Chapter 2

  One of the things I have learned after having cancer last year was that from the easiest things in life to some of the most difficult challenges all start by just showing up.  Just show up.  Want a new job, just show up for that interview.  Want to learn a new skill, just show up the class you signed up for.  Want to start going to church again... just show up.  And so, want to fight cancer?  Make sure you show up to surgery.  Jen and I woke up that morning, got the kids ready for school, made lunches, and told them that we were going to get whatever is inside of me out.  Jen dropped me off that morning while it was still dark.  I have a selfie of myself with my covid mask on, alone in the waiting room that I sent to Jen while I was waiting to be called back.  Just being dumb, but also a little nervous.  So many things of last year have blurred together and its hard to separate this pre-op with the 6 others that were going to follow.  The drugs they give you before you get formally knocked out are pretty legit.  You relax in a way that everything just is floating by.  It is at this point that I begin to lose solid memories of what happened.

As a mom, I've tried really hard to give our kids normalcy. After adopting Zach, structure, routines, and intentionality became major foundational blocks for our whole family. We had the framework, but a child with special needs requires a great system. I wanted that morning to be normal so the kids wouldn't freak out. We have always been straightforward with them and told them that Tim had a blockage and we were going to get it out. And when they had the same questions we did, I told them we didn't know, but would have answers soon. It's difficult with older children and you owe them honesty. We found being direct helped them come to us with questions, not go to the internet. I think I waited in Wellstar that day for 6-8 hours. After the surgeon gave me the diagnosis, he told me he would call when Tim got settled into his post-op room. I was way overdue with some phone calls. I walked outside to finally take a deep breath and I went and sat in my car. The first call was to his parents, second was to mine, and then I sent out a few texts until I could get the bandwidth to have another conversation. Tim's parents were immediately positive that Tim was going to beat this and were they really sure this is what it was. I get that because our defense is, this must be wrong, surely its not Stage IV. My parents were very quiet. With virtually no information about treatment or a plan, it was difficult to tell them all this very heavy news. Especially when Stage 4C cancer is the last stage you can have. I just wanted to tell them and hang up because I couldn't answer any of their questions. Within minutes, my friend Katie showed up and my sister had somehow also gotten herself on the hospital floor where Tim was going to be taken to. She was already talking to nurses, getting permission for our kids to come up, and rattling off how we were going to get this done. Katie started talking to me about chemo, surgery, doctors, where to go, where not to go, and how she had helped her husband beat his aggressive cancer over and over and that it was time to be the bulldog. It was immediately easier to divert all of my attention to a plan, the fight, next steps. YES, lets fight this and not dwell here. Let's blow up the phones and not think about how in the literal hell did Tim have so much cancer inside his body. He's the healthiest person in our family. Active, slim and muscular, eats healthy, great routines, exercises, and running a company while ongoing construction. How could he be sick? When did this happen? What red flags did we miss? There were no logical answers. This was a complete punch in the gut and while we were all saving Tim.... I remembered Tim didn't even know he had cancer. I decided when he was coherent enough to have a conversation and ask, I would tell him. They told me a team would be in at 6am to meet with him and I didn't want him ambushed. I was finally taken to his room and he immediately asked, "What was it?" I knew he heard me, but had no idea the full weight because he didn't seem to really hear it. He was on so many drugs. He told me he felt great and was going to go back to sleep. And in that moment I knew I wasn't going to sleep for a very long time and the war was on. 

The very next thing I remember is that I'm in a dark room and I see Jen's parents by the door sneaking a look at me.  I'm in and out, but honestly, I remember so little.  Based off what Jen told me, I barely remember her coming in and telling me I have cancer.  It is interesting that I do remember the doctor coming in and talking to us about my new condition.  I remember not having a lot of emotions, I wasn't really even sad or scared.  My mind never even entertained the idea that I could die.  Other than flashes of cognizant memory, I would go back to the haze.  I even forgot I was in the hospital for days.  I couldn't tell you how many people visited, and which family members stopped in.   However,  I do remember our good friend Maggie came by and I thought it would be really funny if someone brought be the loneliest, saddest single balloon that was half deflated and tied it to my bed.  All these other people had huge balloon bouquets and flowers, and then you come to my room and I have this dumb thing tied to my bed.  It was stupid, but really funny at the same time. As we are writing this, I am reading back through Jens comments above and even my pictures in my phone to jog my memory.  The hospital stay was a blurr, but one of the things that jogged my memory is seeing pictures of my incomplete deck on my house when I came back home.  I worked so hard to get it finished before everything, but no such luck.  And so, during my recovery, I was told I was only allowed to lift objects under 10 pounds.  Well, I learned that my impact drill weights less than 10 lb's.  So does a pressure treated 2x4.  I literally weighed a 2x4 on a scale so when Jen would inevitably yell at me for doing more than I should be doing I could say that I'm allowed to because its less than 10lbs.  So there.  Some days, I would literally only put in like 4 screws or cut and install one board.  My kids would set up my miter saw and pick up heavier boards and put them in place.  But we never stopped moving that ball forward.  Not sure if it was symbolic to me or why I kept pushing this project forward.  Perhaps I kind of saw this as regardless what was going on, we were going to keep pushing life forward even if it was one board and one screw at a time.

