Treasures

The last week has been the strange dichotomy of a whirlwind and moments that lingered. I am so grateful those of you who were able to make the pilgrimage and pay your final respects. The sheer number of people, and so many that we not only knew but were dear to our hearts, who came on Friday and Saturday was overwhelming. Eric was always the life of the party. He would have been so pleased to draw such a crowd!

I've been trying to savor each moment. Our pastor reminded me last week of the passage in Luke that speaks of the visitors at the stable on the night of Jesus' birth. It says, "But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart".

I will always treasure the moment I heard Chloe's sweet voice singing "I Can Only Imagine" just in step with Joe. And the fact that our three children took their first communion at their fathers funeral. It isn't traditional church doctrine but I believe it made God smile.

I think about each and every one of the seven, I know, seven eulogies. I thought it was crazy too, but Eric insisted and he was right. Each one of you spoke of the man I loved with such beauty, love and respect. I couldn't have asked for more. I remember my dear aunt who flew in from Florida just to arrive for the reception. And my father and his four brothers who lost their father when they were children and yet, despite the painful memories were there to support us.

I so enjoyed seeing Eric's ties on all the speakers and pall bearers. It was as if every time I turned around, there, was another memory to greet me. I am grateful for the phenomenal music, which was such an important part of Eric's life and consider it a blessing to have had our pastor from Florida make the trip. I had forgotten our original conversations with Alex concerning Isaiah 41:18-20;

18 I will make rivers flow on barren heights,
and springs within the valleys.
I will turn the desert into pools of water,
and the parched ground into springs.
19 I will put in the desert
the cedar and the acacia, the myrtle and the olive.
I will set pines in the wasteland,
the fir and the cypress together,
20 so that people may see and know,
may consider and understand,
that the hand of the LORD has done this,
that the Holy One of Israel has created it.

As you did, we always wanted the work of God's hand to be evident in Eric's healing. But in that moment, I could see God had done what he promised. For each of you who stood by Eric's casket and told me of how our journey had strengthened your faith, I was a witness to the pools of water in the desert. When you came and told me our blogging had made you reconnect with God, I saw in you, those tall pines rooted in what once was wasteland. And while each and every one of you thanked me for our blogs and what they had meant to you, I must say just as verse 20 did, "see and know, consider and understand that the hand of the LORD has done this". Eric and I were just the unlucky couple with cancer who were honored to share our lives with such wonderful friends and family.

I know I will treasure many more memories but am grateful I captured one in a photo. The sight of our three children singing and dancing to the mountain song Eric sang so many bedtimes. Your presence at Eric's funeral was a blessing to us, I pray it was a blessing to you too. I am certain when I say, "Eric was well loved".

Amy

Condolences- 10 Years Later

Earlier this spring, Eric and I had begun having more talks about life without him. One of the things heavy on my heart was the weight of responsibility associated with remembering him not only for myself but for the kids. Eric found this article in the April 21, 2008 edition of NEWSWEEK. He left it on my bedside table one evening. While he said he thought it might ease my mind, I think secretly, the fear of being remembered was equally heavy. I've kept it in my bedside table since then, just a little note for a rainy day. I hope Katie Couric won't object to my reproducing it.

Even the word feels clunky and uncomfortable. "condolences." No wonder so many of us are at a loss when dealing with loss. The right words can be such a salve for raw, unabating pain. So why is our biggest goal simply to fill up a note card or piece of stationary with enough words to get the whole exercise over with? The next time you put pen to paper to express your sympathy, focus on a simple story, recollections of a brief encounter, a loving or funny memory. You will find a grateful recipient at the final resting place of that correspondence.

I commemorated a sad milestone a few months ago. It was the 10th anniversary of my husband, Jay's death, which seems as inconceivable as I write this now as it did on that Saturday morning in January 1998. My daughters and I always remember the date in some small way. Whether it's just talking about their dad, looking at photographs, sending a helium balloon to rise nonchalantly toward heaven; each year the date stands out somehow. But this year was different. First of all, there is something especially significant about a decade. Second, it was the year I decided Ellie and Carrie, now ages 16 and 12, were old enough to read some of the hundreds of letters I received after Jay's death. Because of the public nature of my job, I received many letters from total strangers.

