Eight years ago we decided to get away somewhere warm for our anniversary. It was the first time we left our children for more than a day. Tara basked for days in the sun while while I sought shade or the dark, cool, air conditioned room. But together the longing grew to be back home.

As planned, we flew back to Minneapolis and had arranged a shuttle to Rochester. Our flight was slightly behind schedule and after landing, while still on the runway, I called the shuttle to let them know we would still be on time, but just barely. But when we arrived at the shuttle, they told us they had filled our spot. There was now only room for one of us. In my selfish, wanting-desperately-to-be-home state, I may have crossed the line. To make a very long story short, it took a policeman to physically pull me off of the overloaded van, on which I insisted I was going to get home. Tara closed her eyes and gently shook her head in disgust, silently pleaded for me to stop, and wished to disown me for that half of an hour.

Still to this day, Tara and I get Grumpy (capital G intended) when we want to be home but can’t. Home is not just our 4 walls and a roof, it is the 7 of us together under our 4 walls and a roof. It is a safe haven, a place of rest, peace, and venerability. It is the place where children are loved and trained; a wife and mother is loved, cherished and honored; a husband and father is loved and respected. It is a place filled with music; sung and played by both children and parents. It is a place where we now battle fear. It is a place where we have stared death in the face, realizing it has no sting or no bite, and will have no victory. Here, we have experienced the peace of God in the midst of it all. This place is good. This is home.

Today Tara arrived home, again, seven days after her first arrival. Nothing was going to stop her from getting here. Her medical team had set some milestones throughout the last few days that would determine if they would let her go. She barely made it, but this time the seats were still available for the ride home. No policeman could have pulled her out of the shuttle. She was going to be home.

Now we need to make sure she stays hydrated. We have nausea medicine that will be critical to keep her upright. I even have some shots to give her (my first shots ever) and I have no idea what they are for. Tara will try to get to one of Esther’s basketball games tomorrow. It will be hard not to overdo it but therein lies another of my jobs. Please pray that we can keep her out of the hospital. Chemotherapy was postponed yesterday and today because of nausea. It is scheduled now for Tuesday. Hopefully this next dose won’t knock her down again like the first. But if that means it is working, then I guess we’ll take whatever.

I painted houses during 7 summers of high school and college. The many long, hot days spent with my painting buddy over the years was a great way to get psychological help. Painter and I grew to know each other’s lives very well and we helped each other try to make sense of it all. When I met this awesome girl at college, I described to Painter that when we went out to eat, she ate all the food on her plate unlike other female friends I spent time with. Now as a growing young man, I kind of counted on this extra food and that concerned me. Painter, in his infinite wisdom, dubbed her “Moose” because she ate like a large animal, and being from Minnesota, it had to be a moose. To this day, Tara is called Moose by many of my family and friends.

It is awesome that Tara loves to eat. A good steak, pasta, chocolate, ice cream, salad, home made bread. It is truly a common interest of ours. But things are different for the time being and food doesn’t taste so good to her any more. We are tying to find things that do. She knows it will come in time.

The Bible speaks of food numerous times. For those who cannot buy food, He says to come, buy and eat and your soul will delight in the richest of fare. We are also told that we do not live on food alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God. We are told that the Corinthian church ate and drank from the spiritual rock, that is Christ.

Tara is sustained by the word of God. She is delighting in the richest of fare. She is eating and drinking from the spiritual Rock. Until her appetite resumes, we will have to go out to eat a different way, and again, I know she will clean her plate.

I have many good memories as a child. Sometimes I don’t necessarily remember doing something a lot, but the amount of information I have on the subject makes me think I did. For example, I don’t remember watching Gilligan’s Island a lot, but I happen to know every word to the song and all the characters quite well. Maybe I did watch it more than I remember. The one that particularly bothers me is that I know all the words to every song in The Sound of Music. For some of my friends who thought they knew me well, I am sorry.

Tonight Tara and I reflected on a few of our favorite things. There are no raindrops on roses, whiskers on kittens or anything like that. But we did have a few that when we simply remembered them, we didn’t feel so bad. The ones that Tara mentioned seemed significant and the simplicity of them impacted me.