Right before I took Tim home, I think we stayed around 5 days, I got a phone call from a long time friend named Ashley. It was a rare moment when I could talk so I answered. She was exactly who I needed to talk to in that moment and here's why. I had spent all day at the hospital on the phones. Tim needed a very specialized plan for where his cancer had gone to treat it. It had basically been let loose everywhere in his abdomen and had planted and started growing. He needed aggressive and immediate treatment, but Emory could not see him until 8-12 weeks. Emory had been bought, there was a high G.I. Department turnover, and they understood the severity of my situation, but that was the deal. I was also frustrated because since he had a massive surgery and 30 staples down the front, the earliest I was told that he could be seen was 4 weeks due to recovery. No way I was waiting until 8-12, we were going somewhere at the 4 week mark. So, my phone rings and I talk to Ashley. Her dad is a doctor in Corpus Christi, Texas and her parents are the best people you know. She said, Doc says get on a plane and go to MDAnderson immediately, he has a connection with a board member and she's going to call you. I am speechless. Still trying to process Tim got sick, surgery, cancer, and now Texas. Things were starting to get overwhelming. I tell her he has a minimum of 4 weeks and she said then get out there at 4 weeks and 1 day. I finished packing up our room trying to figure out how we were going to drop everything and go be in Texas logistically. Waves of complete anxiety would come over me and there was no end in sight. We were in a crisis. We had a business that was about to hit its busiest season of the year, 3 teenagers with very busy schedules and not to mention the one with special needs that requires a lot. How in the world were we going to do this. I felt chest pain at times and was doing everything I could and it wasn't enough, I knew I needed medicine. All I have ever taken medication-wise is my daily thyroid medication, no other experience, but my doctor decides to call in Xanax and I'm sure I wasn't listening and so all I heard was "Take as needed." What I needed was this higher dose every day so I completely never asked or thought it would be a problem. I am embarrassed that I had no idea, but also maybe glad I didn't even know you aren't supposed to take it like that. I genuinely felt every day in the beginning like I was drowning and had to make huge medical decisions for my husband while caring for him and running our life. One morning, I pulled in the driveway and never got out of the car. I spoke to a good friend, Dan, who educated me on basically the entire healthcare system and how to play this. People like Dan were so generous with their time to just talk to me, just listen, and provide whatever answers or direction they could.  When you have cancer, you aren't talking about deductibles anymore, this is next level.  I spent 7 days straight on the phone when we got home and through that initial contact from my friend, I got records transferred, insurance to cover it, flights, hotels, appointments booked, and Tim was accepted into MDAnderson at the 4 week and 1 day mark. Wheels up. 

My sense of urgency and Jen's sense of urgency seemed to be at different places.  She absolutely allowed me to focus on recovering and to help keep our company going.  But she saw the whole chess board, thinking many moves out.  Many appointments were made that I knew nothing of.  She went into a go-mode that I have not seen before, and that is saying a lot! I did not however, realize either the impact or that she was taking Xanax every day, but she most certainly was triaging our situation.  I'd come in our bedroom after several hours and saw calendars, notebooks and insurance paperwork everywhere.  At the least, I knew that our locally available medical resources were not going to cut it and we would be going on a trip.  After hearing the news, a long time friend and mentor called and said, "I'm not sure if you need a plane ticket or money or whatever, but I don't have a lot of friends and I'm not planning on losing one to to cancer.  You need to leave Atlanta and head to MD Anderson in Houston and start there."   Thanks Jim.  That was well received.

Our kids took the news as best as they could. We told them it was cancer, but we were going to seek out the best treatment in the country and beat this. For the days that followed the hospital, there were many difficult questions and scenarios we faced trying to communicate with our loved ones and have our affairs in order as we started to digest our future and possible outcomes. Numb is the best word we can use to describe where we were and having to deal with the whirlwind of emotions around us was very hard. The week in the hospital was our 18th wedding anniversary and we were supposed to be trekking Machu Picchu. Oh, how our plans can change on a dime. It was a whiplash of a situation and I remember waking up every day and asking God to miraculously work through me and to do whatever it would take for my husband to live. This was definitely not what our anniversary was supposed to look like.