But I also asked those attending Jay's funeral to write the girls so they would at least get to know their father posthumously. A few years ago I tentatively dug into the boxes with a strange mix of curiosity and apprehension. The man I was dating at the time agreed to sort through and organize them with me. As I read letter after letter, tears flooding down my face, I told him it must have been one of the weirdest dates he'd ever had. "Not one of," he replied, slightly bemused. "THE weirdest." Three years later, on the anniversary that traditionally requires exchanging gifts of tin or aluminum (here's a roll of Reynolds Wrap, honey!) - I traced the narrative of a man's life in sympathy notes. We would have been married 19 years this June.

I picked four letters, and we read them at the dinner table. One was from a lawyer in Birmingham who, like my husband, had gone to Washington and Lee University. He had written a hilarious account of one of their football games and the role Jay's hairstyle had played. After Jay caught a pass and was running to the goal line, "Out of nowhere, a defender caught hold of that damn ponytail and pulled Jay down denying him a touchdown. All of us laughed so hard, we had to call a time out to gather ourselves." Another was from a lawyer who appeared with my husband when he provided legal analysis of the O.J. Simpson trial on FOX. He wrote about Jay's willingness to brief him about everything that day and laughed when the attorney had repeated one of Jay's observations on the air. He also told my daughters of the kindness Jay had shown his. She had some developmental issues, and also wrote a note that read in part, "Dear Miss Couric. I think your husband was a very nice man. The reason that I am writing you is that last year he signed his name in my autograph book as OJ Monahan and I thought you would get a kick out of that." My sister wrote several typed pages that began, eerily, with this: "Dear Ellie and Carrie, I am writing this on February 18 1998...I assume that as you read this it is the year 2008 and you have grown into fine young ladies." She wrote about Jay's intervention when she and I had a fight because her two teenage sons and husband had eaten all the leftover Thanksgiving pies for breakfast the next day...an incident we laughingly now refer to as "piegate". In the process of selecting the letters, I opened an entire series of tender and funny snapshots of a single life, recorded in sympathy cards, on Crane stationary and simple loose-leaf notebook paper. Some are from well-known names: John F. Kennedy Jr.'s neatly written, monogrammed JFK card expressing sympathy for "the far too early passing of your husband" and remembering Jay's mischievous twinkle and penchant for dressing up in period garb as a Civil War re-enactor. "having gone through a few losses myself, the challenge is to find meaning in what has happened," he wrote. There are other letters, almost confessional in tone, from those who wanted to share similar experiences. Reading through many of them on this sad anniversary, I had a strange impulse to call or write the senders, and yet I know I never will. How is the warm and wonderful mother of two girls who had lost her husband, Tom, to colon cancer a year before Jay's death? What do the little girls in the photograph of the once happy nuclear family look like today? Her letter was so loving and intimate for someone I had never met. Is Jay's college friend still practicing law in Birmingham? Does he have any idea how I treasure his simple story of a college football game? Does Nancy Mathis, the local news reporter whom I competed against when we both were on the "night beat" in Washington, D.C., have any idea that 10 years later, her note recounting the night Jay picked me up on the Mall where we were covering a story to whisk me off to a Willie Nelson concert made me smile and remember?

These letters are a gift, in boxes and bundles still to be put in some orderly, sensible chronology. For me, they ignite memories that have long receded. For Ellie and Carrie, who were just 2 and 6 when their father died, reading about those moments from his childhood, college years and career, recounted through so many different prisms, will allow them to know Jay's life story. And, in this era of e-mail, long after the glue has worn off the envelopes, they will have that story at their fingertips, as well as tangible evidence of the love, care and effort that went into writing every one.
-Katie Couric

It is my prayer, that you all might do me the same favor, lifting some of the weight and responsibility of remembering Eric. After reading this article, I imagined boxes of letters filled with photos and memories. Enough to paint a picture of the man we all knew and loved, that would stand the test of time. I hope for those of you making the trip here to Chicago will bring your letter with you, and for those of you not able to honor Eric with your presence at the funeral, you might take some time to invest in his children's memories of their father sending a letter in your absence.

I know this is not an easy thing to ask, but also know Eric left many markers to be repaid. His love for friends and family was never ending. But I don't need to tell you that. I look forward to opening my mailbox in the weeks to come!

