Heaven Is Only a Dream Away

I had a dream.  My dream was intense and very realistic.  Most importantly, it has brought me peace.

In my dream....

I went to heaven.  When I got there, there was no huge gate with Saint Peter sitting behind a big desk.  There were no angels with wings floating around.  When I got there, there was only one person:  my Grandad.  He was waiting for me.  He knew I was coming.  He looked exactly the same as he did most of my life:  he was strong with big hands, a big smile, and very little hair.  He was wearing his standard "uniform":  a golf shirt and slacks.  Only, in heaven, his shirt was white.  Bright white, like Gran had washed it with Clorox.  As soon as Grandad saw me, he smile grew wide and he said, "I've been waiting for you, girl.  Come on in."

He put his strong arm around me and we walked into heaven.  Grandad took me into a section that looked like a suburban neighborhood with big, beautiful houses on both sides of the street.  The street was white with a fog rising up off of it, almost like someone had a dry ice machine.  Where there might have been yards in front of each house, there was instead shimmery white light--sort of like a tub full of bubbles.  There were no trees, no grass, but it was very, very beautiful.  There were no other beings in sight, or even signs of life.  The only movement was from me and my Grandad, walking side by side. 

Finally he stopped in front of the biggest house.  He said, "This is it.  I want to show you around."

I wasn't sure at all what to expect, but I was not afraid.  He opened the door, and I immediately felt warmth and coziness.  It was the feeling of home.  I get a similar feeling when I sit in front of our Christmas tree, loving the lights.  Or after the boys go to bed and the house is still and quiet.  It is a feeling of contentment and belonging.

We stepped in to the house.  Grandad said, "I've been getting things ready for you."

Before I explain what he meant, I should let you know a little something about my Grandad.  When he lived here on earth, he was a builder.  Not for his job, but after he retired, he spent a lot of time here:

He made treasure boxes and bookshelves and tea trays.  All of us have some precious keepsake in our homes that was fashioned by Grandad's hands. 

So it really was no surprise in heaven that Grandad had a workshop.  It looked just like his red-roof shop that stands silently now, except that the roof, the walls, even the sign--were white.

Grandad had been working hard.  His restored body had added on to the place that God had ready for him when he left us in 2008.  As he walked me through the home, he proudly showed me each room.  Each was large, and the furniture was gleaming white.  There were rooms for each member of our family.  God and Grandad had made sure that our family would be together for eternity.  Each aunt and uncle had a room.  Every cousin (plus their significant other and their children) had a space of their own.  There was a room for Buck and Grandmama, my other grandparents.  In his own room, Grandad showed me the "pretty things" that he knew Gran would love.  There was a table covered in white porcelain figurines and tea cups--girly trinkets, if you will.  He was ready for her to join him.

The last room was mine.  Grandad pushed open the door, and I entered in amazement.  The room was cavernous.  There was a toolbox (white, of course) on the floor that looked just like the one Hubby's Papa gave him.  Grandad picked it up quickly and explained that he had been making some last-minute adjustments because he knew I was coming. I remember that the rooms had beds, but the unspoken  understanding was that they would never need to be used for sleeping or nursing a sickness, in the sense that I use my bed now.  They were simply for comfort.

There was space in my room for Hubby and my little cowboys.  Grandad knew they would be coming later.  I was not fearful or sad to be separated from them.  I, too, knew that they were coming.

After the house tour was over, Grandad led me back out the front door.  The house had a massive front porch with white railings, much like the one I've "pinned" onto my "Dreams" board on Pinterest.  Grandad had built two Cracker Barrel-like rocking chairs.  He sat in one, I sat in the other.  He took my hand in his, and we began to rock back and forth in perfect rhythm.  My grandfather said, "Now, girl, all we have to do is wait for the others." 

I woke up with a smile on my face.  It was more than a dream to me...it was an experience.  I felt--and still feel--an intense peace that I haven't known for as long as I've had The Sickness.  I don't know what the outcome of The Sickness will be, but I am certain that ultimately, my dream will become my reality.  This old body betrays me.  But when it gives out, I WILL GO HOME.  And what a glorious home is waiting for me!

Happy Birthday, Baby!

Dear Baby,

 

Seven years ago today, I was a young mom with two babies at home.  As I maneuvered my enormous belly through the front doors of the hospital in the pre-dawn darkness, I wondered for about the millionth time what God could possibly be thinking.  How would I manage three babies?  What did I know about raising little boys?  How could I be the right person for this job?

 

At the end of that long day, there was you.  There was love at first sight.  The questions and doubts faded when I looked into your blue eyes.  On that day, I could not have fathomed what this day--your seventh birthday--would be like!