Chapter 1- Diagnosed

We don't want to forget what we survived. Tim wanted to document and write this story together. This is our journey with Stage 4 Colon Cancer. I do not have a medical degree or background, I am just a wife that advocated for her husband. Happy to be a resource to anyone in the fight.  This timeline will be part of a book I am writing on Advocacy. Tim and I swap off writing each paragraph and it's pretty obvious, starting with Tim. XO

My family and I went to a ski condo on the east coast at Beech Mountain with our friends for New Years Eve.  The plan was to spend a day or so skiing and then ring in 2022 with a good view and good friends.  Obviously life doesn't always go to plan and while we were at the mountains, I had what I believed to be food poisoning.  I spent hours in a ball throwing up in the upstairs bathroom and for a day and a half and just felt terrible. So much time was spent in the bed feeling like crap, but then, nothing.  I slowly pulled out of a hole and eventually felt fine.  Even had a bourbon with Thatcher before we left and life ensued as usual.  Just a weird experience, I never had food poisoning before.  We packed and up and then just headed home to start the year.

Between myself and Stephanie sharing 29 years of experience in motherhood and decades of being wives, we immediately knew it was not food poisoning since everyone had eaten the same things. We laughed about the time we thought Thatcher had "man flu", but turns out he had shattered his heel... whoops. We red flagged this incidence as odd because Tim does not ever get sick and wished for better days ahead in this fresh new year. As soon as we got home, I rang in my 40th birthday with Covid. I had a pretty bad case and was down for 2 weeks. Since Tim had been sick, I quarantined so everyone else would stay well starting the school year back. I did not feel like celebrating and was desperately getting well for a once a year logistics meeting I help pull off in Las Vegas for some family.

This was a little bit of a rough start to the year, but whatever.  Just keep moving, just keep looking forward and then you eventually forget the little snags life throws at you.  We got home from the mountains and just resumed the hustle of our life.  Over the years, if you asked me what are 'hobbies' I do or what do I do for fun, it really depends when you ask me that question.  I have MANY.  Everything can grab my attention to a degree.  But the one thing that has remained consistent is I love working on my home. And not in a little, I built a garden box type way.  Kind of a 'I should have pulled permit for that' kind of way, but too late now so oh well.  My first project of 2022 was to start building our deck, which the size and scope slightly got out of hand, but just say yes, start the project, and figure out the details later.  I felt good.  I was feeling good and had big plans for the year.  A few weeks roll by and a crazy thing happens.  My food poisoning bug hits again.  This time, its was proceeded by a really stressful conversation.  As I am walking back to the parking lot, my stomach just goes upside down.  Again, I'm down for a day and a half and I'm fine.  Maybe its stress or maybe its food issues, didn't really think twice about it.  Literally, life goes back to normal.  I'm exercising, I'm having great rhythm of waking up and reading, and not just stupid political fiction thrillers, actual leadership books.  This is still a good year.  

I am off to Vegas and things are still weird. Weird start to the year, weird birthday, lots of weird. Tim also had another weird round of stomach pains he mentioned and had gone down again right before I left. It seemed to be triggered by stress so I was now worried, but out of state. The crap always seems to hit the fan when I would leave to go out of town. In Vegas one year on this same event, I got the call from DFACS that we matched with Zach and when could we come meet him. So that was a fun phone call home to let Tim know we were getting another kid. I hadn't heard from Tim on this specific day and I was half way through the trip. He was sick for the 3rd time. My gut said it was time for action. So I pulled triggers again from Vegas. I had our neighbor and family, Michael, come pick him up and drive him to the ER. Kind of like a 'surprise' because I knew he wasn't going to comply. I then called his dad to come stay with the kids since I was with his mom on the female powerhouse logistics team run by his aunt. Tim's mom and Michael's mom are sisters and she is my partner while on these trips. I grabbed her hand and said, "Mary Kay, Michael is driving Tim to the ER, its time to pray."

For what its worth, I'm not one of those guys that is just belligerent and overly macho to the point where I wont see a doctor.  I take medicine and  I actively make fun of those people that ignore some terrible injury or sickness and say everything is fine.  Jen likes to put me in that camp, but she's wrong.  And so yes, I had yet another 'episode' while Jen is gone.  This one seems a little more serious.  I remember being on the bathroom floor just on the struggle bus because I couldn't get very far from the toilet because nothing was staying down.  And so, my cousin Michael just 'randomly' shows up and says we are going to the ER. Fine. I'll go.

Exactly my point, I am not wrong Tim, I had you hijacked and bodysnatched to get you to the hospital. We were still in "patient only" Covid times so Tim was by himself and my sister was on speaker phone with him interpreting doctor information.... or lack thereof. I knew two things that night. We were never going back to that hospital and I immediately scheduled him for a colonoscopy. They had seen "inflammation" in his GI track, later we would show MDAnderson the disk and they would say, "Oh its clear as day, here's a 7cm mass right here on the scan they missed." It didn't matter because we would discover this mass a week later at his colonoscopy and I was on a warpath to get information.

