Nat's Buzz

A FUNDRAISING EVENT & RAFFLE AT

HOMESTEAD FURNISHING & GIFTS

161 South River Street (Route 743)

Maytown, PA – (717) 426-1800

Monday, November 7, 2011

6PM – 8:30PM

Everyone is welcome! Bring your family, friends, neighbors & co-workers

The perfect time to Christmas shop and contribute to a great cause!

25% FROM THE EVENING’S SALES WILL GO DIRECTLY TO

LAM RESEARCH & AWARENESS

Event Coordinator: Rebecca Nissly

For more event details, to read Rebecca’s story in her own words or to donate to LAM research go to

www.firstgiving.com/fundraiser/rebeccalampage/give24

To read the back story and why I care about LAM read Breath of Hope 

I hate going to the doctors – absolutely dread it. It ranks among the top 5 things I hate doing. My reasoning behind this is somewhat long and boring. I wrote it out and deleted it because I was falling asleep re-reading it. But you should note I did NOT say I hate doctors. I think they are wonderful, knowledgable people for the most part. In fact, sometimes I wish we had a live-in doc to tell me what needs to be medicated or seen by a professional; thankfully we do have Daniel’s Grandmother who is a nurse. We call her any time, day or night; and we always receive sound medical advice. She is pretty laid back about most things – usually saying it’ll run its course while dispensing advice about how to care for the patient in the meantime. And she’s been right every time. There was even a time I felt strongly we should go to the ER for one of the kids; she advised us to stay home, giving us things to do here instead of spending hours in the ER with nothing but a huge bill to show for it. Daniel, who is altogether more laid back about medical problems than I am, almost had to tie me down; but once again – she was right and we were saved a lot of headache and hassle.

Best type of doctor's visit

So when I called her the other night about a problematic infected sore that was obviously spreading at a “decent” rate and she told me to go to the ER if it got any worse, I was a mess – to put it lightly. As I sat on our vanity putting the hottest washcloths I could stand on the sore I realized something that I’ve been subconsciously struggling with for a while. It literally hit me a like ton of bricks… Would God care if I died tonight? (not that I was in any imminent danger of dieing! but I was thinking worst case scenario, something I tend to do altogether too much with medical issues) And if He does care, how do I account for all the senseless deaths in the world due to freak mishaps, whether it be by man’s doing (a drunk driver causing a fatality), but more importantly by nature – like a sore that gets infected leading to blood infection, etc etc, or the young child who gets the flu and dies from complications. Maybe this is why I have always been so tense when my kids get sick. There’s no guarantee he/she isn’t going to be the one in one million when an ear infection leads to hospitalization. It just seems so senseless when a person, young or old, dies from something that generally isn’t life threatening. How do I make peace with this all while believing in a God who loves each person so much that He knows the number of hairs on his/her head? (Seriously – that is mind blowing!)

At Alicia’s visitation we shook hands with/hugged approximately 500 people, but the one comment that I remember from that whole evening was someone – I honestly don’t remember who – who said to me “It was God’s plan.” (Funeral etiquette note – that is NOT a comforting comment to make to someone grieving the loss of a loved one, no matter how much the bearer of such sentiments believes it!) Really… do you really truly believe that? Maybe you haven’t had anyone close to you die a senseless death. God’s plan to let a toddler die and leave his parents aching to hold him and hear him laugh just one more time. God’s plan to let both my and Daniel’s grandpas die at a relatively young age, leaving behind teenage and young adult kids who would have benefited from their wisdom and godliness? God’s plan to let my intelligent, young sister have LAM – a disease that only 1500 women in the world are diagnosed with? God’s plan that someone should feel so hopeless and distraught that ending it all appears to be the best answer? Really? God’s plan? Really?

Someone else may say “Maybe you haven’t/didn’t pray hard enough.” That’s another area I’m completely struggling with right now as well. So many times I can look back on my life and say I prayed about X, Y & Z, and it was answered – even really big things like my marriage surviving serious issues. I can even acknowledge those times when I prayed for something to happen, and it didn’t; however I learned so much more by getting a different answer than the one I thought would be best. But even in those times of “tough love” answers, the ability of my loved ones to continue living and breathing wasn’t at stake. Let me tell you how much I’ve prayed that my sister’s disease would be slow moving – presently it’s not. Let me tell you how much we prayed for Alicia. And where did that get us? Possibly the biggest heartache we could fathom from the situation. How is it that God’s plan feels so random and many times altogether so uncaring? Is it just that life this side of heaven really means absolutely nothing in the long run? Just a test to see if we will remain faithful?

