Strapped but Not Held Down

Everyday I'm reminded how blessed I am regardless the chaos, noise or discomfort I experience during the day. My journey of discomfort began in November. When I had just been given clearance to do the thing I love so much to do and which keeps me grounded, I walked into a surgery yet again leaving me stuck in the reclining chair and at the mercy of many others. 

It feels like forever ago I had four drains stitched to my sides leaving me with very 

few options for clothing and comfort. 

My Mom and I ventured out weeks after surgery and ended up at Cheeks to try on clothes and feel somewhat normal. Nothing about having a drain baby makes you feel normal especially when you look four months preggers. Praise God I can laugh and not cry every time hard faces me. 

This will go down as a stellar Mother/Daughter date. 

It feels like forever ago someone had to bathe me and pour my coffee for me. I still can't run (big, long weary sigh) but I know I can. I can't lift weights but I know my body is strong. 

After weekly appointments at the University of Washington Medical center post surgery, things came to a screeching halt. The reconstructive surgery had been scheduled for April sixth giving my body one last final time to heal before the summer fun began and a fall race training schedule would need to resume. 

...Enter Covid-19...

I've later learned that many things came to a halt. My surgeon explained that in a matter of a day, her three surgeries went from normal waiting room procedures to two family members only and by the third surgery no one allowed in the waiting room... all in one day. She also shared how patients, recently diagnosed with breast cancer, were told to push pause on upcoming surgeries to remove cancer and to take extra chemotherapy until operating rooms opened up once again. 

My heart sunk.

I immediately thought back to when my sister was diagnosed and the fear surrounding something terminal growing in her body. Removing the cancer could not have happened any quicker. The fear knowing you have a detonated bomb ticking in your body is scary enough yet alone told to sit and be calm. 

For all the discomfort I experience with iron clad expanders that, as close to explaining, feels like a too small, too tight, broken down underwire bra, I can live a few more months for these terrified patients to have surgery first. (they're not really iron.)

Yes, the new surgery date throws off my well-thought out plans but given today's chaos, it could be worse. 

Our kids are healthy. 

Our home is safe. 

Our jobs secure. 

Our faith is solid. 

Our marriage thriving. 

Our gas tank is full. 

Our support system remains present. 

We still have our laughter. 

We still have the church.

We still have our health.

We will still have fun this summer. 

In all my time now at home, I've been able to purge many things from my computer creating additional space and storage. Having both preventive surgeries has cleared mind space where fear once lived. The computer was desperately in need of the same thing. One of the tasks has been to go through all the thousands of pictures I struggle to delete. In doing so, I ran across this picture of Tim and I from 2014 that, not only is hilariously fitting, but pretty much sums things up as of late. 

Our hands are full; our bellies full of laughter. 

It may feel like our countries situation is strapping many of us down with unexpected loss and freedom. The ability to worship together, visit with friends and shop at our favorite local stores halted. 

But God. 

God can not be strapped down, confined to a box or told He has boundaries. He is bigger than all our fears, doubts and delays in preventive surgeries. God has purpose in our waiting.

It does feel like forever ago when I last ran, but I know my time to run will be coming soon. Until then, I'll keep purging the photos, organizing my inbox and give thanks for all the things 

God has blessed our family with including being drain free. 

What are you thankful for today?

{ Having fun; making memories. }

{ I will burn this pillow when all said and done. }

{ No drains and finally free. }

{ Post-op covid style. }

Intentional < Prevention = Surrender

I began the beginning of 2019 with a word full of purpose and anticipation for what would become the result of eleven single letters strung together. A word that would be the foundation to the decisions made, commitments had and reasons for saying "yes" or "no." 

{ I N T E N T I O N A L }

Done on purpose; deliberate, intended. 

Eleven letters that provided meaningful connections, ministry opportunities, family entertainment and deliberate laughter with those I love. From the big trips to the simple snuggles, focusing on being present in every moment became my motivation. God provided personal challenges that caused me to rely on Him more and desire to learn more about who I am as His child.

Summer was when I felt the shift begin. A shift of intentions and God introducing me to a new word that would come with uncomfortable situations, painful appointments and a deeper spiritual focus required to survive. 

{ P R E V E N T I O N }

I've spent time learning about prevention and the connection it has to the Bible. One online resource explains prevention as such:

"Prevent" occurs in the King James Version in the literal but obsolete sense of "to come or go before," "to anticipate," not in the sense of "to hinder." It is the translation of qadham, "to be sharp," "to be in front," "to be beforehand."  

For the past twelve years, I've had yearly mammograms to catch any precancerous tumors as a result of family history. A family history that has the University of Washington "excited" about building said family history tree going back generations deep with over six known cancers present. It's also led to two biopsies, days worth of worry and fear that can nearly paralyze oneself. Witnessing my sister and grandma's battle such an ugly beast looms before and during every screening appointment. 

"If these things exist in you, and continually increase, they prevent your being either idle or unfruitful in advancing towards a full knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ."

2 Peter 1:8

Being intentional about my health led me to making steps to prevent destruction of my body. Together, Tim and I have had lengthy discussions about what this looks like. I've had numerous doctors review my charts, been on hold waiting for insurance approvals, scheduled and planned out of town appointments and now prepare for a disruption of normal routine. What I've done more of, is reflect on this word, prevention, and 

how it relates to faith. 

It's interesting to me how some words stand out as strong verbs, action words that cause movement in our heart, feet or minds. Other words inspire or encourage oneself. Many messages teach about following Jesus to secure our eternal life. We're taught how to live a good life using the Fruits of the Spirit and structure our lives with the Ten Commandments as boundaries. But rarely is the word prevention used to speak about eternal life. 