So Jen, aka, Junior Holy Spirit, likes to make things happen in mysterious ways when she wants things to happen.  I didn't feel like i really had an option of going to the ER that day.  All the way from Vegas, she orchestrated my little visit.  The doctors did some blood work and labs.  They even did a CT scan that apparently showed some inflammation, but nothing more.  I'm not sure if anyone else has had this same experience, but when you go the the ER or any doctor really, there ends up being no conclusive reason as to what you have.  They say it could be this or it could be that, we are just not really sure.  Here are some fluids, some pain meds and perhaps you follow up with someone else.  Whatever.  I'm fine. I'm going back home. 

Little did Tim know, I was coming in hot off the plane and Covid seemed like a distant memory. I was fueled by adrenaline and anger. I have had many jokes this year how sometimes all you need to win a fight is caffeine and anger. I was angry our year was already a mess. This was 40. I was angry he was sick. I was angry I missed a leadership exchange when I was out of town. Good thing I was tossing off hats and finishing my logistics job because there was only one hat I was going to be wearing for a long time, Health Logistics Manager. That is what Tim started introducing me as at all his appointments. I would normally have to expound and say, "Hi, I'm Jen. I'm also his wife. I'm also recording all of this as we move through this appointment and get some questions answered." Nothing like getting just the facts mam when you go on the record. We followed up with a GI specialist and the colonoscopy was scheduled.

Oh yeah!  I forgot.  In November I literally turned 40 and all this crappy health stuff happened.  I keep telling people to not turn forty.  Its a terrible idea.  So far, being forty has not been a great experience.  And sadly yes....  I started calling Jen my personal health logistics manager.  I'm not entirely sure if thats a real job, but it should be.  I would imagine that it would have taken a decent more time before I would have gone to that initial ER visit.  I think she even told to me record what that ER doctor said.  Perhaps I'm a little defensive in some areas, but she definitely pulled the rip cord way before I would have. 
      Because she loves me and cares for me, Jen inserted herself into the health logistics manager role.  I did not ask her to do this, she just did.  At he same time, I need everyone to know this, I really don't fall into the stereotypical helpless male role.  I can cook pretty darn good, (thanks dad) I do dishes and absolutely am a pretty good co-parent.  The point is, for whatever reason, being an independent, non-helpless guy,  I absolutely took a back seat when it came to managing the tidal wave of doctors appointments that were coming.  

I think everyone needs an advocate in a crisis. You can't physically be down and mentally start fighting battles. Tim was not in a great spot so I wanted him to just rest and get ready for the onslaught of appointments that we didn't even know was about to hit us. I dropped him off at the door for his colonoscopy in about a weeks turnaround from Vegas, and again with Covid protocol, could not go inside. Instead of sitting in my car going insane, I decided to go get a drive-through coffee and go back home and let the dogs out to kill time. They said this could take a couple of hours because they were behind. I remember where I was. I was standing at our back door watching our dogs in the yard and my phone rang. All I heard was sobbing on the other end, the doctor could barely get words out. "It's bad, it's really bad. There is a mass, we couldn't finish the scope. He needs surgery and to get this out as soon as possible, its blocking his GI track." I dropped to the floor. All the blood seemed to leave my body and I was weak. I couldn't walk, let alone drive. I called my mom and I don't know where she was, but she appeared within minutes and drove me right back to Tim. We waited in the car for him and he finally came out, huge smile, definitely drugged and no idea how his scan went. He was obviously confused at why I was distraught and why my mom was driving me and I'm direct so I just let it all out and said, "Tim you have a mass, its blocking the whole GI, they took a biopsy and we won't know for a few days, but they've called a GI surgeon because this has to come out immediately." In true fashion, I believe his response was something along the lines of, "I actually feel pretty great right now and would really like some pancakes or something."

I might have said that, I vaguely remember that. Much of this story will be Jen jogging my memory or me looking at her as we write this and me saying, "did I really say that or did that really happen?"  Well, turns out as you turn 40, maybe you should get a colonoscopy.  Since my buddy Alan had seen this same doctor before, he and I kept joking about the doctor that was going to do the procedure. She looked like a beautiful TV doctor who happened to do colonoscopies.  Neither of us got her number by the way. Honestly, I only kind of remember seeing her once in a previous appointment and then another time right before they knocked me out I said "Yall have fun" and I was out.  However, one of the things that struck me was when Jen told me my doctor called her crying to tell her that it all looked bad.  Seriously, who does that??  You are not allowed to be a doctor that sees human patients if you are not able to deliver difficult news to your loved ones.  What a great way to freak the crap out of your family.  I'm still moderately pissed about that.

