HObbitsville Blog

Shaktoolik

Sun, 10 Jul 2011 22:55:11 -0800

It was close to noon and the sun had just risen over the frozen tundra when I stepped out of the little airplane onto Shaktoolik’s runway. It had been three years since I had been in this village that I love, and tears of joy filled my eyes. It was January, and the little church there had raised the funds for my airline ticket to come along when Nathaniel, Joe Fiskeaux, and Brent Vernon traveled there during Brent’s musical outreach among Nome and some villages. They had prayed for me, believed for me, and now they wanted to rejoice in person with me that I was well enough to return to Shaktoolik.

I wish I could describe it to you adequately. On one side of town is the sea, on the other the river, so it is just on a tiny peninsula of land. A fascinating triangular island is several miles out to sea, and to the other side there are tall cliffs outlined against the sky. The view is just lovely.

There is only one street, houses along each side. The beach edges pile high with driftwood, and there are only a few trucks in town. Most everyone travels by four wheeler.

The children are the cutest children in the world, I’m convinced of it! They’ve grown so much since our first summer there six years ago. Sometimes I don’t even recognize them now! They have always been so fascinated by my children’s blue eyes, all of theirs are brown!

I don’t know how to explain to you the joy of fellowship and the depth of love Nathan and I feel for the believers there. They are beautiful people, inside and out! They have been without a pastor a long time, since before we started going there. Palmer Sagoonik fills that role, and I often think they don’t technically have a pastor because he is already a wonderful one!

Our friends there are ones who have learned grace through sorrow. They are not christians because it is easy, they are christians because they have lived out Christ in some of the darkest hours, and found He is faithful. Many have lost children through the tragedies of this Arctic Wilderness. Suicide has gripped this little village often in it’s hopeless grasp, and no family is untouched by that pain.

They are creative, colorful, and so diligent. At the end of the world, the subsistence lifestyle is a must, and they fish, pick berries, hunt, and gather greens. They make their boats and ulus by hand, live adventures most of the world has only dreamed of. They run dogsleds, drink LOTS of coffee, and love children.

And they sing! Oh, how I love to hear them sing. There are lots of churches with choirs in Alaska, but the sweet harmonies and moving parts of the Shaktoolik Covenant Church Choir is heavenly music to me. I guess it is the hearts behind it that make it so sweet.

I could go on and on here and not sufficiently describe this amazing little village. I guess most of all, they love us back. The sweet fellowship of friends you wish you could see more, relationships that have Christ as the center, this is the greatest attraction of Shaktoolik.

So, as I spent that lovely day with our dear friends there in January, a prayer began to form in my heart. “Lord, please bring us back as a family before the ice is gone.” I felt like He was putting it in my heart to ask, and so I did. I want the children to know Shaktoolik as well, they were so small that only Noah and Shaina really remember it.

As spring came, I kept praying. Sometimes I’d forget for weeks at a time, and then it would return to me so strongly. “Lord, please, before the ice is gone...” You see, once the ice goes out the fishermen are out to sea, and life happens so quickly. I wanted to go while everyone would still be in town. It was a huge impossibility... airfare for our family to Shak would cost close to $3000. It’s a huge pack of ice, it doesn’t just melt away, but eventually breaks loose with the tides, and simply goes out to sea.

The middle week of May, I looked out at our rotting ice and prayed with such urgency, I still felt like God was wanting me to ask! “Lord, you’re almost out of time, the ice will go soon. Please let our entire family go to Shaktoolik.”

Well, the phone call came. It was the first time this had ever happened, but a mission plane and pilot would be sitting for a week in Nome. They wondered if Nate wanted to take a day trip to a nearby village. Maybe Shaktoolik? Their carpenter needed to get some measurements for a church project there.

Is anyone surprised that there were exactly enough seats to get our entire family to Shaktoolik? God did it. I honestly can’t remember the last time He so specifically planted something in my heart to pray, and then so gloriously answered. I can hear Him telling the angels, “You know, I think I want to bless the Hobbs with a day in Shak, maybe in the spring, before the ice goes out. Let’s put it into Carlee’s heart to ask, wait to the last minute, and really wow her with an answer, just so she knows how loved she is.”

We visited with friends, cried and laughed and prayed together. That evening we had a church service where Harvey Fiskeaux spoke, Nathan and the children sang, and we just enjoyed every moment of catching up with old friends. We laughed at how wealthy we were... just traveling to Shak for a visit, for the fun of it... just because we could. We are children of the King, and He has plenty of money to get His children wherever they want to go!

We got home around midnight, and were tired, but our spirits were refreshed. Around four AM, Caleb awoke crying, and I warmed him some milk in the microwave. As I turned away from the window, I thought, “Those waves look weird, so small and choppy.” Then I froze. (No pun intended. :) My heart flooded with joy as I turned back to the window. Yes, those were waves I was seeing for the first time in months. The ice was gone.

Has it really been two months?

Tue, 5 Jul 2011 22:48:01 -0800

Oh wow.... I am really tardy with updating this page! I’ve got so much to share! I have no idea how to do it all, so I thought I’d start with a few pics, and then hopefully add on some updates about our family village trips. For the first time in more than two years, our family has been able to travel to some of our neighboring villages. What a delight! I hope to do separate posts about that to help you see a bit of why we love this amazing Norton Sound Region.

I know so many of you pray for my health, so I want to update quickly on that. I’m doing really well in so many regards. My strength has seemed to plateau. As long as I sleep a lot, at least 8 - 9 hours at night with a nap in the afternoon, I can maintain really well. It’s hard to keep that going, and if I don’t I usually pay for it with a decrease in stamina.

You can see in the picture above my puffy right hand. The lymph edema is not under control, slowly getting worse. It’s discouraging to be sure, I often ask the Lord to take away the swelling. I have compression sleeves that I wear that don’t seem to help a whole lot and are very awkward. It’s just part of the “new Me,” I guess. I guess those are the main things I deal with daily, the easy to see stuff. It’s a healthier place than I’ve been in so long, so I am very grateful. Paul’s testimony in the New Testament about having a thorn in the flesh has definitely seemed closer to home in this regard.

On to better things, just some general updates on life. :) Noah is playing softball, and quite a little slugger! He’s such a help to me around the house, and is a noble lad if ever there was one. He’s also getting really skilled at jumping his bike!

Caleb turned two on the 19th of June, and loves sitting on the counter to help me in the kitchen. (Check out the new little video of this on our homepage) He is not talking much yet, but adding a word or two every week, so that’s good. We haven’t had any recent problems with his breathing, another blessing. All seems well!

The girls have resumed their lovely past time of flower picking, and I am smothered in dandelion and fireweed bouquets every time they play outside. I love it! Kate just turned five last week, and we outfitted her little bike with a basket, bell, and streamers. She just rides around for hours ringing her little bell. Shaina just loves Jesus so much, and they both fill our house with singing. I’m trying to follow the example of Nathan’s mother and memorize Bible Verses with them while we do their hair each day. It has become such a delightful time! You can see below some of their recent dress-up concoctions. :)

Wesley loves telling stories, offering his best friends rides in his monster truck (the one he’ll have when he’s big enough to drink coffee like Daddy) and is potty trained at last. He loves to ride his little balance bike, and is terribly confused about colors. He has orange and pink figured out, but after that, it’s pretty sketchy. :) Oh well, I’m sure that will be resolved before he’s twenty...

Nathan is so busy, he’s working part time at the Nome Covenant Church as Harvey Fiskeaux’s associate, and part time at the Nome Community Center as their tech guy. Above all, we are together seeking the Lord for the daily grace to live well in this life we share, and to raise our children for His glory. Somehow I think I am the most proud of him when we’re in the villages together. It is so special to us, and his friendly smile and genuine love for people and our Lord just shines through. I love hearing him sing the old hymns with friends in churches and homes, and we share tears together for the hard things so many of our dear village friends find themselves facing. I see his spirit rising above the brokenness of the last two years in our life, seeking for a fresh outpouring of God’s Spirit, and I love him for it.

We had a lovely fourth of July, enjoying the parade and street races on Front Street, and free ice cream at the firehall. It’s so fun! No fireworks, of course, because it doesn’t get dark in Nome in July. They save fireworks for New Year. :)

So, that’s a wee update from here. Hopefully I can post some pics and thoughts from Shaktoolik, Savoonga, and White Mountain before too long. Thanks for reading!

A Day of Joy

Sun, 8 May 2011 22:23:49 -0800

“Do you ever feel like we’re waking out of a weird sort of dream.” Nathan asked me this last night. We were talking about trying to ‘come back’ to life out from under the daily shadow of cancer. It does feel like a dream sometimes. These vague memories that seem less than real, a feeling of just getting back to life and then looking at my children and realizing a LOT of time has passed. Kind of like Rumpelstiltskin... How long was I asleep?

I’m surprised how many memories of the time I was going through treatments are very foggy. I sort of remember people I met and things I did, but almost in a third person way. My friend Angela will remind me, “Remember when we did this....” and at first I don’t, then it comes very slowly, like remembering a dream. Part of me wonders if it is a bit of a coping mechanism God gives us, that we don’t walk around with the full weight of difficult days in our mind. Maybe I was just loopy from medicines. :) Who knows?

I met my friend Chris in the store last night, and she gave me a huge hug. She has lost a lot of loved ones to cancer, including a four year old grandson. She understands a lot. When I was first diagnosed, she gave me a verse from David. I Sam. 25:29, “the soul of you shall be bound in the bundle of life with the Lord thy God.” It was when evil men were seeking to destroy David, and Chris said she was asking the Lord to bind me in His “bundle of life.”

I remember how she wept when I was diagnosed, and she apologized, old sorrows often piggy back the new ones. But in the store yesterday, she rejoiced with me. “You get to take another Mother’s Day picture!” she reminded me. “I’m so glad you’re still here.”

So we are now approaching the two year mark. I don’t really have a whole lot to say. I wish I could just linger with you all, the ones who read this blog, the ones who pray for us. Just being together is sometimes easier than this one way conversation.

First I’d say sorry for not updating in almost three months. Life is really BIG right now... homeschooling Noah, Shaina, and Kate, managing a family of five, trying to be a part of Nathaniel’s outreaches here in our community and church, leading Bible Study for the young women at our church, one-on-one counseling with the girls who are really struggling, playing piano for the worship team, and loving Jesus, to name a few pieces of it. That last item is the thread of my life, but seems to get the least amount of “set aside” time. I’m trying to figure out how to change that... I’m even canceling some things this week so I can get some actual time with Him.

I don’t know, I’m kind of rambling here. I just wanted to post another Mother’s Day picture. I have a feeling you’ll be looking for it, Sheila. :) And I wanted to say thank you again for praying for us.

Please don’t stop... I think that my physical body is doing as well as it can. I get frustrated at how much sleep it takes to maintain my sanity now, but it also is working us into a lovely new schedule. I’m really working on my weight, trying to get to a healthy place again. I unfortunately fall into that 50% of ladies that GAIN weight during breast cancer. I’m trying to reverse that trend, and would be grateful for your prayers on that as well.

Our spirits aren’t always well. Sometimes they are. Almost like a new pair of shoes, I can see where the lessons of these last two years give really good tread on places that would once have seemed slippery. And sometimes sorrows weigh heavier than I wish they did. Yeah, new shoes give blisters too. I think spring has a lot of hard memories for me, and I want to live well, even with the shadows that sometimes feel like my entourage. I’m learning to keep my face to the Light, trying to train my spirit in these new places.

I haven’t quite regained full range of motion after my surgery. Most things aren’t a problem, but when I suddenly have to reach a little farther, or turn a different way, the scar tissue wrenches and pulls, and it’s uncomfortable at best, sometimes really painful. I think it’s the same in the realm of our souls. I’m working on range-of-motion exercise there too. :) Fasting, memorizing, worshiping, trusting. When the twists and pulls come, I feel the scar tissue. But my Lord has scars too. I’m trusting Him to teach me everything I need to know.

PS - I was a little curious and looked back to see if we had done Mother’s Day pics on any previous years. Here’s what I found. :) 2008, Nothing for 2007, 2006 we were in the village of Shaktoolik and I was 8.5 months pregnant with Katherine, 2005 we had been in AK almost a year. That’s as far back as our digital stuff goes. I’d have to dig out film for that first year with Noah. :) What sweet little ones God has blessed me with, and a man of integrity to share my life with!

Ponderous Ponderings

Sun, 20 Feb 2011 11:24:40 -0900

HELLO, EVERYONE! I’M POSTING A BIT THAT I HAD WRITTEN A MONTH AGO AND NEVER PUT UP, WE HAD TO LEAVE FOR THE TRIP AND I NEVER GOT IT FINISHED. I’LL TRY TO WRITE AGAIN SOON, UNTIL THEN YOU CAN SEE ABOUT SOME OF MY LIFE ON MY SISTER’S WEB SITE - WWW.THEINVISIBLEREALITY.BLOGSPOT.COM - SHE HAS DONE A LOVELY JOB OF DOCUMENTING THE WEEK THE SOBIE SIBLINGS SPENT TOGETHER UP HERE... CHECK IT OUT!

A blizzard last night has blown snow half way up the garages across the street. I LOVE sleeping with the sound of wind howling outside, and feeling the house shake from the gusts. Is that strange? Someone from the lower 48 mentioned daffodils coming up and I was just so glad to be having a blizzard instead. Have I recently mentioned how much I love living in Alaska? :)

That said, we are leaving. Just for two weeks, but a trip for us feels like another exodus from Egypt. Surely it was easier to pack a million Israelis than our brood. :) It shouldn’t be so hard, it’s just that something always complicates the picture.

This time it’s pneumonia and influenza A. Yup, we’re sick.... sadly, poorly, pathetically sick. Nate has pneumonia, and his recovery has been slow but is picking up at last. It really whacked his strength, he came home from his last trip already down with it. Caleb and I were the last to succumb to the influenza, and we’re on a drug that will help keep us from spreading it when we fly. Hopefully the other children will be mostly over it before then. I’m not too bummed about being sick, this is the first year I can remember that it didn’t hit us at Christmas. A whole month and a half past Christmas is a high water mark of healthiness!

We leave Monday night and will be attending Mammaw’s funeral in Dayton, OH. Nathan did his father’s wedding alone last year, and we didn’t want him to be alone again, so we’re all going. It will also give us a chance to see my brother Scott and his family who are home from Ukraine to renew their visas. It’s going to be so good to see everyone again, especially to see the cousins together. :)

I’ve been reading a book by Joni Earickson Tada called When God Weeps, why our sufferings matter to the Almighty. It’s part of a quest I am on to understand what seems unfathomable. I guess I’m just declaring my desire to know, not any great discoveries. My story of cancer and the marks it has left on us have begun to look like a piece of cake in comparison to sorrows I’ve encountered in others over the last 8 months or so.

When I was sick, so many people would say refer to a trial they had and say, “But that’s nothing like what you’re going through.” I always reminded them that we can’t compare trials, that the trials each of us bear seem to have an uncanny ability to bring us to the breaking point....

HERE IS WHERE I LEFT OFF AND NEVER FINISHED. I’LL FINISH THESE THOUGHT SOMEDAY!

the Acrobatics of Life

Thu, 3 Feb 2011 23:10:53 -0900

Did you ever watch gymnastics in the Olympics? These amazing athletes jump and twist and wow us all, but it doesn’t count if they can’t land it. I’ve held my breath as their feet hit the mat, battling for balance, arms waving, back arching..... triumph! Arms shoot high into the sky and their foothold is maintained. Hurray!

Over the last month I have felt like that pretzeled gymnast, and often felt out of my league. I’m competing with healthy people, trying to do Christmas, New Years, homeschooling, etc. Our holidays were wonderful, though I didn’t accomplish so many things I had hoped to (no Christmas cards sent, etc.). We actually had people over, and I rejoiced in that. Entertaining has basically ceased since I’ve been sick.

I started the New Year with a week long cleansing fast. That was exhausting, taxing, but a blessing as well. At the end of it, as I began to eat again, I caught a sudden glimpse of how I used to feel ever so long ago. Resilient. That word hasn’t described me for a long time.

Just a day or so after that, our friend Brent Vernon came to Nome, and the next day my dream came true. I found myself on a little plane with Nathaniel, Brent, and Joe Fiskeaux, and I was going to Shaktoolik! The 24 hours we spent there I could hardly contain the bubbling delight I felt in returning to that beloved village. Our precious friends there had prayed so earnestly for me, and actually raised the money so that I would have a ticket to come.

I was different than the Carlee that had been there so many times before, and I felt it. Their life is hard and their losses are great. This time I felt a bond in my soul to the dear saints there that was beyond what I had known before. When they talked about sorrows and joys, I was able to identify in way that was new and different. I don’t know how to explain it, but my cancer seemed a gift while I was there. I found myself at the end of a long line of those who have lost much, but still sing praises to God with tears in their eyes. Their company is good company.

