I know a lot of Stephanie's. It's a little uncanny. The best part, every single one of them has greatly impacted my life and has helped, or continues to help alleviate my burdens. I'm quite the high-strung person. It carries with it its own kind of agony. Hence I'm always grateful to associate with people who are more relaxed and chill. These Stephanie's are just some of them in my life.
Stephanie #1
My best friend since the age of 4 1/2 is Stephanie. We moved from northern Utah to the Phoenix Valley the spring before kindergarten. It was a time of great uncertainty and upheaval for my family. She lived next door. I distinctly remember meeting her as someone in her family shared a Big Wheel with me (remember those?! they were the best!). We grew up doing sleep overs, baking cookies (eating double our weight in dough every time), making "stew" in the irrigation hole in the back yard with rotten citrus and whatever else fatefully fell in there, doing bike races down the street, and being leery of boys' cooties. She moved when we were both about 11. We haven't lived near each other since. She seems to keep finding herself on the opposite side of the country from me. I'm NOT ok with that! Now we are both riding the crazy rollercoaster called Motherhood. We simply can't get enough of each other's conversation! She is super chill and a fabulous mother. I learn something from her every time we communicate, regardless of the method. While I always have a to-do list, she's content to snuggle with her littlest one, read, and do mostly nothing. I admire her for that. She has her own personal struggles, like every single one of us. She battles them with a smile on her face and is professional at finding something to laugh about. I literally can't live without her. What a woman!
Stephanie #2
This. Woman. Stephanie is my neighbor. We met about 9 years ago. They moved across town about 2 years ago. She found us our new and current house, in the neighborhood where she had moved to. Three cheers for still being neighbors! She has 2 children she carried and bore herself (each of which was a giant miracle). She has 2 children she and her husband adopted through foster care (a massive challenge that she handles beautifully). Despite the craziness that is her life with 4 children, being with her always reminds me to chelax, enjoy the little things, and have fun. She is a fighter and does so with determination, moderation, organization, and fits of rolling laughter. She's upfront, friendly, and open. We get along great and thankfully so do our children and husbands. She is a staple blessing in my life.
Stephanie #3
I met Stephanie through a mutual friend. I was looking for a running partner. I found one in her and we immediately clicked. She is involved in the community, easy to talk to (all skeletons come out of the closet when running with someone- no joke), and super layed back. She let me push her in marathon training a few years back. Her goal was to qualify for Boston. On race day she hit a wall at mile 8 (ugh!). She then let me annoy her as I refused to leave her until 2 miles to go. Even though her goal wasn't met, she was seriously thrilled because she still got her best time. Wow! I would've been angry beyond seeing straight. It was her and another friend who showed up at the children's hospital the very day our lives exploded, when our oldest child was diagnosed with leukemia. And, they brought me chocolate (Boom!). She spear-headed getting our lawn mowed and house cleaned while we lived at the hospital for that traumatic and life-altering week. Then, we ran together even more (I was processing A LOT) and she listened to me share the horrors of being a new cancer mom. Stephanie loves everyone. Just being with her puts me in a good mood and motivates me to not take life so stinkin' seriously. My kids love her kids. I love her. As a friend, she "shows up." Every. Single. Time.
Stephanie #4
What a neighbor this woman is! Over the years she has willingly helped watch my children countless times while I work. And she has 4 crazy boys of her own (and I mean *crazy*). Being a working mom is tough. Really tough. She has made it abundantly easier for me. She's crafty, handy, quiet, and service-oriented. When I told her we were moving and had to prepare our home for staging all in 1 day, she offered to come help. She was priceless! There is absolutely no way we could've gotten our house ready for the photographer on time without her. She has patience, love, and even though her children are super high-energy, she loves them to pieces and frequently shares the funny things they do on social media. She is also fiercely loyal to her husband. She's amazing. And I mean it.
So Stephanie, here's to you. Here's to all the ways you make my life more joyful, fun, rich, and plentiful. Here's to the ways I'm a better mom because of you. Here's to game night, long phone conversations (even though the kids can't leave us alone), watching each other's kids, sharing recipes, and aiding each other with menial tasks. Thank you. I can't do this crazy thing called Life without you.