Actually Tim, the age they say to get a colonoscopy is 45 or if you have symptoms. I wish everyone could start getting screened at 30, really. I also have looked into full body scanners to just start running them on everyone I know. I know there can be blood testing markers, but preventative screening could save a lot of lives for what my 2 cents are worth. Biopsy comes back clear, but with an asterisk.... they couldn't get a good sample. Off to surgery we go, regardless of what it is, it has to come out or he will continue to throw up because it's a blockage. All these doctors are networked and I like the GI surgeon so one week later, surgery is on. This is when Tim's diet becomes limited, lots of broth from my friend and Chef Dana. So much broth, we again made jokes we were running a brothel. My friends kept my spirits up, head high, and aggressively checked in on me. He had to eat limited since it was blocking everything almost completely so he could get some type of food through. Surgery day... guess what? They allowed one person to be in the waiting room. Finally! But, just me. I thought I would be ok. I had prayer happening everywhere. Lots of texts. Friends in Florida texting from a retreat. A close childhood friend, Katie, basically circling Marietta. Circles of small groups I didn't even know all linked to the family praying. I stopped getting updates, the nurses line went silent. I saw peoples status move to post op. Tim's bubble was not moving. Surgery was going way too long. I was starting to pace in a waiting room where they didn't allow pacing because you had to stay on your "X" that was social distanced from the other "X's". I look up and see Tim's surgeon. This was odd. No one else's surgeon was coming to the waiting room. "Mrs. Willis, can you come with me?" I remember walking, but I don't remember where we went. He jiggled a few doorknobs and rooms were locked so he sat in the middle of a hallway. "Mrs. Willis can you sit down with me?" He was kind, gentle, you could tell he loved his patients.  He started drawing a picture and everything I tried to look at was blurry. "Mrs. Willis your husband has Stage 4 Colon Cancer, here is where it has spread to." I still have his drawing, but I stopped watching him draw. I didn't record that conversation. I sat in the floor looking at my 200 unread text messages all asking, "Any updates on Tim?" 

An Open Letter: The Fight Against Stage 4

 To my Treasure of a Husband, 

    Tonight is the night before your surgery. At 6am, they will come to take you back. I’m glad you finally saw things my way that if there was any way I was sleeping, it was going to be right here with you and not at the hotel. There are so many emotions tonight that I wanted to share them with you and why. Often I bulldoze our path, next steps, and focus on “the next right thing”, but there hasn’t been a lot of time to just really summarize our life since March 9th. This was the day when you were throwing up and a possible blockage turned out to be Stage 4 Colon Cancer. It was a surgery that didn’t go as planned and me being pulled out of the waiting room and having to tell you and our families they found cancer. 

You need to know that I am okay. Eyes wide open. We know what this surgery is this time. Unlike last time, we are not blindsided and I am not informing you of a life altering diagnosis when you wake up. We’ve had months to prepare for this war. And tomorrow is D-Day. I am ready, you are ready, God has let us know we are ready. This is our path for a cure. Here’s my heart.

    Grateful. As weird of an emotion as this is to start with, life changes to an entirely different lens when a diagnosis like this is given. We have been together since we were literally teenagers at 18 and there have been seasons where I am like, When is this going to be over? I can’t live like this forever. Everything feels so difficult. Whether it was during job transitions, pregnancy, adoption, parenting, or even just marriage, life can feel overwhelming at times. I think late stage cancer has made us both so grateful. I don’t know if we’ve ever in our history celebrated and been this reflective as we have in the past few months, but I am convinced we will never be the same in the best way.

    Inspired. As an Enneagram 7, you see the fun and you make the fun. Everywhere we go, no one knows that you are sick. Even after 6 rounds of chemo and surgery hours away, you draw art, crack jokes, and are the person I just want to be around all the time. I love our counselor and also love that she told you, this is authentic. And it’s authentic because you live and do your passions while sick. If you were under stress, masking it, having fake positivity… there wouldn’t be art, meaningful work, and joy coming from you. Its the most inspiring thing I’ve seen. Your heart and soul are at rest and it shows by how you live. You are my absolute hero for living life loud despite any diagnosis. I believe it is a huge part of your healing. I stand in awe as I know there is no way this would be my own demeanor if this were flipped.

    Sadness. Cancer has opened my eyes to all those on the battlefield. It doesn’t discriminate. It doesn’t play fair. The same person can have the same type of cancer with the same treatment, and have many different outcomes. Labs, genes, diets, mind over matter, maybe some magical X Factor, but all I know is there is not a plan. The plan changes. Cancer does what it wants and most patients are told , “lets see what happens with this treatment”.  My planning only goes so far. I can’t fix labwork, make treatment work, and know the outcome. It also can come on silently, no symptoms. It’s a reminder to me that you get one body. You making time for it, putting good things in it, and prioritizing your health all come to the frontlines when its time to fight. I know I will struggle with this reality of cancer and disease and look at health entirely different forever. Because you prioritized your health, you were able to receive treatment. The sadness has also been people in your boat turned away because they were not in a place to receive it. The Lord has held me in the space of people battling sickness.