I can't help but think God is asking me to take more bold steps in preventing the opposite of eternal life; death. If I were to be completely honest with myself, I'm not sure I'm doing enough. Prevention from burning in hell. Prevention from corruption and disease. Prevention from mediocre faith. 

"For the flesh lusts against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh; and these are contrary to one another, that you may not do the things that you desire."

Galatians 5:17

Am I teaching our kids enough about Who God is?
Am I being the example that leads them into a personal relationship with God the Father?
How is my life preventing others from doom?
What am I doing from preventing the world infiltrating our family walls?
Am I doing enough to prevent another marriage collapse?

My flesh is imperfect. My flesh can at times be sick. Going back to my original word, God has not only given me the ability to be intentional this year but He's walked with me in the beginning journey of being in front of, to anticipate, my flesh potentially causing harm.

When I was told I would need breast screening every six months for the next twenty years, my heart sank. My first biopsy was just a few months after my sister had passed with emotions far from stable as I processed grief. I would go to the ends of the earth to bring Traci back to hear her encouragement and have her hold my hand like I did hers. Cancer is not present in my body, but being intentional about my health and present for my family has resulted in an upcoming surgery to prevent an anticipated negative diagnoses.

Over the past couple months, through conversations with Tim and quiet time with God, a
new word has come to surface.

{ S U R R E N D E R }

I believe it's in the intentions of my time, preventing something from happening, that God is asking me to surrender my humility, levels of comfort and control of my schedule.

Robert Schuller says, "Spectacular achievement is always preceded by unspectacular preparation." 

I want to be fully alive. I want to be fully engaged. I want to have spectacular preparations in place to achieve the best outcome in 2020. This means many will have to surrender on my behalf and I say thank you in advance to the many hands making it possible for our family to keep moving forward.

My heart is already in God's hands. I've surrendered my plans for His.

I pray God gives you a special word to give purpose in everyday He grants you life. 

I will continue to seek blessings; the intentional ones and those that greet me with a little surprise. 

God is so good. 

"By faith we understand that the worlds were prepared by the word of God, so that what is seen was not made out of things which are visible."

Hebrews 11:3

Awareness that Leads to Remembrance

My sister always made everyone around her know how good God was as she fought breast cancer. 

The confessions are found in the pages of her journal after her original diagnoses in 2007. Her continuous smile proved she believed in "counting it all joy." (James 1:2)

The month of October puts extra emphasis on breast cancer awareness. During the raw and most challenging moments of Traci's journey, I found myself at times bitter and angry walking into stores seeing all things pink. 

"Why did she have to suffer like this? Why was her youth stolen by this disease and dreams of having a family instantly ripped from her grip? It's not fair she suffered for so long."

I know my sister had these same thoughts, but my memory can only recall twice when I heard the frustration. Her faith soared while her ability to survive was rooted in the truth that God is good. 

It became her lens in all things hard and reason why she praised in the positive moments. 

Her very presence was contagious simply because her faith was who she was. Traci showed many who Jesus was during her cancer journey which gave her more reason to keep fighting. 

How often have I given up hope because life got hard? When my belief that God is good vanishes due to frustrations and negative outcomes to situations out of my control?

God, I'm so sorry my flesh caved to defeat. 

Thank you for allowing me to have the years with my sister who challenged my faith and taught me 'never' or 'can't' are void of the dictionary. Thank you for granting our family thirty seven short years with a warrior who showed us how to fight well. 

Yes, October is Breast Cancer Awareness month, but I'd rather change the language to show off the hero's who gave everyone else reason to believe that...

God is still good. 

If Traci was still living, I'm positive she'd still be fighting, stubborn in her prayers for healing and cheering on all her Pink Sister's battling breast cancer alongside her. 

To those battling breast cancer, you are not far from our thoughts and prayers. Your strength and tenacity inspires those around you and does not go unnoticed. 

Sister, I miss you. 

 { Super model pose while passing time receiving treatment. }

A Day of Rescue

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm not leaving you. Not yet."

These were the words my sister shared with me a month before she passed.
As we sat in Red Robin, laughing over the need for straws and beverage stabilization, her hands shook tempting the lemon drop to fall into her lap. Her body weakening; her spirit fiercely fighting. We decided to order multiple appetizers since we couldn't land on one dinner option leaving us with a table full of food and conversation for hours. I'm sure it looked ridiculous honestly. The disease had clearly taken a tole on her appearance and, for what I think was the first time outwardly, looked really sick. Regardless of how she felt, we were going to enjoy our time as sisters.
It was in these conversations where I remember asking if anything had changed and if she was ready. 

What I loved most about my sister was her ability to calm the weary supporter. The ability to relay a message of peace and firmly causing me to believe that only God can have control of her earthly timeline. I let her say her peace, but inside I knew things were changing. 

And here I sit, two years after my sweet sister gained her heavenly citizenship; grieved but not without joy, broken but whole, empty but have all that I need. 

There's not a day that goes by without a thought of my sister passing through a memory. A day that goes by without a longing to call and share the embarrassing moment or frustrating situation in parenting. I will always want more time, more hugs, more shaky dates with lemon drops and straws, but I realized in the process of my healing, that she needed a rescue more than I needed an earthly sister to stand by my side. 

God works all things for His glory, at the right time and with His purpose which points to His Kingdom and power. I believe it; I know it; I read the truth and rest in those promises. It's still hard. Heaven is more real now than has ever been before. Three grandparents and a sister in two years is far too much for one family to experience yet alone process with young ones. Death changes you. Grief rearranges your priorities and places a filter on life that is hard to understand when it's not personal and within reach of your sphere. Giving my grief words can be a challenge some days and when needed my tears speak for the lost communication. 

God heard my sisters request of her spirit growing faint to this earthly world and sent an army to rescue her from the physical suffering and torment the ravishing disease was doing to her body. What settles my deep longing to pull my sister from Heaven is knowing the impact still taking place through her story and how God, in His infinite wisdom, orchestrated her beautiful rescue. 