Chai tea and bible study after the kids leave for school. Being there emotionally for her kids. Family prayers. A bath. Cuddling with kids on the weekend. Running with the dog and friends. Late night summer strolls with her husband. Our back yard. The family dinner table. Crawling into bed excited. Green grass. Movie night. A warm fireplace. Saturday church as a family. Farmers market with friends. Honey and peanut butter on an english muffin.

Seemingly so simple, yet once our life was rocked, that is what she remembers. I will not over-spiritualize this simple list. However Tara and I know that God is the giver of all these good gifts. He has renewed a sense of thankfulness for the things we have. Simple things, of little monetary value, that once lost, become priceless. The things of great monetary value didn’t even make the list. Not on the list: car, clothes, jewelry, nice kitchen, and many more.

Is it just me, or do you also look at the last 3 weeks of our life and only see good things that have come from it?

Fighting is something I have learned to appreciate more as I have gotten older. As a youth it intimidated me. As an adult I have learned that facing those fears on a wrestling mat is incredibly therapeutic. Mano a mano literally means “hand to hand” but most use it as “man to man.” It means that there is nothing to hide behind and we are going to find out who is best in strength, endurance, skill and heart (the desire to win). It means you have to put fear aside and courageously fight; to not tap at the first feeling of pain, but rather inflict enough on your opponent to cause him to quit first.

I think I am going to coin a new term: “womano a womano”. Its just like mano a mano only tougher. Tara was readmitted today due to severe dehydration and a resulting very high heart rate. I remember saying when she was vomiting again, “she doesn’t have that much stuff in her.” She proved me wrong. I was calling for her to tap. To cry “uncle”. To say “mercy”. Whatever you want to call it, I was saying she had enough. Somehow in the midst of it she kept her calm, got poked 6-8 more times, took a liter of fluid by IV and then her body calmed down. A nurse confidently told her an hour later, “Except for the nausea, vomiting and cancer, you look pretty good.”

Somehow she manages to smile. Like a fighter covered in blood that smiles like he likes it and says “bring it on!” She’s a fighter. To the bone. Tough as they come. She would say that she is resting and God is fighting for her. No wonder she kicks butt.

In UFC pre-fight announcement fashion: In the blue corner, standing 5 feet 5 inches. Weighing in at 103 pounds. A freestyle fighter from Rochester, Minnesota. With a record of 5 wins and 0 losses. Tara “the crowbar-a” Maier.

Another day down. Slow improvement for Tara. Her abdominal drain was finally pulled out today. Up until yesterday her belly was draining about a liter per day. That slowed down to about twenty percent. We are told that is a good sign, hopefully meaning the chemotherapy is doing its job on the cancer.

Tara wonders if her strength will ever return. I think she knows it will, but she has had so little energy these last few days. As her doctor said, she should feel like a truck ran over her for some time yet. The surgery was extensive (and thorough) and because they felt her body could take it they started chemo several weeks earlier than on normal patients. While exhausting, this is the best possible situation we could have.

We had a great evening as a family. Another dinner provided by a friend. Bible study around the table with a challenge to memorize Romans 8:38-39 this week. Then wrestle (fight) with my son, while we listened to a CD story of “gentle Jesus”. I had to go ice my fat lip from a good shot I took. Cuddle with one of the girls. Conversations with the others. Then a bedroom movie with my bride.

You know, life isn’t so bad. What else could we want?

If you were a fly on our wall this evening you would have been less than impressed with my patience in parenting. With Tara laid up I was reminded that I should pin a blue ribbon on any single parent I know. What an incredibly hard job they have.

My mind has not been able to function at a high level over the last two weeks. While some would say it is normal in this situation, I know my family needs me to be able to make good decisions for them. It is humbling to say that I need help, but I do. Evidently people knew this 2-3 weeks before I figured it out. At first the meals, cleaning, laundry help and the gift cards were a nice “treat”. Now I realize they are essential for me to be a good husband and father.

Overall the weekend has been great so far. The fly on the wall would see that a bit of normalcy pervaded in our home. We had a great time worshiping at Autumn Ridge although Tara was not there. Every word of every song impactful. Every teaching from His word significant. Every relationship sweet. You cannot stare cancer in the face or watch a loved one suffer like this, and not ask yourself if you really mean the words you sing or believe the words you hear. We mean it and we believe it.