    Fear. Million dollar question… Will it come back? How do you know if it does? This question has rattled around in the back of my mind during this whole fight. You are not scared about that. Maybe it’s because God knows how long you’ve been living with it and didn’t know anyways, but I think its because you are someone who lives without regret. Some people call you a high risk taker, others call it faith, and I say its both. You live big and take opportunities when other people are afraid to. I heard a friend say you were lucky one time and you disagreed. You told him you had said yes and failed so many times, but saying yes a few times had opened doors and been life changing decisions for the better because you weren’t afraid of failing. I love what our friend Paul told you, who is a survivor. He said, “You will go for your scans several times a year. I don’t get anxious about what’s on the scans. I pray its clear and then if there is something that pops up, I know I can beat it because I already have. They will be all over it if it does.”

    Love. 22 years ago, I knew the second we met you were going to be my husband. When we flew out to Texas to get a plan in place with MDAnderson, we cried together for the first time about our situation. I was hurting for you, but I knew you were hurting for me. We held together this beautiful life we have built with hard places, humble beginnings, a lot of loss early on with pregnancies, building our homes and our family together, ministry, adoption, winning battles for special needs, starting a successful company, buying a 100 year old house, building community, loving difficult people,  and our very very dear teenagers. So much purpose and passion. It’s all yours, Lord. We give it all to you. We lift if up and ask for your powerful healing. We love you more than what we have. Tim, I love you in every possible way and my love comes out as a sword when there needs to be a way. Thank you for loving God, loving me, loving people, and loving what you do. You told me 2 days ago, I love when people I know meet you because then I feel like they actually know me better with us together. I feel the same way.

    Hope. Out of the gate, you claimed Isaiah 42:16. That was your response to cancer. You didn’t need the plan because you were okay with step by step. Hope has been our mantra, our theme, our path to winning. You were strong from Day 1…. High fives not hugs, Go Fight Win, people cheering you on and not being sad. Because hope is being sure of what you hope for and certain of what you don’t see. And its been an anchor for the both of us. 

The only time I can’t be with you is during the operation, it may go all day. I am praying, trusting, believing, and hoping for 100% removal, no cell left behind. I will wait and claim perfect peace. You have conquered one surgery, busted out treatment, and here we are. We are at the finish line of getting it out. Who knew we’d be in Baltimore, but God opened doors for one of the pioneers and best in the country for this specific procedure. I believe God will heal you, that He made our bodies to heal, and that our life is a testimony to Him. Months ago, when doors were opening, treatment was underway, I looked up what it really looked like to praise God. After reading a million things I landed on this…. Our obedience is our praise to Him. Continuing to follow, listen, obey.. That is the highest praise I can think of.

Here we are Lord, do what only You can do. 

Love with my entire heart,

Your very adoring wife

Push the Domino

 I wish this post could be over a cup of coffee. We are ending another year and for me, I am ending a decade that closes out in a little over 2 weeks.

I am not a big fan of New Year's resolutions because a lot of people make them and there is not plan of action to follow it and I am a big planner. (Hi, I'm also an Enneagram 8). There can be toxic positivity, anxiety, and fear of failing that all impact people planning or failing to plan. None of that makes you look forward to something so its not a great foundation to start on. If you have a strong desire to be intentional, but also don't want expectations hanging over you, read along. We have packed a whole lot of life in and say yes to open doors and here are some things to think about as you pray and plan over your New Year. 

1. Life is a gift. If you aren't in the right head space, shift your perspective. Start with what you are the most grateful for and what your biggest accomplishments are. Many people don't get to write those things down this year. In different seasons, we experience great loss or sickness because in this world we will have trouble. Take heart. Look up. There are things in your life that are a gift and they need to be recognized before you can plan. If this is hard for you, pray to see gratitude. There were holiday seasons that I sat in some darkness after losing pregnancies. Sit where you are, but shift your eyes.

2. A year isn't a year. About 10 years ago, I sat inside an event that was a leadership conference. It was with the top executives of a very successful company and the professor was from Harvard. He spoke on something that changed the way I planned and lived. A year isn't a year. If you say, "I want to _______ this year", and that is the extent of your goal, it will not happen. It's time to get specific. Whether its a new job, entering into the dating world, adoption, travel, planting a church, giving, whatever, name what's on your heart specifically." Then, instead of 12 months, you have roughly four 12 week quarters. There are many books and podcasts about this idea. Making a 12 month goal can be broken down into accountability and action. So, lets take when we wanted to adopt. The first 12 weeks we focused on filling out all paperwork. 6 weeks in, that was the half way point to see where we were. Weekly tasks and action needed to happen to hit this. The next 12 weeks, we signed up for state required Impact Training through DFCS. 12 weeks following was a homestudy and any final requests. And the final 12 weeks, we received child submissions. 