He heard her.

He saw her. 

He sheltered her. 

He defended her. 

He found her. 

I'm confident that my sisters words would not change if she could shout down from Heaven...

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm not leaving you. Not yet."

Her message unwavering:
God is still good. 

Not every rescue looks the way we requested, planned or even want to experience. There is no goodbye willingly given to those you love. 

But, this I know... I needed a rescue as much as my sister received hers. 

God rescued me from intense grief, from a state of brokenness and loss that has turned to joy. 

God hears me, sees me, continues to shelter me and defend me. 

Today, I reflect on the moment my sisters hand slipped from mine and entered into the presence of God. 

Today, as a family, we remember the life that was lived with a contagious smile, laughter
and zest for adventure. 

I will raise my hands in worship, allow the tears to slip down my cheeks and embrace the army that has surrounded me here on earth separate from my sister. 

Happy Heavenly Birthday my sweet sister... You still haven't left me. 

Hummingbird Kisses

A faint hum. A flutter of the wing. A hummingbird kiss hovering in the air.

The ability to beat the wing two hundred times in a single second. 

This is grief; a flutter of memories that holds hundreds of visuals of the one you love which are displayed in a single beat of the heart longing to be with those gone. 

{ 1980's Christmas }

I first experienced this the day my sister passed almost two years ago. As the sun was setting in a pink fire of a sky, hummingbirds greeted the porch that once fed them in multiple feeders on Traci's balcony. The pause of movement hovering before diving to the next destination. 

Many have sent text messages with images of hummingbirds staring them down outside a kitchen window as a reminder of the connection my sister had with the fascinating bird. 

A physical reminder that brought a memory to mind. 

The most significant being on a run with a girlfriend this past summer, 1200ft. in elevation, pausing at an overlook facing Mt. Baker and the valley below. A breathtaking display of God's creation that felt like a hands distance away. Our emotions were already in play as we began our run in tears and paused in reflection of what God had done in our lives. As I began to explain how I couldn't even come close to what heaven would be like compared to the view we had in front of us, a hummingbird came within arms reach; eye level, face to face, pausing for what felt like minutes. My body collapsed to the stone rock we stood on as the tears flooded my cheeks. A hummingbird kiss of desired touch, relationship and physical presence fluttered in front of me as if Traci herself, was there to tell me to get it going, stop you're fussing and get running. My girlfriend gently laid her hand on my shoulder praying through the grief left on that view point advantage. 

"I will remember the deeds of the Lord; yes, I will remember Your miracles of long ago. I will meditate on all Your works and consider all your mighty deeds."

Psalm 77:11-12

Hauling out the Christmas decorations I, out of habit, went to grab my phone to call my sister and tell her Christmas was about to unleash throughout my house. Her name greeting me on the Christmas card list in harsh reality that I won't be sending her a card. 

The ornament hanging on the tree in memory of my sister not here in person to celebrate. 

Memories of decorating gingerbread houses together, discussing what gifts to buy for our parents, what crafts to make for teacher gifts and how to spoil the nieces and nephews have been in full view this month. It's hard not to remember the old... of not that long ago. 

One particular Christmas really stands out in my mind. My dad had just recently been diagnosed with prostate cancer. The weekend we found out all the details of his condition, I spent in Portland visiting Traci. She always had a list a mile long of things to do that if accomplished, would take the entire month to cross each one off. She was never shy of ideas to create memories. This weekend she took us (Tim, Addi & I) to the Grotto to see the beautiful displayed nativity scene carved in stone along with harmonic choirs in a tree light setting. There was a glimpse of fear in our conversation over Dad and tears shed as Daddy's girls were scared for his future. Little did we know four months later she would be facing a diagnoses herself. 

I also think back to Christmas of 2015 when us three kids tried to replicate an old childhood picture in our Christmas onesie pj's with perfectly cropped mullets. There was laughter that filled the living room seeing all of us in oversized, ridiculous pj's making the kids think we were all a bit crazy. 

And taking you really far back, the memories of red, plaid Christmas nightgowns with curly hair and three kids overly anxious to open presents with Mom slowly... washing... every... single... dish before we could even so much as touch a present to open. And of course, the kid picture in front of the tree or fireplace has to take place as well before the excitement of gifts begin. These are the flutters that cross my mind as I glance at our Christmas tree and see the hummingbird visit the feeder outside my window. 

"And he took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and gave it to them, saying, "This is my body, which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of me.""

Luke 22:19

Grief can be complicated, exhausting, unexpected and beautiful all in the same moment. I've been punched with grief when not expecting the tears to well up and then find myself laughing in the middle of a memory. I have promised myself that I will not give any ground for the Enemy to steal my joy and that also 

includes my joy in grief. 

Once a month, we remember what Christ did for us on the cross taking our sins upon Himself to then offer His children eternal salvation if we believe. A time to reflect, repent and remember ALL that Father God has done in our lives. Sure, for some this can be a time of extreme emotions and others a time of gratitude that extends through smiles and worship. Both displaying the act of remembering. We don't do this to get stuck on the fact that we are filthy sinners who don't deserve grace. We do this to remember the freedom we have through the cross. God has provided believers an expression to receive a hummingbird kiss. A moment to reflect on the ways God has rescued, redeemed and forgiven you in life. 

I am so thankful for the beauty of remembering. 

Sister, thank you for giving me so much to remember. 

Two hundred memories in a single second. 

Two hundred times two hundred more days I wish I had more with you. 

Two hundred ways to say I love you and miss you. 

Two hundred ways God gave you miracles that has inspired, encouraged and given me reason to smile. 

Hummingbird kisses. 

Flutters of memories displayed in mere seconds as a single tear quietly travels down my cheek. 

