Today Tara had appointments at the clinic that she did on her own. Tomorrow she and I will meet with the Oncologist. We get to review her scans from last week and get the numbers from her blood work. As it has been in the last few months, we hope to hear and see encouraging things. If how she feels now is any indicator of the results, I think we’ll be pleased. She’ll wrap up her stay in the clinic with 3 hours of bad drugs pumped into her veins.

But we are so looking forward to time together tomorrow, celebrating our 100th day fighting cancer. We’ll celebrate with an early lunch at our favorite Mexican establishment, then to the clinic for 4 hours, then home to some time with the whole family before heading out to our small group. This actually sounds like a great way to celebrate such a day. Good food, family, friends and fun.

I know God is sustaining us, but I do kind of wonder if He is really doing that much. Because it seems like we are just going like before. What does God’s sustenance feel like? What is the difference whether he does or doesn’t? If he didn’t would we have less effective treatments? I doubt it. If he does will Tara automatically gets healed? No. Does it just mean our attitude is better? Or we have more people supporting us?

Now I am not a person that dwells on the spiritual world, and the flaws of religion are blaring to me. But I do believe in a God who loves us. I believe Jesus lived, died and rose from the dead, and he is the only path to God. And I do believe the Spirit of God daily gives us help and comfort. Through our journey, these things have been reinforced. We have questioned the purpose of life. We have found hope in the face of death. We have become convinced that the words of scripture are true and they have power in the physical world we live in. God’s sustenance is joy in the midst of trials; trusting that he loves us and has a good plan for us.

This is day 99. And God has been faithful to us for the last 99 days like he has for the last 19 years of marriage and 42 years of life.

I feel bad for Lewis at times since he doesn’t have a brother. He asks often for one. Tara can maybe connect a bit more with that reality since she grew up without a sister. But I take comfort in the fact that she has a friend that is like a sister. Maybe Lewis will have the same kind of friend one day.

I just happen to know what he is missing. Some of my best memories have been with my brother. My brother is 2 years younger. Growing up that made for perfect aggravation, but it also gave me someone to experiment with, and test the laws of the physical world, mostly gravity. As adults though the real fun began. We have traveled the U.S doing brother trips, creating a secret agent life of sorts, living in the world of others.

In LA and in Denver we have done all night ride alongs with their Police Departments. After signing a “death waiver” and putting on bullet proof vests, we have been in the middle of the action with high speed rides responding to gun shots, breaking up fights, and, trust me when I say much more. In New York, Chicago, LA, Atlanta and Denver, we have been free lance writers and food connoisseurs, being offered the finest fare free of charge in exchange for a mention in our writings. Working with our wives, we have found a way to get the other a plane ticket while keeping the destination a secret, boarding the plane still without knowing, and even getting off the plane having no clue where you are. That is always the goal, but only in Denver did I make it all the way without knowing. And of course you must be able to travel without a bag, just what you have in your pockets.

These kind of adventures, the extended adventures of my youth, have been the types of things Tara has had to put up with for years. She is not the kind to hold me back, rather to laugh with me in planning the trip. To roll her eyes at the most ridiculous ideas. And to support me leaving home for a few days, carrying the burden of work at home.

This weekend is Mother’s Day. Does this woman deserve the best day ever, or what? This year so far has been a year from hell to most looking in. But she has found ways to be thankful and gracious for life. She has considered it a blessing to be able to appreciate things at a deeper level. Don’t get me wrong, she would gladly give up this trial in a heartbeat. So I need to be equally creative this weekend when figuring out what to do for my wife, the best mother ever.

Sometimes I forget that Tara is sick. That is good, I think. I get up early and go to work, think about her around 8 am and usually call then. Then again around 2 pm and that is about it until I come home. It is no different than before. I wonder if that is good or not. Ah, who really cares. It is what it is, so no point talking about it too much.