 

I would not have guessed that you, at Age Seven, would ask for a strawberry donut for your birthday breakfast.  I never would have thought that you would love to draw and color.  I couldn't have known that you would be a video game-playin' fool.  You are super-good at any game on any system.  In fact, I've pretty much stopped trying to keep up with which bad guy must be conquered in whatever world, because you leave me in the dust. 

 

You are a reader!  You like to read, although you prefer to read aloud to me (or better yet, have me read to you!).  You are learning to be fluent and you make great use of the punctuation marks (!! and ??) in your tone.  It makes me laugh out loud.  Our evenings reading together are some of the sweetest times!

 

Speaking of reading, you really like school.  I could barely stand to deliver you to first grade a few months ago, but of course, you never blinked an eye.  You just sat down and got to it.  You have what I think are crazy-hard spelling words for first grade, but you learn them and excel.  Your teacher adores you.  You are branching out and making new friends this year--I am so proud of you! 

 

You still have that funny little speech impediment that has plagued you since you learned to talk.  When you recently had pneumonia, Nana took you to the doctor's office.  The nurse gave you a breathing treatment, and then asked, "Do you feel better now?"  You scrunched up your muppet-face and replied, "Not weawwy."  As your mother, I will probably always find your misuse of sounds endearing, but I know that it will become a bigger problem as you get older.  We are working with the powers that be at school to correct you.  (There's a big difference, son, in "correction" and "change."  I wouldn't want to change you for the world!)

 

At home, you are probably the most stable of the five of us.  I find it simply delightful how you just go with the flow.  No matter what is going on, you remain happy and easy-going.  It doesn't matter to you if someone is grumpy or sick; you stay the same.  Our family has been, figuratively speaking, swimming uphill for a good part of this year.  On days when I simply didn't think I could stay in the water one minute longer, you gave me the strength and incentive I needed to keep on.

 

You worship your brothers.  After months of being separated, you and Little Middle jumped on the chance to go back to sharing a room.  You guys are the best of friends.  There are many nights that I have to poke my head into your room and "remind" you that there is no talking--or laughing!--after lights out, but I'll tell you a secret:  I don't really care.  I love it that the two of you are in there together making brother-memories.  You love Goliath, too, although his new pre-adolescent hormone thing can be hard to take sometimes.  Still, you know that he would do anything to protect his baby brother.  He can talk you into being on his "team" for anything, from a simple game of keep-away to dropping forbidden items out of the second story window onto the front lawn.  You boys!

 

Although you aren't as die-hard as Little Middle, your favorite toys are Legos.  Well, that and guns.  How many Nerf bullets am I going to pick up in your lifetime?!?  You aren't scared of much, and you are getting pretty good at catching creepy-crawly things.  You are fascinated with bug-watching, trampoline-jumping, and bike-riding.  Even with all these normal little-boy activities, though, you still have such a tender heart!  As you were getting dressed for school one morning, you asked me what we were going to do that evening.  I told you that we didn't have any special plans, and you said, "Good!  Then can we snuggle up together and watch a movie in your big bed?"  How I hope that you never get too big to snuggle with me!

 

As is always the case, God knew just what he was doing when He made you for me.  See, Baby, you and I have something special.  I love your brothers, no question about it.  But you...oh, wonderful little you!  I didn't think I could handle you.  I didn't think I deserved you.  I didn't think I could do right by you.  And sometimes, I still revisit those old fears.  But you have loved me from Day 1 in spite of myself with the purest, most beautiful love I could have imagined.  We go together, you and me.  Yes, you're growing up.  But my mommy-instinct tells me that you will always need me and want me.  You are my Baby, after all!

 

Happy Birthday, Baby boy.

 

Love,

Mommy

 

 

 

 

Doxil 2/6

I want to preface this post by saying that I take back everything nice I said about Doxil before.  So there.

 

I was originally scheduled to have my second Doxil treatment on Thursday, October 4.  The pre-treatment visit with Dr. F made it clear that the staff would be unable to administer chemo that day due to mouth sores and a crazy skin thing, both caused by the Doxil itself.  It seems a little weird to me that the drug is responsible for these outrageous side effects, but the side effects have to be completely cleared up in order for me to safely accept the drug.  Whatever.

 

I left the hospital more than a little discouraged, armed with instructions to come back the following Tuesday so we could "try again."