Brent spent eight wonderful days with us. We so enjoyed sharing a bit of our Alaska with him! He shared his gift of singing and ventriloquism in school assemblies, church concerts, and small groups. We barely gave him time to breath, poor fellow, and are so grateful for the liberal way in which he bestowed his talents here in the Norton Sound Region. We also enjoyed the fellowship, chatting around the table, and he did a first rate job of getting to know the hobbits. As Noah said, Mr. Brent and Sam are like superheroes, coming to save people in darkness.

He left the 18th of January, and it felt like the rest of that week I was “landing” my month of real life acrobatics. I rested up for a few days, as sleep had been the expendable crewman while Brent was here. Then, with cautious triumph, I began to realize I had done it. With God’s grace, and a lot a help from Nathaniel and my brother Nate, I had lived a high-paced, normal-person life, and had not relapsed! No physical collapse as has been the norm. Hurray!

So that’s where I am. I almost hesitate to think the thought, but I think I’m living life again. I’m homeschooling, potty training Wes, holding down the fort here while Nathan is gone for two weeks, cooking my own meals, and I would say doing my own laundry but the un-done piles in my room would mock me on that one! I’m so glad to be doing a weekly Bible study with the highschool girls from church and our community on Tuesday mornings before school. I’m teaching piano, just two lessons a week, but it’s actually happening. Most of all I’m loving being a part of people’s lives a bit more here in our wonderful little town.

It’s nothing grand or victorious, much less than that really. But it’s life, and I love it. Okay, I just erased several sentences... I was starting to list the difficulties we are still facing. I think I won’t. You have them too, those things that seem enough to break you under their load, that try to rob your joy and tease your faith. I think I’ll just leave it at life, and loving it.

I was in the store the other day, and a friend was sharing with me a business plan he’s hatching. He made a statement to me that I couldn’t let slide. “It’s all about self-preservation, Carlee. You just have to do your best to make it, self-preservation is where I’m at.” He said that to the wrong person, and he and the cashier both got a loving dose of reality.

I am so far beyond self-preservation! Of all people, I know that we can not keep ourselves safe and well! My pregnancies and nursing babies should have preserved me from breast cancer, instead they made mine more lethal. We can not hold our lives, for we are a vapor! But we can live them, well and full and purposefully for every moment we are given.

I’m done trying to retain life, I know I can’t! Rather, with God’s strength, I will expend it liberally, joyously, and for His glory. I hope my life is a visual reminder to all of how silly we are to forget death... the one thing we will all share in common. Praise Christ for His assurance that I can make the final landing well! I can hardly wait to raise my arms in that final victory, and no lymph edema to swell them then! But until then I’m going to dance on this balance beam with all the strength He gives. It feels good to be back.

My husband, the poet

Thu, 30 Dec 2010 00:09:44 -0900

I’ve wanted to share this poem with you all for quite a while. Nathaniel wrote it back at the end of October when we learned that a dear girl from our church had just been diagnosed with MS. She’s 18, in her first semester at a school in Texas studying voice, and our hearts were really aching for her.

Nathaniel sat one evening and wrote this poem, and it resonated with truth to me. I hope you find it the same. 
Fear not that life isn't fair. Fear the bitterness that your soul would ensnare.
For to live is to want and your wants can mislead.
Live to die well and your soul will be freed.

The temporal view plunders the riches of life. Eternity beckons us to live unto Christ.
For only in Christ can eyes of faith see that living in this world is not about me.
For me to live is Christ and to die is gain. Thus living to Christ should be my aim.

Jesus never promised that life would be fair.
He promised to be with us when we find ourselves there.
Bitterness our enemy. Praise our weapon. Only in Christ have we freedom and expression.
Dying to live and living to die. In both, may Christ be the One we glorify.

- Nathaniel Hobbs

So happy

Wed, 29 Dec 2010 00:31:50 -0900

Okay, I should absolutely be in bed, but I’m so brimful of happiness that I just have to jump on here and shout it to the world. A group of girls just left our house, the dearest, loveliest, most precious girls ever. They are all college girls now, and Christmas break brought them to my door for a little while. So I made them tea.

Some of you know us because of our battle with cancer, but in the life that was... that life before... Nathaniel and I led a group called ELT, Emerging Leaders in Training. The group morphed over the years, Eddie was a regular, some other guys were a part for seasons, but there was a core of seven girls that made the vocal group that we traveled to villages with, sang at events here in town, and even in the lower 48. We did VBS and meetings in the villages, we did outreaches here in Nome, and we loved God passionately together for almost five years.

And then they started leaving for college, and I got cancer. But tonight they were back, these ladies that I love so dearly and miss so much. And we sang. They’re all involved vocally in their respective schools, and their voices are amazing, each adds an aspect to the group that rounds and fulfills it. We prayed too, and spoke truth to each other.

We thought we would just polish up an old song for the youth outreach we’re doing tomorrow evening, but all that truth speaking led us to a new song... a really “guy” song. Voice of Truth by Casting Crowns just got an ELT makeover, and it is great!

I’ll try to get audio when we do it tomorrow so you can hear it. I’ve been fighting a lot of those “voices in the head” that speak hopelessness, and this song has such a powerful message. “I will choose to listen and believe the voice of Truth.”

I hope you have truth speakers in your life... some of mine came to see me tonight and left me with a happy heart. I’m so proud to see them still loving Jesus, still pursuing Him. I don’t know if any of them read my blog, but good job, girls! I love you!

Singing

Sat, 20 Nov 2010 13:30:47 -0900

These are the moments I live for. I just slipped out of the children's room after bed time prayers. Okay, that's a bit more of a glamorous description than is warranted. Actually, I just left the children's room, my arms laden with two poopy diapers, one rancid sippy cup found under a bed, and threats over my shoulder lest Wesley think of getting out of bed. But back to the prayer time...

Nathan is gone again tonight, and our children are feeling very deprived. He was gone a whole week at the beginning of the month, two conferences, one for church and one for his community center anti-tobacco work. He was home for just four days when we left again, this time for my much anticipated surgery of having my medi-port removed. Hurray for that! I LOVE not having that eerie knob under my shoulder, a constant reminder of how NOT normal I am anymore. (Not like having it removed has made me more normal or that I was normal before I had it. I must be tired... just had an amusing thought that someone reading this may be way less normal than me and never had a medi-port in their lives. In fact, I wonder if anyone reading this IS normal. What is normal anyway? Oh, bother, I had better stop this train of thought! :)

Back to us being rather alone. Funny how one person so important as a Daddy and a Husband can make the house feel empty when he isn't there, but the other six of us still are! It's just a weekend away in Unakaleet for a youth worker's workshop. I'm hoping and praying it's a good time.

Trying once again to get back to prayer time. Just like when we were without Nathan two weeks ago, I found us lingering at bed time. Maybe I'm a little lonely and thus more reluctant to say goodnight. So many funny things happened as I was getting them ready for bed. Like me changing Caleb's diaper and Wes solemnly wiping a doll's bum right next to me. The whole while he repeated, "You stink so bad." to the poor plastic baby.

Then Caleb started giving me open mouth kisses and accidentally exhaling on one. Oh, the delightful sound of a baby's belly laugh when he just blew a raspberry on Mommy! Then there was blanket folding with Kate. There were lots of blankets out due to fort making today, and Kate LOVES to work together on ANY project. The two of us folding blankets together delighted her into a run-on sentence that lasted through six or seven blankets and did not contain one complete thought but covered at least ten subjects.

At prayer time I told the children about singing a prayer. The Bible says to sing to the Lord a new song, and sometimes I find it easier to sing my prayer, just sort of working it out as I go along. So I told the children I was going to sing our prayer tonight. And I did, calling them all by name and praying over each of them, thanking the Lord for His blessings and trustworthiness. At the end, Noah kissed me and declared me the best singing Mommy anyone ever had. I smiled, realizing that my prayer songs are going to stay between me and my children and my Lord, as they are the only ones who would ever think them beautiful!

Shaina had a raptured look on her face, though. She is a little girl who loves to worship and loose herself in the bigness of who God is. "I want to sing, Mommy." she lifted up her little face, and with sincerest devotion began to sing about how God is near us in trouble and other things along that theme. She just wanted to add her voice to the praise. Noah was next and his song repeatedly mentioned God being just around the corner, ready to help us. It was so practical and cheery, a perfect contrast to Shaina's plaintive, emotional expression. Wes' song was about a monster truck. It started turning into a story that suddenly had him jumping up and running around the room so then it was Kate's turn. She didn't get much past, "I love God and He loves me." but I think that's a pretty good place for a four year old!

Then a song came to me again. This was one from my childhood, "The Lord your God is in your midst. (Everyone giggled, something struck them funny about the word MIDST) The Lord of Hosts to save. He will rejoice over you with singing, He will renew you with His strength. He will rejoice over you with shouts of joy." I wondered if Almighty God was singing over us even as we sang to Him.

I guess those really are the moments I live for. When God fills our vision, and we have the assurance that we fill His.

Poppi Came to Visit... and Serve!

Wed, 3 Nov 2010 21:18:13 -0800

Here is a pictorial journey through the time my Dad was here. We made applesauce, had fun adventures out hiking and making fires to warm our cold fingers, we camped at Harvey and Nancy’s cabin, and just generally enjoyed ourselves. Those were the highlights, but the best part of it was day after day just being together. Dad changed countless diapers, he did so many dishes that I did almost none, and added much fun and companionship to my days.

During that time I did a liver cleanse and went off of all my supplements and medications. I am rejoicing to say that it has been more than three weeks since I have had one of those soaking sweat episodes. My dear Doctor Nora found the answer when she was reviewing medications and found a list of symptoms similar to mine. It seems that the turmeric I was taking in high doses can at times have an adverse affect. It’s rare, but it happened to me. Her discovery was an answer to our prayers for wisdom on what to do. Perhaps now my strength will restore!

We are so grateful to Dad for the time that he took, and the love that he showed us day in and day out by serving us in the most menial tasks. We also are grateful to God who seems to provide just what we need when we need it!

Safe and Sound

Sat, 2 Oct 2010 13:21:44 -0800

This is just a quick note to inform anyone who hasn’t received the news via facebook, phone calls, emails from my Mom, etc. THERE WAS NO METASTASIS FOUND. It was a lot of tests, a lot of pokes and prods, several radioactive injections, and peace in the midst of it all. How grateful I am for the peace of God that passes all understanding!

At least until a few hours before meeting my oncologist, then I felt my stomach churning, and apprehension began to set in. Knowing that our whole life could change again, it was a huge conglomeration of emotions and thoughts. Most of all, I guess I wanted to be able to respond well if the news was bad.

Following a brain MRI and bone scan, absolutely no metastasis was found. We don’t have all of the answers, there is pages of speculation I could type regarding what those spots are on my spine, pelvis, and hip. No consensus regarding the source of my drenching sweats and headaches. There is a lot still in process, I’ve got new herbs to take, prescriptions to try if that doesn’t work, and just lots still happening. When it clarifies, I’ll let you know if I can.

So we’re home, I can hardly believe that all is well. Not perfect, but I don’t have more cancer! Oh, the sweetness of my children’s hugs and their little voices crying, “We heard you are better, Mommy! Poppi said you are not going to be sick again!” Oh, thank you Jesus!

So, I’m off to take a bit of a nap while the wee ones sleep... Before I do, I just need to thank everyone for their emails, facebook messages, phone calls, and prayers. We read your words like people eating for the first time in a month. Your messages of encouragement strengthened us when we did not know what the outcome would be. Your prayers strengthened our faith. Bless you all for shouldering this load with us!

My friend Valerie sent this verse from Isaiah 55, and I am clinging to it as a promise for this fall...

“ Instead of the thorn shall come up the cypress tree,
      And instead of the brier shall come up the myrtle tree;
      And it shall be to the LORD for a name (of renown),
      For an everlasting sign that shall not be cut off.”

Don’t Take What He Isn’t Giving

Mon, 27 Sep 2010 10:16:18 -0800

Just a quick note here, I’m crazy busy trying to get ready to leave tonight. Currently have nine visits with docs scheduled for the next three days. More in the works. What an amazing team it takes to keep tabs on little old me!

I just wanted to make a note here, maybe challenge thinking a bit. We’re not scared. We’re not grieving. We have peace. We are also not stupid! We know this could be really bad, or not... hoping for the NOT right now.

A few nights ago Nathan was hit with such intense grief, he told me about this later. I guess I was sleeping and he was awake beside me. Waves of sorrow and grief started to wash over him, thoughts of what the future might hold. I believe it was God’s Spirit that prompted him, “Lord, is this grief from you?” It’s such an emotional journey to even try to picture what would happen if cancer took my life right now, at this stage of life, and with our little ones needing a Mommy. He just prayed, “If this is not from you, will you take it away.” He told me later that it was gone. In one second it just disappears. He thought, “Why was I about to cry?”

I was telling my Mom the story last night and she said she had a similar experience. After my Dad left to come up here, she was just swallowed in distress and sorrow, an unbearable weight of grief over this whole process and what might be coming. She called a friend for prayer, knowing she couldn’t deal with it alone. As that friend started praying, it simply left. Not that she started to feel better, but it was GONE.

Moral of the story is that we have an enemy. He sees us getting ready to walk through some sort of valley and is more than glad to load us with sorrow, cares, grief, worry... anything we’re willing to carry! He may not be the source of the trouble, but He’ll gladly rob of us joy in the trial and songs in the night. We don’t have to accept that from Him! I think we often just think this is part of the process, all of the emotional upheaval.

I’m not saying that we never feel pain or anything like that. I’m just saying that the paths we walk as God’s children are not full of distress... at least they shouldn’t be. He provides rest, even a table in the presence of our enemies.

So in response to the “you must be so scared” statements, No, I’m not. I’m no superhero, just someone who is unwilling to take from the enemy any packages to carry on this flight. :) Kind of like how they always ask you at the gate, “Did anyone give you something to carry....” I think we too often think it just goes with the territory and carry along baggage we don’t need to.

Yes, I’m crying every couple hours, I suddenly get a dark thought about what this could mean and it is overwhelming. I’m not immune to it, I just lay it back at Jesus’ feet. He has offered to carry my burdens, I refuse to pick it up and try to shoulder the load.

This sounds more grand and victorious than I feel just now... I’m just saying only carry what God has laid on you, and remember that HE is our yoke-fellow. If you’re stressed and despairing, you just might have someone else’s luggage.

Bumpy Road ahead...

Sat, 25 Sep 2010 23:24:33 -0800

Hello again! Nathan has a rule for me, it started sometime during our first year of marriage, I think. If I get mopey, overwhelmed, convinced I’m failing at life, etc. he invokes the 11 o’clock rule. If it’s after 11 PM, I can’t stew over it. He’s learned if I just sleep things always look brighter.

In honor of the rule, I’m going to be very factual in this brief post. I learned friday afternoon that my CAT scan came back with quite a lot of troublesome spots on my bones. The largest is about 2 cm and is on my spine.

There is reason to be optimistic, it seems that bone cancer leaves some very clear calling cards both in the bones and blood work, and none of those are present. There is also reason to be concerned, as I shouldn’t have a dozen or so spots on my spine, thigh bone, pelvis, etc.

So, I’m off to Anchorage monday night for bone scans and a brain MRI. My brother Nate and Dad are going to be staying with the children... Wow, they’ll be having fun! My Dad is officially in retirement and waiting the start of his next job, and had so kindly offered to come help me get my strength back if needed. He is one super diaper changing, story telling, dish doing, ball throwing sort of Poppi, let me tell you!

We waited to see the scan results, and I called yesterday asking him to come. He’ll be here tomorrow. I am once again humbled by my family, and their willingness to drop their lives and care for ours. I am blessed beyond comprehension.

If all turns out okay I’d like to check in with all my docs as it’s time for my first check up after treatments, and also have my port removed if possible. I would be so grateful for your prayers. Pray mostly for my dear Nathaniel, I don’t think either of us ever imagined that we’d be facing recurrence this soon. I suppose there’s never enough time. Pray for Nate and Dad as they stay with the wee hobbits, and pray for these spots to bow to the will of my Creator. If He gives them permission to exist in whatever state they are then I will trust, and if He would see fit to speak a word and cause them to flee, I would be most grateful.

Thanks to all of you who read and pray.

Living and Learning

Wed, 22 Sep 2010 22:05:36 -0800

Life happens wether you are ready for it or not. And life is barreling on here at the Hobbs house. Home school is trying to happen, Caleb is walking, Noah lost his front teeth, Shaina has determined that she is called to be a missionary and is plucking up her courage to tell a “big person” about Jesus, Kate has finally learned how to properly fold the napkins, and Wesley purposefully dumped the whole bottle of ranch dressing into his plate when no one was looking at dinner tonight. That’s nothing, he’s two. Oh wow, is he two! Not long ago I found him spraying PAM nonstick spray in great polka dots on the couch. Wow.

Nathan and I are both rejoicing at chances to be a part of people’s spiritual lives in our community once again, that’s why we came to Nome. We met some amazing guys this summer, Rick and Paul, who came to Nome to mine gold and the bad weather was a hinderance. So they used their days to mine souls, walking all over town and ministering to the kids on the streets.