Tara is continuing to feel much better. We have an appointment with the Oncologist on Friday to go over the scan from last week and assess how the treatment plan is working based on the results of the blood tests. Then Friday afternoon chemo. We hope to have the CA125 levels closer to single digits this week. Starting at 4400 (I have no idea what units this is), it is pretty amazing that we would be targeting 5-10. If I am thinking in normal stuff, like potatoes or feet, then she went from a big truck full to a hand full, or nearly a mile to a couple of steps. I can really think best when the units are potatoes.

God hasn’t really been a part of our conversations of late, although He still permeates the essence of our lives. It is kind of like our parents. My dad is no less my dad 500 miles away, and conversing irregularly. It gives him joy when I call and take time for him. I know he loves me. I honor him by representing our family well. But when I don’t, he is not a condemning voice. Just a loving smile and an offer of help. He would love to step into my shoes and carry some of the weight, but it is mine to carry for now. I guess that is where God is different. It is his strength that carries us.

Tara is sleeping now. Beautiful.

We had a favorite place. We found it on accident the first time Dad dropped us off at the train tracks for the night. We walked down the tracks a few miles then straight west once we crossed the bridge. It was a pond, about 3 or 4 acres at best. With 12′ of line and a hook, and worms we dug out of cow patties we could have fun for hours.

But this wasn’t the favorite place. Our favorite place was the farmland to the east of the tracks. The ground was better for sleeping bags and campfires. We introduced ourselves to the farmer a few weeks after first discovering the pond across the tracks. We asked if we could continue to use his land to camp and were grateful he agreed. Over the years, Mr. and Mrs. Zimmerman became like grandparents to us and to this day we still keep up with them.

The Zimmerman’s farm was a school for things you could only learn there. There I learned what it was like to not eat for 2 days, then to appreciate a little frog leg cooked on a stick. I learned what it felt like to lay awake all night because you were shivering, and the coldest part of the day is just before dawn. I learned what it felt like when you dropped the electric fence gate in the rain and had to man up and hook it back together. I learned how to appreciate the stars, the sounds of crickets and bullfrogs, a friend, and the warmth and smell of a campfire. We went out there simply to live life, and that was enough.

Tara and I camp each night on the Maier farm. This farm is a school for things we can only learn here. Here I am learning how to appreciate a hand to hold in the middle of the night. We are learning what it takes to depend on each other and God for strength. We are learning how to appreciate the stars and the sound of road noise. We are learning to accept love from others and simply say “thank you.” We are here simply to live life and that is enough.

I am happy about all the good news I hear about my mom. I love my mom soooo much. Life has changed a little bit because mom doesn’t do all the stuff she used to do. Instead of her cuddling in my bed at night, I cuddle with her in her bed. Now she watches movies on the iPad with me in her room. That is fun. – Lewis, Age 5
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When we found out we were pregnant with Lewis, we knew God had a plan, because we evidently didn’t. In talking with the doctors recently, they said it was likely 4 or 5 years ago that the cancer started inside Tara. That means that with God’s foreknowledge of our cancer, he thought it best to sneak in one more encourager who would help us in this part of our journey.

We are crazy about each of our children in different ways. Lewis is the best encourager. He has a special way to Tara’s heart. He has been the one to rub her bald head and say, “Mom, I am praying for you.” He rubs her feet when she is not feeling well. He fills our home with songs of praise to God, and it is quite loud I might add. He is the one who most often asks to pray at the dinner table or at night, and he is thoughtful to bring Tara up in those prayers every time.

In about two weeks, Lewis will turn 6. His kindergarten year is almost over. Time is flying. This time of Tara’s sickness could be most memorable to him because he will have only faint memories of Tara before cancer. This will certainly impact his life. It already has. And a big prayer of ours is being answered right in front of our very eyes; this is a pivotal point in his faith.

Tara is feeling MUCH better today. But feeling good or not, God is faithful to give us joy in this season of our life.