Merry Christmas Sister. You are always remembered.

Grandma Haak a.k.a. Chips & Dip Grandma

I never fought such eternal jealously than I did the morning Grandma Haak passed away. 

9.8.2018

Tears of anger and jealousy that Grandma was in the presence of Jesus and with my sister; myself still waiting my turn. A tangible reminder of how much I miss my sister. Tears watching the family grieve and knowing I had to tell the kids yet another grandparent had passed away. 

Tears hearing Mom say she was an orphan now that her parents had all passed away. 

{ Sunday Staple Grandma Recipes }

Nothing about loosing a grandparent is easy. 

Grandma Haak has lived around the corner since shortly after we moved to our current home. The kids and I would often walk, ride or run by Grandma's and send a wave to the second floor balcony patio which was watched faithfully to see all the traffic and business that Grandma followed daily. She knew the routine of particular cars, names of those walking by and if not, would try to figure them out by playing Dutch Bingo. She understood the patterns of neighbors and always had things to say about her dirty windows or the cotton that was stuck in the screens. And never did you ask about the creek because she always had something to say about the flow of water, critters that stopped by or logs that were jammed up by the bridge. A wealth of information she was. 

So much knowledge that years ago when I went running by, pony tail in place and hair out of my way, Grandma thought she knew how one should wear their hair when out running.

"Today, there was a gal that went running by with her hair in a pony tail swooshing side to side and such a mess. She should have taken better care of her hair than like that. It was so unkept."

Ummm... what color shorts was she wearing?

"Black ones with a colored top."

Yeah, Grandma. Be nice. That was me. 

Many of my girlfriends still give me a hard time about that unkept pony tail and remind me to keep it in place so Grandma doesn't have more to say of the messy running hair!

When Grandma was first diagnosed with Ovarian cancer, all the greats and grands put our effort together to create a quilt to keep Grandma warm during treatments and at home. With Grandpa gone she had no one at home to snuggle up to or rub her back when not feeling well. This quilt was a gem. 

Hand prints, verses and so much love in one comforting quilt. 

It wasn't much earlier that I had just shaved Gigi's hair due to hair loss from her cancer treatments. Grandma Haak was next and one I was most nervous about. I was surprised by Grandma's strength and fighting spirit during her four year battle with cancer. It really wasn't until this past year that her health became much more obvious and the struggle to be independent a daily battle. 

Grandma always had a stash of Juice Boxes chilled ready for visitors which Charlie used as a reason to say hi. Often other neighbor kids would stop in to say hi as well which always brought Grandma such joy. These visits will be missed greatly. 

The Grandma's that were incredibly involved in the lives of our children both physically and through prayer now gone ... the void is quite large. 

If I Could Call You...

...I'd tell you about all the funny stories the girls have created recently and how big the kids are getting.

You'll love this one; I was so embarrassed.

The neighbors have a pussy willow tree that falls a little into our carport and the Little's noticed the fuzzy's in the sky. I decided to cut a small branch for the girls and used some others to display inside.
So far pretty innocent. Just wait.

The next day, when Myriam came home from school, the girls picked up their pre-cut stems, ran to the swings and around the backyard giggling and yelling at the top of their lungs, "Pussy, pussy, pussy!!!" One of those moments my hand couldn't get to their mouths fast enough as the neighbors were also enjoying the early spring sunshine listening to the vulgar sayings coming from the mouths of our little babes. 

Little, sweet baby number four continues to impress us with her knowledge and understanding of things no two year should know at her age. She sings to us, tells us her letters, points out her planets and can count when asked to. The unfortunate part of having a sponge for a mind and having older mouths coming and going is what she takes in when we don't realize it's even being said. Young uncle taught Bee a potty name that she repeats all the time not knowing what it means. Then, when I was being Mom and telling Bee not to play with the toilet brush and plunger, she looked up at me and scolded me stating, "That's b.s." 

Imagine my shock. Yeah. Not happy. Not sure where she heard that, but I'm telling myself it was a one time deal. Mom fail. 

Dad's been stepping up to the role of babysitter and doing a dang good job. He's still a major softy and can sometimes lose control of the situation easily which makes me laugh. One kid ate a shovel of dirt on his watch. Another time the diaper wasn't put on correctly as the little butt was a moving target which resulted in the next diaper draining down the leg. No painters tape was used though so I see it as improvement. Makes me laugh.

If I could call you, I know I'd hear you laughing hysterically to the chaos that unfolded.
I also know I'd hear you saying how proud you are of the Man Cub who is nailing his guitar lessons and doing awesome. Kid always has loved music and has a goal to play worship songs around our fire pit this summer. 

He's also good at spending money at Fairway Drug. Mama was not happy when he shared with me he spent $25 on candy and who knows what else. Almost made him return the junk, but most was already consumed. Maybe he misses all the spoiling and shopping trips by you and was trying to make up for that loss. Either way, I'm not sure I trust him with a nickel let alone a dollar bill!

Music seems to be a theme in the home actually. Myriam wants to take violin lessons and may start soon. She walks around with water bottles and sticks pretending to play. It's cute. I think the classical music and high range of notes could be soothing to her. 

I think you'd be floored knowing Addi is performing in her first musical this week. Yep, on stage, in a costume, in front of people and not shuddering in fear or backing off because she's shy. She privately teaches herself ukulele and just today, after two years, had her braces removed. 

It's terrifying. The pure beauty and innocence scares me. 

If I could call you I'd plan our trip to the tulip fields, but instead I'll tend to my own and wait in anticipation for the pink bulbs to bloom. The dogwood trees are showing signs of wanting to burst with pink flowers reminding me of how you loved spring and blossoms. Fragrant reminders throughout the gardens that make me smile when pulling weeds, trimming vines and yes, getting rid of the dead possum Addi stumbled on under the kitchen window. So gross. So ugly. 

