the bumpity road

I can't even begin to count the number of times that I have traveled over this road.

As kids, my brothers and I walked it to meet the school bus and rode our bikes (and later our horses) over its one little hill and hundreds of ruts to get to the main road,  you know, the one that was paved.  As teens, we learned to drive going back and forth to that main road. 

Now I drive this little road with my own kids.  As a matter of fact, they are the ones that dubbed it the bumpity road.  When they were younger, they couldn't wait to turn onto this dirt road because they knew that as soon as the car tires left the pavement it was safe for them to take off their seat belts.  

Very few people even know where this tiny little dirt road goes, but for me this little bumpity road is special for one very important reason ...

                                                                                 ... it leads home.


A few weeks ago, around the beginning of spring, I was driving this road alone and the sun was shining and the trees and grass were as green as I have ever seen them, and the thought came to me how this road is, in some ways, a lot like life.  

If I am only looking down at the bumps in the road, I might miss the beauty around me.

But there is much more to this little road than a life lesson.

This little road takes me to a place where I feel safe.  

A place where I can go to find refuge in a storm.

*********************************

I wrote the words above sometime last year and, despite the fact that the road has gotten considerably more "bumpity" over the last few months, I find that they are still true today.  
You see, I am writing the post that I have been dreading since the first time I blogged about cancer.  And, despite the fact that I have written it in my head more than once~ testing the waters, so to speak~ I just haven't been able to find the right words or force my fingers to type them.  Truth be told, I don't want to write this post now, but I have come to realize that I must.  I cannot move forward until I gather my courage and do it.  I want to blog.  I have lots of posts that I want to write, but I just can't.  There was a time when I found great joy in blogging, but now I can't even comment on my friends' blogs ~ this unwritten post is just too heavy on my mind.

I know that this probably sounds a little melodramatic, but I just can't help it.  This is just one more step in walking through the most difficult thing I've ever experienced.  Well, perhaps walking is the wrong word ... groping would probably be more accurate - now I'm going to do a little more groping and actually type the words ...

Last Friday was my Daddy's 71st birthday and last Friday also marked three months since my Mama went home to be with Jesus.  

There, I've said it.

There are many, many things I'd like to say about my Mama, and maybe someday I will share more of them here, but today I'll only share the thing that I have clung to for these last few months.  

My mother was serious about her faith.  She knew the love of her Savior here on earth and now she is experiencing that love first hand.  And, like many others before me, I can say that despite the fact that I am experiencing a sadness that I cannot explain in mere words, I would never, ever want her to leave the joys of Heaven to return to the pain of this fallen world.  

I don't suppose I will ever stop missing Mama as long as I am on this side of Heaven, but as long as I am here, I pray that I can follow in her footsteps and live the legacy she left for her children and grandchildren. 

 A legacy of love and devotion to her Savior, to her family, and to her friends.

**************************************

I don't know how I originally intended to finish the post that I titled the bumpity road.  Who knows, maybe this is the ending that this particular post needed.

I do know that the bumpity road has changed for me.  
That little road still leads home, but it will never be the same.  

My understanding of home has changed.

I will always be thankful for the home that Mama made for our family and the fact that I could (and still can) return to that home and find comfort, but I am even more thankful for the knowledge that this fallen world, filled with bumpity roads, is not my final home.  

This is Mama's legacy.

From the end of the earth will I cry unto thee, 

when my heart is overwhelmed: lead me to the rock that is higher than I. 

Psalm 61:2

I will say of the LORD, 

He is my refuge and my fortress: 

my God; in him will I trust. 

Psalm 91:2

Someday, when my children are grown, I pray that they will look at the bumpity roads that they have walked and know that there is a place where they can find refuge in a storm.  I pray that I will always point them to the One who is able to provide that refuge.  I always want to be there for them, just as Mama was always there for me, but ultimately, I hope they know, just as Mama taught me, that it is not me (or anyone else) that they need ... it is Jesus.

Jesus saith unto him, 

I am the way, the truth, and the life: 

no man cometh unto the Father, but by me. 

John 14:6

Peace I leave with you, 

my peace I give unto you: 

not as the world giveth, give I unto you. 

Let not your heart be troubled, 

neither let it be afraid. 