And yet as I struggle along this shattered road, I’m not ready to give up on God. I know He’s with my sister. She will tell you He is faithful and about the miraculous! birth of her son. I can still sense Him in the thunder and lightening of a summer storm, in the rustle of the leaves, in the faces of my children, while holding my husband’s hand and listening to a beautiful piece of music, when visiting my parents’ farm, during choir practice, in the hearts of so many people who continue to send us cards and let us cry on their shoulders. I can even sense Him walking this road beside me although sometimes I don’t know how to respond to that. While I continue to question this God of “mine,” I’ve also been filled to overflowing with a new gratefulness for all that He has given me. A strange and quiet peace I’ve never known before has filled my soul even as I deal with relentless physical tension from the chaos of my emotions that leaves me unable to breathe deeply at times and my shoulders in continuous knots.

It’s been a long walk with no end in sight; but I’m not giving up on You, God, please don’t give up on me either.

Someone asked me on Sunday if I’m nervous about the upcoming half-marathon on October 16th. “Should I be?” I wondered. No, I’m not nervous at all. But maybe that’s because of some snafus that have come up along the way that will make race day a lot different than I originally imagined. In fact, there are a lot of things about training for this half-marathon that are different than I originally imagined. For those of you who have never trained for one, let me fill you in on some things I’m learning along the way.

Cat Calls – Yes, believe it or not I have been subjected to cat calls while running. The most popular place for this to happen is in front of Hempfield high school – usually when sports teams are out practicing. While I guess this is supposed to make me be disgusted that men are still whistling or using other “demeaning” language in order to show their “appreciation,” I must admit that I really don’t find it overly degrading. In fact, if I get such a reaction from a guy probably about ½ my age, I guess it just goes to show Daniel didn’t get the worst looking girl in the world. Of course there is a line to be drawn when a cat call gets out of hand, but thankfully I haven’t had to deal with that.

My Manly Appetite – Seriously, I’m hungry 24/7. I’ve never experienced this before, not even when I was pregnant. Before registering for the half-marathon I considered whether or not our grocery budget could handle the fact that I would need to eat more due to the increased activity. In my naivety, I decided that my eating habits most likely wouldn’t inflate our bill enough to deter me from training. It’s good I didn’t know how much I would be eating. While I don’t have firm statistics on how much our bills have gone up, I know I’m eating pretty much everything in sight, all day long; and my will power to say “no” to sweets except for dessert has gone completely out the window. I’m quite surprised that I haven’t gained any weight during this training season. So if you see me sneaking fruit snacks and granola bars during church, I’m NOT pregnant, just really hungry.

Half-Marathon Camaraderie – I have been greatly encouraged by meeting other individuals who have completed half-marathons. Since not everyone can say they’ve trained for a half, when I find someone who has, I automatically feel connected in some strange, mystical way. One woman I think about a lot is a-friend-of-Mrs. T’s who was injured early in training for her first half (never ran more than 5miles at a time before race day), but she still was able to meet her goal on race day even though all her workouts took place using an elliptical machine. I haven’t ever met this woman; but all the same, I get my motivation from her story after particularly bad workouts. Also I was super excited to find out my uncle will be running his first half at Hershey too. My uncle Wendell was the cool one. He drove a motorcycle and enjoyed being with the kids when we were little… probably because he didn’t have any kids of his own at that point. I remember making pizza and sleeping over at my uncle and aunt’s apartment at least once when my parents went away. It was tons of fun. To be journeying “together” into this territory is kinda surreal. (It also makes me feel old.) Also I found out my cousin-in-law will be running that day – we could have a Musser get-together at the Hershey Hotel afterwards, that is if any of us could afford it.

Motivation – I guess I thought once I started training, I would automatically love going out and running 4-5 days a week. And while my motivation has been pretty good until recently, I also have those days when I wake up, look out the window and decide it’s too dark to go out… or too wet or too cold or too fill-in-the-blank. Then I find myself trying to get in a workout at 9pm after I’m already totally spent – ugh, motivation killer.

knee braces & shoes just waiting to go for a run

Physical Ailments – I wish I could say my hands falling asleep while I run was my worst problem. I’ve had carpel tunnel symptoms off and on since high school, especially early in the morning before my hands “wake up.” However, my worst problem – and almost a show stopper – has been my knees. Since early-July I’ve been experiencing knee pain. First in my left knee – figured out how to manage that by wearing a sexy, awesome knee brace. Unfortunately, after my 8 mile run in early August, my right knee started up too. After much experimentation of how often and how far I can run without aggravating either of my knees since what they really want is rest right now, I’ve figured out I’m able to run 2 days a week, 5 miles each time on a flat, non-macadam surface, wearing braces on both knees, applying ice and taking Ibuprofen after every workout. For the rest of the 5+ weeks of training, I’ll do the majority of workouts on a bicycle, which I do not enjoy as much as running (sorry Daniel and Dad-in-law. But yes, Eric – I hate to admit it, that archaic exercise bike you rescued from the side of the road which found its way to our basement before it ever got to yours earlier this summer has come in handy recently, especially with all this rain.)

