threat of colliding with wildlife moving within feet of our tiny blue car, met us at every corner. It was pitch dark and spooky. The last 100 miles of our trip were slow and plodding, the whine of our Prius engine grumbling every time it was urged to to make the hairpin turn as the sides of the road fell away into steep gorges and canyons.

It was breathtaking and nerve-wracking all at once.  And when I say breathtaking... I was quickly reminded what high elevations were going to do to my lungs.  We arrived at 11 pm.  I loaded up with several bags to begin the walk to our second floor room.  My breathing became labored almost instantly.  I wheezed with every few steps, my lungs burning as they attempted to adjust to this sudden change in altitude.  

We tumbled into bed and woke early, as the sun ascended above the horizon.  I had to stop for a nose bleed, but with Old Faithful scheduled to go off, we quickly grabbed our photo gear, and headed outside.

It was crisp, cold, but clear.  And awe-inspiring to see Old Faithful, sturdy and reliable, spouting streams of vapor hundred of feet into the sulfur- infused air.

Invigorated, we decided to drive to a few sites and viewed more of the geyser basin.  We're treated to the sight of a herd of buffalo grazing near the road.  We stay in our car and watch and shoot.  The buffalo are unphased by the crowds of people and lines of cars.  They walk right in between the cars on the road, roaming the land freely.  

But the altitude was taking its toll on me.  Climbing the stairs to our room took major effort.  My heart beating rapidly, my air coming in gasps, the tears stinging my eyes.  Are my lungs scarred from all the chemo drugs I've ingested?  Am I just deconditioned- suddenly out of shape? Are more tumors rearing their ugly heads?  I simply don't know. I'm tempted to collapse in bed in defeat. 

And yet, curiosity gets the best of me.  I can't refuse when Rick asks if I want to explore the Inn with him.  My camera is firmly affixed to my neck. 

 We take it slow, his presence calming, his words soothing.  You can do this.  And I push ahead a little more...

It hasn't yet occurred to me... but Yellowstone Park is teaching me... I'm learning to stand...  stay tuned...

drive...

“Lets keep the car in drive and leave it all behind” 

― John Mayer

Take one blue Toyota Prius, a mom and a dad, minus their children and a dog, pack the car with a few clothes, a lot of camera gear and some snacks.  Add in 3 state lines, two mountain passes, and 11 hundred miles each way, and what do you have?

A get-away?  An adventure?  A sore back?! Date- week instead of date-night?  

By the time you see this we'll be well on our way.  My heart splits in half- longing to go- longing to not leave my kids.  

~All shall be well~

I just know I'll be living my moments full this week and will be blogging from the road.

Look what showed up on my doorstep Friday?  Sweet Julie from Bell State Bank and the Pay it Forward contest, sent these to me as a thank you for sharing my story the day before.  Its really ME who feels like I have a debt of gratitude to express, and I am overcome and undone when people touch me with their thoughtfulness.  

They're stunning flowers and have saturated the house with warmth and fragrance.  They absolutely glow with the ambient light streaming through the window.  Thank you Julie.

Not more than a few minutes later my second surprise of the day arrived at my front door.  Roxane sent me a copy of this book to read on my trip.  I will let you know my thoughts on it at a later time.  Thank you Roxane- so excited to read this as I already have so much context for Saint Therese of Lisieux.

Thursday this is what showed up in my mailbox. Our sweet friend Carrie sent this to us from Denver.  She got this at Rocky Mountain National Park in Estes Park, CO.  Rick and I had spent a week camping in the mountains and visiting the park, and I love having that reminder of our time spent there.  

Aren't these great quotes?  Thank you Carrie~ I was very touched by your thoughtfulness!  

This little stinker- has utterly stolen my heart.  Not to mention my shoe, a plastic cup, my new rug and Nolan's flip flops.  But then he curls up on the couch with Colton, just like he belongs there, and has this uber cute way of scooting himself belly first off the couch.  Then he rests there a bit before lazily shoving off with his back feet.  Stinker.  I know I will be missing him too.

Octo-brr

We got more than just a dusting of snow yesterday.  It seems so wrong to even type that word.  It was a  mad scramble of finding coats and hats, the scraper for the car, a sweater and boots.  

I woke up feeling yucky with a nauseous stomach and a headache.  But I had an early morning wound care appointment so I took a concoction of meds and headed out the door. 

A new scab had formed last week and after infusion this week, the scab came off, revealing all of the pink hypertrophic granulation that persists underneath.  Its so routine for me, I hardly blink.  

The sun was already breaking through the clouds by the time I came back home.  Despite chilly temps, the snow all melted away by last night.