I love it when you meet brothers and sisters in Christ and you sense HIS Spirit in them. We have such different backgrounds, but had amazing fellowship. I really feel that God sent them to Nome and to us at a very important time. The crowning of it all was the Soul Miners outreach.

RIck and Paul are part of a “skater church” in California, and they use skating as a ministry to reach the lost. One of their ministers is also a professional skater, Aaron Morgan. He came to Nome for less than 48 hours, armed with free boards, shirts, etc. and together a ministry was accomplished to more than 500 people here in Nome. It was amazing! I’ll post some pictures below. You can read more about it at www.skatebible.com.

I’m in awe of God. You all know me, I’m about as far from a skater dudette as they come, but when God is moving, I want to jump on board! (pun intended. :) The first pic is us with Rick and Paul before they left, and then moments at the skate event. Aaron taught a lesson for the kids, shared about God in his life, and did a skate demonstration. The response was terrific.

We’ve had a month of pretty nasty weather, but we took moments that we could to drive out the roads. The one day we drove out and saw some very distant moose. Wes was so sad because he couldn’t see them, so I just prayed aloud, asking God to help us find a moose that we could all see. I’m certain that God puts desires in our heart just to answer them, because it wasn’t a mile later that we saw this scene below. Wesley was ecstatic. When we got home he expressed disappointment, though. “Sumpin’ wrong that moose, Mommy. That moose not go ‘MOO.’”

In one of the most amazing blessings of our year, our friend Alan Gordon came from PA to fix our van. It has not run in 14 months, and has been to all four mechanics in the great town of Nome. Some tried to help us, others made it worse. The final mechanic had said there was nothing he could do when Alan called and said that God had put it on his heart to try to fix our van. He made his ticket for three days, and I didn’t know how he could do it in three days if these other guys couldn’t do it in a year.

He arrived laden with gifts and goodies, and it took him exactly $87 and 2.5 hours to fix our van. It has run like a dream ever since. What a blessing to have a vehicle again... one with a roof!
He did it so fast he even had time to help Nathan with the morning prayer broadcast at KICY and do some exploring! I thank God every day for Alan’s kindness and the gift of our van once again.

We picked the last of the blueberries with a super blueberry comb that my brother Nate made me. He even engraved my name in it! It’s been so wonderful to have him here this year, even though he is in and out doing construction work in the villages. We’re praying for a flight job for him, but dreading that it may take him far away.

Last weekend we attempted another camping trip. Just one night, and only 12 miles out of town. It was a wonderful time, as restful as anything with five small children could be. It was good to PLAY together as a family. Life is pretty much about survival right now, my strength is still low, and it doesn’t leave lots of room for playing. Such sweet memories! Noah shot his first round with the shotgun, we saw LOTS of bear tracks on the beach, and good old fun on the teeter-toter down on the beach.

So, that’s some of what we’ve been up to. There’s more to tell but it’s getting late. I guess the last bit of news is just that I’ve got weird symptoms... soaking, debilitating sweats that just leave me exhausted, along with some other things. They are getting more frequent, 8 or 9 times last Sunday and Monday. So, it’s off to the hospital for me. All my doctors are working together on it, they’re doing extensive blood work, and I had a CAT scan here in Nome on Tuesday. No results yet. Please pray that we can pinpoint what’s going on. I knew there would be health issues and scares along the way. I really wasn’t ready for it yet, but I guess that brings me back to how I started. “Ready or not, here I come!”

How can we ever be ready? We just heard the news tonight of a friend being diagnosed with cancer. My soul is aching for him and his wife. In all these trials of life, cancer or just the smaller but insistent pressures that keep us on our knees, the only way we can be ready is to be dedicated to bringing God glory in every way. Thus, wether we are blessed or cursed, seemingly, we know how to proceed. For His Glory, that all may know in this lost fallen place that there IS peace beyond understanding, and hope beyond the grave.

Our Camping Trip

Sun, 29 Aug 2010 15:30:38 -0800

Almighty God observed our camping trip the weekend of July 17th with a nod of approval. We had walked right into His classroom and the lessons never stopped. It was also a time of miracles. The first miracle is that the children thought they were having fun. The second miracle is that Nathan and I have begun to be able to smile instead of cry as we remember it. I promised you a camping update, and here it is, at last.

Forgive me if it seems like over-spiritualizing, but this was a huge spiritual journey for Nathan and I. I found myself down by the stream about half-way through Saturday, washing dishes and sobbing. It took a trip to the wilderness to realize that there are places in me more hurt and broken than I had realized.

We packed ALL day Friday. Dear Kaylyn McCoy came over for the day and helped me like crazy. Just taking care of wee folks is a full time job, and trying to pack up was colossal! I could never have done it without Kaylyn. How much stuff did it take to make us survive a weekend? Here’s a picture of the jitney loaded with some of our goods... (Notice Noah in the red hood.) :)

It was a horribly rainy, cold, wet, windy day in town. Nathan had heard from someone that it was supposed to clear up. We weren’t ready until after 6 PM Friday night, and that was discouraging. I was just amazed we had ever gotten it together to go. Nathan was wondering if we should even try to go, but I was full of faith that the weather would be clearer “out back.” He had worked the 5th of July so that he could take the holiday that Friday. Hopefully, but already exhausted, we headed out.

We prayed with the children as we went, asking God to just part the clouds in a little spot over our cabin. As we found the right valley, the clouds suddenly did lighten overhead, I even thought I saw a glimpse of blue. We were rejoicing and hopeful... for the last time in a long while. (Okay, I’m being a bit morbid, but you’ve got to FEEL it with me!)

You can see the riverbed and the low hills around us in the picture above. From where we parked we unloaded the jitney and drove almost a mile back along the riverbed. There is a refuge cabin there, built by the state for people who might be snowmachining or hiking and need refuge for any reason. It’s a great little cabin with solid walls and a little loft for the children to sleep in. It needed lots of sweeping, but the stove was soon crackling and it began to feel cozy.

It was midnight by the time the kiddos were tucked into the loft. I had Wesley and Caleb in two separate portable cribs, and the other three in sleeping bags. They were really tired but so excited. Nathan and I crawled into our cots a bit more than an hour later, and listened to the wind howl and the rain pelt down.

The windows had been shot out of the cabin (They were plexi-glass) and we had known that ahead of time. Two of the windows we were able to sort of duct tape back together, the other window was covered with a tarp, and a few various things we had found to hold it in place. It rustled constantly. (We were having 20-30 MPH winds.) For me, sleep was impossible. I was CERTAIN something, mainly a grizzly, was at that tarp and trying to get in.

Finally, around 5 AM, sleep began to find me. That’s when the hobbits started feeling the need to go potty. Staggered at about 30 minute intervals, they timed it just so I could never quite get to sleep. I am still convinced it was a conspiracy. One thing we learned about camping with our brood is that when the first one gets up to go potty, get EVERYONE up to go potty, and then you have a chance of sleep.

So, morning never dawned, but when the gray lightened it found us beyond tired. The weather was horrible. Nathaniel and I were very crabby. The cabin was 16x16. We have five children just thrilled to be “camping.” Have you ever been in a blender?

Okay, so the story could be summed up with “the weather was bad.” But that’s not what God was getting at. This weekend became a mirror to our lives the last year, and this whole battle with cancer.

It started with so much hope. Nate had worked that holiday to get the time off, we really felt like we needed rest and time as a family. Things at home had been stressed and stretched, and this was going to be a retreat from it all. I pictured the children playing in the stream that ran below the cabin as Nathan and I sipped coffee on the porch. I had brought food to cook over the fire, fun things like muffins made in orange peels, cooked in the coals.

After breakfast that took forever on the tiny stove in the corner of the porch that was not being rained on (I had pictured them out and about, gather wildflowers while I flipped pancakes in the morning sun). We gathered for family devotions, and for a little while the wind and rain didn’t matter so much.

We taught the children about the principle of knocking and keeping on knocking, seeking God and keeping on seeking. “Sometimes God tells us that we need to continue to ask Him for what we need, not just expect it in a moment. It is through that process that He makes us more holy.”

So like the night before, we prayed about the weather. Shaina was so fervent, “God, you see us in our little cabin out here. You can fix the weather and help it to be okay for us to go outside. Please give us this good answer to our prayer.” What Father’s heart couldn’t be moved by that plea?

It was an eternal day. We prayed constantly, and wrestled inside. Gratefully, I had brought a bin of indoor stuff just in case. We needed it! At nap time we slept with the children and still were tired. We woke up to the sound of the driving rain.

So now I am down at the stream, washing out those dishes. “God, can I talk to you about this?” It’s just like this whole last year. You CAN do this, You have done this in the past. It is so small for You to hold back the weather so we could at least get out of the cabin. But You don’t. You let us suffer through it.

You could have healed me, you’ve done it before. You could have helped us instead of being silent for months on end while we limped through chemo and surgery and radiation. What is it about me that You just don’t care to help? We’re not asking for selfish reasons, at least not ultimately. What is God if He doesn’t come to the aid of His children in distress? I would.

And there it is. I would. I put my own nature on God, and now He is nothing more than an idol made in my image. As I cried, I felt a physical pain deep in my chest. The pain was so real that there was nothing to do but cry.

You know, I thought I had mastered Accepting Bad Things From God 101. I was the poster child! In all of this year, I had trusted Him. I had declared Him faithful, believed that someday I would see what I could not now understand. I had submitted to this trial He had allowed, asking Him to be glorified in my life. I thought that I had learned how to live for His glory no matter what and even to thank Him in the darkest places. I was wrong.

I had learned it about cancer, but I couldn’t thank Him down at that stream. All I could cry was, “Why would you do this to us?” We just wanted a chance to try to be together as a family, to rest and reconnect. Is there something wrong with that?

I don’t know how to explain it any better. It’s not easy putting heart language into words. I just know that it hurt so deeply I was scared by the pain in my heart. Where was it coming from?

I knew there were lessons to be learned, but felt too tired to even face it. Nathan and I hardly talked that day, just trying to keep five kiddos out of trouble and wrestle with disappointment that held the weight of a whole year of broken dreams in it, not just a three day weekend.

We made it out for a little while that evening. It took a full hour just to get everyone in their winter gear and then the rain gear on top. It was cold and wet, and the rain let up at times but rarely stopped. It was a relief to just leave the cabin, and it was amazing to watch the salmon trying to swim up the river. We found a great beaver dam (to our left in the picture). We made it home to some snacks and the children had some fun with bendaroo sticks with Daddy. I went to bed believing that the sun would shine in the morning. Surely God would answer our prayers at last!

At 6 AM I was up stoking the fire. It had been a better night due to covering my head so I wouldn’t hear the tarp so much, and the new bedtime potty technique. I looked in amazement at the stove. Where was that light coming from? Turning to the window, I saw the sun shining in. I could hardly believe it. Hope filled my heart, and as the fire crackled again, I drifted of to sleep with gratitude abounding.

“Mommy, can I snuggle you?” I could hardly hear her voice over the sound of the wind roaring. I didn’t need to open my eyes to know that the storm was upon us again. The rain on the tin roof was deafening, I don’t know how the children slept. That bit of morning sun was just a slap in the face.

It never cleared. Our last hopes were gone, and we prepared for another day in the cabin. Towards afternoon, we began to stop hoping, and began to start listening. God, what are you wanting us to learn out here. You obviously didn’t bring us for rest and quiet (Noah, STOP whistling indoors... Kate, if you touch that stove... Quick, grab Caleb, he’s on the ladder again...)

We loaded up everyone into the jitney and took a ride up the mountain that we couldn’t see due to fog. Nathan was going through his own soul examining, and we were trying to encourage each other to be grateful, to sing, to do anything to try to overcome the sadness we were feeling at the state of our lovely weekend getaway.

As you can see in the picture, we couldn’t see much more than a couple dozen yards around us due to the fog. I had hoped for majestic mountain vistas, and instead I found myself staring at the wet tundra. It was all I could clearly see. I began to sing softly to myself the song Danielle wrote for me at the start of this all, (I have it at the end of the 1.24.10 post if you want to hear her sing it) it has given me such strength so many times.  “This mountain is high, and I don’t know why I’m climbing it,
I just know Jesus said this was the way for me to take.
And my eyes may be dry, but inside my heart is weeping
As I try to keep my eyes fixed on the goal that is at stake...

later on it says,  
“A while ago i looked up, saw the place that I’m and now and thought,
‘God I can’t walk there, don’t ask me to!’
But now that I’m here, I see the beauty all around me,
Jesus really does make all things new!
And I trust the mighty Author who is writing out my story
so instead of dark defeat, I am shouting GLORY!

As I sang, I began to see the wildflowers rolling past our wet jitney tires. There were flowers here I had never seen before. “Stop, Nathan! Look! Have you ever seen a flower like this? It’s like a lily!” As we rolled back down the mountain we began to catch each other’s eye... “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Who would have thought with all the fog, but it really makes the greens of the tundra deepen. I can’t believe these flowers!”

We got back to the cabin, hung our sopping clothes to dry and tucked the children in for a nap.

Out on the porch we bundled up and began to talk, to try to sort it all through. I always thought the “beauty all around me” from the song would come when everything was made well and sorrow was ended. On the ride up the mountain, I had begun to learn that beauty happens even when the very thing causing your distress is still present. In fact, your distress, when laid at Jesus’ feet, can be the means of directing your eyes to the beauty. The fog hid the heights from me, but illuminated the the tiny elements of the tundra.

Peace came to that little porch. We stopped hoping for an easy alternative and a sunshiney day, and rested under the lot that had fallen to us. Kiddos woke up one by one and cuddled under our coats and sipped our coffee. It wasn’t what I had dreamed, but it was good.

The rain never let up as we packed up and headed home. Our conversation changed on the way home from the original, “God can do anything, even change the weather!” which had progressed to, “Ask and keep on asking” and we soberly began to tell the children about a God who is bigger than we can understand, and who sometimes doesn’t do what He COULD do because He is doing something greater than we can understand. They have no idea the weight behind those words even in their own little lives.

They chattered with delight the whole way home about our wonderful trip and that cool cabin and how fun camping was! They thanked us again and again. Oh, the amazing resilience of children! Gratefully, they had no expectations and nothing to compare it to!

You can never imagine the extent of the mud by the time we made it home. Honestly, recovery took about ten days before I began to feel that I was getting my strength back... the three days of camping wasted me! We entered a very low time, my strength just kept decreasing until I was not as strong as I had been back when we came home. It was all so discouraging.

But there is beauty in our fog. We’re learning to adjust life in huge ways. We’re finding that I have got to be in bed by around 10 PM to really have the strength I need for the day. We’re night owls, and that isn’t easy. Our life is becoming more and more scheduled as we realize that every deviation takes a toll on my strength. When we don’t stick to it, I get old chemo symptoms cropping up... sweats, dizziness, lightheadedness, and headaches.

Slowly, ever so slowly, our new schedule is beginning to help, and my strength has increased a bit. It’s still much lower than it was, though, and I would be grateful for your prayers in that regard.
There is a lot that God has begun to do though, in our lives and work here in Nome. He is no longer silent, and we are rejoicing in that. I’ve been wanting to blog about those new things, but had this infernal camping post that needed done. Sorry for taking so long, and thanks for the emails wondering when it would come!

It isn’t that the fog has lifted in our lives, but even as on the mountain, it is directing us to some elements of God that we never would have seen. I am humbled that I wasn’t able to do a better job of applying the lessons learned during cancer to a simple weekend camping trip. I guess it just goes to show me how faithful God is to keep teaching us in every place.

One thing was encouraging. I met a friend at the post office who laughed when she heard of our camping trip. She told me of a christian writer who was comparing successful families. They have to have something in common! The only thing he could find was not daily devotions or Bible memory. It was camping. Every successful family camped.

I think I understand why. There’s nothing better for molding, bonding, cleansing, and teaching like a weekend in a 16x16 piece of the wilderness.

Blueberries are Ripe!

Tue, 3 Aug 2010 22:22:14 -0800

Okay, okay, so this STILL isn’t the camping update. That eventful camping trip I think will go down in infamy as a place where I learned more about myself than I like to know. I’ve been doing lots of learning, pondering, and growing, I think... and it’s something I DO want to write about, but I need time. Ah yes, TIME! It is something that seems to be evading me just about now.

Honestly, I’m not as strong as I was when we came back to Alaska. I’m slipping physically as the demands of life seem to always be a bit more than my reserves. All we knew to do was try to resume life, and we’re learning that the life of old doesn’t work for this family anymore. It’s meant that we’re really restructuring family life, trying to create new habits. I don’t get enough sleep, but an earlier bed time means lunch earlier, naps earlier, dinner earlier, kids in bed earlier... my whole day is more driven just in the pursuit of sleep. And I’m needing more sleep during the day to keep going... thus no time at night to blog. :(

Please pray for us as we try to transition, as we try to find a place where I am getting stronger again. It hasn’t been easy the last month, but God has blessed us with some amazing moments to keep us smiling through it. One of those was when we went for a ride together as a family on our 6 wheeler on Sunday afternoon. What a glorious time we had! I thought I would share some pictures with you here. The little video is lovable Wes sharing a blueberry with his Daddy. You have to understand that while he is looking for “one” he is in a field of THOUSANDS. He runs over countless berries to get to Shaina and the “one” she is offering. What a lesson... we so often chase the elusive goals and dreams of life, and can overlook such treasure all around us. I hope you enjoy the moments as much as I do recalling them.