Chloe, Amanda & Evan Plummer
2340 River Hills Lane
Bolingbrook, IL 60490
Do not open until 2018

The kids, my parents and I are off to an open house at the Community Supported Agriculture (CSA) farm where we bought a share in an organic farmers harvest. I couldn't think of a better thing to do the day after Eric died than to go and see life continuing to spring forth. No matter how hard you try, life does keep going on.

I'll post some pictures for you tomorrow!
Amy


It occured to me last night that I didn't provide you with all the "official" information.
Services for Eric will be at 10:00am on Saturday, July 26th at Grace United Methodist, 300 E Gartner Rd, Naperville

The public visitation will be from 3-9 on friday at Fredrich Jones, 44 S mill street in Naperville. There will be a Family Visitation from 2-3pm the same day. For those of you who are pallbearers, please arrive at the church by 9am.

I look forward to seeing you all this weekend. Please read tomorrow as I have a specific job I'd like you to complete before you arrive.
love,
amy

I think God must be crying.

It is my honor to tell you that at 10:25pm last night Eric took his final walk HOME.

Yesterday was such a long day. The kids were wildly disobedient which resulted in more than one spanking for both Evan and Amanda. At one point while I was spanking Amanda, she said "Mommy why are YOU crying?" I suppose I'd just had enough and tearfully spoke more of the truth than she wanted to hear when I said, "I don't want be spanking you. I don't want to be up here all by myself. I want Daddy to be here helping me not downstairs too sick to even wake up!" In the quiet of too much information Amanda said, "I want Daddy to sing me the mountain song." It began a conversation I will be forever grateful for. We talked about Eric's impending death and that it was now measured in one to two days.

After we all calmed down, the girls went down to Eric's room and said good-night to him. They very sweetly gave him kisses and rubbed his head and then headed off to bed. Afterward, I was able to join Eric in his room for only the second time that day. After a little while, he woke up a bit and stared right at me. He was trying to say something but his poor body would allow him even that. We were able to quiet him and I just sat there telling stories to the aide about how we met, the look on his face when we discovered we were having twins, and how I told him I was pregnant with Evan. They say your hearing is the very last thing to go. I like to think he was reminiscing with me as well.

Eric's Mom and Aunt stopped by around 10pm to visit with him. While the nurse and I were preparing his evening medicine, Donna and Barbie had a chance to sit and speak to him. I have to say, I don't think we were all in the room more than three minutes when I began to notice Eric's breathing slowing down. In the end, he took a breath and paused, took another breath paused, and took his final breath. It was so very peaceful. If you weren't paying attention, you would have missed it.

For those of you who knew Eric well, it was very important for him to have a "good death". He didn't want to be moaning or mumbling, thrashing or gasping. I am pleased to witness it was more peaceful than even I had hoped for. I found myself smiling after a while, just thinking of the party he was entering as the guest of honor.

The rest of the evening was filled with the "stuff of life" conveniently left out of the movies. It was 3:30AM before we went upstairs and moved all the kids to our/my room. I wanted to wake up with them so I could be the one to tell them what had happened. When I told Chloe and Amanda that Eric had gone to heaven Chloe simply said, "I'm so glad I got to say good-bye to Daddy".

I didn't have the funeral home come and take Eric's body until this morning. I didn't want them to wake up and him be gone. It was a difficult decision to make at 2AM but I am so glad I made the right one. In the morning each of the kids went down to see Eric. I must say it is surprising but, there is a difference in the way a person looks after the soul has left it's body. I had explained to the girls that when a soul leaves it's body, it is sort of like when you eat a banana. Once the banana is gone, all you have left is the peal, the outside. The good stuff is in the banana itself, the outside isn't much without it. I'm grateful they had that time to touch Eric's body and feel it's coolness, to see it's stillness. If I would have just taken them to the funeral home before the visitation, Eric would have been all dressed and painted up, looking like he used to and that would have been deceiving. Now they know Eric's soul is in heaven and his body, well that's at the funeral home.

I didn't want the kids to see Eric's body being moved. So we headed off to breakfast this morning and then to the flower shop to pick out flowers for their bouquet. While we were sitting and eating, it began to really rain. Amanda looked at us and said, "I think God must be crying for daddy too." My mom and I looked at each other with tears in our eyes and both said, "I was just thinking the very same thing Amanda".

I can't sign off without saying thank you to all of you out there in cyberspace who have prayed us to today. We are eternally grateful.