Yesterday afternoon, Rick and I were so honored to have a team from Sundog come and shoot footage for a video they are making for Bell State Bank and Trust.  Bell State Bank asked me if I would be willing to talk about my experience with winning their 5,000 dollar Pay It Forward Viewers Choice Grand Prize, last April.  

My friend Amy came and agreed to be interviewed representing the book club gals who made the winning video for us.  We laughed, and cried.  The questions stirred emotions in us and the Kleenex box got passed around and around. I'll share a link for the video in a couple of months when its all done.  

I shared with everyone yesterday that anonymously, I have paid it forward with some of the funds I received. All of the other finalists were deserving to win.  I sent some of my money to a couple of them.  I also sent some funds to a few other people- not connected to the contest, but with deep financial need.  Blessings flow.  In and out.  I always pray I am a good steward of the blessings that have flowed in, and do my share to "pay it forward."  

We can all participate.  Has it every happened to you?  Has someone paid for your coffee ahead of you?  Or paid for your meal in the drive thru?  What other creative ideas have you heard of for paying it forward?  

Rick and I are taking a bit of an excursion next week.  Rick needs to go back to Idaho to shoot photos for a school- and I get to play assistant this time.  I'm excited to be going back to the place we lived for over 10 years.  We'll be driving through Yellowstone Park on our way, and also Jackson Hole, Wyoming, before arriving in Boise.   Grandpa Jim will be coming to stay with the boys.  

Watch for photos next week!  Be well everyone- and as my friend Robin likes to say- Live your moments full! 

in limbo

Thank you all for your thoughtful and heartfelt comments.  Any time you leave a comment, or email me, or fb message me, or text me, etc., I'm so touched.  My current struggle if you will, is figuring out, what the next right thing is for me to do.  But what I do know, is that if I can be a conduit to you in a fraction of all the life lessons that are coming my way, it helps me live a more purposeful life.  

I've gleaned a few more photos from the hordes I have stored away.  With the winds kicking up, I trust many of these trees are now near barren.

The coolest discovery awaited me in the pasture out behind the house.  At first she didn't pretend to even notice me.  But after awhile she steadily grazed closer to where I stood motionless and quiet in my coolest Pioneer Woman stance possible.  And then I discovered the goats.  They were so cautious- barely tip-toeing across the open field in the tracks of the horse.

The horse seemed to just tolerate the goats, while the goats mimicked her every move.  It was enchanting to watch.

They carefully maintained a distance just on the other side of the horse, but curiosity would best them at times, and I'd catch them peeking at me.  

While I was away at Carmel, Rick and Nolan took Crosby for one last fishing excursion on the lake.  Rick stitched together several different photos to create this saturated look.  I love seeing Crosby take it all in.  

I was surprised when it wasn't Dr. Panwalkar that walked through the exam room door yesterday.  He has a new Physician Assistant (I am totally blanking on her name right now) and she had just started seeing patients.  She was pleasant, listened well and gave me a quick exam.  

While drawing my blood had put me through the wringer yesterday, the blood tests revealed my counts are actually quite good.  My tumor marker did rise, but the difference was small.

The PA had no reference for the size of my lymph node under my arm when I suggested to her it felt enlarged. So Dr. Panwalkar did come in briefly and check himself.  He agreed with me that it was slightly larger than before, but was not a significant change warranting a change in treatment.  So I will continue on with the same treatment.  

He then smiled as he met my eye and said "oh your hair looks so good."  I don't know why those innocuous observations make me feel good- perhaps it just reinforces that he SEES me, not just the cancer. But he had a medical student with him and as abruptly as he came, he left.  He hastily said goodbye and said he'd see me in 12 weeks.  Because of the holidays, it will be 2013 before I see him again.  

I feel a bit in limbo.  Mr. Stable is oh so good.  And yet, I'm not in remission.  The ever elusive Mr. NED (No Evidence of Disease) has not shown up on my dance card.  Stage IVstill lurks, and Mr. Progression is just one bad blood test away.  And me.  I'm on the sidelines, dodging the seemly characters, hanging out somewhere between "Mr. Almost, and Mr. Not Quite"well. 

The language of light...

15 minutes.  That's all it takes.

It's Monday morning.

She tells me to uncross my feet and clench my hand.  I'm rusty at this blood draw business.  She goes for the sweet spot, the depression in my right arm that has been stuck repeatedly for blood work over the last 19 months and has yet to disappoint in the amount of blood it produces.  

But the vein rolls, and a small squeak escapes my mouth as she pokes around with the needle trying to salvage the poke.  Its no good.  We move to my left arm.  

She jabs another spot and I squirm with the intense, albeit, brief pain as she tries to elicit a stream of blood. 

 But it trickles and we watch in awe as a bright purple bruise appears instantly.

What is up with my blood? 