I promised a Camping update...

Sun, 25 Jul 2010 22:03:14 -0800

And this isn’t it! Sorry folks, I’ve been pretty weak this week. I guess the camping update is going to have to wait another day or two. Thanks for praying for us, we didn’t get eaten by grizzlies, and we found out that camping is character training in an up-close and personal sort of way! I’ve been doing lots of musing, and I’m looking forward to sorting all my thoughts out here in a blog post. Everyone is so kind to put up with this being my place for trying to think life through! :) I just wanted everyone to know I haven’t forgotten. May the Lord’s grace be on your week! I’ll be back soon....

A Family Adventure

Thu, 15 Jul 2010 22:59:29 -0800

Wow, it’s been a busy couple of weeks since I last updated our site! I find that I am not as strong as I was hoping to be at this point, but at the same time we are doing better at home life than I had hoped for.

Our little house and it’s inhabitants are humming along about as well as I could expect for a family with five children seven years of age and under (especially a home where the Mommy is forever taking naps!) I am grateful to the Lord for my sweet, helpful children.

Today, if you had poked your head in around 10:45 AM, you would have found Noah vacuuming, Kate dusting, and Shaina helping Wes with his little chore of wiping off the chairs. They are such cheerful little chore-do-ers!

We’ve had many adventures over the last few weeks... a few picnics, and Nathaniel took the children into the country side to pick me wildflowers, my very favorite thing. I got to take a NRA “bear protection and awareness class” that was terrific fun. The culmination was shooting at a moving target of a bear as it charged towards you. My first shot went through the heart... hurray! We’ve had LOTS of company, everything from ministry work teams up here for short term missions to little neighbor girls for a tea party. It’s been busy but good.

Nathan and I both have had some dreams and vision revived of ministries we had hoped to see take place here in Alaska. More about that in another post, but I am excited about the fact that God still wants us here in the North, and has a reason for it!

Sometimes it feels like life and laundry and cooking and cleaning and diapers and Wesley-dumping-a-whole-bottle-of-shampoo-on-the-baby-while-he’s-sleeping-in-the-crib-and-now-ISN’T-sleeping-anymore has a way of keeping you from REALLY connecting as a family. Nathaniel and my heart-talks are snatched here and there when we really should be sleeping and listening to the children share their little perspectives always happens while in motion. “Here, walk with Mommy down to the laundry room, I really do want to hear about it...”

I remember walking into a restaurant the night I was diagnosed with cancer. I was literally shaking with fatigue, in my third trimester, an entire day without food isn’t a good thing, and those tests had seemed endless. We collapsed into a booth and cried most of the meal. That poor waitress! Nathan looked at me and said, “Today changes every day hereafter. I’ll never take you for granted again, we’ll make the moments count.” I expressed the same sentiments, and I meant it with all of my heart.

But we don’t do it. Crisis doesn’t change the rat race of life, and once it catches up to you it is so easy to just succumb. But we have changed... at least a little. We’re fighting to remember how desperately we wanted to savor each other when all seemed lost.

All that to say that we’re leaving. We are outta here! We are crazy. Totally crazy. We’re taking five children to a remote refuge cabin that we just learned has had the windows broken out of it. That means no screens either. (Have you ever seen an Alaska mosquito? They have to register for air space at our airport when they fly!) Yup, the Hobbits are going camping!

We’re hauling water, two pack n’ plays, a port-a-potty, a ton of food, and everybody’s silkies and snugglies for a weekend camping excursion in the wilderness. We need time to enjoy our children, look in each other’s eyes and really listen. We need to make memories that no matter what tomorrow brings will linger even in the littlest minds. Well, maybe. That’s kind of longing of a Mommy too in touch with her own mortality!

I’m so excited, and so tired at the same time. The last of the cookies are coming out of the oven and I’m off to bed. In the morning we’ll pack our jitney and load it on to trailer and head out about 50 miles out of town. There are so many things that could hinder the fun... bugs, bears, cold, diaper rash.... but the hope of just marinating in each other’s presence apart from the pressure of home life is just about irresistible!

Will you pray for us, as we become a wilderness family for a few days? I feel my own weakness so keenly, and know that unless God has mercy and keeps us safe and happy, this could be a nightmare. But it could also be a beautiful chance to just be a family and learn and work and play together. That is what I’m dreaming of. I promise lots of pictures and a full report when we return!

Happy Birthday!

Mon, 21 Jun 2010 01:03:07 -0800

Wesley hasn’t called him “Lub” in at least two months, but I still do. When “Caleb” was too hard for him to pronounce, he just shortened it to Lub. “Look, Mommy! Lub laughing!” It was wonderful.

Well, our little Lub turned one yesterday. I just want to praise God to the whole cyberworld... our little man that almost lost his life a year ago, is a fat and happy soul! I am blessed beyond measure with such a good, dear fellow. Our whole family delights in him.

So, here’s a few pics. Thanks to everyone for the prayers you prayed for him and for us. One other cherry on top... Nathaniel’s sister Esther gave birth to her first baby, Charles William Straight on Caleb’s birthday. What joy! I can’t wait to see those cousins play together. :)

Just a Poor Wayfaring Stranger... or Two!

Thu, 17 Jun 2010 14:43:11 -0800

It wasn't a bad british accent for a five year old! "Ma'am, may we stay here? We've climbed up your porch and we need a place to live." Shaina looked at me very sincerely, her hoodie peeking out awkwardly from where she had stuffed it under her blue dress. Kate chimed in, "Yes, this is my Mudder, and she is very beautiful, and she has a Cinderella dress, and can we live here?" We agreed that the rent would be two dollars a month, and Noah grinned while I told them about my strong son who protects everyone in the house from bad soldiers.

Shaina extended her hand and curtsied, "Thank you, Ma'am. We had nowhere else to go." Kate also extended her hand, the wrong one, and said, "Thank you, Mommy, for letting me and my Mudder live here." She was too cute and irresistible. "LIttle girl, may I hug you?" I love it when my children get caught up in a little make-believe adventure! I sat on the couch and pulled her little self into a tight hug. She smiled up at me, "I just love you so much, Mommy, and I love you too, and can I see your boo-boos?"

It always surprises me how it comes out of nowhere, the sudden desire to see my scars and know that I am well and healing. It is almost always Kate who asks. I haven't shown them very often... we are pretty careful as a family about trying to keep certain places in the private category! But they also understand the process of my cancer, and Kate in particular is very comforted to know that my boo-boos are healing. I wish in a way that she could just forget, but maybe better than forgetting is finding a place of peace where we are now.

I certainly don't forget. Today my memories have been very close. At 10:22 AM I looked at the clock and remembered how exactly a year before Nathaniel and I had been driving down the highway to pick up my Mom at the Anchorage Airport. I had just donated my hair to locks of love, and was looking in the visor mirror trying to see what I looked like with that new bob. I remember Mom's embrace at the airport... we'd been wanting to hug each other ever since that cancer diagnosis, and the only thing in the way of her motherly embrace was my big belly.

Everything started going wrong soon after that. The excruciating test of the amniotic fluid nicked Caleb's umbilical cord, and I spent the afternoon in triage. I was induced that evening. Labor started slowly the next day, and so Caleb didn't make his appearance until the wee hours of the 19th.

I have been thinking of the goodness of the Lord. Most of all, He let Caleb live. One year later and we are returning to life again as a family. I think I would have panicked last year if Carlee of today could have appeared to Carlee of then and told her that it would take a whole year, and of how many of her worst fears would come true. I miss her, the me that used to be. I'm back living in her house, and I think that makes me miss her more. There are changes that trials bring, some are beautiful but some are sad.

I think my soul is deeper, my concern for others is absolutely more profound. My faith in God and His Word are stronger than they have ever been. My patience is thinner, though, and body is weaker. My optimism is no longer unsinkable, and I have this annoying habit of fighting tears and a deeply lonely feeling when I'm in a crowd.

I've been thinking about how tied we are to life and earth. We never were supposed to be... every bit of scripture is telling us that we are to live as residents of another realm and kingdom. But it is so easy to become tied to here, to view through our fading eyes everything around us and try to cling to it. We're kind of like those odd stories of kidnapped damsels who fall in love with their captor, getting so caught up with the moments here that we forget to live for the rescue.

So here I am, walking through these memories of a year ago. Maybe if I had a bit more of heaven's vision, I could more clearly see my losses as gains. It feels like I am digging for treasure. I felt my shovel strike something a while ago... so I keep digging. Above it all I feel the confidence that I was never abandoned, that God was "riding on my storm" and seeing to it that His purposes were accomplished through it.

I keep trying to come up with some nice, neat sentence to finalize this post. It just isn’t there. I guess maybe because there is no final conclusion yet, I am still scanning the horizon for a sign of my Rescuer.

My Dani-Girl is Leaving. :(

Sun, 13 Jun 2010 01:40:35 -0800

It’s saturday night again...actually the wee hours of sunday morning. The first thing I need to say is that HALLELUJAH! we are no longer battling the flu. It took a full week, and once I finally remembered reading about probiotics and how they can help, we started getting better pretty fast. It was exhausting, but I think we’re finally recovering from all of the lost sleep.

We spent a good bit of the day driving today. We may not have roads that connect to anything, but we have roads!

We drove the whole 80 miles or so of the Kugarok road to the end. And there, just beyond the bridge, we saw the sight that many others have also spent more than two hours driving to see. THE END OF THE ROAD. Yup, it just sorta stops in the tundra. Hurray. It was so impacting that we didn’t even stop to take a picture to prove we’d been there.

We went back a way, pulled down by the river and ate our picnic, pulled children out of the freezing river as they tripped and fell at various intervals (Do you think I’m the sort of Mommy to say, “No, you can not play in that gorgeous river!” I AM the sort of Mommy to bring lots of extra clothes though!), removed multiple rocks from Caleb’s mouth, rejoiced that it was too cold and windy for mosquitos, and shot our uber-cool revolvers (That is definitely my word... to the guys they are tools, to me they are fun and protection all rolled in to one!). :)

This outing was a final trip with Dani before she heads home Sunday night. I found myself reflecting as we drove home, our tired eyes scouring the mountainsides for the bears we never did see. When Dani came a year ago, we were sisters who loved each other so much. We have now become sisters who almost know each other better than we know ourselves!

This last year we have seen each other at our best and worst. We have found out that we love each other more than we ever knew, and that it is the kind of committed love that can stand the tests of time, not to mention five small children!

I am glad that of all the wonderful people in my life, next to Nathaniel, my sister knows me best. I feel very teary at the thought of her leaving. I’m glad in a way... her going means that we are well enough to be a family again. Her going also ends the most amazing 13 months that we have spent together. Not always happy, not ever easy, but a precious treasure.

I’m not sure when you’ll read this, little sis... but thank you with all of my heart. We truly could not have survived this year without you. You’re so caring, and creative, and fun, and deep, and song-filled, and listening, and patient, and beautiful. I love you more than you could ever know in a thousand years talking on the tundra together. Thank you for loving me back and sharing my life.

The Coin Toss That Is My Life

Sat, 5 Jun 2010 23:05:48 -0800

Well, it is Saturday night in Nome, and I thought I would muse here a bit before I head for bed. Today was a wonderful adventure. My brother Nathan has been renting a cherokee 140 aka single engine prop plane to increase his hours, as well as flying friends to the villages, etc.

Today we got a sitter for the children and Nathan flew Dani, Nathaniel, and I to the village of White Mountain. We played the grocer by delivering eggs, yogurt, and sour cream to the pastor’s family there. It was such a delight to see them, and a joy to see our country side from the air. Nate is a super pilot, and I felt so safe with him. We had such fun!

It has been a fairly smooth transition home, with a few hiccups along the way. It has been wonderful to catch up with our dear friends here, and our weather has been cool but sunny.

We’ve been battling a stomach flu that has hit almost all of us through the week here and there. It is gratefully rather short lived, but it’s a bummer to be up through the night with very miserable children. Last night went well, so I hope we’re over it. (Quick alert - it’s almost 2 AM and I just jumped back on to say that Noah was just throwing up again... he had been sick two nights ago, but was fine last night. Nathaniel is also feeling queasy, Wes is up and crying that his “blum” or tummy hurts. Please pray that we will be well and get some sleep, all this “kah-kah juice” as they call it happens at night. Aaugh!)

Last Saturday, May 29, was the one year anniversary of my cancer diagnosis and I was unprepared for the onslaught of emotions that came with it. I think I am usually a fairly reasonable person, but I was a MESS on saturday! I cried almost constantly all morning, I just could not get a grip!

Memories of sitting down and hearing the doctor say I had a “big, bad cancer,” Parking at Lake Hood while Nathaniel called my Mom and Dad to tell them, sobbing to sleep in each other’s arms... everything that made up that first horrible day with cancer felt so close and devastating.

I went to my room for a little while, praying and crying. I felt like God spoke to my heart that today was not a day for questions or “what ifs.” It was a day to kneel at His throne and submit to His hand and purpose in my life through the gift of cancer. I was at peace when I got off my knees, and I thought it was settled.

But it wasn’t five minutes before the turmoil was back, and I must have knelt in my heart twenty times before I was done with the turbulence. It was a battle that took hours. Maybe it took that many times until the submission was genuine.

Just like an old friend who knows you’re having a hard day and does something to cheer you up, God pulled a kind-hearted miracle with my new table. We had shipped it parcel post from Anchorage, so we weren’t expecting it any time soon. The annex where we pick up our large packages is closed on Saturday, but we were driving by, so Nate swung in. Our friendly postal lady was having a hard time starting her truck, and while Nathan helped her, we saw to our amazement that our packages were in! I can just hear God’s conversation with the angels, “Saturday is going to be rough for Carlee, could we put a rush on that table for her, it would really make her smile!”

And that is the coin toss of my life. This coin that has the face of grief on one side. When that side lands up I find I just can’t fight the tears, and that the weight of what happened on these exact days one year ago just about chokes me. I’m so much better and stronger than I was during chemo and radiation, but compared to one year ago... the scars and pain and “stuff” my body will always deal with is heavy load. It’s like a dream I wish I could wake up from.

But there is a flip side to this coin, the face of gratitude. Oh, I love when the coin toss brings me this one! I look at my children, sweet little faces and lives that I am still sharing! To be home with them and Nathaniel again sometimes makes me feel like I could burst. We spent Monday out at our friend’s cabin, and what a joy to be well and together!

There are SO many reasons for gratitude... I am well, we are home, God has been near and is encouraging us through His people and His word. That is probably the greatest reason to be grateful.

The silence of God is something I do not understand, but it was our lonely companion for almost six months of this journey, and was perhaps the greatest trial of all. Nathaniel and I have both felt His nearness and been blessed to see His hand once again. I do not doubt that He has always been near, but for some reason He chose to shroud His presence in a thick blackness for a while.

So you see the flip flop - gratitude and grief, and sometimes I don’t know how the coin will fall. In the happiest of moments I will suddenly be fighting back tears, and in moments of quiet reflection I will feel like laughing aloud with delight at this “second chance“ that I have been given to live our little life in Nome with my sweet family.

Earlier in this post I referred to the “gift” of cancer. It is a hard statement to make, to call my curse a blessing. I say it in faith, though, and I mean it. Once again I go back NOT to what I can see, but to what I know about God. If He could fulfill His purposes and glory the most by releasing me from this last year of cancer, I believe He would have. But He did not, and the default answer is that it is for some reason that matters, if not here, in eternity.

On my one year cancer anniversary, I went digging through my old blogs to find a quote I knew I had written there. Sure enough, in my July 11 post I found it. The GREAT PURPOSE quote. So I close with that, and I think I can go to sleep tonight with my grief side of the coin buried for a while, and my face of gratitude smiling to the heavens.

“There is nothing - no circumstance, no trouble, no testing --
that can ever touch me until, first of all,
it has gone past God and past Christ, right through to me.
If it has come that far, it has come with a GREAT PURPOSE,
which I may not understand at the moment.
But as I refuse to become panicky,
as I lift up my eyes to Him
and accept it as coming from the throne of God
for some great purpose of blessing to my own heart,
no sorrow will ever disturb me,
no trial will ever disarm me,
no circumstance will cause me to fret,
for I shall rest in the joy of what my Lord is.
That is the rest of victory."

Wildflowers bloom first of all

Mon, 31 May 2010 00:37:21 -0800

In Nome, the wildflowers come before the tundra has even begun to green. At the top of the mountain I found amazing varieties and wanted to share them with you. God is so amazing! His creativity and handiwork are found in secret places. They bloom where the ice and snow have barely thawed, before the tough tundra even changes hue. Those little wildflowers have inspired me to not resist God at work in my own life, even though the chill of this year of illness lingers all about me. It’s so easy to want to mope at times! Take a lesson from the wildflowers!