The inability to run as I would like to has really dampened my motivation to keep training – bad thing; however it has also provided a way for me to be able to escape the nerves and pressure I would put on myself if I were able to train as I was hoping to – good thing. I can no longer exercise in the manner which I feel will leave me in the best shape for the race, so it really won’t be a true estimate of what I’m capable of doing – that is seriously disappointing because my earlier training was going way better than I ever expected. I’m not sure how to even go about setting a goal for myself – any suggestions would be helpful. I’m trying to tell myself that this “no pressure” attitude I’ve taken is probably for the best. I didn’t want the race to become a day I dreaded and just wanted to get over with. In fact, I’m actually looking forward to it. It’ll most likely be the first time since early August when I get to run with Mrs. T. I haven’t even talked about the scheduling complications of trying to run with Mrs. T, that was something of a nightmare before my knees made it a total impossibility. I’ve missed our time together – our great conversations, our silences, our laughter and pain together. So to have a block of time to run 13.1 miles with Mrs. T will be close to heaven. Can’t wait until that day – bring it on.

“You should have warned me about that,” a friend said to me recently. She had gone on vacation for the first time with her one year old. Upon returning, she admitted that she had taken a book along and hadn’t really read any of it. “So this is vacationing with a non-infant?” she wondered. My friend told me she was getting ready to go on another vacation where there would be more adults present and less children per adult, which I told her would make for a more relaxing vacation – in other words, take the book along this time.

I guess I’ve found this to be true from experience. Last year the four of us went to a little cabin in the woods with my immediate family for a long weekend. The adult to child ratio was 2:1, not bad; but I didn’t crack a book or have a lot of free time except after the kids were in bed – just like at home. A couple weeks later, we went to Maine with Daniel’s immediate family. The adult to child ratio was 5:1. Wow! what a difference! I read, played games, spent a day hiking without kids, went out on the lake without kids, etc, etc – all during kid-awake hours. It was great.

Shortly after we returned from Maine, Daniel’s family began talking about next year’s vacation. This was something new for me. The trip to Maine was the first family vacation we had taken together, and I didn’t really expect everyone to be all that excited about round #2 so quickly. (I guess everyone else thought it was great too.) I thought maybe it would be a couple years before we all planned the next one. In all honesty, I was somewhat unsure that I wanted to commit to another vacation with so many people. I had had an awesome time in Maine (and I love Daniel’s family like my own)!!!; but as an introvert, being with lots of people is actually “work” for me at times – although I feel less that way since becoming a SAHM. Also my own history of vacations didn’t include aunts, uncles, grandparents, etc. I grew up “vacationing” with my immediate family – Mom, Dad brother and sister. Our vacations consisted of camping on the weekends for most of my pre-teen and teen years. During high school we took 2 or 3 one-week-long trips that I remember, again just with my immediate family. Since I was used to camping as a small family unit as a child, I just wasn’t sold on never having a vacation for just my current small family unit ever again.

But of course if my family had planned a week long vacation this year, we definitely would have gone with them due to my own desires of wanting to be there. In turn we have just returned from TN with Daniel’s family. On top of that, I came back from TN a total believer that this is a wonderful way to vacation – why did I question it to begin with? My kids have the best bunch of aunts & uncles (and “friends” of aunts & uncles) & grandparents that I could have imagined. They were truly amazing! From the minute we arrived, they were ready to play with and love on my kids in any way possible – just like they always are. Coloring, swimming, swinging, hugging, horseback riding, air hockey playing, shoulder rides, hand holding, treasure hunting, reading, attention diverting, even diaper changing – there wasn’t much they didn’t do. I am so thankful – not just because I got a bunch of time to do things I enjoyed doing, sometimes without kids at all! – but because I value these relationships so much. Having worked daycare and also with emotionally disturbed children, I’m well aware that there aren’t a lot of kids who have this many adults interested in their lives to the degree that Daniel’s family is interested in my kids’ lives. My kids are blessed beyond belief to be a part of this family.

Sadly, there was one aunt missing this year. I cannot explain to you the degree of loss I felt over her not being with us – the whole family felt it horrifically. For me it was especially hard in the quiet times when I knew she would have had a rousing comment or another topic of conversation to dive into – or when we were getting ready for the next adventure. She had a way of making me feel less akward and clumsy – as a person and a mother. She had a way of helping everyone gel together a little more. She had a way of making something that was a little funny seem really funny. She was just plain beautiful, inside and out. She had a special place in her heart for my kids. In all honesty, it makes me very angry that something so beautiful was destroyed so quickly – my kids (all of us, especially her husband) were robbed of so many things that “should have been.” Alicia would have loved to listen to Ian go on and on about the horses, not wanting to go to the pool, and whatever else popped into his brain this past week. Alicia would have been so excited about Alice loving the pool, turning 5 yrs old and beginning school next week, probably more excited than I am. Will this pain ever cease? Will the tears ever stop? As of today, I am very doubtful. Sometimes I’m jealous that Alicia’s pain has ended. Oh, that ours would end too.