Sunday, July 22, 2018
Monday, July 16, 2018
Cruel Summer
Andy Williams had it wrong. Summer is the most wonderful time of the year. Nothing against Christmas (except it's COLD that time of year), but I like summer better. And, I can celebrate Christ all the time. So there.
Why is summer so blissful? Um, we have no school (aka no schedules) watermelon, fresh and cheap produce everywhere, Popsicles, swimming, boating, hiking, camping, vacation, gardening, just to name a few. I love the smell of sunscreen (especially Banana Boat- smells like bananas!, except the aerosol). I love the smell of the chemicals for the community outdoor swimming pool. I love being cold from being in the pool and then lying down on the otherwise scorching concrete. I love how it gets dark late and it's easy to lose track of time when I'm outside with my kids, chatting with neighbors, or working in the yard. I love paddle boarding and wave running (I just really love all things water).
This summer has had it's own twist. With hip surgery the beginning of June, I am finally allowed to submerse myself in water- be it a bath tub, swimming pool, or the lake. It's now the middle of July. I can't wait!! Come early fall I'll be able to hike. Here soon I'll tackle our gnarly front flower bed for the first time since moving in late spring. We purchased a golden retriever puppy right about the time school let out, so I've enjoyed early summer morning with her. We go on short walks, work on commands, play fetch, have a party every time she goes potty outside, and we snuggle. Yes, I snuggle with my puppy. So what? We both love it. All that soft, fluffy fur is so soothing to pet. Who knew?!
Thankfully I've still eating my weight in watermelon. A few times. I sit and watch my older 2 participate in swim lessons and soak up the smells of summer- like that sunscreen and those pool chemicals. I watch bikers, runners, and walkers out enjoying the river trail behind our house at all hours of the day. And.. wait for it... I have the "joy" of hearing my children fight. It often feels incessant. Ah, the price of no school.
I love my children. I really did not like my toddler, however, the other day when he broke our popsicle molds because he refused to go to bed and hid in the dog kennel with the freshly-made watermelon popsicles. I did not like all 3 of them today when I heard yelling, doors slamming, and then crying. Again. The battle of who gets to play with what Lego guy never ends! My oldest's Nazi-like rules for who can enter his room can cause a lot of tension. Argh!! The younger two then had to prod, challenge, and patronize. And in the middle of it all, the toddler had a potty training accident. Per usual, I had no clue as to what to do (other than clean up the potty mess, clearly). Frankly selling them to the gypsies sounded tempting, as it does more frequently than I'd like to admit. I would've even offered the puppy today to sweeten the deal (she was oh-so-naughty this morning). Being a mom today seemed extra challenging. I felt like I was failing.
Blissful summer, eh? Actually, it is. Really. My children are healthy. Swimming lessons are going great. We're going to the lake day after tomorrow and we've renting inflatable paddle boards (Huzzah!). We're meeting up with friends and cousins soon. I get to take my oldest to a musical in a few weeks at the local ampitheater. There's a watermelon on my counter I get to cut up tomorrow (did I mention how much I LOVE watermelon?!) My recovery from surgery is going as well as possible. I get to enjoy bike rides on that river trail behind my house as part of my physical therapy. Our puppy is learning quickly and well, even if she still is a puppy. So I guess let the children struggle. They're home. They're safe. They're learning (sometime I wonder what). And I'm learning too. Hopefully some patience and love. Fingers crossed.
Why is summer so blissful? Um, we have no school (aka no schedules) watermelon, fresh and cheap produce everywhere, Popsicles, swimming, boating, hiking, camping, vacation, gardening, just to name a few. I love the smell of sunscreen (especially Banana Boat- smells like bananas!, except the aerosol). I love the smell of the chemicals for the community outdoor swimming pool. I love being cold from being in the pool and then lying down on the otherwise scorching concrete. I love how it gets dark late and it's easy to lose track of time when I'm outside with my kids, chatting with neighbors, or working in the yard. I love paddle boarding and wave running (I just really love all things water).