3. The idea is to take consistent action. What keeps you from taking a step? The dream can be broken down into mini projects that are worked on all year. Not in one day. Not to procrastinate and wait until the end of the year. Start with something small. Maybe its something simple and once you see things advance it will give you the confidence to take on bigger things. It could be a family trip. Don't plan it out of guilt or sadness that your kids are getting older. Always get your mindset right first because that is your foundation of planning. Spend 12 weeks researching, at 6 weeks you should have a list you are then deciding on. Spend the next 12 weeks and put a date on the calendar, there will always be a conflict, but put it on the calendar anyway. 12 weeks of logistics of what you will do and then the last 12 weeks will hopefully be you on the trip. All of this can be done faster, but for those starting, this is a good place. We spent a lot of our marriage and time raising kids going to places that are free or next to nothing. Camping, going to the lake, traveling to see family, going on a fall leaf drive, hiking, local or long distance mission trips that you can raise support for, or just an easy overnight date each quarter. 

4. Evaluating your commitments and taking them before the Lord is probably the most important thing we can do. We started our business almost 8 years ago to change culture. Tim had been in the industry and in the service industry, work was our only life. He was working 7a-7pm and on call at night for commercial service buildings that required hvac to be running nonstop. People worked until burnout. Tim saw so many companies with high turnover. We wanted to do business differently and also model it to all the people we could hire. Everyone wants happy customers, but what about happy employees? Was it possible to run a high demand service based business with work/life balance? I say yes. And our team would too. Our teenagers are going to act like teenagers. And toddlers will act like toddlers. Embrace the season and plan anyway. I don't ask my kids, I don't wait for their attitudes to get right, and we have our fair share of ups and downs while living out adventures together. Don't "wait until you're in a different season." Throw them in the car and get out of dodge, you'll all be better for it. 

5. Something may need to go. What is draining you? If you are committed to something, fulfill your commitment. Then, I would challenge you to ask God, "What's next?" Don't get complacent. Open new doors to serve, to meet people, to let other people step up. Passion is a huge motivator and you need to have that. Let God renew it with new opportunities and relationships.  Think about taking a risk to not only say yes, but to say no.

6. Tim and I often use so much nonverbal communication with three teenagers. It has become comical. Grin and do it. We see a trauma counselor regularly since we adopted Zach many many years ago and she said sometimes when things are crazy or frustrating, just take a deep breath and say, "It's just like this." Embrace where you are.... the hard, the stressful, the meltdowns, the attitudes... and do it anyway. Because it is just like this right now, but it won't be one day. We will be empty nesters at 44 and our house will be very quiet. I am also not the mentality that "You are 18 and you are out now", but that 's for another post. Some kids need a gap year, to live at home and work, to go to trade school, or maybe it is a 4 year university. We are holding our doors to our home open, as well as our hearts. Mainly, because we know we can continue to plan our life, reach goals, take action, and then help our children do that as well. 

12 weeks at a time.

So, instead of asking people, "What are your goals for 2022?" Ask them what their goals are for the next 12 weeks. I don't look at turning 40 as turning 40, ask me in about 12 weeks how it's going and I can tell you that. I will have pushed a domino. 

Cheers to you and yours. Give your time to the Lord, remember your days are numbered, be wise and also be at peace. Here was our 2021 Top 9 photos. It is my marriage and family, the very most important things to me and the filter in which all things run through. These kids are passing through and I'm ready for another year. 

xoxo

 

Power Move Parenting: Being Chosen

 My love for our adopted son runs very deep. Our children are now 15, 15, and the other one 13 next month. When you experience repetitive loss having children, it changes motherhood. We lost five pregnancies at different stages and it absolutely still shapes how I parent and am currently parenting teens. Not all in a good way, there are definitely the up and down sides of that trauma. For this season of life and my encouragement today, the up side helps with clarity and focus. The strong desire to mother and care keeps you checked in, it overrides your exhaustion and you stay in the game. With biological children, this is a life you prayed for and literally shed blood and tears for. With adoption, it’s a very similar fight to not only go through the process of adopting, but to then fight to get that child’s life back, which for us is going on 8 years. Adopted or not, mothers rise high and quickly from whatever hole we are in when our child cries out at any age, it’s how we are made. A mother that has had loss just is listening a little more intensely, maybe responding half a second quicker, battling it a little more intensely…. because we were already in fight or flight mode to begin with. Unrest and fear started this process and even though it doesn’t have its full power anymore, it quickly rears it’s head when startled. I have seen my own trauma in fight or flight raising a child that developed in it, or lets be honest and say no one develops or thrives in that state. You never get over it. Don’t spend your life trying to. But, you can absolutely experience peace and wholeness through it not being a decision maker in your life. It’s season is over, remind yourself of that.  It doesn’t get to have any more power than it already did. You can do the work of prayer, counseling, medication, community, and all the parenting hat tricks, but you will never erase from someone the scars that seared their minds and hearts. You can speak truth and have practical ways you handle every situation and a talk track that gets you back, but there will never be a place in life where you say, “All that was fine. I’m good now.” If you are able to say that, you have not experienced life changing trauma. I personally think everyone has some type of an experience to a degree, haven’t met someone trauma free yet. 