We each had an army duffel, one full of wood and the other just stuff, including food of course. From my friend’s house it was about 5 miles to where we wanted to go. Actually the adventure was all we wanted. So we started out, 38 degrees and rainy; through a neighborhood, over a fence, across a pasture, through the woods and finally… the Missouri River bottom.

Miles and miles of flat, rich farm land. When you arrive on the Missouri River bottom, you look in the distance to where the river is and it seems like only a half a mile or so. But that half mile is an optical illusion. After walking 3 or 4 miles that day on chisel-plowed river bottom farm ground, we were plum wore out and still not there.

We came to a ditch full of water. Maybe 6 to 8 feet across. An easy jump, at least without the backpacks. My friend went first and ended up neck deep and cold. We were soaked anyway. I tossed my pack over then jumped it. We found an abandoned house; probably left during a flood and the owner decided to rebuild on higher ground. We went in to get out of the rain. It wasn’t too bad inside. Late 60s vintage appliances and many of the windows still in tact. We had to warm up, so we brought the burn barrel in from outside and pulled out the firewood we had carried.

Man that fire got warm quick. And big. Too big. We realized a bit late that we didn’t need it completely full of wood. Two peeing 14 year old boys weren’t putting that fire out. Soon the whole house was smokey, then consumed, and we ran. At the river, we looked back a mile or so at our mistake that was now filling the sky with smoke. A chuckle and then on with life.

Whenever I tell my childhood stories to someone and see their reaction, I realize I was/am not normal. That is okay. But I want to capture some of the stories. So you will find me periodically blogging about them over the next month, then trying pull life lessons from them.

Today was a lot better for Tara. That fluid draining trick actually worked. There is still a lot of tenderness but much better overall. With feeling better came optimism. We are not at the river yet, but occasionally we look back expecting to see the carnage from where we have been. There have been no pillars of smoke from big mistakes…..yet. We are progressing every day. The optical illusion is that our journey, from the start, seemed never ending, but the reality is that chemo will be over in 6-9 weeks. We are making it. God is sustaining us. I am thankful He has let us venture out beyond the safety of normal life, and has trusted us with this adventure.

I received encouragement throughout the day yesterday. It wasn’t until now that I truly appreciated it. Someone sent me words from the book of Job, and as I read it, I was drawn to read more. So I opened the scripture. I quit complaining. I am pretty lame compared to Job. But Job is not the object of that book, God is. And he is in our book too. So thanks for listening to me gripe yesterday about my weenie little afflictions. I was mistakenly making the story about me.

Yesterday Tara had chemotherapy scheduled, but the doctor put a hold on that to respond to her persistent abdominal pain. The accumulating fluid was the reason for the discomfort, again. So they drew out over a liter and relieved some of the pressure that was causing the problem. Last night, she was beat. She was at the hospital at 7:45 am and minus a few hours mid-day, was there until around 4 pm. I was not able to be with her until about 7:30 last night at which time she crashed.

Tara is a champ. She has been uncomfortable for months now, and is tired of it. In her desperate times, she questions her will to go on, but that is rare. She is pushing forward with a great attitude, far more like Job than I. But she also realizes that this story is not about her, especially when she sees another mom caring for a child with cancer, and when she sees God working through friends who help.

Yesterday, a friend (LB) picked Tara up mid-day at the hospital and took her home, did chores for her and loved on her. Another (RK) dropped everything and picked up our kids when they got home from school and even kept them for the night. And there are more that offered help. These friends aren’t just bored, sitting around, waiting to help. These are busy people with busy lives and their help is a reflection of their love for God and us. I am humbled.

So, clearly, God is object of this story; our lives. He is the faithful one. It took the night to clear my head and see what was staring me right in the face.

Tonight was a primitive night. No electricity and therefore no water, heat, refrigerator or anything electrical. I came home at 6:45 pm to realize this for the first time. Evidently I was told but it didn’t register, and the busyness of work consumed my day. My wife was cuddled up in the bed shivering and the kids were flying off the wall. The house was a wreck and Tara was too. I didn’t win the husband of the year award.