This summer has had it's own twist. With hip surgery the beginning of June, I am finally allowed to submerse myself in water- be it a bath tub, swimming pool, or the lake. It's now the middle of July. I can't wait!! Come early fall I'll be able to hike. Here soon I'll tackle our gnarly front flower bed for the first time since moving in late spring. We purchased a golden retriever puppy right about the time school let out, so I've enjoyed early summer morning with her. We go on short walks, work on commands, play fetch, have a party every time she goes potty outside, and we snuggle. Yes, I snuggle with my puppy. So what? We both love it. All that soft, fluffy fur is so soothing to pet. Who knew?!
Thankfully I've still eating my weight in watermelon. A few times. I sit and watch my older 2 participate in swim lessons and soak up the smells of summer- like that sunscreen and those pool chemicals. I watch bikers, runners, and walkers out enjoying the river trail behind our house at all hours of the day. And.. wait for it... I have the "joy" of hearing my children fight. It often feels incessant. Ah, the price of no school.
I love my children. I really did not like my toddler, however, the other day when he broke our popsicle molds because he refused to go to bed and hid in the dog kennel with the freshly-made watermelon popsicles. I did not like all 3 of them today when I heard yelling, doors slamming, and then crying. Again. The battle of who gets to play with what Lego guy never ends! My oldest's Nazi-like rules for who can enter his room can cause a lot of tension. Argh!! The younger two then had to prod, challenge, and patronize. And in the middle of it all, the toddler had a potty training accident. Per usual, I had no clue as to what to do (other than clean up the potty mess, clearly). Frankly selling them to the gypsies sounded tempting, as it does more frequently than I'd like to admit. I would've even offered the puppy today to sweeten the deal (she was oh-so-naughty this morning). Being a mom today seemed extra challenging. I felt like I was failing.
Blissful summer, eh? Actually, it is. Really. My children are healthy. Swimming lessons are going great. We're going to the lake day after tomorrow and we've renting inflatable paddle boards (Huzzah!). We're meeting up with friends and cousins soon. I get to take my oldest to a musical in a few weeks at the local ampitheater. There's a watermelon on my counter I get to cut up tomorrow (did I mention how much I LOVE watermelon?!) My recovery from surgery is going as well as possible. I get to enjoy bike rides on that river trail behind my house as part of my physical therapy. Our puppy is learning quickly and well, even if she still is a puppy. So I guess let the children struggle. They're home. They're safe. They're learning (sometime I wonder what). And I'm learning too. Hopefully some patience and love. Fingers crossed.
Friday, June 8, 2018
The Face of True Courage
My oldest sister died today. Minae was only 53. Her 54th birthday is just over a month away. She didn't make it that far. Complications of Stage IV Pancreatic Cancer eventually took away her last breath. I miss her. That will never change until I see her again.
The end of January was busy for me. I had agreed to be the PTA member in charge of the elementary school spelling bee. The tense event was just getting started when I got a text from my brother-in-law stating he'd taken my oldest sister to the ER with severe abdominal pain. Something inside me sank. But, I had to deal with the circumstances at hand (the all-intimidating spelling bee- oooh), so I'd have to process those thoughts and feeling later.
For the next week or so, our whole family was on pins and needles, waiting to find out what was really wrong with our dear Minae. The "C" word was thrown out there, but we were all under the impression that if that was it, things weren't too bad. But one day, my husband got the news before I did. He kindly and chivalrously took me into our room to tell me the worst had become reality. Minae had Stage IV Pancreatic Cancer. My head swam. Between my own son and a brother-in-law in Boise, hadn't cancer wreaked enough havoc on our family, at least for a while?! And so the mourning for a beloved sister began.
It took a bit for Minae to say the word, "cancer," herself. She taught choir at a charter high school. it wasn't long before she found sufficient courage to go in front of all her classes and tell them herself why she was so ill. She finally found the gutts to use that all-scary word, "cancer." She even had the where with all to tell them it was terminal. How she was able to look them straight in the face- these young and impressionable teenagers who found a worthy mentor and friend in their teacher- and say that, I'll never know.