(We forgot the camera, so all I had was Nathan’s phone to use for the pics. Some are a bit fuzzy... sorry! In the last pictures, yes, that is Caleb crawling on the mountain top. And yes, that is musk ox “berries” he found and began to eat. AAUGH! There were three herds on the mountain tonight, one had five calves! So cute! The last pic with a flower you can see the ground all broken up. A bear had been feeding on a musk ox, you can see the rib cage in the background.)

There and back again... A hobbits tale

Sat, 29 May 2010 20:00:00 -0800

We made it home! Hurray! Hallelujah! Thanks to lots of prayers and a really amazing sister who added a much needed pair of extra hands, our time in Anchorage went smoothly overall, and we are home at last.

I had mostly good news from my docs, no need to see them until another 4 months or so. My lymph edema is discouraging, the specialist is ordering a night time sleeve and a customized day sleeve. She said if I want to to keep from more problems it needs to be under compression 24/7 basically for the rest of my life. I can see how much thicker it is even than a few months ago, and it swells without compression. Those sleeves surely don’t fit well into a life of changing diapers, cooking, cleaning, and the need for constant hand washing. I think it’s going to be a place where I need daily grace.

The welcome home was so special! Dear friends met us at the airport, and then took us to some other friend’s house for a lunch party. What a happy reunion! I have so missed the family God has blessed us with here in Nome, and it is a joy to be back again.

We’re still a bit tired, but overcoming the jet lag. Thank you to everyone who prayed for our travels, it went as smoothly as I could have ever imagined! I’ve lots of thought to share, but I’m too tired just now. I’ll try for tomorrow. :)

(The pics are at the airport with the Hansens (Angela, Peter, and their children are as beloved as siblings), Tula Huffman (she is “Ana” our children’s eskimo grandmother), Fiskeauxs (Family in a way that runs deeper than blood, the pastor’s family that has so blessed and inspired us here), Brenda Evak (my eskimo little sister), Mina Bachelder (missionary with her husband to the Arctic for over 40 years), and a GREAT picture of Danielle and Nate Sobie on the rocks outside James and Amy Adcox’s home, where we went for lunch.

Soul Food

Sat, 22 May 2010 18:12:52 -0800

Our time at Daniel and Carol’s was just terrific. They, along with William and Esther, are true lovers of all things fun, adventurous, significant, and eternal. As for the children, this is as close to heaven as it gets on this side!

We are now desperately packing up five months of living here, preparing for our flight out on Monday. It’s going to be a pilgrimage of epic proportions, that’s for sure! We’re so grateful for Brave Danielle’s willingness to journey with us for two weeks, and help us through the travel and time change as we get home.

I’ll include just a few pics of the time at Daniel and Carol’s, but the first ones are video of the Hobbs doing what they do best. Singing! You can see that Nathan really fought tears. He shared with me that this song had often come to his mind through this last year. It isn’t as easy to sing as it was years ago for him, but the truth in it is where we choose to stand. Enjoy, it was meant from the heart!

He’s coming, He’s coming, He’s coming!

Mon, 10 May 2010 18:34:40 -0800

I am jumby (that’s a Sobie word) and waiting and can hardly stand it! Dad and Mom picked up Nathaniel tonight because they were already in Cleveland... and they’re almost here! It’s so exciting to be at the end of another 5 weeks apart. Hurray! Reunions must be one of the best parts of heaven, because even here in this fallen place... they are terrific! :)

So I thought I’d type quickly here, as it may be a few days before I get back to it! I’m doing well, better than I had hoped I would be by now. I still get tired, but my resilience is increasing! We travel back to AK on the 24th of May, and then have a few days in Anchorage before we get home to Nome on the 27th.

It’s such an awful delight, this going home. Part of it feels like a goal achieved, a dream obtained. We’re well enough to go home! The other side is the realization that going home is separation from family. It’s really hard for me to think about. I am so grateful to share my children with my family each day, especially my Mom. She just delights in every little thing, and there is something so special about enjoying them together. I know we are going to need grace for this separation... it hurts already.

Speaking of Mom, it looks like we have won the Thymes competition. My story about her quilt, and all of you voting for it means Mom has $300 to spend on their products. Hurray again! Thank you so much for doing this for my Mom. She’s so amazed that we won... we all are! It’s been a source of lots of laughter and excitement around here. :)

But I’m learning to not dwell on the places I don’t have grace for yet. So we’re going to rejoice and celebrate that “Daddy is back!” and enjoy these moments that remain here with my family. He’s almost here... I can hardly wait!

I’m still here!

Sun, 9 May 2010 20:01:37 -0800

Mother’s Day 2009 was a really special day for me. We snapped this picture of the children and I, and I have just loved it. If you’ve read my blog at all, you know that I really do enjoy being a Mommy!

We didn’t know that two weeks later that picture of the children and I would be posted on refrigerators and tucked into Bibles as friends and strangers alike purposed to pray for us as we faced my breast cancer.

There are women as young as I, with sweet families depending on them, who aren’t there for the Mother’s Day photo the year after their diagnosis. I have looked at the 2009 picture for a year, asking Jesus to let me raise my children for His glory. And I’m still here.

I hesitated to add those words... for His glory. Does it sound overly pious or a little extreme? It really is the purpose I have for living, though! I have found refuge for my spirit and salvation for my soul in the person of Jesus Christ. I want my life to show the bigness of this Creator God, the grandness of His pursuit of mankind, and to ultimately live God BIG in my little life.

And it has been almost a year. I’m still Mommy. The thought just makes me weep! We all know we don’t have a guarantee on tomorrow, but for now... for Mother’s Day 2010, I am still the Mommy in the picture, surrounded by sweet hobbits.

My heart wells up with gratitude to God for letting me stay this long, that I am growing stronger, and that we are actually looking over the brink of heading home to try to live a life of wellness again.

I don’t think I can say it enough... thank you to everyone who has prayed for us, for the friends who gave us airline miles to help get our tickets home, for those who have not forgotten us though the road has been long.

Take a moment to rejoice and marvel with me... I’m still the Mommy!

Built for the Storm

Fri, 30 Apr 2010 20:32:55 -0800

I should absolutely be in bed! Everyone tells me the hope of recovery includes sleep, and it is often the one thing I have a hard time getting. But I just feel so strongly that I need to share with all of my dear blog family out there a timely reminder God sent my way today.

I’ve just hung up the phone from a long chat with Nathan. I’m still sniffling, I was sharing with him some of the things burdening my heart. Physical things, decisions to be made, spiritual things, a potpourri of life, I guess. Part of me feels silly because all these little “issues” don’t even form a walnut at the base of the tree in comparison to the mighty oak of CANCER. Most of them spring from it, but are such really small issues.

But I’m weepy and burdened, wishing and praying for wisdom. I am firmly convinced that it can often take more grace and trust to live the small areas of life than the huge ones!

So, I shared with him what I want to share with you. I caught a bit of Tony Evans preaching on the radio as I drove to the store tonight. I actually pulled off the road to enter some of his thoughts into my ipod, lest I forget them. Here’s the story he told...

They lead cruises to Alaska, I think they charter spots on big ships like Princess or something. They were on just such a cruise when they ran into BAD weather. He said the waves were 45 feet. Everyone was green and sick, and his wife was distressed. She was feeling responsible for all of the passengers on the cruise as their guests.

Finally, she called the captain, and left a message saying that it doesn’t matter if there are paying customers waiting on the other side, she was concerned for their safety! It didn’t take long until the First Mate called back, said he had relayed the message to the Captain, and had a message in return.

The Captain said, “Go to sleep, Mrs. Evans. Go to sleep knowing two things. First, as you sleep, I will stay awake here on the bridge, and I will guide this ship through the storm. Second, go to sleep knowing that this ship was built for this storm. As it was engineered and created, we knew the day would come when this storm would rise, and it was indeed created for this storm.”

Perhaps you needed those words as much as I did today. I can hear the Captain of my Soul speaking now... “Go to sleep, Carlee. I built your ship for this storm, and I will personally steer you through it.” I think I’ll do just that. Goodnight, everyone!

Can you lend me a hand?

Wed, 28 Apr 2010 18:56:01 -0800

Okay, this is a bit out of character, but it seemed like fun, so I decided to try. My favorite fragrance is Wild Ginger by a company called Thymes. I first got a sample of it from Nathan’s sister years ago, and just this year got my first bottle. Hurray! I love it!

I was on their web site the other day and they had this place where you could tell a story about your Mom and what she has “given” you. I immediately thought of the quilt she made me in Anchorage... I had blogged about it back in August ago.  
You tell your story, and if you win, there’s a $300 shopping spree. (Think how many scented draw liners you could get for that?!?!) So, I didn’t really care if I won, but on a whim I decided that I’d be glad for everyone to know how amazing my Mom is. After I entered it, they suggested telling your friends and family to get on and vote for your story... if your story gets the most votes, you win.

So, I decided to tell you all about it, and if you have a few moments, would you hop on www.thymes.com and vote for my story? It would be REALLY fun to bless Mom with that amazing shopping spree after all she has invested in us over this last year. :)

She doesn’t know I did it, but she might find out here. So, Mom, if you’re reading this.... Your life has always been full of such abundant giving, and I’d love to win this for you, so you vote for it too! You just click on the picture of the ladies on their page, and right now my story is the third one.

I won’t be sad if no one has the time to do it... but it’s worth a try! Thanks!

Resting at the Seaside...

Sun, 25 Apr 2010 20:11:03 -0800

Opening the gate to the plow

Sun, 25 Apr 2010 18:50:51 -0800

Wow, it has been TOO long since I have updated this site! Time passes and I am growing stronger in little increments. I don’t really notice it day by day, but over the process of two weeks I’ll realize that a few weeks ago I wasn’t up to this or that activity. It feels wonderful to see progress.

I’m sorry for all the times I thought, “Oh I need to run and post something about this!” or “I need to share that thought with my blog family...” and then never got it done. Life is full and I take too many naps to be as efficient as I would like!

One funny moment I just have to share is when I was typing at the computer one day and heard Noah behind me. “Mommy, is it okay to eat raw honey?” “Sure, Sweetie.” “So, it won’t hurt me to eat this honey raw?” I turned to look at him, a bit curious. To my amusement, he was standing there holding a flower, orange powdery nectar visible in the center. Now that is RAW honey! :)

My main focus the last little while has been getting strength back. Just a few weeks after the radiation ended, my skin finally stopped burning and has begun to heal. What a relief! I’m still working to get the strength in my arm to equal the other one, but it’s coming.

I’m seeing a therapist for my lymph edema, with the hopes we can get the swelling down. It’s slow work, but we’re having some success!

I tried to start the Tykerb again after my severe reaction. Within days the rash began again, on top of severe dizziness and other symptoms. At this point, I’m not taking it any longer. The reactions in my body are just too severe, and it’s surely not in line with our goals of building my body back up after these months of attack on it.

I was able to get away just after Nathan left for one night to be quiet and do some journaling. It was a special time for me to reflect and document some of the process of these last ten months. I’ve been finding myself very tearful again. It’s like I went through a dry time where I was just done crying about everything and focused on just trying to stay on top of life. (Not that I exactly succeeded...)

Recently, I find it easy to cry again. The other night I was marveling again at how I still have pain if I lay on my side because of my mastectomy. Neither side is comfortable, the radiated side I still can not lay on. It was perhaps 3 AM as I shifted about uncomfortably, and I was wondering how long it had been anyway. Five months. Could it really have been five months that I’ve lived with this? After a couple months of NOT crying, I was surprised at the tears that just spilled out.

On my little overnight retreat, I read a bit from A.W. Tozer, a book I found on my parent’s shelf. It’s title is Paths to Power, and it intrigued me. So I am sitting in silence eating my breakfast (that NEVER happens!) when I decided to skip ahead to chapter 4 of this tiny book, “Miracles follow the Plow.” What I read left me crying again, and hopeful...

He starts by talking about fallow ground, “safe and undisturbed” he calls it. “Fruit it can never know because it is afraid of the plow and harrow.”

I’ve always loved analogies, and I seem to think in them. The one that follows was so deeply impacting.

“In direct opposite to this, the cultivated field has yielded itself to the adventure of living. The protecting fence has opened to admit the plow, and the plow has come as plows always come, practical, cruel, business-like, and in a hurry. Peace has been shattered by the shouting farmer and the rattle of machinery. The field has felt the travail of change; it has been upset, turned over, bruised and broken, but its rewards come hard upon its labors... All over the field the hand of God is at work in the age-old and ever renewed service of creation. New things are born, to grow, mature, and consummate the grand prophecy latent in the seed when it entered the ground. Nature’s wonders follow the plow....”

Tozer later stated, “Such a life has put away defense, and has forsaken the safety of death for the peril of life.” Such profundity! Oh, I have felt the shattered peace, the being upset, turned over, bruised and even broken. And yet the hand of God IS at work in this broken life. I find myself anticipating the life that will spring forth after the plowing. I don’t really know what to expect, but I remember the promise from Isaiah 28 that He does not plow forever. I wonder what seeds He has sown?

Someone recently asked me if I’ve just seen all sorts of purpose in my cancer. “I’ll bet you’re amazed at all of the wonderful things that have come as a result of your cancer.” I felt at a loss for words, sure there have been blessings along the way though certainly nothing that seems to justify the horrors.

We have been plowed. (And I know we’re not the only ones!) But it is not without purpose and it will not be wasted. When God permits the plow He plans a harvest. I find myself with a sense of anticipation, even though I’m still wincing from the plowing. I can’t wait to see what He is going to do “in the wake of the plow.”

mini update!

Fri, 2 Apr 2010 18:41:25 -0800

Just a very short hello to every friend who’s keeping up on our lives! Nathaniel is back! Hurray! We’re in the midst of almost two lovely weeks together, and it has been super. He was rested and strengthened by his time away, as well as able to accomplish a LOT in Nome.

I’m doing okay, good days mix with bad, but I think I’m getting a little stronger. The itching is gone, hip Hip HURRAY! My radiation wounds are still painful, the burning has continued. Just today I think I see a bit of progress.

My heart and mind turns often towards home in Nome, but I know I’m not strong enough for the trip let alone tackling life and caring for wee ones on our own. Mom’s been giving Caleb almost all of his care the last two weeks as this right arm of mine has been so weakened and painful. I don’t know what I’d do without her.

Nathan returns to Nome on Tuesday, and we hope that sometime by the middle of May we’ll be well enough to head back. Trusting that one to become clear in time. Thanks for keeping up with us!

Just a funny note... we tried school outside yesterday...stressing the TRIED aspect. It was too fun, distracting, bright, distracting, windy, distracting, etc. So we came in and were learning about rainforest. We’re looking intently at this picture, discussing all of the bugs, monkeys, birds, and other wildlife. I was throwing in a few details of my own, and said, “The rainforest is so amazing, it’s actually where so much of our medicines comes from, and that keeps scientists busy as they are exploring and learning about the wonderful world God made!”

After a while, Shaina looks up at me from her peering intently at the picture. “Mommy, I just don’t see any little bottles there. How do the scientists find the medicine, are they under the leaves?” I haven’t stopped smiling... it was a good question! I knew what I meant, but she surely didn’t. “Honey, I’ll be back... I’m off to the rainforest for some infant tylenol and maybe an ibuprofen or two!”

I’ve been having some recurrence of “chemo brain.” Just foggy inability to say what I’m trying to do. It’s not nearly as sever as before, but enough that I’ve gotten some quizzical looks from the children. (Like when I told Kate to put her french fries on... the mix of trying to get her shoes on while plotting what I was going to get the children at our little McDonald’s outing!)

At Mom’s suggestion (I’m blaming this on her!) I told the children about it, laughingly so they wouldn’t be concerned, but also so they would understand my word mix ups. Now Noah regularly nods knowingly and points to his head. “It’s your brain, Mommy.” Talk about humbling! The problem is, he’s doing it when what I’m saying is just fine! Help! Maybe I’ll just see if they have any brain pills under that rainforest leaf! :)

What’s next?

Sat, 20 Mar 2010 19:08:40 -0800

A lot of people have been wondering how I’m doing and what’s up next for us, so I thought I’d just jump on with a bit of a medical update. On a wonderful note, Caleb is doing great. He’s crawling all over the place like an overgrown grub... he fills his time with eating, laughing, and finding things to get into. He doesn’t like baby toys, he likes vacuums, and shoes, and big people stuff. They’re so much more interesting! I am daily grateful for those who prayed for him as he struggled in those first weeks. What a gift and delight he is to our family! Yesterday he hit the nine month mark. His little life runs parallel to the process of my cancer, and it’s hard to believe that it’s only been nine months in some ways. It feels long, until I look at him, and then I wonder how the time has passed so fast. He is the rose that sits atop our little thorny trials.

I am done, Done, DONE with radiation! Hurray! I feel like I’m out of prison! It wasn’t so bad . The people there were great, it is just that I am no longer tethered to that daily hospital gown, daily awkward pose, and daily hour or so of being a “sick person.”

With the end of radiation also comes the end of Xeloda, the sensitizing chemo I was taking. Three cheers and a run through the Hallelujah Chorus on that one! No more nausea pills and other measly miserable side effects I won’t bore or disgust you with. Done!