If you could only see how fantastic Dad and Mom look. Crazy. You can't find anything sweet or crappy to eat in the house because it all has this healthy theme to it... unless Dad has treats hiding somewhere and not telling me. Baby brother wore his skirt again last weekend and rocked it playing the drums. 

If I could call you...

Well, the honest truth is that you did. No joke. They put your number back in service and gave it to some lady locally! Miss Bee grabbed my phone months ago and ended up calling you, well this person, hanging up and then that number called me back. Oh you would have been bent over laughing at me when I answered. I had a conversation with myself out loud as this stranger listened in confusion to me. 

"Traci, is that you? No wait you're dead. Traci? Come on it can't be her. You know better. 

Is this 319-XXXX? Are you Traci. Steph, come on. Get it together. Hello?"

Turns out this lady (I actually thought she was a man until she corrected me because her voice was so deep and raspy. I secretly gave her the name of Ol' Smokey.) got stuck on a family thread and after weeks of receiving these threads started to ask about our cousin. Next thing I know Ol' Smokey wanted me to come to her house and tell her what was needed to be approved as a foster home for her grandkids. I think Smokey thought she'd found a new best friend. Seriously, I think you planned this one just to give me some more crazy in my life. The extended family certainly got a good laugh from this too. 

If I could call you...

Well, if I were to be totally honest with myself...

I don't think you'd answer. 

If I were walking the streets of gold with Jesus and all my Bible Hero's, I'd let the machine take a message and send memories in the budding season and hummingbirds too. 

I know this because you did this week.

Until we can sit together and have eternal chats, keep the birds coming. 

I miss you sister. 

These Days Hurt

National Sisters Day.

Well, this one hurts.
Darn Hallmark Holidays.
It would be much easier if everyday could be national donut day, chocolate day or running day without having to hit the heart strings with these silly reminder days. 

I gave my Honey a few days warning that today could be emotional and challenging. 

Years past, Traci and I would acknowledge each other on days like today expressing our love,
and even hate, for each other.
All I have today is a flat gravestone staring back at me with no voice, phone call, Face Time
or handwritten card to read. 

Tissues on the Dragon Boat

{ Dr. Look & Traci May 2015 }

My sister was always stubborn and held true to her dutch blood. 

If you wanted to see her fight for something you just had to tell her, 

"No. Don't do that. You can't do that." 

Well, Dr. Look shouldn't have expected anything other than resistance when he told Traci she shouldn't paddle anymore with the fear of her breaking bones due to the cancer that continued to deteriorate her bone strength. Traci refused to accept that reality so she did something about it and created an event which showcased the benefits paddling had to a patients entire being. From physical to emotional, she wanted to prove her point and stay seated in the boat. 

With that, "Paddle with the Pinks" became an every year event where local health care providers who treat patients with BrCa (breast cancer) could experience for themselves the full-body workout and camaraderie of the teammates who meet three times a week for practice. Traci was the first captain of this incredibly special event and outreach program.

This year the team named the Provider Paddle in Traci's name:

2017 Traci Van Dyken Health Care Provider Paddle and Sponsor Recognition

The Realities of Grief

The realities of my grief have been as opposite as the east to the west. 

In one moment you can have clear blue, sunny, happy skies over to the West hovering over the islands and to the East, the darkest, meanest black skies coming down in vertical stripes as the clouds open flood gates across the mountains. There is an actual line drawn in the weather pattern that separates the two skies. 

Grief is, and can be, as tumultuous as the stormy skies or as hopeful as a clear blue sunset to the West. 

Because many have asked how my family and I are doing, I thought I'd let you into my world for a brief moment and tell you what the past three months have looked like for us. 

In one word, I'd say it's been 

HARD.

These Four Words

April has been a month of reflection.

A reconciliation of what Jesus did for us on the cross. A reminder of anniversaries and birthdays. A reminder that eight years ago our marriage came to life. 

I find myself getting lost in thought going back ten years when we wheeled my sister into the operating room for her first surgery a week after receiving her cancer diagnoses. I can hear the words she spoke to me as I told her I loved her. I can see Tim with open arms ready to catch his bride as he surprised me at the hospital in Portland, I remember the first moments after surgery quickly brushing Traci's teeth before visitors came and can smell the Olive Garden dinner that fed the waiting room of friends and family. 

I look back at the first moments in the Mission House post surgery as Mom and I got Traci comfortable before I needed to head back home.

She Keeps Me Running

{ 7th state race }

The first time back in my running shoes after my sister passed, I found myself on the treadmill with worship music playing starring at a dark gray sky. I caught myself having a conversation with Traci about how I would ever run another race without her telling me right before all the sweet words of encouragement like she would through texts and phone calls. 

The reason why I made the goal of 50 by 50 (50 state races by the age of 50) was to run because she couldn't. It was to run for her, in honor of her and others, with the capability and ability to run and to make memories of traveling all across the country with my sister. We had plans to do big things with these races. We had talked about me running a race after our family cruise in Florida and how excited Traci was that I found a race with such a dear cause; Dash for Downs 5k. She was so excited for me to run! It was a one-sided, possibly a little of an angry toned chat as I sprinted through a few miles hoping to hear 

her voice talk back to me. 

I was almost done with my quick sprint when I was telling her I quit and then...

My Tribute: Daughter, Sister, Friend

I first want to say thank you, on behalf of our family, for walking these past 10 years with us praying, encouraging and showing us support as we cared for our daughter and sister in her fight. It was not only just her fight; it became all of our fight and we can not say how much your willingness to join through prayer and support has meant to all of us. There were successful fundraisers, homes opened up to stay at, meals provided, gas cards given, rides offered to bring Traci to and from treatments or even back home. In boxes above Traci’s closet are every single card written with words of hope, scriptures of truth and sentiments of friendship spoken. Traci clung to your friendships and it is the fuel behind her fight. We humbly ask that you help us finish our Hero’s fight worshipping and celebrating her life, her love for her Jesus and to not focus on her death, but her victory.