Tara is not able to get up and move around a lot yet. She is still quite tired and weak from chemotherapy. She still wears her smile quite well, even though she feels like her body is temporarily failing. In the honesty of our bedroom, the fly on the wall would see that we still have things to laugh about but also some things to cry about, most from physical pain, slow healing, or thoughts of loneliness.

God has been faithful to sustain us again today. We trust where he is taking us.

On March 3, 1992, during my junior year of college, I received a call from my dad saying that my sister was involved in a serious accident with a semi truck. She was being airlifted to a hospital and her life was hanging in the balance. I slumped over and wept. Why did this happen to someone like her? I loved my sister dearly and wished I could take the pain away from her. In my first conversation with her I wept again like I had several times since first hearing from my dad. While I did, she comforted me saying it would be alright.

As we tell our friends about Tara’s cancer, we have watched them consistently weep for us; looking for words to comfort us and often falling short in their own mind. We are humbled to know they love us so much, and at times we find ourself comforting them. Being on this side of the conversation almost seems easier. We are at peace with where God has placed us. And we are not being stoic and brave to say this. It is with fear and trembling that we submit to this course. But we have seen with our own eyes the way He is working and has orchestrated the last 13 years (and longer) to prepare us for this day. I am certain we will look closer in years to come to see that he was preparing us from birth.

This first day at home was great in terms of sleep and being with children. Tara was incredibly tired. On top of the 8 hours of sleep over night she probably got another 4 or 5 hours through the day. This could be catch up from poor hospital sleep or it could be the chemotherapy’s effect. Either way I am thankful for it. The 3 younger kids were at home with us through the day. The 2 older ones will be home soon and will likely crawl in bed for some cuddles, the first in weeks.

Thank you for reading our stories and supporting us with your encouragement and prayers. I hope our stories will cause you to reflect on your own life and learn what we are learning without having to go through this.

Tara felt fresh air today for the first time since last Thursday morning. The sunlight on her face was nearly heavenly. The second chest tube was pulled around noon and discharge instructions were given soon after. By 3:30 we were home and walked up the stairs to our kitchen, then into our bedroom. The familiar sights and smells overwhelmed us. Familiar is all so sweet and appreciated right now. Our bed, favorite chair, the dog, even our own toilet. We are so thankful to God for what we have.

This is a day that we will remember. But not as much as if the kids were here. Unfortunately, Andrean came down with Strep and with Tara’s weak immune system we had to evacuate the house. We are now on antibiotics just to be safe, and the kids are staying with my parents in a vacant condo loaned to us by a friend. Tomorrow morning we get “normal” back. The kids will be reunited with us and we will be enjoying the remainder of the long weekend alone as a family. I can’t wait.

Tara is still weak and tires easily. It is critical that she stay hydrated and well nourished during the next 18 weeks of chemotherapy. She will be going in weekly for treatment and within 6 weeks we will know if the drugs are doing their job. We have to change the way we live. Tara has 5 more weeks of lifting restrictions and will begin rebuilding strength after that. Andrean’s sickness was a great reminder of the care we will need to take to keep ourselves healthy for Tara’s sake.

God proved to us his faithfulness again today. His love endures forever.

It was over 5 years ago that we last spent time in a hospital room. There was joy for new life and a renewed sense of purpose. We came home to cards of congratulations, a newly decorated room (blue this time), new clothes, and 4 happy little girls waiting to see their new brother. It was a time we will never forget.

We will soon be coming home again. And again there will be joy for new life and a renewed sense of purpose, cards of encouragement, and 4 happy girls and a boy waiting to see their mother. Daily they ask when we will be home. Deep yearning, just like Tara and I. They all have dibs on the first cuddles with mom and are excited for the next Happy Friday most likely a week from tomorrow.

Today the first round of chemotherapy was done. I watched for several hours as the drugs dripped through the IV and entered Tara’s body. We waited in anticipation as if something were about to happen. Tara said it felt like a normal IV. But to me it felt like lighting a fuse. Things are set in motion and you cannot stop it and you are just waiting for something big to happen. It never did, at least not yet. We talked about life, faith, friends and wigs.

Thank you all for your encouragement and prayers.

“But we will bless The Lord from this time forth forevermore. Praise The Lord.” – Psalm 115:18