Herceptin, the antibody I take by infusion every three weeks will continue until my one year anniversary of starting. I don’t know what I’ll do when it’s all done, the thought of it makes me cry. I can’t imagine the freedom of not planning towards the next infusion!

The Tykerb is the other chemo I am supposed to take with Herceptin till the end. It has had terrific results, up to 51% reduction rate in cancer recurrence. That is HUGE when you consider the horrific things some people do just to get a 5 - 10% reduction. Unfortunately I have had a really sever reaction to it. I take it at night because it makes me rather sick but I can sleep it off and fell better in the morning.

Last week I had Herceptin, and it usually makes me tired, but I hit a wall this round. The next few days I was in bed, not always coherent, had fainting spells, just plain miserable. I am still finding things that I “thought” happened, but were just part of the crazy imagining of those days!

Then the rash started. It was a drive you crazy, walk the halls through the night, I wish I were dead sort of rash. It traveled up my legs, arms, and across my face. It’s a Tykerb rash, and by the time I stopped taking it, I was in bad shape. It would hit worse at night, and freezing my legs in cold water was the only way to deal with it.

Today seems to be relief... the itch is less obsessive. Percocet in stronger doses is the only way I’ve been able to get sleep, and I’ll be glad when this is over. I think it is lessening at last, and I actually slept pretty well last night.

I am supposed to try the Tykerb again, once the reaction is under control, but in lesser doses. I really would like to be able to finish the last three months with this med... I really like the studies I’ve read about with this one. I’m just praying my body will adjust!

We had been praying about taking Adriamycin, a first-line, heavy hitting sort of chemo at the end of my radiation. We really didn’t know how to make this decision, and God mercifully gave us the direction we sought. Through the counsel of several good docs and Scripture, we have made the decision to not take that route.

There were a lot of pieces to the puzzle, but the most special one to me is that Nathan had been reading in Ephesians. He was reading, I think in chapter 5, where it refers to building up the body of Christ and strengthening it that no place would be weak or unable to function. I know that is referring to the Church, but when Nathan was reading it he clearly felt like that was God’s direction for ME right now. It’s not time to be torn down anymore, but now we need to focus on building strength back in my body... rest, supplements, exercise, it all is part of the picture. Sounds good to me!

So, the plan is that Nathan will return for a week long visit here in Ohio on the 24th. We had hoped that we would be heading home then, but the truth is that I am not well or strong enough to make the trip or run a house, especially one with so many wee folks! Dad and Mom have so graciously offered, even asked us to stay until I am stronger. I am not sure how long that will be... a month or perhaps more. We are so grateful to be here, but surely love the thought of going HOME!

The side effects of the radiation (fatigue and burning) will continue to intensify even up until two weeks after my last round. I see it even since Wednesday, my skin continues to break down and has begun to do a lot more bleeding and oozing. I guess the biggest prayer requests now are for the rash to go away, for the radiation effects to not be too severe in this next week or so, and for my strength to increase.

Wow, if you made it to the last paragraph you must really love me! Sorry, I said a “bit” of an update and have rattled on far too long! Thanks for praying, for caring, and for bearing this burden with us. Pray for us to not miss God’s purposes or loose sight of our ultimate goal... His glory. Thank you!

The last half-hour

Wed, 17 Mar 2010 18:55:31 -0800

Shaina believes me. When we learned about fossils and the Grand Canyon in home-school this week, she asked, “Is this a true story, Mommy?” We oohed and aahed at pictures on the internet, and I told her that not only was it a true story, I hoped to take her there some day! Later we hunted through the yard with magnifying glasses, enjoying the 50 degree sunny weather and hunting for fossils.

We found some... shapes of shells pressed into rocks. What fun! As we sorted through piles of rocks, Shaina commented, “Oh look, I see little dinosaur bones!” Okay, so she’s a little zealous when it comes to being a budding rock expert. Then came this observation, “Look at this one, it’s made out of the Grand Canyon.” And she matter-of-factly set it aside to keep hunting.

She was right, it looked like the grand canyon in the internet pictures, reddish with layers of sediment. I wasn’t struck by her powers of observation, however. It was her trust. On the very basis of my word, she had accepted my fanciful story of this huge hole in the earth, and she was willing to base her current existence on my promise of this place. If the Grand Canyon is real, why couldn’t this rock be from there. Okay, so there’s the matter of many hundreds of miles.... really, she doesn’t have the complete picture. But she trusts me.

And I felt my Heavenly Father’s meaningful gaze... “Are you learning something here?” What happened to taking Him at His Word? Trusting that if He said it was so... it was! We give ourselves such license to cheekily cross-examine the Almighty! Especially when He interrupts a very happy life with what our eyes deem a tragedy. What happened to trust? Where now is faith? What if I can’t reconcile all of the details... can I still trust?

No, I’m not saying we should be mindless robots... the garden of Eden proves to us that this is not why we were created. I don’t want that from Shaina... my trusting little 5 year old. I want her to grow and question and learn - and blossom as a result. But I’m honored by her trust. “And without faith it is impossible to please God....” I’m not so sure all of our questioning leads to blossoming... atrophy seems more the fruit I see. Nathan and I have talked recently of the sin of allowing circumstances to bully what we know to be true about God. We’ve both been guilty.

I came across a poem in Streams in the Desert that I had memorized more than a decade ago. There is a statement within it that has become my unspoken mantra... I say it to myself often in a day, and constantly in dark nights of the soul. “I am quietly holding fast to the things that cannot fail.”

In that same devotion (March 5) the statement is profoundly made. “The greatest challenge in receiving great things from God is holding on for the last half hour.”

In the bitter waves of woe
Beaten and tossed about
By the sullen winds that blow
From the desolate shores of doubt,
Where the anchors that faith has cast
Are dragging in the gale,
I am quietly holding fast
To the things that cannot fail.

And fierce though the fiends may fight,
And long though the angels hide,
I know that truth and right
Have the universe on their side;
And that somewhere beyond the stars
Is a love that is better than fate.
When the night unlocks her bars
I will see Him - and I will wait.

sick and tired... again

Thu, 4 Mar 2010 17:39:40 -0900

Well, I keep hoping for a good time to update this blog, and I’m not having a whole lot of good moments just about now, so I’ll type a bit and then head for bed. I’m so humbled to know that dear friends from all over are hoping on my blog and checking for updates, and I’m not posting.... sorry everyone!

I started the additional chemo at the beginning of last week, and my poor body has had quite a time trying to keep chugging along. I had a couple really rough days until I figured out that if I take it before bed I don’t get so sick. I got steadily stronger after that, until Tuesday of this week and I hit a low again that I’m trying to work back from.

I think the chemos combined with radiation are really fatiguing me. I am so tired all the time and sleeping a lot, that’s why I’m not getting emails answered and even getting a chance to visit with friends. If you have sent me an email in the last little while, please know that I so treasure everyone’s words of faith and encouragement, and I WILL get them answered some day!

I’ve also had a lot of extra doctor’s visits the last two weeks, checking problems with my thyroid and a possible ovarian cancer due to a debris-filled cyst that they found. As of today, I have gotten word that BOTH of those issues are not as they had appeared and all is well. I LOVE GOOD NEWS!

These days have been difficult on everyone, I think, but God allows so much fun and laughter as well. Like the time I was making brownies with Wesley. He soberly watched me break the eggs into the bowl and then toss them into the sink in front of him. I walked over to get the oil from the cupboard and turned just in time to see him just as soberly smashing the egg shell halves he had fished out of the sink and dropping them into the pan... just like Mommy!

Then there was the time Shaina and I were working on her math and she is learning about graphs. The book instructs me to fill a bag with toys so we can graph the contents. I’m thinking that there must be an easier way... “Shaina, we are going to graph the mess on the floor that we haven’t cleaned up.” Four shoes, one sippy cup, two scarves, and three dolls later, Shaina had cleaned up nicely and learned about graphs at the same time. I love home schooling! :)

I am truly surrounded by reasons to rejoice! We’re really missing Nathaniel in Alaska, but he is doing well and being able to accomplish a lot on his end of things. Just knowing he got through the pile of mail is a relief to me! Noah, Shaina, and Kate are spending the week with their cousins in PA, and the resulting quiet around here has been odd and wonderful. Wesley misses them but is also rather delighted with his new role as top kid at the house!

I’ve been pondering the term “well-digger” over the last week or so. I met with a pastor from an area church, and as we prayed together, he thanked the Lord for giving me a deep well to draw from in times of difficulty. The phrase really struck me, and I realized that I DO have a deep well. It’s no credit to me, but a tribute to the many people who have been well-diggers in my life. Investing truth and purpose that can be drawn from in times of drought and devastation. How blessed I am with so many who have invested deeply into me!

And I’ve realized that it is the deep longing of my heart to be a well-digger for others. I’ve been reflecting on our ELT (Emerging Leaders in Training) youth team from Alaska. How I miss them! I think the happiest times in recent years have been when Nathan and I have been able to disciple those beloved souls, hopefully adding to the depth in their wells.

There is so much I want to be doing, and it vexes me to just feel like I’m dragging through each day. I want to accomplish something! But, maybe by blogging this journey I can shovel out a bit of the muck of life and make room in your well for a bit more living water. That would be a treasure found along the way.

And even though I’m feeling a bit lonely for my blue eyed sweetheart, and tired, and queasy, and weak... I’ll dip back into that well dug for me by those who have valued what is eternal... just enough for a cup of tea before bed!

A short post to make up for that last one...

Mon, 15 Feb 2010 19:51:24 -0900

Omnipresence

Mon, 15 Feb 2010 19:12:46 -0900

I am sitting in the children’s bedroom practicing omnipresence. To anyone less than two years old, this is the amazing feat a mother has of suddenly appearing the moment he puts his feet out of bed. To the older children, who can see me in the corner behind the suitcase, it’s good amusement. But to Wesley, the determined and unsuspecting culprit, I am indeed God-like. We’ve been practicing catechism with the children, and one of the questions is, “Can you see God?” “No, but God can always see me.” Wesley includes me in that one… his omnipresent Mommy, hiding behind the suitcase, waiting for his wee tootie-toe to even THINK about getting out of bed!

Someday he’ll realize I’m a bit more human than he currently understands. I kind of feel that way about the people around me. I hear comments like, “You’re so strong, you’re so inspiring.” Trust me, when you’re in my skin, you’re not very inspired by yourself! It must be because…. Excuse me, we interrupt this blog post….

Okay, make that two culprits back in bed. I guess Kate is young enough to fall for omnipresence even when I’m in plain sight.

Anyway, It reminds me of an old Twila Paris song I loved as a teenager, “Warrior is a Child.” The chorus speaks of dropping your sword to cry for a while, and looking up for a smile, “Deep inside this armor, the warrior is a child.”

I guess the picture is that our opponents are always larger than we can handle. I’m sure that’s how our enemy the devil likes to play it, make our battle big enough to totally overwhelm us. I guess in some ways he’s as silly as Kate, not seeing the obvious outcome to getting out of bed when Mommy is sitting in the corner. Doesn’t he see how Almighty God uses his strategy against him? If we are just wise enough to see that we can’t fight it and run for refuge… we have such promises… assurance that these trials will strengthen and refine us. The very thing sent to destroy us is used for our blessing. Like Jacob wrestling the angel, blessed by his attacker.

I mentioned running for refuge, and I’m learning a new lesson… that sometimes there is no refuge in sight. It never shows up. The battle comes, and goes, and it seems that the reinforcements were never sent. I guess that’s where Nathaniel and I have been the last while. I think before cancer I glibly thought that there was always a hero’s rescue before things got too dark. Now I firmly believe that there are things that cannot be reconciled this side of heaven. It doesn’t make God less the hero, it just reaffirms what I always knew, that His ways are not mine, but I WOULD choose them if I could see from His perspective.

I don’t know the answer, and maybe that’s why I know I’m not strong or inspirational. I’m uncertain at best. Well, uncertain of what I can see. I’m not uncertain of what I KNOW. A wise person once stated to never doubt in the darkness what you knew in the light.

I know that God’s Word is true and full of life. I know that He uses trials in His children’s lives. I know that He has allowed His children to face hard… even unthinkable things here on earth, but promises that this life is just a vapor, and that eternity will make it worth the cost. I know from looking at the lives of other’s that trails can turn to gold, I can look back on stories like Joseph and see that his heartaches were not wasted. It still doesn’t make me want to have cancer for the virtue of it, but it assures me that I am NOT exposed and abandoned, even though I may feel like I am.

Hmmm, I’m not sure if I wrote that for you all or for me! The room is growing more quiet, and restless bodies are being stilled and I can hear the sound of thumbs being sucked. It’s a blessed thing to drift off to sleep, safe and warm and unconcerned.

Enough rambling, let me fill everyone in on the last little while. I’m not sure how to do it in a concise manner, there’s so much going on! I’ll try to be brief…

My visit at the Ireland Cancer Center in Cleveland went well. We liked the doctor and received some good insights. We’ve pretty much had a general consensus that I should do these two lighter doses of chemo. One during radiation and one after. I actually started on the Xeloda last night. I didn’t start immediately because I needed a sense of peace that it was the right thing to do, and I was honestly so tired and overwhelmed I didn’t feel up to dealing with any side effects that might occur. Gratefully, I seem to be okay so far, just a bit of an upset stomach.

Radiation started just over a week ago. I’m starting to get a bit red, but nothing severe. I go every afternoon, and so far it has been fairly uneventful. I have a few other health issues... it may mean some testing, but hopefully all is okay. Honestly, I just wish I could be an ostrich and stick my head in the sand when it comes to tests, taking my vitamins, everything. Can I quit yet? Okay, just had a mental parade of five sweet little sets of blue eyes... I’ll take my vitamins again.

We were very blessed with a phone consultation with the Deputy Physician-in-Chief for breast cancer programs at Memorial Sloan-Kettering in New York. It seems we have a mutual friend, thanks Isaac! :) His recommendations were encouraging on one side, distressing on the other. He wants me to do a pretty heavy chemo after radiation, and the side effects can be pretty extreme. He was very strong in his encouragement, and we value his advice, but also know that these final decisions need to be ours. Please pray that we will know what to do! We have a month or so to decide.

Our biggest battle just now is that Nathan is now back in Alaska. I found myself with tears just under the surface all day today, feeling a little lost and alone. I miss him so much, but with much prayer and contemplation, we felt that this was the right decision. He will be coming back in just over five weeks, at the end of my radiation. How blessed we are with phones and computers and video chat!

Noah summed it up as he cut his pancakes the day before Nathan left... “This pancake was perfect, just like our family, but now it is all cut.... a ..pa..r..t.....(dissolve into tears)” Even my little ones are learning what it is to have sorrow for a companion. She is not altogether unkind, however. And their resilient little hearts are doing well. Please pray for us in this time apart, though... and thank you!

Just a quick update on our friends Paul and Kathy before I close... they were in the accident I told you about in my last post. Gratefully, Kathy passed the dangerous place where her life was threatened, and they are beginning to heal. The process will be so extensive so I am sure they are grateful for continued prayers.

Wow, it all makes me just wish to remind you to keep the bulk of your treasures of the eternal variety... and all else you have hold loosely. This isn’t our heaven.

Off To Ireland

Tue, 2 Feb 2010 19:17:09 -0900

Well, I’m not EXACTLY off to Ireland.... But sort of. At University Hospital in Cleveland they have the very respected Ireland Cancer Center, and a door has opened for me to go and meet with a doctor there for a second opinion. They have what is called a multi-disciplinary approach, and it means that all of the docs and specialists will review my case and talk it over, and I was strongly encouraged to seek out a place that would handle it in this way. Honestly, it was no science to it... just a lot of recommendations, so I called them, and the secretary was shocked to find an appointment three days later. She repeatedly said, “This never happens!” I prayed for open doors, and this seems to be one!

I am also supposed to start radiation tomorrow afternoon, and as a result my new regimen of chemo as well. I had really been praying for a chance to talk to another doctor before I started radiation, and this is cutting it close, but definitely a relief to me. I truly don’t know if I’m going to do the chemo pills... we are praying, and seeking God. I love the thought of 51% reduction of recurrence rate, but chemo is a scary thing. Just opening up the fedex box and looking at the pills left me crying on Nathan’s shoulder last night. I don’t want to do this again!

I’ve just started then erased three different paragraphs trying to say something profound. Purposefully pushed profundity is pathetic. :) The truth is I haven’t any depths of insight to impart... it’s really quiet, and I’m still waiting for the picture to come into focus myself. I stand in this certainty with my newly comprehended friend Job, “But He knows the way that I take, when He has tried me, I will come forth as gold.” (Job 23:10)

One last thought... He knew the way my friends took when a drunk driver smashed into their vehicle and almost took their lives. Paul and Kathy Martin gave their lives to Christ when I was still living at home and never looked back... we attended church together, and their teenage boys were my Children’s Church assistants long before I got married. Kathy and I put on a girl’s retreat for the youth from the church, and her fervent spirit deeply impacted me. They left our church to be missionaries in Ukraine, and then have been pastoring in Indiana. Now they have both suffered horrifying injuries in this accident, and Kathy’s life is threatened due to a tear in her aorta. I know that there are thousands of praying people who check this blog, I’m so humbled by your concern for me and my family. Will you pray as well for this dear family, and for Kathy in particular.