Blessings and peace to you all as I know you mourn and celebrate with us today. Heaven always was the very BEST option in our battle with cancer.

Amy

I've been thinking all day about how to tell you about Eric. The words just haven't come. My mom sent this earlier today. I figured you all wouldn't mind a "Pinch writer".

Hi Everyone,

We have come back from Bolingbrook after spending two days. Since Tuesday, Eric has gone from playing cards with his family to not eating, drinking only small amounts and sleeping most of the time. Much of the time in the last 24 hours have been deep, non responsive sleep. His pain seems to be being managed and most of the time he seems peaceful.

There is an overstuffed black office chair that sits next to Eric's bed. I periodically peak in and check on the black chair. It is very rarely empty. One view will be Amy with Eric's prayer shawl rapped around her shoulders sitting reading and holding Eric's hand. The next will be Eric's dad sitting watching the bicyclist in the Tour de France stroking Eric's arm. Another view is Eric's mom sitting facing Eric holding his hand in both her hands speaking to him. On a different occasion, Bob will be in there talking to Eric as he sleeps, telling him about the All Star Game going 14 innings. Yet another is the care giver of the day folding clothes. And of course, I get to sit in the chair periodically to talk about the days events. The kids have fun spinning the chair around and around. Other inhabitants of the chair have been Eric's boss, his brother, Mike, friends, a full array.

A friend of mine told me once that you should always have an empty chair near you. So that when you feel alone, out of control, or overwhelmed by the stuff of life, just peek over at the chair and know that the chair is really never empty. God is sitting in the chair right beside you holding your hand. You don't need anything else.


Tana

Borrowing the Blankie

Today has not been a good day. Eric has been restless and a bit confused for about 36 hours. Hospice says that's how it is. You'll get a few good days and then a few bad ones. Tomorrow is another chance for a good day.

So many of you have asked how the kids are doing. Amazingly enough, they are doing pretty well. We go to a support group on Tuesday nights and I have found some great resources in hospice and the Wellness House. I know some families choose not to talk about cancer until they have to but, well I come from a long line of talkers, I married a talker and we've produced three talkers of our own. Keeping Eric's illness under the rug was never really an option. We've talked about cancer with the kids from pretty early on. It's not so difficult in the beginning, you just say "Daddy's sick and the doctors are doing everything they can to help him. Don't worry, I'll let you know if things aren't going well". The difficult conversations come when Daddy's not doing well. Amanda, Chloe and I had a long conversation back in February about what happens when you die. They understood Daddy would go to heaven but figured out that if you didn't believe in God, you probably wouldn't want to go to heaven and spend eternity with him so, where did you go? Needless to say, it wasn't the first tough question I've had to answer.

Each one is at a different stage in their understanding of the situation (I suppose we're all no different). Chloe and my conversations recently have been more about the funeral and cremation. She's a visual kid and needs to see things to understand them which has brought up all kinds of questions for me about how much exposure is too much. Amanda is just starting to show her understanding of Eric's death. She held his hand this morning and said, "I don't want my Daddy to die". As hard as it is to hear, I am grateful she has started to talk and claim her time with Eric. Evan, well he may be only 3 but he is so smart. He told one of the caregivers he felt bad because he wanted to spend time with his Dad but, didn't want to bother Eric because he was so sick. Yet another difficult conversation.

I've seen them in the last week each making their own time with Eric. Some days they just sit in bed with him and watch a movie while he's asleep. Tonight they all paraded down in their bathrobes so proud to show Dad. I was worried they would find him at this stage just to painful to be around. Instead, I see them being so very sweet and gentle with him. I found Eric asleep the other day with Evan's prized blankie tucked under his arm, a token of comfort and love to be borrowed for a little while.

I think they get something we struggle with. So often when we've had visitors, it seems like what was needed to be said isn't until the very last moment. I've cleared the room many times so that someone leaving would have the privacy to say what had been on their heart for the last four days. It's not that way with the kids. I see them come in pick up Eric's hand or kiss him on the cheek, say what they want to say and then they're off. No hesitation, no screwing up of courage, they just do it. What a wonderful and amazing thing, a child's love!

Blessings and peace to you all
Amy

Good time with Dad

Hello everyone! Just wanted to ease your worries about my not blogging. I usually blog at night after the kids go to bed but the last few nights Eric has been awake and I've been taking advantage of that! We've watched two terrible movies and had a great time doing it.