 

Mom and I followed directions and were there before the appointed time on Tuesday the 9th.  This time I passed inspection and we were sent down to the chemo room.  We immediately picked up on an invisible power struggle going on between the two chemo nurses.  One definitely seems much more competent and patient-friendly than the other (to me, anyway), but does it really matter whose side of the room has more heating pads?  I felt especially sorry for Keith, the new guy, whose job it is to collect patients' vital signs, document medications, and otherwise be at the nurses' beck and call while learning the ropes. 

 

I had some apprehension about my port.  The last time I had treatment, I had just come straight from surgery and the surgeon had just left the port accessed for chemo.  Today I would find out what "accessing the port" really means.  Bottom line:  IT HURTS.  As I write this one week later, the area around the port is still tender and sore.  I would much prefer to have IV lines started each time.  I fail to see what the big advantage is!

 

My pre-meds went down with no problems.  Just when I was getting comfy with my pink hoodie and my zebra blanket, the nurse had a new fun surprise.  She started the Doxil, and then she brought over two huge ice packs.  One went on the floor and I was made to rest my feet on top of it; the other was for my hands.  Additionally, I was given a cup of crushed ice.  The presumption is that ice slows the circulation of blood to the extremities during treatment, which in turn lessens the chances of sores popping up in the weeks after.  I am in favor, of course, of avoiding painful sores on my hands and feet and inside my mouth, but I was freezing.  I had to keep the ice on me the entire hour that it took for the Doxil bag to drip.  It seems hard to believe that in the year 2012, we don't have any more sophisticated method of preventing chemo-related sores!

 

We made it home with plenty of time to spare before the cowboys got home from school.  I went straight to bed, not feeling terrible, but not feeling great, either.  And so it has gone for most of the last week.  While I have had some bouts of nausea, I haven't felt terribly sick.  Mostly, I feel tired.  Fatigued.  Exhausted.  I can be working my way through a day, and suddenly I just have the overwhelming urge to lie down.  That usually results in a "nap" that lasts 3-4 hours!  These naps have been defined by nonsensically vivid dreams.  One day I dreamt that I lived in a 2-bedroom apartment in the ghetto.  My friend Rachel, aka Moldy, brought over a random baby boy for me to take care of, but he was dressed in girl clothes.  My neighbor loaned me her double stroller for this babysitting bout, which was chrome and outfitted in the latest "hooptie" styles.  Another neighbor insisted that I join her in a field and fly kites with her because we were running out of wind energy.  Strange.  Another dream had me dressed up in Little House on the Prairie-ish clothes, running through an old Indian village.  As I ran in and out of teepees I shouted, "Sanctuary!  Sanctuary!"  I finally found safety in a nearby saloon, only to be discovered by a little boy I used to teach who I suppose grew up to be a bad guy.  A dream over the weekend involved a wartime airplane.  I was decked out in goggles and a scarf, and I expertly landed my plane in the desert.  I had nothing to eat but cactus, which was lucky because somehow I knew how to cut a cactus just right so as to get the grape jelly out of it.  People I went to high school with were there, but their cacti did not have any grape jelly.  I guess they weren't properly trained.

 

So, one week in to the 2nd cycle, I am tired.  The good news is that I seem to have finally turned a corner with my new and not-so-large-intestine.  I am still very cautious with what I eat, but I have been pleasantly surprised to find that I am finally able to eat some meat, a few finely-chopped fruits and veggies, and even one slice of pizza the other day!  I still have not worked up the courage to test another baked potato, though.  It will be a while before I feel that brave.

 

I continue to ask God for protection from illness, germs, and sores.  I thank Him when I wake up and realize that I am not really Laura Ingalls or Amelia Earheart, and that I have enough sense to find those crazy sleep scenarios comical.  I am glad when I stay up later than my kids, and I am thankful when my Hubby sends me to bed, even if it is a ridiculously early time.  I plead with God that Doxil, with all of its quirks, would be THE drug that I need it to be.  I know that so many friends, family, and even strangers are pleading with me and for me.  Thank you.  He is good, and He does good. 

Birthday Blessings

37 Reasons I Am Thankful On This Birthday

1.  A Little Debbie snack cake makes a beautiful birthday cake if your son sticks a candle in it.

2.  Chips and quesadillas are delicious.  Chips and quesadillas shared with great friends while the kids are at school are even better.

 

3.  Birthday money = retail therapy.

 

4.  Watching a congregation of neighborhood children playing with my cowboys out my kitchen window means smiles all around.  (Until the boys "kidnap" one of the little girls, duck tape her legs together, and tie her to a chair.  You know, to "force the criminal to talk."  Then some of us were not smiling.)