My friend Lisa shared with me today that a FACT is restricted by time. TRUTH transcends time. The fact is that I have cancer, but a moment could change that if God would choose. The fact was that Paul and Kathy were the picture of health. In a second that changed as well. We are not prisoners of the facts that can overwhelm when we are possessors of the Truth that can liberate us. That realization brings a smile to my face and tears to my eyes. All of these facts could be irrelevant tomorrow... so I wait and hope and keep the faith. Thank you for praying!

Moments from the Museum
(Or as Kate calls it, “Thanks for letting me play in the bathtub at the zoo!”)

Words of Wisdom

Fri, 29 Jan 2010 18:54:24 -0900

I’m skimming through an old book about Georgi Vins in available moments here and there. He was a man of great honor and faithfulness in the face of persecution. He includes a letter from his father Peter who actually died in a Siberian prison camp. What is it about Jesus that takes wimpy, comfort loving, self-preserving mankind and makes them willing to suffer anything rather than deny Him? Peter Vins wrote “It is better to be with Him in prison than at liberty without Him.”

He also wrote a gripping statement in a New Year letter to encourage the believers in Christ. As a man who understands suffering and distress, he spoke to my heart, and I wanted to share it with you.

“Yet another year has come to it’s end.
A year which seems to have begun only yesterday.
A year which has brought to many of the Lord’s faithful no little grief, suffering, and hardship.
A year when more than one tear was shed.
A year when the Lord like an eagle destroyed through circumstances more than one nest of cherished hopes, dreams, and private plans, but then caught us up and bore us on His wings, to teach us to walk by faith and not by sight, that is, by senses and feelings.”

I heard someone on the radio last night talking about “senses and feelings.” They were saying that when you are at the bottom of a situation, you must climb up the ladder of your “knowings.” The things you know to be true, but may not feel so certainly.

So here are a few rungs on the ladder of my knowing. As I wrote in my very first blog post about cancer, I’ll start there again...

- God is good. He was before cancer, and He still is now.
- God is trustworthy, though not understandable
- God is working on a bigger canvas than I can comprehend
- He weeps with us as we suffer (This is a new realization for me. Watch Jesus at Lazarus’ tomb, weeping and groaning three different times even though He knew the end was great! He hurt to see the toll of evil on those He loved. After my surgery I asked while looking in that awful mirror, “Does this even matter to You that this had to happen to me?” I got my answer while reading about Lazarus’ tomb.)
- Better to be facing Cancer as a child of God than healthy without Him
- Every day has the opportunity to rejoice

Add a few rungs of your own, and let’s climb!

at times a good laugh is just what the doctor ordered!

Tue, 26 Jan 2010 11:37:05 -0900

I hope the little video above give you all a smile like it did for us. Caleb is just delighted when his big brothers and sisters take the time to entertain him, he doesn’t realize he’s really the one putting on the show!

I’ve spent the morning on the phone with various and sundry doctor’s offices, and figured I had better let everyone know where we are at medically. I was seen by an oncologist at Akron General who agreed with a recommendation from Alaska, which is to put me on Xeloda. It is a chemo pill, less harsh than an infusion, and it makes the cells in the body very susceptible to radiation. I would take it along with radiation.

The thinking is that my chance of cancer returning to the original site is over 25% and the only known way to improve that chance is radiation. That may bring my numbers down a lot, so if we can make that radiation MORE effective, the better chance I have of not having a recurance there. The problem is that with increased damage to the cancer cells, we’re also increasing the damage to everything else the radiation touches. (More burning, scarring, etc.)

There is another chemo pill also being suggested which I would take along with herceptin until the end of my “cancer year.” It’s called Lapatinib or Tykerb. According to Wikipedia, it has really complex and limited usage... it must be used with Xeloda, it must be for a HER2+ cancer that has already been treated with the exact chemo I have had, and not had sufficient results. Well, I qualify for that, and the site also says that in those settings, it has reduced recurrence by 51%. I love big numbers that are for me, not against me!

So, we’re still trying to seek a further opinion... I found out today that Cleveland Clinic will not see me due to my medicaid in Alaska. One door closed, we’re praying about the next one to open. So many people have been concerned, sent recommendations, etc. Thank you SO much for caring for us, and we’re following up on every lead we get, trusting the Lord to direct us to the right place.

The question I’m wrestling with is if I am indeed to take these additional chemos. It may be easier to tolerate, but it is still poison. Will you pray with me that we will feel clear direction for how to proceed?

Oh yes, some good news. I had a PET scan yesterday to check again for additional tumors, and nothing was found. They’d have to be pretty big to show up, but hurray for a clear scan!

I’ve got to run, more contacts to make! Thanks for reading and caring about us!

A warrior’s memories

Sun, 24 Jan 2010 20:33:15 -0900

I sat tonight and listened to my Grandpa share stories about the battle of Iwo Jima where he was wounded in the war. It was a really special to share the time with him, and I felt honored to be a recipient of his musings. As the conversation progressed he shared about how you become accustomed to things that can in the first place be so terrifying. What once horrified you becomes the norm.

I guess it’s kind of how we were created... you can only bear so much distress and then you eventually start to cope. There have been places through this whole process where I have been deeply overwhelmed, felt pain that feels unbearable, and haven’t wanted to cope with the every day elements of life. I’m grateful to say they aren’t daily or even often. Praise God for putting optimism in my psyche! For the most part I’m just living life, enjoying the moments, grateful for the blessings.

But it’s been a bit harder the last week or so. Unlike the normal way I operate, I’ve been finding myself so bummed that I have cancer, so disheartened at my physical self, and just so sick of the process. It’s not typical for me, and I don’t like it. There is a place in me that wants to write out a permission slip to be mopey, kind of like a day off for good behavior...”After six months of good attempts and general success at being perky, Carlee Hobbs is entitled to one week of a self pity and general grungy feeling.”

But that little voice of truth inside keeps interrupting me just when I’m about to sink into a luxurious bout of the doldrums, “This is when it matters... when it’s hard. This is when it counts, when effort is required.” Who cares if you ace the pop quizzes and fail the final exam?

I’ve been blessed with several voices of confirmation to that thought. One came from a sermon by Tony Evans called “God’s Trickbag.” Oh wow. He looks at different places where God contradicts Himself in Scripture. He reminds us that even when you’re doing exactly what you’ve been told, you can suddenly find yourself in a storm. Like when Abraham was told to sacrifice Isaac. Not only did it look like the loss of the promise, it was against God’s law to kill! This is crazy stuff!

His main illustration was the disciples on the sea when Jesus said to go to the other side. They’re just busy obeying Him when a storm comes that seems to threaten their very existence. He said when God puts you in that trick bag with no way out, that He is about to take you to a deeper place spiritually.

That’s timely encouragement, because I’m feeling the trick bag effect. One of the things we’re exploring are some alternative treatments, some would even involve going out of the country. Some have come to us very highly suggested, and it’s all really intriguing. But it has such a barb, because we both agree that we couldn’t follow these programs and remain in Nome. Could God really want us to do something that would compromise our calling and purpose? We are certain that God wants us to be living and serving in Alaska. Ouch, it’s like a check book that won’t balance!

Tony Evans makes so many profound statements through the sermon, and one that has deeply struck me is the reminder that while the disciples are in this storm on the sea, and they see Jesus coming towards them, they freak out. Why? They don’t recognize him, and that is simply because they weren’t expecting Him in that dark hour. There is a little fear in me that if I let my “issues” loom to large in my sight that I’ll stop looking for Jesus to come across the sea, stomping my storm under His feet.

Dani wrote a song for me back in the beginning of this whole journey, she calls it “The Climb.” As a Christmas gift she recorded it with the children so I could have it on my ipod. It is priceless to me, and in the words I hear her heart of faith for me. The last verse says, “A while ago I looked up - saw the place where I’m at now and prayed, - “God, I can’t go there, don’t ask me to!” - But now that I’m here - I see the beauty all around me - for Jesus really does make all things new.”

I have to admit I’m not seeing much beauty or newness here. Maybe I’ve got on the wrong glasses, maybe the storm has become too big in my eyes and is obscuring the identity of the One who walks over these waves.

I’m going to post Dani’s song here so you can hear it. And I think maybe I’ll listen again... better yet, I think I’ll sing along! “ So my heart takes courage and my eyes look up...”

Another brief update

Sat, 16 Jan 2010 20:14:40 -0900

Well it’s another brief update here. It’s been a busy but good week. I just typed a message for our home church in Nome, and I’m once again going to copy it here. My lymph edema has been a bit better, but my hand is still so puffy. Typing still makes that worse. For the first time in months, it seems to me that the Lord is lingering near, I’m crying a lot more but feeling comforted a lot more too. Hmmm, odd significance there.

I thought you’d enjoy some pics of what we’re up to here. We just celebrated Christmas with my grandparents tonight. It was so fun! Grandma even left up the Christmas decorations for us! An amazing family we had never even met brought dinner for our family on a really busy and overwhelming day. More than the amazing food they shared with us (Have you ever had carrot soufflé’ - How have I lived so long without knowing about carrot souffle’?) I was blessed by the knowledge that they had been praying for us for so long. It is humbling and enriching to be loved by strangers!

God gave me grace in my radiation prep... my mobility after surgery is still limited, and trying to lift my arms into the braces so they could prepare me for laser placement was excruciating. I honestly didn’t think I could do it, but somehow the grace was there and it’s over. Yeah! Things seem to move a bit slowly there, but I am so hopeful to start as soon as possible.

If you don’t mind reading someone else’s mail, I’m going to once again copy the letter I just sent to Nome Covenant. It seems the easiest way to get this updated and still get some sleep tonight!

Dear Church Family,

I have heard of your sacrificial fasting and prayer for us, and I just want you to know how very grateful I am.   My radiation prep is completed, I am just awaiting them to schedule my first treatment.   Hopefully monday will see that finalized.

I feel that the Lord has really been unifying Nathaniel and my heart as we have talked through options and about how to proceed.   I'll bet that's a direct answer to someone's prayer there at Nome Covenant.   Thank you!   We've been looking at everything from traditional stuff at top cancer centers to unconventional stuff out of the country.   Our hearts are very open to what God would have us do.   We're weeding through piles of paperwork, suggestions, phone numbers to call.   A few things have clarified, and we have pursued appointments with those doctors.

One doctor it seems to be impossible to get in to, but she keeps rising to the top as the next consultation we need to make.   On Friday we had some special time in prayer that the Lord would open a door if He was wanting us to get an appointment (it is at the Cleveland Clinic Cancer Center.).   Within an hour, someone from their office actually called us!   Through a set of small miracles, I ended up on the phone with Nicole, who is very interested in our situation and asked us to send my files.   She's working to figure out exactly who we are supposed to see, and seems to be really purposeful in making sure that I will be able to consult there.   I am so grateful to the Lord for working this out, and I'm praying that He will work through Nicole and enable her to connect the necessary dots to get us in there quickly.

Soon after I was diagnosed, I was reading about Paul and Silas in prison.   I always know about how they were freed from their chains, but this time I noticed what preceded.   They were stripped, beaten, unjustly tried, taken to the inmost cell, put in stocks, and then they sat in pain as the hours passed.   At last we find them singing at midnight.   I see in that story that God sometimes asks His children to wait a long time while a lot goes wrong.    I suppose they would have been glad to never be arrested, even as I would gladly have never had cancer.   I don't know what is ahead in this story God is writing for us.   I'd like to think it's near midnight, and He's about to blow the bars of this joint, and we will be freed from this prison of sickness and pain.   But maybe it's only 9:00 PM, and there are long hours to pass ahead.   I know some of you are in your own cells, different than mine, but nonetheless trying to our souls.   Let's not give the enemy a single moment of victory.   Let's not take the easy road of doubt and blame.   What do you say we sing together till midnight comes?   May the chorus send the enemy fleeing and rejoice the heart of our Savior.

I love you all so much!
Singing with you, Carlee for Nathaniel as well

IN THE CASE OF UNCERTAINTY...

Tue, 12 Jan 2010 20:51:57 -0900

Better safe than sorry! I just wanted to clarify a bit of my last post that has caused some confusion. I mentioned in the letter to my church that the cancer is assumed to have traveled to the rest of my body, though it has not formed tumors that we know of, etc.

Please understand that I am not saying that I have cancer everywhere in the sense of having it metastasized in my lungs, brain, and other spots. I am simply saying that the lymph system is the door to the body. If those nodes hold back the cancer it is localized to the breast. They did not, they were overcome by the cancer, and thus my doctors assume that they’re floating throughout my system, seeking residence.

Hopefully the naturopathic things that I am taking along with herceptin and God’s mercy will block those cells from forming a new cancer. The odds are against that, but hope is not.

So to those of you who were picturing my body full of disease, I’m actually fine just now! It is the risk being so high that has my docs concerned.

Psalm 3 talks about God breaking the teeth of our enemies and saving us. I had pictured those cells almost like wolves, breaking through the protection of my lymph system and seeking to devour me left and right. Now I’m picturing these little pac-man like cells, gumming their way around until my immune system kills them, unable to do harm because they’re teeth are broken! Hurray!

Not much new, just waiting for doctor’s visits, following up leads, and trying to catch up from jet lag! Thanks again for praying!

“I’m Leavin’ on a jet plane... don’t know when I’ll be back again”

Mon, 11 Jan 2010 20:17:45 -0900

Hello, friends from all over! Sorry for my long silence here on this blog. I’m writing from my Parent’s basement. It is finished so nicely into a great apartment, providing us with a little home for as long as we need it.

So much has happened in the last weeks. Returning from surgery, Holidays, sending off Dani, Dad, and Noah and Shaina to Ohio ahead of us, tests and visits in Anchorage, then the big trip down here. I’m exhausted! It’s good to be here safe and sound and reunited as a family. The children’s reunion at the airport was incredible. They were shouting each other’s names and embracing with gusto I couldn’t have dreamed of. Little Wesley kept shouting, “Wo-wah, Wo-wa!” That’s what he calls Noah, and they are still seeming to enjoy being all together again.

I have been meaning to type here for weeks that my chemo brain symptoms have totally left. Praise the Lord! Thanks to everyone who prayed, it was NOT permananet. My lymphedema has gotten much worse, my hand and wrist are constantly swollen, and unfortunately, typing seems to make it even worse. We’re doing massage and I’m wearing a pressurized sleeve and glove to help keep it down.

As a result, I’m not going to type much here, the swelling is already increasing. Soon I’ll try again, there’s lots I wish I could share. Jesus has been very near these last days, for the first time in many long months, I can sense His close comfort. God’s Word has been very alive, and I’m grateful for the truths I have been finding there.

For the sake of sparing typing, I’m going to copy a letter uf update I sent to our church in Nome. It will help you understand where we’re at and how to pray more clearly. Please do keep praying! When they talk about my “odds” the picture is rather bleak. Sometimes you just have to find something to laugh at, so here’s one from Kate.

She informed my Dad tonight that the “A B C D E H I K Truck” was here. He was a bit confused. Then I realized that Kate had heard Mom mention the U P S truck. It just sounded like random letters to her! :)

Here’s the letter to the church... I’ll write more as I can! Oh yes, one last thing, I have an appointment with a specialist but not till February. I can call daily to see if there are cancellations, and I’m praying that something will open up soon! I’ll keep you posted!

Letter...

Greetings to the saints who are in Nome!   Your prayers for us are of such precious importance that I wanted to be sure you were updated following our visits with the surgeon and oncologist in Anchorage.   Let me first of all remind you and myself that our hope is in God - HE who formed and sustains us.

I'm not sure how to share all of this briefly, so please excuse the bluntness.   There is no consensus among my doctors or those that they sent my reports to for counsel. My oncologist basically stated that the assumption is that because surgery found my lymph system so packed with the aggressive cancer that it has indeed spread to the rest of my body.   As far as we know it has not begun forming tumors, but my rate of recurrence elsewhere is extremely high.   (I interrupt with a happy thought... we serve a God who loves to show up and demonstrate His power when the odds are stacking up against success!)

Some feel that I should continue with radiation and nothing else, basically just hoping it doesn't show up elsewhere or at least not for a while.   Others feel that I should try some sort of chemo basically out of compassion.   It's a shot in the dark because there are very few cases of my exact situation, and absolutely no studies that suggest what drug would be right to treat this.   They feel better to try something and hope it would work than to just wait for it to show up again.   They have encouraged me to seek specialists and second opinions and basically left it up to us without a specific recommendation.   There is no tried method to help at this point.

Already the Lord has begun to open doors for us, the top breast specialist at Cleveland Clinic is a friend of a friend and willing to meet with us.   We meet with my radiation oncologist on Monday. We need wisdom and guidance, God alone knows what we should do and how He intends to work.   Thank you for praying for us.   Psalm 3 has been blessing me with it's reminder of where our confidence should be...