And here I am already – back at home, doing the thing that I call “life.” But I can’t shake the feeling of being torn in 2 – being exceedingly grateful for the “things” – all immaterial – that my kids and I receive from being in this family and yet mourning the loss of so many things that “should have been.” It has been a sad couple of days back at home (wherever that is for each family member) as I know other family members are also experiencing grief as we think of all the things that should have been different last week. But I do thank all of you – Mom, Dad, Laura, Shelly, Eldon, Joel, Cody, Patrick, Allayna & Britta – for everything you are and do. And Alicia – I thank you too, for giving me a glimpse of how to live with enthusiam, how to love with all your heart and be passionate about that which you love. I hope I too can learn some of these things from having known you for such a “short” time… but it should have been longer.

PS Alicia – you’d be proud of me today. I started an organization project. I miss you.

I realized today as we got in the car and began the long drive to Tennessee for a family vacation, that Daniel and I made a similar journey together 9yrs ago – I think on Aug. 17, 2002. We were married on August 10, 2002. And one week later, we left for TX so that he could finish his final year of college at LeTourneau University. That trip was much different than the one we took today. With both trips our vehicles were stuffed to the gills; however the 2002 trip was a total of 1400 miles, and today’s was only 571. However, it makes a big difference when there are 2 little voices coming from the backseat, which of course was today’s trip. Those 571 miles could have easily felt like 1400miles. In order to keep myself both sane and entertained, I jotted down several fun quotes that came from different family members during the 9.5hr journey.

Quotes from PA -

“Google is not God.” Daniel uttered this as we drove through Harrisburg in a very strange – but I guess the shortest distance – fashion. I was the navigator and had not had time to look at the directions ahead of time. About halfway into Google’s crazed idea of how to get to 81S, we ditched it and took our own way.

“I don’t think she was talking about that sun.” Daniel and I enjoy a certain hippy-ish song by Sally Oldfield called “The Sun in my Eyes.” Being the navigator through PA, I was also in charge of the music selection at that time as well and happened to stumble across good-ol’ Sally’s song. I had to laugh though as I looked in the backseat and snapped a picture of Ian, who had thrown a blanket over his head to keep the sun out of his eyes – apparently his sunglasses weren’t cutting it.

Quotes from MD -

“Are we there yet?” with approximately 500 miles to go.

“Flirck ‘em!” – We invented a great new phrase of aggravation from a license plate which was “FLRCK M”. The other option we nixed was the name “Fulrick M.”

Quote from WV

“I don’t know what TRHDE stands for.”
“It’s French for turd – like turh-day.”
Conversation as we followed an SUV with these letters where a car’s model is usually found. I have researched this on the internet, and still have no idea what kind of vehicle this was. But it was a fun conversation anyway.

“Mommy, Ian is kicking my giant busy box,” Alice reports in a whiny voice.
“Is it keeping him busy? Perfect!” (The giant busy box was a box filled w/ craft items for the kids to do while on vacation.)

“So this vacation I’m going to try something different. Usually I sleep until whenever the heck I want to…”
Natalie interrupts “You’re gonna get up and take care of the kids so I can sleep until whenever the heck I want to??” Conversation ended.

Quotes from VA

“We’re gonna be there soon Ian. We’re gonna be there soon.” Alice at 143.2 miles into the trip, only 428 to go.

“Do you know how many years it would take if we had to drive to the sun at this rate?… We’d be dead… and out of gas.” Daniel

Quotes from TN

“I’m kinda northeastern – esepcially when I’m driving on the highway,” stated by Daniel as we complained about what seemed to be a lgeneral ack of understanding that the left-hand lane is for faster vehicles and the right-hand lane is for slower ones.

“Jesus is Lord!” – sign on a building along the highway. “WE BUY GUNS” printed in the same font right beside “Jesus is Lord.” Wish I had my camera out for that one!

“The scooter folds up, man.”See picture on the right. That is a scooter on the left, and luckily I did have my camera out for this one… although we did have to chase the car to get a good picture as the bike carrying car flew past us.

Thankfully, we arrived safe and sound – as did the rest of the family. Excited for a bunch of fun days with the fam – maybe some more quote, just kidding guys.

Loving the playground

I just returned home from the 5 busiest days that 2011 will most likely produce for me. No really, I’ve done this three times now since 2009, and these past 5 days have been a whirlwind of activity and craziness that easily rival the mad rush of the holidays. Just a couple seconds ago, it was Monday; and then I blinked – it’s Friday. The kids and I are back from a week of Moms & Tots Camp at Camp Hebron. And while these 5 days have been seriously crazy, they are some of the most treasured days of my year. I guess that’s why I keep going back.