Her Words; Her Story

Last November, I found myself gazing on the frozen ground and wanting to find a way to freeze that time with my sister. In communicating these thoughts with Tim, I shared how I desired something I could always have for the kids to see.
Selfishly, I wanted to be able to preserve Traci's voice, her smile, her laughter. 

I knew I needed to ask Traci if this was something she'd be willing to do and without hesitating, Traci was all over the idea of videoing her testimony. She had talked about wanting to do something like this by writing letters, but wasn't sure where to start. It didn't become something grim in creating a film for after she left us. It became a tool in helping us prepare her for this final step in her journey.
The secret of planning this film was so much fun to share together. 

We flew Evan and another cameraman out in February after Traci had learned the cancer had spread once again. Before she was going to loose her hair, we wanted to film her story when she looked relatively healthy. 

The Last Time I Held Her Hand

The last time I held my sisters hand was the first time she stood before her God and Maker. 

Cancer-free.

Complete.

Without pain or scars of her almost ten year journey with breast cancer. 

Surrounded by her family, she peacefully marched her way into glory. 

I say march because that's exactly what Traci did in those last hours here on earth. 

I was originally going to fly down to Portland Thursday morning, but my flight was cancelled the night before leaving me to drive the next morning. I got to Traci's apartment around 10:30am. Mom had told me about the confirmed liver failure a few days before and the turn of yellow in her skin, but seeing in person was much more prominent then I expected. 

Traci and I joked about how yellow was never her color. She said with her cute smirk, "Yeah, it's not my favorite either. It's not that bad though." She was always reassuring me she was okay. 

{ I'm not sure who looks more tired. Taken minutes after arriving to Portland. }

Sweet Hour of Prayer

Sweet sister. You have no idea the hole you left here on earth. I just have no words right now. 

I miss you immensely and it's only been a day. God, this hurts. 

Sweet hour of prayer! Sweet hour of prayer!
That calls me from a world of care,
And bids me at my Father's throne
Make all my wants and wishes known.
In seasons of distress and grief,
My soul has often found relief,
And oft escaped the temper's snare,
By thy return, sweet hour of prayer!

Indestructible

There are people who crumble with a paper cut experiencing tears for days and
needing band-aid changes to dress the wound. 

People who collapse with emotional pressure or fearing the worst case scenario, paralyzing them from ever experiencing life.

Then you have those that rise above the bad news and become shining stars. 

That's my sister...

Traci Lynn Van Dyken. 

Traci has experienced far worse then paper cuts under going multiple surgeries to cut the disease out of her body. Scars that show the journey she's been triumphing on over the course of almost ten years. With every blood draw she receives the pressure of results showing success or defeat. Continual chemotherapy treatments to maintain the progress or to treat aggressively what has taken over her body. Recently, giving up three weeks to full brain radiation to treat the progression of the disease in her eye and brain. The unfortunate part of treating this one area is that the other areas were left untouched. Since then, the tumor markers have traveled over a total of five hundred points higher and an obvious shortness of breath slows My Hero's steps. Scans confirm that the cancer has grown in her liver and lungs.

Over the Bridges & Through the Streets to Downtown We Had to Go

With all three weeks of full brain radiation completed, Traci needed some open air, a break from cabin fever and a little exploring with her sister before starting chemotherapy once again. 

Miss Bee and I took to I-5 Wednesday morning leaving Daddy in charge of getting the three kids to their appropriate schools. He did me proud with keeping the house clean, kids fed and making sure no one missed the bus. It was a nice little break from the normal for me while being able to spend some sweet moments with My Hero. 

Our time together was mainly spent eating which began at Menchies for dinner followed by the many leftover meals that had been delivered to Traci. She hasn't been able to drive due to the eye tumor creating depth perception issues as well as it looking like she's seeing out of a bubble. For safety reasons she hung up her keys until the issues resolve which has led to her becoming STIR CRAZY sitting at home! We took to the town to help her breath in some fresh air. 

Thursday started by celebrating National Coffee Day with our Starbucks and free Krispie Kreme coffee and donuts. Shameful, we just wanted the donuts. Miss Bee quite enjoyed herself fisting the doughy goodness too. Our next stop was Powell's as we are both book lovers of all kinds. The children's section is bright, colorful, inviting and a place all our kids have come to love. Good thing we had budgets or we'd leave with hundreds of dollars worth in new books! With Traci's background being a preschool teacher she sees quality in every single book and has a favorites list about a mile long. 

Be Thou Her Vision

Today marks another new normal; another adventure yet to be experienced; another treatment not yet had. She's scared, nervous, anxious; possibly even hesitant. The start of a three week radiation treatment in attempts to eradicate the brain tumors and eye tumors found from what was thought to just be a side effect of the ongoing chemotherapy Traci has been receiving. 

It started with blurry vision, much like seeing out of a water glass, and a green tint out of the left eye. I ventured down to Portland to assist in getting Traci to her Friday appointments along with Charlie and Miss Bee. 

After a simple examination of the eye, the doctor kept on ordering a few more tests just to make sure he had a good idea what was going on. That was my cue that something was wrong. During the eye ultrasound I pointedly said to the doctor, "We've been doing this cancer thing for over nine years. If you're looking for a tumor just say so." 

It was after that, we saw another specialist and heard the words:

metastatic eye tumors.

Our hearts sunk a wee bit. 

Be thou my vision, O Lord of my heart;

naught be all else to me, save that thou art

thou my best thought, by day or by night;

waking or sleeping, thy presence my light.