"Lord, how they are increased who trouble me! Many are saying, 'There is no help for her in God.' But You, O Lord, are a shield for me, my glory, and the lifter of my head.   Salvation belongs to the Lord."

Nathan would like me to add that he is very aware that Satan's goal in our trials is to get us to damn God.   But we will choose to praise God who has already conquered him.   The Lord reminded Nathan of a statement He had given on our wedding day.   "Sheep may safely graze where the Shepherd has led them to pasture." It may not feel safe, but if the Shepherd led us here, He is the One keeping watch.   In that knowledge, we trust and we praise.

We love you!   Carlee for Nathaniel and the hobbits

We’re Home in Nome!

Sun, 20 Dec 2009 21:44:19 -0900

Hello from my very own couch by my very own Christmas tree where my very own sweet children are sleeping in their little beds. Deep sigh of contentment...... I’m home! Gratefully we were able to return Saturday evening just before a blizzard hit.

I’m exhausted, after the slower pace in Anchorage, this day full of the children’s Christmas program followed by a church potluck and lots of children’s hugs in between has worn me out! It’s a good sort of feeling, though, and I am so grateful to be back with my family.

I have to return on Tuesday for another visit with my surgeon, but I can hopefully go in the morning and return in the evening without overnighting in Anchorage.

I’m still in a good bit of pain... more after a day of unintentional jostling from children... they’re trying to be careful but they’re also a bit forgetful. Gratefully, things seem to healing fairly well. Nerve pain in my arms is the biggest frustration, and that can only take time.

We have no new plans. My Dad is coming in on Tuesday so we are hoping to enjoy Christmas here in Nome as a family. In the beginning of January we are still planning to travel to Ohio to begin my radiation treatment. On the way there, we will meet with my doctors regarding any new plans for treatment. By then my reports will have returned from the specialists looking at them. Until then, we’re just hoping to enjoy some family time.

I’m so grateful for everyone’s prayers. A few specifics would be -

- For my continued healing, and that my body will absorb the fluid that it is retaining in my wounds (It has to be removed by needle and syringe by my surgeon. OUCH!)
- For protection from the rambunctious loving of my wee folks. I’m home, but can’t even lift the baby, so Mom and Dani are carrying so much of the load.
- Wisdom for doctors as they are examining my reports
- For Nathaniel as he tries to get back into work, but is very concerned for me as well. He’s bearing such a load and your prayers mean a lot.
- A praise to the Lord for the wonderful friends in Anchorage who ministered so deeply to us. God’s family is amazing!

We are so honored that you all take time out of your holidays to pray for us. God bless you!

A quick news brief

Tue, 15 Dec 2009 23:10:25 -0900

Hello everyone! Yup, Nathaniel and I are still here in Anchorage, and Mom and Dani are still holding down the fort in Nome. I just wanted to jump on and give a quick update, I know you all are praying for us and I am so grateful.

Today is eleven days after surgery, and it has been a long road. I was released Monday night, and recovery has been much slower than we had hoped, but at least it has been steady.

My drain on the left side (with only two lymph nodes removed) came out pretty quick. Ouch! The right side drain is where I had all of the lymph nodes removed, and it is still causing some trouble. I need it to drain less than 20 cc’s for two days straight before I can get it out (and go home!) and were at 30 cc’s today.

I’ve done almost nothing because I have had a lot of pain. But the last two days I’ve been feeling better, and last night I decided to try to scrapbook a little. We’re talking scissors, a little glue... and while reaching to the trash can I succeeded in ripping out my stitches on one of the tubes going into my side, thus pulling out the drain tube about an inch. WOW! I didn’t know scrapbooking was dangerous. It’s been very painful, but still seems to be draining.

I guess my prayer request is for the wounds to heal well and dry up so I can get the drains out, and for a decrease in the pain I am having. Most of all, just for the clean bill of health to head home to Nome. I have my herceptin infusion tomorrow, as well a few more doctor’s visits in the next days.

As far as our hearts, we’re swimming in some deep waters. Please keep praying, we were blessed with a teaching series from James McDonald about suffering. We’ve been going through it bit by bit, and the Lord is using it to strengthen our hearts.

I know it’s just a short post, but my arms have a hard time holding typing position for too long just now. May God be near and dear to you this Christmas!

My new weight loss program

Sat, 12 Dec 2009 06:54:55 -0900

Well, I wouldn’t suggest it to anyone, but as the nurse weighed me at my oncologists, I had indeed lost a few pounds. Mastectomy surgery has a way of doing that to you... and I think it was the only time I wasn’t glad to see the scale go down! Five babies in the last seven years hasn’t exactly been kind to my waistline. It surely has filled my house with treasure, though!

I lost more than my breasts last week, I lost a lot of blood. My counts were already low, and during surgery I received a transfusion of my own blood, I had donated it the week before. My doctors were pretty concerned and the day after surgery my counts hadn’t gone down, but hadn’t gone up really either. They said we’d talk transfusion on Sunday. By God’s grace, on Sunday my counts had begun to move up just a bit, and I didn’t have to do that.

My blood is still low, and recovery has been slow, so I would be grateful if you would keep praying that the Lord will help my body to restore itself. I am indeed so grateful for your prayers. There have been some very dark shadows this last week, but also some places of blessing and peace.

I also lost a lot of lymph nodes. Two on the left side, where we rejoice to report that NO CANCER was found. Hurray! Seventeen on the right side, where six showed signs of having been full of cancer that was destroyed by the chemo. Only scar tissue remained. Hurray again!

In the right breast, where my tumor had been 95% aggressive invasive, and only 5% of the low lying, slower moving, ductal carcinoma in situ - they found no trace of the aggressive cancer. It is gone. Hurray, Hurray, HURRAY! These are excellent results, and my spirits are preparing to soar...

But there is a silver bullet, splicing through that good news, that has been threatening to tail-spin Nathaniel and I. In one lymph node, a small aggressive tumor was found. It is tiny, just 1.2 centimeters. But it’s there. In my lymph node. The gateway to the rest of my body.

No one is sure how it survived the chemo that destroyed everything else. And no one knows if it is the only one... or if in the lymph nodes that remain in me, higher up and deeper in, if there are more little tumors.

Terrible thought and blessed thought! It isn’t gone! That horrible little tumor means that somewhere the aggressive cancer survived. We still don’t know if radiation can clean up what remains. What does remain? Yet it IS gone, that surgery means that tiny tumor is no longer spreading in me. Maybe by God’s grace it is the only one, and He guided my doctor’s hand so that she got it....

They also found extensive cancer in my lymph system, the ducts and pathways leading between them. The cancer had spread into them, possibly following those little roads to other destinations. Once again, there is no certainty that ALL has been removed of the lymph system. And thus we have radiation scheduled in January.

Hopefully radiation will clean it all up, get the little pieces that could have been left by surgery. That was the plan from the beginning. But that little tumor has my doctor’s scratching their heads. They have admitted their uncertainty, and my pathology reports are being sent to other experts around the country.

The other option is to take chemo again, this time DURING my radiation. Better results in killing the cancer perhaps, but also a much deeper toll on my body. That is the question being asked of these other specialists, is more chemo worth the risk? I desperately hope they say NO! And then, in my mind, I see the six sets of blue eyes that make up my sweet little family, and I’m determined to do whatever I must to beat this nasty thing.

The truth is, only God knows if there is more cancer and how we should beat it. I am crying out to Him that my reports would fall into that hands of wise counselors, and that once again He would guide and direct us as we choose treatment. How I praise Him for His guidance thus far! I came 99% of the way to choosing to NOT have my lymph nodes removed, I was certain cancer was not there. But my peace eroded, and I prayerfully changed my mind. How I have rejoiced that as a result, that little aggressive tumor is gone from me!

We wanted a quick, easy recovery. It has been slow and hard. We wanted a clear cut clean pathology report. It has filled us with questions and uncertainty. In all honesty, it felt like a death sentence yesterday. Maybe I’m not going to get better. It has been a really hard thought to face again.

I was crying in a restaurant last night, Nathan had stepped away from the table and my tears were flowing. Wow, satan jumps on bad new with a lot of dark thoughts, and I was suddenly drowning in them. Like a shaft of light, Truth broke through. My trust is not in a pathology report! It never has been, and it never will be. My trust is in the Lord! He is my Keeper, my Maker.... He knows if there is more cancer and what the end result will be. He will be faithful through this all, I know it. I would be rejoicing if all is well, but that could have been because the Doctor had missed the tumor in the lymph node. No, truly, my only trust is in the Lord.

So that brings us up to this morning, where I’m still going through the kleenex as I write this. We’re a bit worn down by a week of pain and loss. How grateful I am for the prayers of so many, for the loving kindness of dear friends and fellow believers here in Anchorage that has blessed and uplifted us.

It seems like we’ll be here in Anchorage at least through the 17th. I’m missing my wee ones with an intense ache, but I know they’re doing well in the care of Mimi and Aunt Dani. I think my blood restoration has a lot to do with my slow recovery, and I am praying that my counts will return to healthy and that I can soon be stronger and in less pain.

Thank you a thousand times, dear people that hold us in your hearts and prayers. Pray for my sweet husband, his burden is great. Pray for my Mom too, she went through all of this here and then off to care for wee ones and It’s a lot to bear. Pray that we would be faithful to the Lord and the Truth in the face of many questions. And please pray, that if it would be the Lord’s will, that this cancer would indeed be destroyed, that radiation would be successful, and that I get to be Nathaniel’s wife and my children’s Mommy for a LONG time!

Surgery Tomorrow

Thu, 3 Dec 2009 21:10:51 -0900

This picture struck me as I was looking for something to open this blog post. What a happy day our wedding was! This man that God had blessed me with swept me off my feet and carried me into this unknown of marriage. Eight years later we are limping a bit, neither of us so strong as to carry each other, but these years have taught us both to lean hard on the third member of our union.... Almighty God. What a relief that tomorrow isn’t dependent on just us.

7:30 AM I head in for prep for my 9:00 AM surgery. I will have a bi-lateral mastectomy, the right side will have all of the lymph nodes removed as well due to the cancer found in those nodes this summer. The left side will have only a few lymph nodes removed, it’s mostly a precaution, but there is a slight possibility of cancer being there as well.

I don’t have much to say, honestly not feeling very chatty tonight. I am so grateful for the prayers of you dear people who are carrying our burden along with your own. Grateful for Ruthann who just arrived in Nome to help my brother and sister with the children, grateful for my dear Mother who is by my side once again, and for Nathaniel... still the man that I love! We’re none of us mighty, Please keep praying!

I guess I just want to declare that I still trust the Author of my biography. I still love Him, and I will take difficult places as a child of God over any peaceful palace far from Him. He’s not FEELING very near tonight, but I was told long ago to never doubt in the darkness that of which I was certain in the light.

iTunes is playing Aaron Espe in the background, a young musician who came here to Nome several years ago. His song “Be bold, Son” just came on, I’m taking it as my word for tonight from my Father in heaven.....

“Don’t look back, you’ve come so far,
It’s safe where you are.

Don’t be scared, you’re not alone,
so far from home.

And don’t play timid, don’t play cold,
Be bold, Son! Be bold, Son.
You’ll wish you had when the day is done,
Be bold, Son! Be bold, Son.

Look ahead, that’s where you’ll be.
Do you believe me?

And don’t be scared ‘cause you’ve gone so far,
It’s safe where you are.

And don’t play timid, don’t play cold,
Be bold, Son! Be bold, Son.
You’ll wish you had when the day is done,
Be bold, Son! Be bold, Son.

Sing out, sing out, sing out!

I do believe You, and I will sing.

Longings

Sun, 8 Nov 2009 15:22:33 -0900

“I have come home at last! This is my real country! I belong here. This is the land I have been looking for all of my life, though I never knew it till now. The reason why we loved the old Narnia is that it sometimes looked a little like this.” - Jewel the Unicorn

This ranks with my favorite quotes of all times. It stirs my soul. Just as we laugh at jokes we can identify with, I love this so deeply because I see myself here. I’m having one of those unsettled days. Do you ever have them? You find yourself sad for no reason... no not quite sad. More of a sense of LONGING.

This quote is from C.S. Lewis’ “The Last Battle.” It takes place as the few faithful Narnian’s have actually met their death in the final battle, and in walking through a great door, have found themselves in a new land, a country they have never been to, yet it is so familiar. They begin to realize that the Narnia they had loved was really just a shadow, and THIS is the true Narnia, the place they were always destined for.

It is a picture of heaven. Those senses of longing that seem to have no source and no resolution, the ability to be laughing and suddenly end with a sigh... I firmly believe it is because this is not our home. We are living in the shadowlands, and our spirits long for our real country.

I was napping in the living room this Sunday afternoon but found myself feeling uneasy. “Why am I sad, Jesus?” It’s been a pretty good day overall, I stayed home with the kiddos from church but we had a good little church service of our own. Shaina led the singing (Jesus loves me) and Kate was supposed to take the offering. First she brought up her Bible to our piano bench pulpit and preached a little abstract sermon... something about Baby Jesus being so cute and getting a new pacifier when he was sad. Three year old theology isn’t real deep. :) Noah preached about Moses, and ended with the thought that if we are bad we get plagues but that if we are good we won’t. My brother and sister were here for lunch, my husband’s hair is getting long and starting to curl the way I love it, my teething baby smiled and tried to chew on my chin... what more could a girl want?

And yet my heart is restless, longing. Since I couldn’t figure out why, In figured I should ask the One who knows me better than I know myself. In just a moment or so, that quote popped into my mind, and my heart smiled a sad smile of understanding. Oh, yes! I sometimes forget... this isn’t my country! I’m a stranger here, at war with the accepted ideals and modes of operating. My body bears the battle scars that Eden never would have allowed, and my citizenship is elsewhere. I am longing today for heaven, for a glimpse of the One who understands things that boggle my mind, and for the rest from toiling that is a constant of life here on earth.

I don’t feel so sad now that I understand the source of the sorrow. It isn’t one that is without remedy, but it does require waiting, trusting, and investing in my true home. It is funny how cancer has a way of making you cling tighter to life and this world here... and yet in the same breath it makes you hold a bit more loosely and long a lot more for the rest and relief of heaven. And maybe the understanding that will come to questions we have here. Somehow, though, I don’t think the questions will be all that important in the light of eternity. As they say in the true Narnia... we’ll be too busy going “further up and further in!”

8 Years with my best friend

Fri, 30 Oct 2009 00:16:48 -0800

It’s late and I need to get to bed, but it’s been way too long since I’ve updated this site! I am excitedly nearing the end of this final chemo round, and gratefully feeling my strength increase. We had some hard days... the neulasta pain was finally managed by some strong pain medicine, and began to fade the next day. How grateful I am that didn’t happen every time!

We’ve been so busy here. Nathan managing the tobacco awareness table at the community heath fair here in Nome, and I was given an opportunity to speak at the annual Walk for the Cure event also here in Nome.

I had four strong days in a row... lots of energy and so much to do found me overdoing it a bit... and I crashed pretty hard last night. Dear Danielle kept the kids away from my room, and Nathaniel stole away my ipod alarm, and I slept some long deep hours as a result. I’m feeling stronger, and determined to go a little slower over the next few days. :)

We have set my surgery date, it is December 4th. Nathan is headed down for his Dad’s wedding just before that. To our sadness, the children and I will not be attending. We so wish we could be there, but my strength is just not sufficient for that trip before surgery.

My Mom will be with us during surgery, and a dear friend from Ohio, Ruthann Glaser, is coming to be a helping hand for Danielle with the children. Mom will then stay in Nome for December, and my Dad is also hoping to come so we can all have Christmas together there. Sometime in early January we’ll make the pilgrimage back to Ohio for my radiation.

So that’s a brief update. The highlight of my week was definitely the hours Nathan and I had away at the cabin together. What a gift to spend eight years of our life together! These last months have been a test of those vows we said so long ago. I tell you the truth, Nathaniel said it, meant it, and has been faithfully by my side through all of this. Thank you, Lord for such a husband and friend!

limping Along... towards the chemo finish line

Tue, 20 Oct 2009 23:23:49 -0800

Well, I’m getting a little desperate here... so I thought I’d give a shout out for some extra prayer support. It’s been a slow bounce back with this round of chemo. Umm, actually the bounce back hasn’t really started yet. My energy is low to non-existent, and I’ve been in pretty severe pain this afternoon and evening, I think as a result of my neulasta shot. As it encourages white blood cell production in my body, it’s making my bones ache.

Dani is a saint, working her heart out around here. She even rigged this hot pack out of a hat from the girl’s dress up box and bunch of rice - it brought a bit of relief, and I was so grateful. I don’t know what I would do without her!

So, I just thought I’d ask you all that are praying for us to keep it up, pray that I would get some relief from the bone aches, that my energy would increase, and for Dani and Nate as they are doing so much to care for the children and me.

Thanks to all of you who are praying and encouraging us... I’m reminded of the footprints in the sand poem, how in the hard places the Lord carried them. I know He is doing that for us, but I also know that the last steps to the top of the mountain can be the hardest!