Chloe wants to say a few words...

This morning dad and I played the card game golf. After that we watched Scooby Doo with Evan and Amanda. The move is not quite over so I have to go see the end. Thanks for all your prayers.
Love, Chloe

Sometimes, I find God provides things to fill a need we didn't even know we had. I joined a bible study this spring in an attempt to try and meet some people from one of the churches we were visiting. At first I was a little disappointed to find there were not many women with small children like mine, then I found out only 2-3 of the group of 15 were actually members of the particular church. While this wonderful group of women was not at all what I thought it would be, they have filled a need in my life with amazing abundance. They've brought meals, watched my children, prayed, inspired, supported and all around loved me, a complete stranger. It has been an honor to be on the receiving side of such Christlike love. (Hi everyone!, I know you all read.)

We have been studying a book for the summer, "Praying the Names of God" by Ann Spangler. It's been a great comfort to me in these past few weeks. Our last chapter spoke of the name MELEK which means King. She discussed the following passage from Mathew the other day.

Jesus told them another parable: "The kingdom of heaven is like a man who sowed good seed in his field. But while everyone was sleeping, his enemy came and sowed weeds among the wheat, and went away. When the wheat sprouted and formed heads, then the weeds also appeared.

"The owner's servants came to him and said, 'Sir, didn't you sow good seed in your field? Where then did the weeds come from?'

"'An enemy did this,' he replied.

"The servants asked him, 'Do you want us to go and pull them up?'

""No,' he answered, 'because while you are pulling the weeds, you may root up the wheat with them. Let both grow together until the harvest. At that time I will tell the harvesters: First collect the weeds and tie them in bundles to be burned; then gather the wheat and bring it into my barn.'"
-Matthew 13:24-20

...though God could have instantly destroyed Satan and sinners (that's all of us), he decided to take the long way around, quelling the world's rebellion not by brute force but by the power of Divine love. That strategy requires restraint. It takes patience. It means justice in a final sense has to be delayed. It means evil is played out to the bitter end so that love can draw as many people as possible into the net of the kingdom. To say it another way, the weeds and the wheat are allowed to grow up together until the world's last day.
-page 214

I've been wondering how long we will be in limbo waiting for Eric to pass away. A few days ago we were in the beginning stages of death, now we are more in the middle stages. I've always prayed that he would be "good" for as long as possible and then it would go quickly. Lately, I've been torn between not wanting him to go but also, well, it's been a very long year. I was so struck by the sentence in italics, "played out to the bitter end so that love can draw as many people as possible into the net of the kingdom". It's like God was whispering into my ear, "patience dear Amy, I need a little more time. There are a few more who need to find their way into the net still".

A few months ago, I kept hearing the passage from Luke:

From everyone who has been given much, much will be demanded; and from the one who has been entrusted with much, much more will be asked.

Eric and I have always considered ourselves in the "entrusted with much" category. God has so blessed our lives with wonderful family and friends, security in finances and employment, a strong faith and divine wisdom. We have always felt God was watching our backs. If this "playing out to the bitter end" is our "much more" being asked, well then, patience will be our response.

Please continue to pray for our strength and patience. In addition, pray for those still finding their way into the "net of the kingdom". Eric and I were talking the other day about how we've had so many emails from people we know, and don't know, telling us how our journey has inspired their faiths. I told Eric I like to imagine him up in heaven, lining the streets of gold, watching someone else finish their race and Jesus leaning over to say, "cancer was worth him don't you think?".

Blessings,
Amy

Enjoying the ride

Eric is bedridden now and that comes with a whole new set of challenges. I must say the dying process is a lot like the newborn process. I remember complaining to my friend Tane (Hi Tane!) when the girls were infants about how it seemed that just when I felt like I had finally figured things out, they went and changed. Whether it was from two feedings a night to one or giving up a nap, it always felt like just when I had my bearings, things would change. She ever so gently reminded me that it wasn't about the destination but about the journey. The important thing was to enjoy the ride. I'm trying to picture myself in a convertible with my hair blowing in the breeze but right now, I find myself in a Yugo!