As the smooth steel of needle pierces my skin for the third time, I grip the chair with my toes as pain shoots through my arm.  Minutes later we're finished, although she says if they can't use the precious few drops we've squeezed out of me, she'll call me to come back.  

15 minutes ~ is the amount of time for my reality of cancer world to shatter through the serenity I was holding onto.

The days may not be so bright and balmy—yet the quiet and melancholy that linger around them is fraught with glory. Over everything connected with autumn there lingers some golden spell—some unseen influence that penetrates the soul with its mysterious power. ~Northern Advocate

If you are going on a "retreat," you want it to come with a name like Carmel of Mary.  Because it doesn't seem possible upon arriving, that you are really just miles outside of Wapheton, North Dakota at a Carmelite Monastery.

A golden hue of light cast a steady glow over the landscape as we drove up Friday night.  My friend Roxane (through an extension of Mother Joseph Marie) invited me to attend two days and two nights of a retreat with her.  

Autumn in all of its splendor greeted us upon arrival.

We spoke to Mother Joseph, the one time we would see and speak with any of the Sisters while we were there.  The Sisters are cloistered, and spend 7 hours out of the day in prayer.  They are not seen or heard.  

The silence was both staggering, and serene all at once.  

My mind hushed and dialed down, as my eyes feasted on the glory all around.  Words it seems, became unnecessary.  Language was surrounding us in the sounds of the birds, the hum of the wind, the whirl of the leaves,  and the smell of the harvest-tinged earth. 

This heart delicately outlined in the grass was the first thing we saw as we got out of the car.  Love was at my feet, but I couldn't have know, really, it was surrounding us at every moment.

The Carmelite Monastery below.  Roxane and I were made two hot meals daily, and summoned by the ringing of the bell.  The bell also signaled the start of Mass every day at 7 am, and several other times of prayer for the Sisters, beginning at midnight.  

I had no earthly idea how much I'd feel like I was walking back in time when I entered the private guest house we stayed in.  From the green couch, to the blonde wood of the desk, to the gold colored drapes and the rounded arches in the walls, I felt like I was at my Grandmother's house.  

I have to say the house was not just cozy, but spotless.  I mean not a speck of dust or dirt anywhere.  The linens were pressed.  The kitchen countertops were lined with baskets of fruit, fresh baked bread, snacks, granola bars, and tea.  There were eggs and milk in the fridge and home made applesauce.  The simplicity of the rustic setting had such a warmth and charm to it.  I was enchanted.  I was discovering the truth of the saying "love is in the details."  

I picked the blue room as my own.  Reminiscent of my grandmother's home again with the chenille bedspreads and the crocheted pillows- the soft golden sunshine bounced off the blue walls enveloping me in tranquility.  I slept and read for hours.  My gratitude poured out in an endless stream in my journal.

The Sisters subsist off a garden plot, and donations brought in from the community.  The food was so lavish, in such a down- home hospitable way.  We would arrive in the dining room and our food would be placed in a lazy susan that spun around from the kitchen to the dining room.  We couldn't see the Sisters who prepared the food, and they couldn't see us.  They would ring a bell and then our food would appear on the turnstile.  

This lunch consisted of roast lamb with some savory sauce on it, rutabagas, squash, tomato salad, fruit salad and a cookie.  The food was earthy and well seasoned, and mouth watering and so tasty. 

On our last night Roxane delivered a note to Mother Joseph asking permission for us to attend their Compline prayers.  We were welcomed to come inside and listen.  The Sisters sit behind a screened area.  But their voices were so pure, sweet and clear.  Gregorian chant encompassed much of their prayers and I left feeling the love the Sisters share with each other and for Jesus. 

We found that as we left the dining area after dinner, the sun would just be setting.  We would grab our cameras and chase after the sunlight as it danced into the night.

Everywhere we turned, a click and a capture awaited us.  We pored over our photos and delighted in realizing we had so many different ones, while shooting the very same things.  

Everything seemed to be in alignment... 

Towards the end of our stay last night we sipped tea savoring the respite for a few more minutes before we departed.  How would we bring this retreat to an end?  

It turns out God had it all planned out.  The clouds had rolled in while we ate and it had turned overcast and melancholy.  But then I happened to turn and looked back over the trees and the most radiant light streamed through one last time. I stood transfixed, chilled with goosebumps at the timing of this last visual feast.  Light, God gave me light.  He magnified my word and shone it brightly across the land for all to see.  

“When you get to the end of all the light you know and it's time to step into the darkness of the unknown, faith is knowing that one of two things shall happen: either you will be given something solid to stand on, or you will be taught how to fly.” 
― Edward Teller

I will see Dr. Panwalkar in the morning.  Today's bloodwork will inform the treatment I receive tomorrow.  As I sift through my photos again, peace descends. The light is still shining through after all.   

The calling of the bells...