John 14:27

ladies in hats

In just a few weeks, we will celebrate the sixth anniversary of my mother being diagnosed with ovarian cancer.  Perhaps celebrate isn't exactly the right word, or then again, maybe it is.  For one thing, she is still with us and there is no doubting that we are celebrating her life.  Another thing is that Mama's battle with cancer has given her the opportunity to live out the grace of God in a way that is undeniable and in doing so she has inspired those around her.  I don't know that I had truly understood how much of an impact she has had on her friends until she was in the hospital awaiting brain surgery in April.  While we waited, I was able to witness the depth of friendship between Mama and her closest friends, many of whom are in the Sunday School class she has taught for just over 20 years.  I was moved nearly to tears on more than one occasion as I saw and heard one of Mama's friends kneel and pray for her.  I have always felt blessed by the relationship I have with Mama, but in those few days in the hospital, I became even more aware of how God is blessing others through her.  What an amazing legacy.

Today, in a show of support for Mama, her Sunday School class decided that they would all wear hats to church.  In the past, Mama has pretty much always worn a wig when she lost her hair.  But since having surgery, she hasn't wanted to wear the wig anymore and decided that hats were a better solution.  So, she bought some and I crocheted a couple for her and she has worn them most everywhere she goes.  The ladies thought it would be fun to wear hats and all sit together in church in honor of her.  What began as only her class grew into what I would guess was thirty or forty women in church this morning, all proudly wearing their hats.  When Mama told me what was going to be happening, LB and I decided to join in the fun.  I originally planned to wear one of Mama's hats, but ended up buying a new one~which gave me an excuse to buy a new shirt, too ;o) ~and I crocheted a hat to match the outfit LB was wearing.  LB's hat just happened to also match Mama's hat, except where LB's is yellow with white trim, Mama's is white with yellow trim.

Again, I am amazed at the outpouring of love for Mama.  There is no question that she has been an influence on many of the people she goes to church with and I think today she was encouraged by their love and support.  And even though I know God's timing is always perfect, I am also encouraged by the fact that this happened just as Mama is again facing decisions about how to proceed with the treatment of her cancer.  It wasn't a coincidence that the ladies picked today to wear their hats and I am so thankful to know the One who orchestrated this day and allowed me to be a part of it.

Mama with two of her three grand daughters

Some of Mama's Sunday School ladies

more of the SS ladies

Mama with her family (the two ladies on the end are my sisters-in-law)

Some things just stink

Cancer stinks. Chemotherapy stinks. Nausea stinks.

Please excuse my understatement of these facts, but I'm trying really hard not to use the kinds of words that truly describe how I feel at this moment.

My mother has ovarian cancer and it stinks.

I am the only girl in my family. Mama and I have always been close, even through the rough teen years. We are still close, we are more best friends than mother/daughter. We can talk about anything ... except her cancer.

And that stinks.

I don't know why I want to talk about it. For her, not talking about it is the way she keeps from giving it power over her life ... at least that is what I think the reason is, but since we don't talk about it, I don't really know. For me, not talking about it seems to raise a wall between us that I can't penetrate. We can talk about every other issue under the sun, but the one thing that has changed both of our lives is forbidden, it seems.

I am not angry at Mama about this. I can't even begin to understand what she is going through and I certainly don't want to add any stress to her life, but the bottling of emotions for me is so hard. You see, for my whole life, my Mama has been my sounding board. Any time I have been angry, hurt, afraid, sad, etc. she was the first person I would call. Now I am experiencing all those emotions over and over again and I can't say a word to her.

And that just stinks.

I never knew before the summer of 2005 that cancer is a family disease, but it is.

And that stinks too.

I hope that this doesn't sound like I am whining. I am so thankful that after nearly 4 years of this, Mama is still with us and doing well. She is an amazing woman ... she still runs the business that she and my dad have built over the last 35 years and she still teaches the Sunday School class that she began teaching when I was a child. She has no question that God is daily granting her strength to endure this torture and she gives Him the glory for what she is able to do. And so do I. I also know that apart from my relationship with my heavenly Father, I would have no ability to cope with this situation. My faith has grown over the last four years. I can see God's hand moving in many ways through this. But, I cannot hide the fact that I still struggle, sometimes daily. I don't want to deal with this. I just don't. But, it seems, I don't have a choice.

I am not looking for sympathy, only a place to vent. And, perhaps, to find out that I am not the only person who has felt this way.

(I chose teal as the color for this post because it is the Ovarian Cancer awareness color)