 

5.  New cowgirl boots.  They are sassy, they are pretty.  I stomped all around the town in them.

 

6.  The softest throw blanket you ever did have the pleasure of touching is now draped over my sofa.

 

7.  Once upon a time I made Little Middle go into Charming Charlie with me as a punishment for bad behavior.  Guess where Little Middle went shopping for Mommy's birthday present?

 

8.  Baby picked out a cookie recipe that he wants me to try for him from the new cookbook he gave me.  I will do it asap.

 

9.  Dinner at one of my fave restaurants with my four guys.  We went around the table and everyone said what was the best part of their day.  Hubby said, "right now," and I agreed.

 

10.  Hundreds of well wishes via text, Facebook, and email.  Literally hundreds.  Mind-blowing.

 

11.  Pretty jewelry from friends that care.

 

12.  Two different friends brought their daughters by my house to deliver notes that they had written me.  They are not birthday-related; they are of the "I care about you" variety.  Those are treasures.

 

13.  I have a two-year-old friend who, when asked what a walrus says, replies, "goo goo g'joob."

 

14.  Snail mail from my grandparents with the classic $20 bill inside.  It still gives me warm fuzzies.

 

15.  My Goliath took his buddy to Target to help him do "woman shopping."  Together, they picked out a dress that I adore.

 

16.  Both my brother and my sister called me.  I love it that we are important to each other.

 

17.  This is the birthday verse my mom gave me:  "She is clothed in strength and dignity.  She can smile at the days to come."  Proverbs 31:25  May it be so.

 

18.  Sweet knowledge that I am prayed for by so many, so often.

 

19.  My husband, with a little help from a knowledgeable friend, purchased the most amazing new purse for me.  What a fun surprise!

 

20.  I got a birthday card from Reese the Niece.

 

 21.  As we left the restaurant after dinner, Little Middle said, "Thanks for dinner, Mr. Dad.  And thanks for being born, Ms. Mom."

 

22.  My dog-nephew also called me.  Yep.

 

23.  I found so much to laugh about today.

 

24.  There is a new worship CD in my car.

 

25.  I felt like a normal person today.  That's huge.

 

26.  My man has a special group of friends who help him, love him, and partner with him.  We are both immensely blessed by them.

 

27.  I am looking forward to a fun outing with the Tuesday Sisters tomorrow night.

 

28.  Abby Dog ate a used cupcake liner this afternoon and seems to be no worse for the wear.

 

29.  Bedtime prayers were extra-sweet with my little cowboys tonight.

 

30.  Medically, this birthday is a miracle.  I just can't help but think about how blessed I am to be here.

 

31.  I texted with my aunt and got to say something important:  that I want to be the kind of aunt to Reese that she has been to me.

 

32.  I am scheduling a day away this week.  Away from the walls of the house, away from The Sickness....away.  It's a good thing.

 

33.  Every time the boys and I listen to the Cookie Monster "Share It Maybe" spoof, we all crack up.  Especially on the "Me look at you and me see, you like an elf in a tree" line.

34.  I consumed more food on this one day than I have in the last week put together, and my stomach seemed to be OK.  Grateful doesn't begin to describe it.

 

35.  My Goliath made everyone's lunches for school tomorrow.  That is one of my most hated chores.

 

36.  Tomorrow the cleaning lady is coming.

 

37.  I have hope. 

NOCC 2012 5K

 

 September 22, 2012

The Ballpark at Arlington, Texas

 

 

Team Allyson

 

Ready to run!



My guys

 



 

Tuesday Sisters

 

 

Bethany and Kelly

 

Karen and Rachel

 



 

 Shannon and Janice

 

 

Me and my Melissas

Light in the Darkness

"Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified, do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go." Joshua 1:9

 

This is the verse that I posted yesterday morning on Facebook as I prepared to leave for the hospital.  I was up against Chemo #2, and I was feeling anything but strong and courageous.  I needed the reminder that Jesus was going with me.

 

Four hours later, I was more terrified and more discouraged than ever before.  After a lengthy wait (what is it with doctors' offices, anyway?!?), I was not able to take the chemo treatment.  Dr. F determined that I was still not recovered enough from #1 for my body to accept the Doxil.  The stubborn and horrific mouth sores and a new skin issue were enough reason for him to pause and re-think.  He decided that the dosage of chemo should be reduced, and we will try again on Tuesday.  If the reduced dosage is still problematic, I may need to make a decision about continuing treatment.

 

Talk about discouraged.  Discouraged barely scrapes the surface of what my heart feels.  I wrote this to a friend who is traveling her own cancer road:  "...this SUCKS. I am so sick of cancer dictating everything about my life, even down to what I write on (and cross off) my calendar. I hate it that I feel like I'm free-falling and that this old world is taking huge chunks from me....my energy, my body, my family--ugh. I want so much to be a light, but the darkness is so DARK."