Catching crayfish

A lot of people think I’ve lost a few of my marbles when I tell them I’m going to go to camp with my kids along with 30 other moms and 60 other kids. Seriously – I get a lot of weird looks. They picture cabins with bunk beds and a common bathroom – or worse, tents and an outhouse. They envision me working on team cheers, playing capture the flag, and playing pranks with the other crazy moms while our super-energized, over-sugared kids run around like unsupervised maniacs. They think of how exhausting single parenting for 5 days can be and wonder why I would voluntarily subject myself to that. They ask me how expensive it is, and it is expensive – no doubt about that! They ask me if the rumor that the first-time-mom usually cries from frustration and being overwhelmed on the first night she’s there is true – it is. Why would you want to do this?? they ask me.

Trying to catch bugs

My answer up until this year was somewhat confusing and unconvincing – even to myself. I would say something like “I go because I get to spend quality time with my kids and don’t have to think about housework.” Another vague answer was something like this – “I go because I have all the conveniences of doing things with my kids so close by. At camp, it takes very little effort to get to the pool, the sandbox and the lake all in one day and still get some “me” time as well.” (Ok, so maybe it still takes effort, but a lot less than it would at home.) This year I finally figured out my new answer that should hopefully explain things a little more clearly to my mystified inquirers. “It’s like having a wife for a week. Somebody has already planned all the activities, acquired the supplies to make it happen, does all the cleaning up when it’s finished and does all the cooking on top of it all;  I get to be just the mom plus have adult conversation almost the entire day as well as me-time too. What could be more exciting and enticing to a task-driven, secluded stay-at-home-mom?”

Highly anticipated creek stomp. My boy is IN the water!

So let me set the record straight on what Moms & Tots is really about. There are no camp cabins, tents or taking your newly potty trained child to an outhouse. The moms and kids stay in a retreat center – private bedrooms & bathrooms, a conference room, rec room and dining hall, all with AC. Yes, single parenting is exhausting especially with really young children, but there is a large amount of just mom-time while the kids are with their counselors. The kids spend the mornings in age-groups experiencing a Bible school type program, and there are other various counselor-led activities for just the kids scattered throughout the week. (The counselors are amazing! They are more than willing to help in any way possible – especially at meal time.) There are no mom teams or pranks like I experienced at camp when I was in grade school; however, we do have “mom camp time” which includes hiking, a high ropes course, slingshot, horseback riding, and moms-only pool time. For those not quite so adventurous, there was hobby time, table games, a pampering area, and the opportunity to make some cute take-home crafts. The week culminates with a moms-only candlelit dinner on the deck, served by the wonderful male counselors with live music to boot. There are so many activities planned for the week, there is almost no way to do them all. Yes, it is expensive. I do forgo some things I indulged in during my pre-camp years to make up for some of the cost. But I also thank my wonderful husband who willingly “lets” me go – without any guilt attached. (Of course – sometimes I do envy him a little right before I walk out the door to head to camp. This year the house was as close to spotless as I can make it – toys put away, counters clear of clutter, all rooms of the house cleaned in the past week. Who wouldn’t want to spend 5 days in such order, calm & quiet?)

Fishing for (swedish) fish - yum!

Most of all, camp is about spending time with my kids – just them and me – and putting away my to-do list for a few days. There is nothing in the world that can replace the experiences I’ve had with them at camp these past three years. We sing the camp songs and talk about the Bible program, creek stomp and fishing game all year round. We count down the weeks and days until we leave. We look at pictures and remember the excitement, togetherness, and love we shared that week.

Decorating cookies

This week’s theme for the Moms was “No Regrets” – a very fitting topic considering the recent events in my life. My own mom once told me she regretted not putting away her to-do list more when my sister, brother and I were kids. Don’t get me wrong – we felt very loved and knew Mom would give her life for us if needed and we all have great relationships with her now. But I do take what she said to heart. I don’t want to regret living for the purpose of having a clean house or a weed-free garden or spending huge amounts of time on projects that save a few dimes and nickles in lieu of building relationships and making a difference in other people’s lives – whatever that may mean for the day at hand. As I get ready to send my daughter to kindergarten at the end of the month (Really?? Already?), I realize how quickly the past 5 years have gone by. Even though the daily grind has been wearisome at times (many times!), I’m incredibly grateful to be able to look back on the hours and hours I’ve spent reading and playing with her, hopefully not only setting a foundation for a solid future relationship with her, but also helping to mold her into a responsible, compassionate individual.  I don’t regret one single moment I’ve spent being with her and my son. I think of a quote by Alice Ozma, author of “The Reading Promise,” which was shared this past week. She said, “No one will ever say ‘I think I spent too much time with my children when they were young.’” I feel that way today too. So glad we went to Moms & Tots in 2011, and already looking forward to 2012 even as I try to live intentionally everyday until then.