We are raising a child from it and all I can speak from is where I have walked with him and where I am at personally. I will tell you Zach and I both have a pretty high threshold for what will rattle each of us on the daily. I think sometimes people from trauma are almost calm because when you see other people freaking out about whatever, you roll your eyes. I said I wouldn’t list examples and I’m not gonna do it, but perspective is a funny thing. We have many ongoing emergency room visits, crises, and whatever… they have a tendency to upset the people around us more than they even actually bother us! I have learned to delay and deliver information in accordance to that. Your thermometer will climb at different speeds if you are from trauma, but remember that other peoples don’t. 

Everyone warned us that when you have an adopted special needs child that is from trauma and then they hit puberty…. Beware. We are almost on the other side of it at 15 with him right now. The hormones and lack of appropriate development can be a literal train wreck. Here’s how I would respond, the train has already wrecked. And you have already been on the scene. Remove that anticipation. The difference is now you knew what it sounded like and how to suit up. It’s the beautiful part about raising any child, they aren’t born a teenager. A million factors affect each child’s development and trust me, some have nothing to do with adoption or special needs. 

Our son has been a true picture of healing and I have to remind myself to celebrate that, literally his life was changed forever. I consider it a huge, and overwhelming at times, calling from God that I would be the best mom for Zach. But, they will fall. And so will you. It is difficult to have set backs when pushing the ball up hill is so hard. The setbacks feel greater and farther, it feels that way, but I promise its not. It is just another hurdle and they will cross it. And so will you. We have had big and scary situations with a child that now towers me, and I have seen grace win. Maybe not in the moment, but the seeds you have sown will reap and that truth you have spoken will not come back void. Hold the flag, do not drop it. Be open to being outside the box with what your kid needs in the moment. When you get out of the moment, put them back on the tracks and push forward. Do not pivot, force the next step forward and the rest will follow. 

With some hard hurdles crossed and now him having a lot of communication, teenagers and hormones create an impulsivity that you sometimes can’t control in the moment. If not physical, they can be verbally impulsive. With any child and especially those who didn’t develop correctly with trauma, physical behavior for us subsided when communication spiked. It’s known that the ability to communicate well leads to frustration that can turn physical when they cannot express themselves accurately.  Get those ears perked up and have a plan…. Again, those from trauma were already subconsciously listening and ready for it. Zach said the other day after a consequence was delivered, “I don’t want to be in this family, I’m going to live with the grandparents.” To which I responded, “They already raised their kids, no dice. You are stuck here.” I’m sure that gracious response to him yielded the next statement out of his mouth, which was, “Then take me back to the orphanage.” And we all know how that ended so I quickly let him know, “Too bad mom helped get that place shut down so there is no more orphanage, bud. You are our family forever and this is how it is.”

There was something transformational that God did in my heart after hearing those words that stung. Also, be very careful you don’t take teenage angst and hormones personal. See it as they are comfortable, safe, free enough to express themselves and quickly move to restoration. Many kids think it or stuff it anyway, they just aren’t saying it to your face. No one is getting punished forever, although I think I could last pretty long. When we give our lives to Christ, we are His. Our old self has died and He literally gives us a new Spirit that lives in us and if we allow, transforms our minds and hearts. For me personally, that power is in my every day. I would have mentally lost it by now. He renews and transforms and I can’t explain it. It is just what He does. New mercies and new mornings. It gives me the peace of not being offended and taken down by a child and knowing this very true and one thing because of who I am in Him…. God put his one statement on my heart about Zach and it is this,

He doesn’t have to choose us, as long as he knows he is chosen. Remind your child of that and walk away. The is the power of love. I hope that truth sews deep in his heart because the beauty of being adopted is that you were chosen twice. Once by God, and the second by me.

Don’t withhold your love, speak it louder. Don’t not act when it is in your power to act and do good. When he sees that I am recovered, he sees it is safe for him to recover. Don’t act fine, we aren’t fine. I show my tears and respond that words hurt just as much as physical actions do. With special needs, you do this once. Then you do it a million more times. We have seen he grows, gets it, and gets better. Which is the time that it will stick? We don’t know, but we know it will.

That is not powerful parenting, but parents who have a powerful God. Amen and amen.