 

She described back to me that I'm right (love you, H!), and she feels as if she is in a dark house, just looking for slits of light.  Yeah.  Just a crack here and there, Lord, would be enough to help me plant my feet.  A tiny flashlight to navigate my way out of this.  That's all I need.  And you promised to go with me.  WHERE ARE YOU?!?!?

 

Ding-dong.  I didn't move to answer the door because I was busy feeling sorry for myself, and I was sure it was just one of the neighborhood kids who seem to flock to my house every day after school.

 

"Mommy?  Somebody's here.  It's for you."

 

Standing in my entryway was an old teacher friend of mine (by old, you must know I mean "from way back," not "aged").  We feel tender toward each other, but we don't have much opportunity to run in the same circles much anymore.  She said, "I don't know what's going on, but I felt like I was supposed to stop at your house and bring you dinner."

 

Friends have faithfully been bringing food while I've been ill, but yesterday was our "off" day.  It hadn't occurred to me that I needed to conjure up a meal to feed my family.  I burst into tears.

 

And just like that, the light re-appeared through the crevices of my darkness.  With two carry-out pizzas and a plate of brownies, God proved--again--that He is faithful.  That he is real.  That he cares.  That he uses ordinary people to do his work.  And that I never, ever, have to feel terrified or discouraged.

 

I may go on Tuesday and be turned away again.  I may receive treatment and go back to being isolated with my crazy red skin and wretched mouth sores.  I may be forced to make the terrible choice of giving up the one drug that could save my life in exchange for valuable, quality time.  I don't know what my future holds, but I know who holds my future:  Jesus, the Father of Light.

 

"Suddenly, God, your light floods my path; God drives out the darkness."  2 Samuel 22:29

 

P.S.  Because I couldn't have chemo, I could go to a high school football game with my trio of cowboys.  How 'bout this guy?

 

What I Want

“You may be at odds with God right now. You're not happy with the way your life is turning out. You may be praying and pleading with God. But is it possible you don't really want God? Is it possible you just want what you think God can give you? One of the things I believe God is teaching me in my life these days is that at times we want our dreams more than we want God. We want what God does for us instead of just God.” ― Pete Wilson, Plan B: What Do You Do When God Doesn't Show Up the Way You Thought He Would?

I'm not happy with the way my life is turning out.  Right now, I have cancer.  I have no job.  I have a car, but nowhere  really to go.  I have mouth sores from the chemo that have forced me to eat applesauce and oatmeal for every meal for two weeks.  I have dreams that are dashed.  I have a 5th grader who suddenly thinks I am the most uncool person on the planet and a 3rd grader with hurt feelings.  I have someone close to me who is facing a giant mountain, and we are climbing it together.  Nope, this life is not at all what I had pictured.

Yes, I pray and I plead.  Lately, my prayers go something like this:  "Lord, I am begging you for healing.  Please take this awful disease and kick it where the sun don't shine.  Please be Jehovah-Rapha, the Healer God, and prove your power through me."  OR  "God, why did you make tweenagers to be so ornery?  Why doesn't this kid remember that I went down through the valley of the shadow of death to get him into this world?  Please help him realize that I deserve his best moods and affections every day."  OR "God, I can't talk to you today because my mouth hurts TOO MUCH!!!  Please fix these sores so we can try again tomorrow."  Amen and amen.

I want things from God.  I want for God to zap the kid at school who is being unkind to my Little Middle.  I want my body to be whole and healthy.  I want a big fat bank account.  I want a long life with my husband and a house in the country with two rocking chairs on the front porch.  I want to eat hamburgers again.  I want to dance with my sons at their weddings, and then be Super-Grandma when their babies come along.  I want normal.  I want, I want, I want....

But the Christian life isn't about my plan.  It's not my way or my wants.  When I accepted Christ some 30 yeas ago, I accepted his ways.  I realized that things might not always go the way I wanted them to, and I said that as long as I had Jesus, I would be OK with that.  Have I really gotten so caught up in what's wrong that I bypass Who is right?

The truth is, I don't want to be that shallow or that selfish.  At age six, I didn't know much, but I knew that I was a sinner.  I needed a Savior, and I still need Him as much today as I did then.  It's time for a reality check.  It's time to re-read the old promises and claim them as my own.  It's time for refreshment and renewal.  It's time to be still and focus on what I need.

I need Jesus.

My new prayer might sound a little something like this:  "Less of me, more of You, no matter what may come.  I want all of You, and only You, Jesus."