The Three of Us

Today was a day of a roller coaster of emotions, not unlike a lot of days recently. The first emotion that came to mind this morning was stress. It was community meal day, and the idea of being the person in charge of getting 80 people fed their evening meal in less than 12hrs just gets me stressed out – no matter how much time I’ve spent planning, emailing, calling, confirming, etc etc. (I co-ordinate a meal held at a local church once a month for people in our community who either need help making ends meet or need a social outlet or both. We usually feed about 50-65 people; but occasionally we’ve had up to 80 show up, so I try to be prepared for that number.)

And so as I found myself mixing up 9lbs of hamburger, 9 diced onions and other various ingredients to make sloppy joes, the second strong emotion of the morning hit. I realized 3 months ago – April 28^th – was the day my sister-in-law took her life. That day should have gone a lot like today would go – double checking lists, packing the car, food preparation at home, more food preparation at the church, serving the meal at 5:30p, coming home and crashing. Three months ago, April 28^th was a Thursday, and I was in charge of the community meal to be held that evening. Instead at 6:19a we got the phone call from my mother-in-law, and the rest of the day is – well – it’s indescribable. But the realization of the significance of today sent me back, reliving those moments of pure shock and unimaginable grief for part of this morning.

But just so you know that my days are not all grief-stricken, you need to hear about the moment late this morning when I realized that my clematis was blooming – oh happy day! Now you need to know the background story about this particular plant in order to understand my joy. My husband will tell you the fastest way to kill a plant is to give it to me in a pot. Seriously, it’s a fine mixture of over watering and negligence on my part, but I’m generally 100% lethal with a potted plant. When my florist-neighbor asked me to water her plants while they were away on vacation recently, Daniel told me I better have a couple sessions from the master on the fine art of watering plants before she left. Luckily I only had to water 2 days and the majority of the plants were in the ground, which I’m somewhat competent at watering. See picture of zinnia as proof.

So when my small group gave us a clematis in bloom as a care-gift after Alicia’s death, I was excited but nervous at the prospect of taking care of this plant until it was in the ground. I had been admiring other clematises this spring; and upon bringing the gifted-plant home, I found out Daniel was pretty excited about it too. We set to work thinking of a place to plant it, but that was about as far as we got due to not having an obvious space for it since it needs a trellis and also due to the craziness of life at that point. I watered it as often as I remembered, but eventually it totally dried up along with 2 other potted plants on the porch. When I reported the death of the clematis to Daniel, he was very disappointed – ok, he was mad. Maybe he just needed something to be mad at that day – there seems to be a lot of that in our house recently on both our parts; but he was upset and rightly so to a certain extent. I don’t know what made me do it, but I tried watering it again for a couple of days – even though there wasn’t a speck of green on the entire plant. Low and behold after time, one lone green shoot emerged from the soil and acted like it wanted to climb something. I guess that was enough motivation for us to finally come up with a planting spot.

So I planted it and have been watering it since while the green leaves keep coming. (The lone shoot which I thought was a new clematis vine turned out to actually be a weed, but at least it got us where we needed to go.) I’ve been looking at other clematises and am pretty sure most of them have been done blooming for about a month now. But when I went out to water mine today, this is what I found.

One single bloom in honor of Alicia. Maybe the whole plant will bloom again due to the drought I put it through earlier. Maybe it’s coincidence that we happen to see this sign of hope and beauty today of all days. Maybe it’s from Alicia telling us not to forget her. Whatever it is, it is my gift today. And it brings me some sense of peace to know that even out of death – out of the brown, dried-up-ness of life – can come something else, something besides just sorrow and agony. And perhaps – just by chance – with a little love, a little caring, and a “little” watering of tears will come something beautiful too.

I scan the email. I probably shouldn’t be doing this now. I have a ton of other stuff that needs done tonight… if the news is bad, it’ll all fall apart. I’ll fall apart. I continue scanning anyway – not really reading the words, but looking for numbers. THE number. I find it. It’s not good. Shock rolls over me in waves, again and again – almost as fresh and new as it was the first time around. It takes a minute, but the tears that I haven’t had the time to cry recently come out in tidal waves and my stomach plummets. I find myself literally holding my breath and remind myself to exhale. ”Why God?,” I ask for the ten billionth time. “Why her? Pick me instead!” I command the Almighty over and over as I try to comprehend the rest of the email. When I’m finished reading, my movements about the kitchen are so slow it’s painful to watch myself. I mechanically fill the dishwasher and put together Daniel’s lunch for tomorrow, opening the refrigerator several times not really knowing what I’m in search of, all the while tears blur my vision – something I’ve grown used to over the past 7 months. Grief – my old friend – I haven’t missed you. You’ve been too close at hand recently. I begin to mentally cross off things on my to-do list which I know will not get done because of this new information to process and because I will once again realize that it doesn’t matter if my green beans get replanted or if my flower bed gets weeded or if I’m the one who brings the “awesome-est” home cooked dish to the family reunion. It’s relationships that count. It’s reading the extra book to my children or spending part of the morning chatting with my brother-in-law. However, I can’t cross off all my responsibility and the thought of me co-ordinating the community meal that feeds 80 people next Thursday is next to impossible to fathom at the moment, along with packing for 2 vacations that are coming up in August. “How will all of this get done?” I desperately wonder. Breathe in, breathe out, I tell myself.