The day was messed up from the beginning. I woke up at 5 am to a bunch of snow and an instant headache. Tara cancelled her scheduled appointments at Mayo because we got stuck in our cul de sac…twice. Tara said I should just enjoyed some time at home with the family, but instead I was mad and stressed. I was receiving calls already from customers with trees and limbs down and the fact that I could not get out of my driveway infuriated me.

There are very few times that an arborist is a first responder and the critical help that someone needs. But storm time is that time. So if we can’t be there at that time, what good are we. We did not want the extra work and it will test my ability to balance home and work more than ever.

Tomorrow is Tara’s chemo and appointment with the Oncologist. She is still not feeling the best, as is becoming the norm. Each week we hope for a solution for it, but there is typically something said that implies we just have to expect this and tough it out. Well, she has been, and will continue if she has to. A solution would still be nice.

I would probably look around and see blessings if I felt like it. I just don’t. All I see is that freakin snow. I hope when I wake up, I realize this was all just a nightmare. Today snow got me stuck 4 times total. Snow made our electricity go out for 12 hours so far. Snow made me work extra and will overwork me for the next week or more. Snow made us miss our appointments. And to think in 5 months we’ll be planning for more of it.

A few days ago I made a clay creature for my mom. I used clay, shaped it all up, then our art teacher put it in the kiln and fired it, and made it hard as a rock. And then today we painted them. My favorite class is art.

Have you ever had such bad news that you don’t believe it? Well, I remember that moment. I was like, “Are you serious?” I can’t believe my mom has cancer. I didn’t even really know what cancer was until now. I won’t ever forget that moment. Dad says I am more emotional now. It makes me cry when he says that. I don’t know why I cry more….but maybe it is because everyone else does too.

My dad says we are like the clay creatures that I made. God is shaping me into like a stronger person. The cancer is like the fire that is making me hard, or solid. Maybe that is why I cry, because the fire hurts.

Every week we have people who love us help us clean the house because mom can’t clean as much as she used to. They do laundry as well. I am so thankful. I read the Bible more now. This has helped me because I feel like God is talking to me more. The thing that I like the most is that my dad is home earlier than normal:-)

I am the youngest girl in the family and this is my perspective.

In the movie We Were Soldiers, Mel Gibson plays Lieutenant Colonel Hal Moore, a courageous commander in the Army’s 7th Cavalry during the Vietnam war. His 400 men faced 4000 North Vietnamese soldiers and with significant loss of life, they defeated them in that battle. But the moment the US troops left that remote airstrip that cost hundred of lives, the North Vietnamese took it back over. The names of the American heroes who died in that battle will forever remain on the wall of the Vietnam Memorial and all Americans are indebted to them for their selfless service. But the progress they died for in that battle, was not kept.

The book of Hebrews (Chapter 11) also has a wall of names. Heroes of faith. Many are known world-wide, by Christians, Muslims, Atheists and all. Abel, Enoch, Noah, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Joseph, Moses, Rahab, Gideon and more. These were men (and a woman) who, just like us, lived life. They fought with their siblings. They wondered what they should do with their lives. They screwed up often. But they chose a course that made an impact. Their storied lives are still talked about today and the progress was kept.

But there were others listed as well, whose lives aren’t talked about as much. Their names are still on the wall as heroes. “…those who were tortured…. some faced jeers and flogging, and even chains and imprisonment. They were put to death by stoning; they were sawed in two; they were killed by the sword. They went about in sheepskins and goatskins, destitute, persecuted and mistreated…. They wandered in deserts and mountains, living in caves and in holes in the ground.” Those lives aren’t as storied. But equally impactful, and their progress was also kept.

I pray that one way or another, my life will be listed on the wall as a hero of faith. I know Tara’s will be. Maybe mine could be right under hers.

God is daily sustaining us. Our journey is bearable…..and life is good.