I remember talking to her not long after her grim diagnosis. She'd said all along she was going to fight it. Anyone who knows anything about pancreatic cancer knows it's one of the worst and chances of survival are super slim. I found a gentle way of asking her why she wanted to fight it. I'll never forget her answer. She told me she'd always known that when her time to die came, she'd be ready and she'd be satisfied with her life's work. She didn't feel that way yet. So she went forth, searching for a cancer center that would meet her needs. She was ready to wage a losing battle with fists flying and full gusto. Wow.
Being a state away, I was never really aware of the details regarding the process in finding the right cancer care center. All I heard was that the one she chose was stellar. She'd not only have an oncologist, but a nurse, nutritionist, and 2 other specialists I can't remember. They were that amazing. She seemed quite satisfied with how they treated her.
Then word came of how sick chemotherapy made her. Her previously healthy and strong body was discovered to be extremely sensitive to medications. The woman who loved to cook and experiment in the kitchen no longer found pleasure in eating and hardly anything was palatable anymore. Everything seemed to make her sick, from pain medicine, to chemotherapy. She had an anti-nausea patch, a pain patch, everyone was trying to get her to eat something. How her head must have been swimming. All. The. Time.
And yet she found a way to serve. She called me one day when she was lucid. She actually wanted to hear about the silly and what I found to be unfair negotiations in the selling of my house. Like it even mattered! But she listened intently and was genuinely interested in what I had to say. I shared with her my insignificant frustrations with moving while cocking my phone with my shoulder since I was fixing my son's bike at the same time. Here she was giving me her full attention and I was trying to multitask. She didn't care. That was Minae.
She allowed people to serve her. Friends and family came in droves. Here was a woman who had served her church and community with all her heart, no reservations. All were eager to serve her in return. Flowers arrived. Visitors came and wore her out (her energy slowly waned). Calls, texts, fundraisers, etc. There was no shortage of those who wanted to show their love to her through service. And she let them. She felt their strength. She felt their prayers lift and sustain her. In such a wretched and seemingly hopeless situation, there was remarkable beauty and hope.
When visitors came, they always left lifted and better than when they arrived, even if she'd let them wear her out. Fellow musicians would come and sing to her. Sometimes I'd call and just have Mom hold the phone up to her ear so she could listen (she'd eventually reached a point where energy to respond had faded). And I know I'm not the only one. Cousins and family members from miles away traveled for a chance to be with Minae one last time. And Minae hung on. She let us all say our "goodbyes." She let her adult daughters rub her down to prevent bed sores and administer medications at all hours of the night. She let us see her all wasted away to literally skin and bones and still found a way to do it with flare and her typical classy style. Even when only a faint shadow of her remained, it was still 100% Minae.
Weeks before her passing she sent her only son back out on his LDS mission. Both knew they'd never see each other in this life again. The level of courage and selflessness both my sister and nephew displayed is beyond my level to comprehend. My sister who'd struggled to get pregnant, who'd had a tubal pregnancy burst and almost died because of it, who only bore 2 children herself, was willing to let her son go to serve God when she could have justifiably demanded he stay close for just a bit more. That act alone, I believe, put her on Heaven's list of saints.
Now she suffers no more. We, who had the pleasure to know her, are left with much to live up to. Was she perfect? No. She was just as human as the rest of us. But she was Minae, and no one else. She loved. She served. She tried. She let Life teach her wisdom. She bore her burdens with grace and let God help her with them as He saw fit (and she had many). May we all do our upmost to be strong in Christ, like Minae.
The end of January was busy for me. I had agreed to be the PTA member in charge of the elementary school spelling bee. The tense event was just getting started when I got a text from my brother-in-law stating he'd taken my oldest sister to the ER with severe abdominal pain. Something inside me sank. But, I had to deal with the circumstances at hand (the all-intimidating spelling bee- oooh), so I'd have to process those thoughts and feeling later.
For the next week or so, our whole family was on pins and needles, waiting to find out what was really wrong with our dear Minae. The "C" word was thrown out there, but we were all under the impression that if that was it, things weren't too bad. But one day, my husband got the news before I did. He kindly and chivalrously took me into our room to tell me the worst had become reality. Minae had Stage IV Pancreatic Cancer. My head swam. Between my own son and a brother-in-law in Boise, hadn't cancer wreaked enough havoc on our family, at least for a while?! And so the mourning for a beloved sister began.