My Sister and I at LAMposium - 2011

My sister had an appointment today with her pulmonologist. I didn’t realize the significance I had been putting on this day until the release of my emotion at the end of it. I guess subconsciously I’ve been waiting for the appointment since the day my sister was diagnosed as having moderate-severe LAM, a degenerative lung disease. At that point, 2 questions became central in my mind concerning her health: 1. How can this be stopped? 2. How quickly is her LAM progressing? The answer to the first question is experimental at best. Researchers have recently finished testing a drug that showed some hope of slowing the progression of the disease. But the long-term effects and sustainability of being on the drug are unknown. Lung transplant is the only other treatment. The second question would be answered more fully by today’s appointment. The pulmonologist’s findings this morning was that my sister’s rate of decline of lung capacity over the past 7 months was almost triple the average rate for LAM patients. Triple.

This dramatic decline could possibly be due to her recent pregnancy and the estrogen surge that comes along with that. If that’s the case, then her diminishing lung capacity rate should correspond closer to average as her hormones balance out over the next several months. (It is thought that there is a connection between the presence of estrogen and the progression of the disease since LAM is a disease only occurring in women.) So now we will wait 6 more long months for another lung function test to determine if this truly is the rate of decline or if the current decline was so intense due to the hormonal surge of pregnancy.

I slowly come back to earth and begin to reign in my emotions gone wild. Through my mental fog, I try to remind myself that there is a lot of life to live in the next 6 months, and that I need to be thankful for every day, every breath. For the moment, I will rest on my sister’s last sentence from her email as I think back over the past 7 months during which time I’ve experienced the loss of one sister and hang in limbo watching another fight for her life. She wrote these words tonight after informing us of the news from the pulmonologist -” We are putting our trust in Him and taking one day at a time.”

God, give me strength to get through this one day – there’s less than an hour left to it. Hopefully I can make it. Breath in, Breathe out.

(This entry was written on July 18th, but I wasn’t able to share it until today. My reaction to  the news was so strong it was hard for even me to process. I can’t explain my feelings. But they are what they are, and they are mine. Thank you for allowing me to share with you.)

Two things I never dreamed I would say, especially the second part – I am now running 6 miles without walking, and I’m training to run the Hershey Half Marathon in October. There – I’ve said it. Please keep your giggles, raised eyebrows & shocked expressions to yourself, or get them all over now so I don’t have to endure them later. As an absolute non-runner and non-athlete for the majority of my life, I’m not exactly sure how this happened, except that my marathon-running and once nationally-ranked-tennis-player neighbor, Mrs. T, recently had a baby. I’ll explain a little more…

Mrs. T has been asking me for years to go running with her, but my treadmill workouts have always left me feeling slower than molasses, working pretty hard to walk/run a 13min mile. No one wants to run a 13 minute mile alongside a seasoned marathon runner! However, when people hear that you workout on the treadmill, they assume you’re an amazing runner – at least that has been my experience. I’m not amazing; I’m just relatively consistent. Anyway, Mrs. T had a baby a few months ago and has recently started running again. One day in May she called me up and said “Are you doing the ½ marathon or the triathlon with me this fall?” Hahahaha – oh, and hahaha I thought. Mrs. T claimed up and down that she was as slow as molasses too and wouldn’t I please go running with her? Even though I was still chugging away at a 12-13min mile, I had been wondering if my treadmill might be off a little. Since it is quite old and likes to spontaneously stop, I was starting to have less confidence that what the screen was telling me was actually correct. So I decided to take the plunge.

This leap of faith – to look like a total running failure in front of my friend – was a great decision! I not only realized that I love running outside (imagine that!), but found out I’m running 10-11min miles at an easy pace. I know in the running world 10 min miles aren’t that great. But please realize my reputation – I’m not an athlete by any means! The cross country/track coach in high school never tried to sign me up except maybe to tie the shoelaces and fill the water bottles of the real stars. I was always the cheerleader for my sister and my friends, never once considered doing it myself. After the confidence boost of running with Mrs. T, it didn’t take long to figure out that I wanted to commence training for the ½ marathon.