{ Never a chemotherapy alone. }

Disappointment was heavy on my heart watching and listening to My Hero displace the facts that we had just heard, for the possibility of these new tumors still being just a side effect of her treatments. I had the unfortunate job of telling Dad the truth over the phone and later together we told Mom. This has been the journey from the beginning of extreme ups and deep lows. The only constant in all of this has been Jesus. 

Be thou my wisdom, and thou my rue word;

I ever with thee and thou with me, lord.

Thou my great Father; thine own may I be,

thou in me dwelling and I one with thee.

This past summer I went through a Bible study about worship. What kept coming to mind was how beautifully Traci has been able to worship through every mountain placed in front of her. No matter what the challenge, hurdle or test she walks into, she walks firmly rooted in the truth that God is still so good. I think about Abraham when he was leading his son up the mountain to make a sacrifice to God. His faithfulness overcame the devastation of what he might have had to do. I think about Job as he had tragedy after tragedy plague his life but he continued to remain faithful. The journey Moses had leading his people to the promised land. Worship is an incredibly strong theme throughout the Bible and Traci's life is no different. She remains faithful; she remains consistent in her Foundation. God remains good even though all else may seem chaotic and terrifying. 

Riches I heed not, no vain, empty praise;

thou mine inheritance, now and always;

thou and thou only first in my heart,

high King of heaven, my treasure thou art.

{ The superhero mask needed to make full brain radiation happen. }

You would need to drug me and knock me out to make this happen but this amazingly brave gal took it like a champ. 

No diagnoses, time frame or significant tragedy can take away what is rooted deep in your heart. It is the air we breathe, the truth that feeds our soul. Yes, we cry in expression for the sadness that haunts this long journey and we ask why, but in the end, we worship. We thank Jesus for how He has given us years beyond what should be with the amount of cancer my sister has fought. We thank Jesus for protecting her life as years of chemicals have gone into her body to slow down the beast growing inside. We praise Jesus for the faithfulness of His child who has been a witness to His greatness to many who don't know how and why we celebrate rather than mourn. 

I don't want to get caught up in the fact that My Hero will once again loose her hair. I don't want to get caught up in the fact that she won't see our kids graduate from high school or someday get married. Shoot, that fact that we have a timeline sucks in general. But, I know that God is bigger than any timeline, diagnoses or mountain any of us have to climb. 

We've said it from the beginning: Auntie will have healing here on earth or will be granted her heavenly healing where no pain; no cancer can touch her. 

High King of heaven, my victory won,

my I reach heaven's joys, O bright heaven's sun!

Heart of my own heart, whatever befall,

still be my vision, O Ruler of all.

Traci, My Hero, thank you for your unfailing example of what a servants heart should look like, acts like and worships boldly while under distress. You make this journey that much easier by walking out your faithfulness believing in the Creator who gave you grace to walk every step needed to wholeness. I will live the rest of my life in attempts to be more like you. 

But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people belonging to God, that you may declare the praises of Him who called you out of darkness into His wonderful light. 

1 Peter 2:9

Walking Gigi Home

{ This post is long but filled with memories for our family. }

{ January 8th, 1928 - May 26th, 2016}

Grandma would be having a fit if she knew how big of a deal I 

was making of herself. 

Better known as Gigi to our kids, Grandma has been walking home to glory for the past few weeks as she continued to display her personal charm in many colors and fashions.  From her stubborn flair of not asking for help to her refusal for family to stay and care, Grandma made her walk home something I look up to as once again, her beautiful, strong personality shines through.
After falling at night while still at home, Grandma consented to a transition to the hospice house. It made these final steps home that much easier giving all of the family peace knowing Grandma has been well taken care of with daily smoothies and bedside TLC. 

Grandma has always been a no-non-sense kind of woman. Humble in her approach to most situations, Grandma was never one to make a fuss over anything. She loved to travel, serve others at the Food Bank, tend to her gardens and always asked me about our adoption and foster journeys.
She never needed the latest fashion trend or worried about what her hair or make-up looked like. Of course, I still heard every time I cut and permed her hair how she wished God granted her thicker, prettier hair, but it didn't stop her from making what she did have gorgeous.
"Can you do anything with this mess?" she'd say. 

As a little girl, I remember Gigi going to bed with her hair rollers and bed hat wrapped around her head. I never understood how she could sleep with all that business up there! It wasn't until after her chemotherapy that gray hair became noticeable. Then came the second round of cancer that I had to shave that miserable head of hair off due to chemotherapy. Grandma was given a wig, but it turned out Myriam had more use of it then Grandma! Once again, a no fuss kind of woman that found vanity a thing of the past.

I'm quite certain the same perfume Grandpa had given Grandma decades ago still stands on her dresser today and same goes for many other accessories that again, had little to no value to Grandma. It was all just stuff. 

I loved that about my Grandma as do all of the family. 

What mattered most was us; family. 

Growing up my sister and I would spend a week in the summer with Grandma and Grandpa. Hard boiled eggs in the morning with cereal or oats and raspberries with ice cream at night along with the neighborhood bike rides on the Blue Angel. We often had the occasional fresh potato from the garden and the snack from the properly labeled chip Tupperware in the top cupboard. Before the big move into town, I clearly remember the flour drawer next to the kitchen sink and that creepy squeaky door that led to the dark scary basement. The farm still holds many secrets; some that Grandma will never know! Memories of big family potlucks, explorations through the barns and swinging high under the front yard trees are very dear to me.


{ Grandma with her grandkids Christmas 2015. }

Living so close to the high school made for convenient stops before game days as a warm meal was always offered. There was the occasional night I'd have to sleep over as well which were always welcomed. 