As we embark on this new set of changes, I've decided to trade in the Yugo for a real convertible. No, I have not found some boy toy to trade Eric in for. Shame on you and your dirty minds. I've decided to take everyone's advise and ask for help. So, I've hired an in home care company to provide round the clock care for Eric. I don't want my memories of Eric to be clouded with dirty sheets, sponge baths and bedpans. I've decided, I would rather be the wife than the sole caregiver. I sound like I'm trying to convince you all it's the right thing to do. I suppose the one I'm really trying to convince is me. There's the small fact that this will indeed just about cost the same as a convertible and, there's an unexpected amount of guilt in choosing to hire in help. I think it's because I'm taking my first step out of "the trenches". I've sat here for about 10 minutes trying to figure out what to say next and the truth is, there isn't anything.

Moving on, even in this very small way, can't help but feel a little like deserting. I know it's not, but it still feels that way. Don't get too worried about me, I spent the evening calling friends who were happy to remind me it's OK to get help and that I've done more than my wifely duty already. Tomorrow we will continue our adjustment to this new change with the addition of a new house hold member. And I, plan to enjoy my convertible ride for as long as Eric's driving.

Blessings on your own journeys
Amy

Try to relax Chicken Little

Well, I'm happy to say the reason I missed blogging yesterday was because Eric was awake and I decided to spend time with him instead of you all! Yesterday was a difficult one. All day I tried to wake him to no avail. By the end of the day, I resigned myself that this was just how it would be but, to my surprise, around 7pm he woke up and wanted to eat, talk, and watch a movie with the kids. Around 11:30 when we were getting ready for bed I said, "What a gift these last few hours were. I just figured our "good time" was over." His response was, "me too".

To my even greater surprise, he woke up today and was awake a good portion of it. I put a quote on the girls bedroom wall in the new house. I figured it would be helpful as this time in our lives progressed but also into their teenage years. It says, "Just when the caterpillar thought the world was over, it became a butterfly". I suppose there is a two fold lesson in that for me these days. The obvious one, caterpillar-butterfly, death-heaven, but also the less subtle one...The world's not over until it's over. Relax Chicken Little, it's just a little piece of sky falling down.

Here's to the hope of a few more "good days" and a big deep breath.
Amy

the short list

I've been sitting here for about an hour not knowing were to begin. I suppose listening to the "short" list of songs for Eric's funeral doesn't help. Music has always been such an important part of our lives. There are so many good ones that speak what we want to say about Eric's life, his death and our faith.

There's "A Cloud of Witnesses" by Mark Schultz, we felt such a connection to that song when we lost Emma. It paints the most wonderful picture of what heaven might be like when we enter it. Surrounded by the cloud of witnesses who've gone on before us, lining the streets of gold, cheering us on our way to the Throne of God.

I heard Caedmons Call, "There is a Reason" the other day. How can you not be encouraged by the line:

He makes all things good, He makes all things good. There's a time to live, a time to die, a time to wonder and to wonder why. There is a reason, there is a reason

Eric has always loved "I can only imagine".

Surrounded by your glory will my heart feel, will I dance for you Jesus or in awe of you be still, will I stand in your presence, or to my knees will I fall, will I sing Hallelujah, will I be able to speak at all, I can only imagine

And "Word of God Speak" from MercyMe. Speaks so to my heart these days. The lyrics

...all that I need is to be with you, and in the quiet hear your voice. Word of God speak, won't you pour down like rain, washing my eyes to see your majesty. To be still and know, that you're in this place. Please let me stay and rest, in your holiness. Word of God speak.

Eric has begun to "decline" as they say in hospice. He sleeps most of the day and is only awake and alert for a few hours each day. Yesterday those awake hours were very clear. Today's weren't so much. We expect his "good time" to continue to dwindle until a point when he no longer wakes up. At that point, I am told he will still be able to hear us even though he doesn't respond. It's hard to imagine Eric not having something to say in response. I may have to take advantage. It's hard because I see him torn between wanting to be done fighting and not wanting to leave.

I heard "Wish you were here" by Mark Harris for the first time on my way home from the hospital one late evening. I could just hear Eric saying the words to me and knew it would be sung at his funeral.

But don't cry for me, 'cause I'm finally free. To run with the angels in streets made of gold, to listen to stories of saints new and old. To worship our maker, that's where I'll be, when you finally find me. I wish you were here.

As much as I hate the idea of him being gone, I sure do like to think of him "finally free".
Thank you for your continued prayers! I've seen God's hand moving in ways I never imagined
Amy

How can you pass up a tomato named Mr. Stripey?