And yet, it wasn’t my newfound confidence that brought me to this point because I have been thinking about doing something like this for about a year, although I was thinking something smaller scale like a 5k. There has been something inside me yearning for order. Training for the ½ marathon provides the order and goal that I long for right now. You see, the normal rhythm of my life has pretty much disintegrated over the past 18 months. My husband changed jobs twice. He and I stood on the brink of marital failure last spring (OK let’s be honest – many, if not most, marriages go there at some point. Some make it and others don’t. Mine, by whatever fluke of fate, is stronger for having gone there). My sister was diagnosed with LAM, leaving huge questions about the longevity of her future. My sister-in-law took her own life

Life has become intensely chaotic, to the point that I can no longer make sense of almost anything or plan what to do from day-to-day. I look at my house filled with things that need attention, and I’m so overwhelmed I can’t even begin. Things like writing emails and going to the grocery store which were once so natural leave me longing to go back to bed or putting it off for another day. My husband will tell you I’m a planner to the nth degree – drives him nuts sometimes and for good reason. The fact that I’m currently incapable of planning leaves me feeling like a fish out of water. The plan for training for the ½ marathon is already completed for me by Hal Higdon. Thank you Mr. Higdon! Finally something I can do without actually doing the planning. Please God, may this be the first step on the road to recovery or I may lose my mind. By the way, I’m not trying to throw myself a pity-party. I am keenly aware that there are many, many individuals whose life circumstances are way worse than mine. If anything because of my experiences, you have my utmost compassion.

One thing I did have to plan was how to tell my family about my recent determination to run a ½ marathon. I’m sure they think I’ve rocked off my rocker, although maybe that is a possibility I should consider more. Remember my reputation? I was the bookworm, piano playing, cross-stitching, happy-not-to-be-sweating daughter. It’s not that I was a total couch-potato. I worked (physical labor) on our poultry farm until I got married. But for most of my days at home with my family, running was akin to torture. During a recent conversation with my sister, I mentioned I was going to run with Mrs. T that evening. My sister’s raised eyebrows and questioning eyes said it all. When I finally got up enough nerve to tell my parents I had registered for the ½ marathon, my mom said “so how long is that – a ½ mile or something?” Yeah – give or take a few, I guess. Don’t get me wrong. It’s not that they aren’t supportive; it’s just totally foreign for them to think of me trying to attain this goal. I guess I should have told my family that I’m running the Hershey 1/2 marathon because there is a chocolate refueling station somewhere along the route. If you know my serious chocolate addiction, that’s probably more believable than me wanting to run because I’m hoping this is the next step in healing. (Actually I don’t envision myself scarfing down a chocolate bar at mile 9 or 10, but I’m sure someone will.)

Finally, even though I’m 15 weeks away from making any victory speeches, I would thank my husband especially who had faith in me from the beginning of my even entertaining the notion and for putting up with my “should I or shouldn’t I?” wavering until I finally decided I should. And I would be remiss not to thank him for his excellent cross training coaching too – still pushing me hard on those bike rides, even though those rides are supposed to be an “easy” training day.

The next step – 7 miles!

Chirstmas Eve Gathering 2010

Dear Alicia,

I have a confession to make – I lied to Laura yesterday. We had just spent an almost perfect day together as a family. I had been enjoying Eldon’s presence during the past week while he was here from Boston on “work-cation.” Laura and Shelly came up from VA to celebrate Mom’s birthday. Everyone was together, except you. Our family has actually grown to include Steve and Marie, a fun addition. I’ve found strength to get through the days when we’re together like this. But I always dread the day after – the day when I’m alone with my thoughts at home with the kids. I get to reflect on the day before and your absence feels like a hole, a bottomless pit.

Christmas Eve Gathering - 2010

The “good-byes” at the end of yesterday were harder than some. There’s something so difficult about saying good-bye to Eldon, Laura and Shelly recently. It’s like the hole gets bigger, if that’s even possible, as I begin to miss the qualities and added dimensions they bring to the family. I love our family – so thankful they’ve made me one of their own. I celebrate our differences and the different directions life has taken each of us. But I also celebrate the times we’re together, our laughter and debating, reminiscing and experiencing new things together.

Christmas Eve Gathering - 2010

So when Laura asked me if I was alright after she hugged me good-bye while I was trying to blink back the tears I knew would come today that were arriving prematurely, I told her I was ok. But I wasn’t – am not. Sometimes it feels like life stands still for me. Everybody moving forward and going onto the next thing, while I remain constant – hanging up wash, emptying the dishwasher, paying the bills and wiping noses – maybe it feels that way for others too. I bet it does. Sometimes I just want to run away, pretend this has never happened, and I don’t need to feel the pain of missing you so. But you are part of our family – always will be, never forgotten; and just as I enjoy all the great things about being in this family, I will bare all the heartaches of being part of such a beautiful family. I love them all so much, just as you did. Once again – you were missed by all of us, as you forever will be.

Missing you so much today, Natalie

Annual Christmas Eve Shrimp Feast