Grandma was always baking even up to a month ago attempting to make something we could eat at Sunday coffee. I would take my cues from my cousin Trent if it was edible or not and then choose to pass as Gigi offered the sweets around the room. There was always the pre-warning from Grandma too, "I don't know if these are any good," but as grand kids, we tried to make Grandma feel as if her baking skills were still up to par. 

In the early days, we would have dinner at Grandma's every other Sunday afternoon. My love for carbs came from the perfectly seasoned garlic bread we had and the expected rice and beef casserole always made on Saturday night in preparation for family dinner.

The day would start at church when Grandma would pass out Smarties to keep us young ones from getting jittery during the message. I always looked forward to the message treat and sometimes would get a dutch mint if the sweets were running low. I showed Addison where Grandma hid her Smarties stash and noticed the same stash was still in it's place from when I was her age right next to her hand sewn purse clutch. 

{ Wrappers full of memories. }

{ Sunday's dinner. }

There's also many memories of Grandma proudly jumping in the lake with us grand kids vacationing in Lake Chelan. The tradition started the summer I turned eight and phased out when Charlie was two or three. Never was there a summer Grandma's blue and purple floral swimsuit did not make an appearance. Our evenings were caught up in aggressive games of Skip-Bo or Phase Ten where a familiar farm term may have slipped from Grandma's lips a time or two. She was known for her delicious home-made hot chocolate and willingness to hop on her bike with any of us kids. 

Sometimes taking Gigi in public made me nervous as she always spoke her mind regardless if her opinion was a popular one or not. If she didn't like my new haircut or color I would know about it. If I wore my hair straight not curly, I would for sure know about which she preferred. If we saw someone who needed a few additional articles of clothing, she'd tell me. 

There was also the moment I wanted to hide when after Addison was born, Gigi would babysit for three hours a couple times a week. I would go a little before and feed Addison when Gigi blurted out with the obvious. For the sake of not embarrassing my children I'll keep this G-rated. "Honey, isn't it amazing how a little bit of man mixed with a little bit of woman can create such a beautiful thing?" Yes, Grandma, that is amazing. 

Years later, she had a softer tone of voice when after explaining the deepest pain in my life she quickly and gently, without any hesitation, replied, "Stephie, Jesus tells us to forgive as we have been forgiven. You need to forgive him." Recently, in the quiet moments of the morning at the hospice house, Tim was able to thank Grandma for changing the course of our marriage. Thank you Grandma. 

Grandma had a boldness about her that made some uncomfortable, some want to scream and others run closer to her. Often times we saw this come out in her stubbornness to do things herself. It's what kept her feisty for so long and fight her illness as long as she did. Never did Gigi complain. Never did she mention pain. The last wish was to not be a burden to her family.
"Honey, I'm fine," became the expected answer over the last few months even though she clearly was not.
Grandma was a servant. She had a heart to bless others. She served weekly at the food bank and used her hands to serve others after natural disasters such as Hurricane Katrina. In the years before I was married, I volunteered monthly at a Seattle homeless shelter providing haircuts and serving meals. On one of my trips, Grandma tagged along to see what it was I did. Watching Grandma talk to the men coming to get a warm meal made my heart swell with pride as she set aside all opinions and was simply another human being talking about life. 

Addison will keep Gigi close by as they share the same middle name, Jean. Charlie will have a little bit of Gigi's house with the added Lego collection and Myriam will miss Gigi's chap stick collection and candy bowls. Grandma often times would bring home a special treat from the Food Bank resulting in massive sugar highs. So much of Grandma will be missed. The warm and inviting fire place, the book suggestions, the need to share our latest scrap booking tool or card made, the quick drop of what she was doing to help with the kids. 

No longer will we see the cactus driving through town on her antenna or have the collection of elephants greet us by the front door.
The grape vine will stop producing the popular "Grandma's Grape Juice," and Sunday coffee will be semi-retired. The memories go farther than any piece of furniture, favorite vase or frame or random dish from the kitchen.
This day is no surprise to any of us. This day has long been approaching us. 

{ Easter 2015 }

When Aunt Donna called me a few weeks ago, I quickly packed up my Little's and drove over to check on Gigi. Grandma has told me time and time again her wish to watch our Myriam grow up. She has always enjoyed the stories, laughter and surprises that little one creates and wishes she could watch Tim and I stress over chasing her through life. I reminded her of the aerial view she'd have and how much more fun that will be as we parent our live-wire! 

Grandma has also always shared many intimate details of her life with me and again did so that evening. I treasure those moments and will miss her honesty. Addison and Charlie joined me inside after I clearly saw the light of Heaven drawing Grandma closer to her eternal home. So, with all four of us holding hands, we prayed that Jesus would accept Gigi's request of going home. We asked God that He would allow Gigi to wake up in glory as we gave her permission to go sit at the feet of Jesus. After kisses and hugs until the next time, we said good bye. The kids were rock stars until we got back in the car and tears broke free of the dam. Gigi holds a special place in our kids' hearts and has been extremely involved in all our lives. 

{ Addison & Charlie with Gigi after setting her free. }
April 19th

Death is never easy; it's hard to witness and creates many questions for the young ones. With Gigi, we have been reminded about the truth of the gospel in which Gigi firmly stood on. 

"For God so loved the world that he gave His one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life."  John 3:16

{ Making Gigi comfortable and keeping her company as she walks home. }
April 22nd

No longer is the cancer holding Gigi captive of misery and lack of appetite. No longer does Grandma have to sit in her chair and talk to Grandpa as she longed to see him again. There is no more time to read books twice sometimes three times over and never again will there be yard work or flower beds to tend to. 

No longer will we hear, "I'm fine."

Gigi is free.

And with little to no fuss, much like she requested, we say, 

"Well done, good and faithful servant."

Grandma, you are so loved and will be missed greatly.

{ Myriam & Mommy holding hands. Never will she leave our hearts. }
May 20th