Eric has been resting in bed these last few days. He was walking with the walker on Tuesday at the beach but Wednesday morning it seems his right leg decided not to work any more. It's difficult for him to bear any weight on his legs which, makes moving him difficult for me. It just might be the first time in my life I wished I weighed more than my current weight. Moving someone literally twice your size is not an easy feat! They're supposed to bring some sort of lift tomorrow that will make it easier for us to get him into the wheelchair. It makes me think back to my college days, all those pulleys and mechanical engineering stuff.

The kids arrived home today, as did the dog. The house is no longer quiet but at least it's getting back to normal. I've gotten everything in the right room, now all I need to do is unpack and put it away.

I decided in the spring that since the lot behind us had not been sold, I would plant a garden this year. It's the first time I've had a garden in a long time and I think I may have gotten a bit excited when I was buying plants. There were just so many interesting tomato varieties, I never quite got out of that area. I came home with a pepper, a watermelon, a cantaloupe and 6 tomato plants. Nevertheless, I am still very excited about the progress of our little garden.

A friend of mine agreed to come over and water the yard and our garden when we were gone. The thing about living in a new neighborhood is that until the lots around you are sold, you are surrounded by a big dirt patch which in the summer, grows a lot of weeds. Now, weeds in general, are indiscriminate about where they grow but, I've found, they tend to grow much larger around the perimeter of your property because of the runoff when you water. The same is true of my little stolen patch of land I call a garden.

When we came home, you could barely tell the difference between the weeds and my dear tomato plants. This is not a particularly big problem except for the fact that our builder's solution to the weed control is to periodically run the front loader over the empty lots. They were kind enough to spare my garden last time, but it was more clearly marked a few months ago. So, high on the to do list when we arrived home was to weed the garden and clear some space around it so, the front loader might spare us again. I began with just the garden, picking out a little weed here and there. I started to think about what the bible says about God "pruning the vine so it will produce good fruit". I tell you, weeding is not the most comfortable thing to do. You're on your hands and knees. If you're soils anything like mine, there are rocks digging into your knees. After a while, your back starts to hurt from being bent over. It's hot in the sun and you get dirty. I always thought of that passage about pruning as being something that was painful for us, the ones being pruned. I don't suppose it's all that pleasant for God either, allowing pain and hardship into our lives in order to refine us, making us able to bear more and better fruit. We are his children after all.

And yet, in another week, I'll head out again to weed the garden. I do it not because I enjoy weeding, but because I know it strengthens and protects my harvest. I figure God has the same in mind.

A lot of you have told me you can't understand how God might allow this to happen to Eric. I wish I had an answer but I don't. I do believe it must sadden God to see Eric struggle with cancer as much as it saddens us. And while I don't understand the pruning God has been doing in our lives, I have already begun to see the fruit of His labor. And that, will be enough for me, until my day at the pearly gates comes.

I hope you enjoyed the picture of our biggest young tomato.

Blessings,
Amy

Bozo I miss you!

Jesse Helm died today. I recognized the name but would not have been able to tell you who he was. It's not that I knew his politics or respected him as a man, although I'm sure he was a fine one. What strikes me about his death is the same thing that I think of every time someone famous dies. I never thought Eric would live longer than Jesse Helm or Tim Russert, Heath Ledger or Bozo, George Carlin or Jim McKay,Yves Saint Laurent, Sydney Pollack... there are so many more just fill in the blank.

It always reminds me of how precious time is, makes me wonder if we spent ours well, but most of all, it makes me grateful that we had some advance warning. That we've had our time to speak and do and cherish. Eric wasn't hit by a car or killed in an airplane crash. We've had time to mourn as we went along instead of having our lives ripped apart in a single moment.

I tell you all this for two reasons. Firstly, to remind you that no one knows the day you will die but God.

"Show me, O LORD, my life's end and the number of my days; let me know how fleeting is my life. You have made my days a mere handbreadth; the span of my years is as nothing before you. Each man's life is but a breath. Selah
-Psalm 30:4-5

Don't waste one more day without telling those you love just how much you mean to them. Don't go another day with division between you and another. Make peace, share your love, and make today the day you do that thing you've always wanted to do. All our days are numbered and no matter how many are left it will always be too few if you procrastinate.