It took a bit for Minae to say the word, "cancer," herself. She taught choir at a charter high school. it wasn't long before she found sufficient courage to go in front of all her classes and tell them herself why she was so ill. She finally found the gutts to use that all-scary word, "cancer." She even had the where with all to tell them it was terminal. How she was able to look them straight in the face- these young and impressionable teenagers who found a worthy mentor and friend in their teacher- and say that, I'll never know.
I remember talking to her not long after her grim diagnosis. She'd said all along she was going to fight it. Anyone who knows anything about pancreatic cancer knows it's one of the worst and chances of survival are super slim. I found a gentle way of asking her why she wanted to fight it. I'll never forget her answer. She told me she'd always known that when her time to die came, she'd be ready and she'd be satisfied with her life's work. She didn't feel that way yet. So she went forth, searching for a cancer center that would meet her needs. She was ready to wage a losing battle with fists flying and full gusto. Wow.
Being a state away, I was never really aware of the details regarding the process in finding the right cancer care center. All I heard was that the one she chose was stellar. She'd not only have an oncologist, but a nurse, nutritionist, and 2 other specialists I can't remember. They were that amazing. She seemed quite satisfied with how they treated her.
Then word came of how sick chemotherapy made her. Her previously healthy and strong body was discovered to be extremely sensitive to medications. The woman who loved to cook and experiment in the kitchen no longer found pleasure in eating and hardly anything was palatable anymore. Everything seemed to make her sick, from pain medicine, to chemotherapy. She had an anti-nausea patch, a pain patch, everyone was trying to get her to eat something. How her head must have been swimming. All. The. Time.
And yet she found a way to serve. She called me one day when she was lucid. She actually wanted to hear about the silly and what I found to be unfair negotiations in the selling of my house. Like it even mattered! But she listened intently and was genuinely interested in what I had to say. I shared with her my insignificant frustrations with moving while cocking my phone with my shoulder since I was fixing my son's bike at the same time. Here she was giving me her full attention and I was trying to multitask. She didn't care. That was Minae.
She allowed people to serve her. Friends and family came in droves. Here was a woman who had served her church and community with all her heart, no reservations. All were eager to serve her in return. Flowers arrived. Visitors came and wore her out (her energy slowly waned). Calls, texts, fundraisers, etc. There was no shortage of those who wanted to show their love to her through service. And she let them. She felt their strength. She felt their prayers lift and sustain her. In such a wretched and seemingly hopeless situation, there was remarkable beauty and hope.
When visitors came, they always left lifted and better than when they arrived, even if she'd let them wear her out. Fellow musicians would come and sing to her. Sometimes I'd call and just have Mom hold the phone up to her ear so she could listen (she'd eventually reached a point where energy to respond had faded). And I know I'm not the only one. Cousins and family members from miles away traveled for a chance to be with Minae one last time. And Minae hung on. She let us all say our "goodbyes." She let her adult daughters rub her down to prevent bed sores and administer medications at all hours of the night. She let us see her all wasted away to literally skin and bones and still found a way to do it with flare and her typical classy style. Even when only a faint shadow of her remained, it was still 100% Minae.
Weeks before her passing she sent her only son back out on his LDS mission. Both knew they'd never see each other in this life again. The level of courage and selflessness both my sister and nephew displayed is beyond my level to comprehend. My sister who'd struggled to get pregnant, who'd had a tubal pregnancy burst and almost died because of it, who only bore 2 children herself, was willing to let her son go to serve God when she could have justifiably demanded he stay close for just a bit more. That act alone, I believe, put her on Heaven's list of saints.
Now she suffers no more. We, who had the pleasure to know her, are left with much to live up to. Was she perfect? No. She was just as human as the rest of us. But she was Minae, and no one else. She loved. She served. She tried. She let Life teach her wisdom. She bore her burdens with grace and let God help her with them as He saw fit (and she had many). May we all do our upmost to be strong in Christ, like Minae.
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