Secondly, I want to be able to look back at this on a day when Eric is not doing well and remind myself that this is better than the alternative. Having the advance warning was worth it.

Thank you all for encouraging me to keep blogging.
Blessings to you all this 4th of July. What a privilege we have to live in a country founded upon Christian values. And oh yea, Fireworks ROCK!
Amy

P.S. You all enjoyed the sky photos so much I included another.

(d) none of the above

The week before we left for the beach our hospice nurse Leslie said to me, " I know Eric wants to go on this trip and I know he wants to die at home. He may need to decide which one he wants more because, he may not be able to have both."

So many times in our cancer battle we have come to the point where all we really wanted to do was answer "(d) none of the above". You find yourself faced with a decision where all the options available are undesirable. It's so easy to just get mired down in the wanting of something you can't have, stuck in the land of indecision because you just don't like the options. And then, feeling sorry for yourself. (Did you know that children are not innately born with the ability to feel sorry for themselves? It is a learned behavior. We as parents, teach it to them.) The most difficult thing to do is let go of the option you want, the unavailable one, and instead, pick the best of the bunch and move on or "press forward" as Romans says.

Sometimes, your obedience is rewarded and you get to have a write in vote. Today, for us, is one of those. I find myself exhausted and happy listening to my sweet husband snore in his bed while I finish cleaning my "fresh off the farm" organic vegetable delivery.

God is so good!
Amy

p.s. I hope you enjoy the photo today. Our pilot Justin took it today on the flight.

Calling all Yoga Babes!

I'm officially hooked on this whole blog thing. I actually am finding myself thinking all day long about what my next title will be. I'm afraid of facebook now!

Today was an eventful day. It started with the largest sand castle I've ever seen courtesy of Jimmy Slagle. Watching the kids try so hard to leave it alone while Jimmy worked on it was a lesson in patience and self control we all could learn from. The reward of course, was being allowed to play cars on it and then, when everyone was tired, smash it to bits and use the rubble as a slide. If only we were always rewarded so aptly for our patience.

The nurses assistant came and gave Eric a bath. We are ALL grateful for Chris' hard work. The hospice nurse also stopped by. She gave Eric the cleanest bill of health a hospice nurse can. Thank you Jacqueline!!!

Stacy, Tane and I spent some quality time on the beach practicing yoga. I wouldn't say we attracted a crowd but it certainly was peaceful, that is when we could concentrate on the yoga and not our children drifting off to sea. Joking aside, yoga on the beach is one of the best ways I can think of to slow down and connect with God.

We watched a video in our small group a few weeks ago that has made a lasting impression on me. The topic was our breath. I had never given it much thought other that the 5 minute Lamaze overview we had in birthing class. The challenge was to think of our breath as not simply an exhale, but as a way to speak the name of God with each breath. We looked at the Hebrew word for Lord, Yahweh. At how this word was actually made up of four vowels in the Hebrew language. In particular four vowels that are pronounceable on the exhale Yah-Hey-Wah-Hey. It sounds strange, but try it. Take a deep breath and exhale Yah. Breath in again and exhale Hey. Another breath and exhale Wah. Breathe in and exhale Hey. Close your eyes and try a few more times, Yah-Hey-Wah-Hey, Yah-Hey-Wah-Hey. In four exhales you've spoke the name Yahweh. I did a bit of research on this name for God.

The name Yahweh occurs more than 6,800 times in the Old Testament. It appears in every book but Esther, Ecclesiastes, and the Song of Songs. As the sacred, personal name of Israel's God, it was eventually spoken aloud by only priests worshiping in the Jerusalem temple...Yahweh is the name that is most closely linked to God's redeeming acts in the history of his chosen people.
-Praying the Names of God

Think about it, as we breathe each breath, we speak the sacred, personal name of our God. It gives so much more meaning to the biblical idea that we were made to praise Him, that we are designed to praise him with every breath. Without even knowing or being aware, we speak the most sacred, personal name of God. Even those who do not believe, speak his name at least once every minute. How many times have you said God's name since you began reading this.

So, back to yoga. Can you think of a better place to breathe the name of God than on the beach with a light breeze and a gentle surf? Breathing in the fresh sea air and breathing out Yah-Hey-Wa-Hey. Breathe in, can you smell the sea air?

Blessings to you all! Go breathe the name of God on all your loved ones!
Amy