Carrying Around Hope

If you've read my blog before, you might know my friend Stephanie.  She was diagnosed with cancer almost 5 years ago.  Nine months before she was diagnosed, she agreed (reluctantly) to run my 1st ever marathon with me.  It was 26.2 miles over mountain terrain.  Oof.  We were to run 14 miles up the beast of a mountain and then 12 miles down rocky trails.  We didn't know it at the time, but our training turned into a metaphor for her upcoming battle against the poison in her body.  She used the ridiculous training regime and ridiculous race (FOURTEEN MILES UP A MOUNTAIN PEOPLE, I DON'T KNOW WHAT WE WERE THINKING) as her "I can do hard things" mantra.

We trained on hills and trails.  We finished that race.  We have the hardware to prove it.  When my family moved to the east coast, promises were made to celebrate that year.  We wanted to commemorate, remember and keep our friendship alive through our relationship we made with those mountain trails. So we decided we would have a 5 year anniversary hike.  Five years after we conquered that mountain, five years after she conquered cancer.  

So on our family trip back to Utah, we made plans, met at the base of Big Cottonwood Canyon and gave each other a massive hug that made the years apart fill in within moments.  We hopped in her car and drove to the trailhead together.  As we hiked, we caught up.  We talked about our kids.  Our husbands.  Good times.  Hard times.  We talked about aging parents and growing pains.  We talked about what her new normal was after the chemo and years of being on drugs to keep the cancer away.  We talked about Jesus and grace and faith and all the lessons that come from having access to these things.

So our hike through the wildflowers with empty ski lifts above our heads became our quiet celebration of hope.  We paused at the top  to take in the still lake. (Quick pause.  Mosquitos were eating us alive.)  We spontaneously paused in the middle of the trail on the way down and embraced, overcome with gratitude.  We soaked in the view and each other's love.  It was a perfect morning to celebrate.

It also gave me time to think about the grace and faith it takes to face something like cancer.  Because Steph is one of those that is a living beacon of what it means to carry hope around.  But I know women in my life who have lost loved ones, yet the faith, grace, hope and love is still carried around in them.  I've seen it carried around in births of children.  Joyful, exciting times where I know the pain of missing their person must have been so palpable it was an emotion that they never knew existed.  Such joy with such aching. (I actually can't even imagine, I'm feeling inadequate writing about it.) 

I've seen it in wedding plans being made and missing their person so much, sometimes choosing shoes for a rehearsal dinner turns into welling tears of longing, never mind thinking about the actual ceremony.  But still,  hope, grace and love are carried around.  They are choosing those things in life that matter.  That really matter.  They are choosing to create those very bonds of love and life and family that was so very painful to lose.  Knowing the crater of loss, they still choose to fill it up with love.  That's hope.  That's grace--knowing that we can't always choose when we get to say goodbye, but we also know we don't have to do it alone and have access to that Divine Love all around us.

These are the things I thought about as I drove home.  We celebrated life.  The same way we all do whenever we choose to open our hearts to all the beautiful, painful, and exquisitely wonderful parts of loving and living.  

So cheers to you Stephanie!  Cheers to you and cheers to us all who love with our whole hearts, holding nothing back.  Life is beautiful.

The Post That Has No Point

34 weeks friends.  I'm happy to be here.  But good gravy am I exhausted.

I had someone ask me a few months ago when I was due.  I told them July.

"July!  That's going to be hot.  And you already have triplets?!?  Man, you didn't plan that one very well did you?"

Yes my tactful stranger friend, we didn't.  In fact Costco checker, you know that aisle in the store that says "Family Planning?" That's never really applied or made sense to us, for a myriad of reasons.  We've never really planned any of this.  Would you like me to walk you through our IUI procedure or the four years of never really using the family planning aisle that led us to the IUI?  No?  Yes, I would like a box, thank you.

I never said any of those things.  Most of the time I just smile and nod my head.  Have you ever said something you regret to a pregnant lady?  I'm sure I have.  What about asking someone when they were due and their answer was they aren't pregnant?  Guilty.  Fortunately that's only a one time mistake.  You never forget the horror in you heart when you discover your folly.  Yikes.

I really want to cut my hair.  I was going through some pictures the other day and realized how much happier I am with short hair.  (At least this is going to be my argument to my long-hair-loving-husband.)

Take a look at these pictures and judge for yourself:


Short haired Kara.  See?  Doesn't she look happy and content with life?  It probably took her 4.5 minutes to throw together that short, curly do.  Maybe that's why she's so happy?  She has so much more time on her hands!  It probably averages out to hours and hours in her week!  (Truth: my hair is pulled up in a pony tail most days, I never do it.  But remember, I'm trying to establish a legitimate argument here.)

Long haired Kara.  Wow.  She does NOT look happy with long hair right now.  She looks down right morose.  She probably has this look on her face all day, her hair just weighing down the rest of her features.  It's probably causing those blemishes too.  Poor thing.  I hope she finds her way.  (Side note: I CANNOT believe I'm actually publishing this photo.  But it makes me laugh, what can I say?)

And since I can't leave you with the above image in your head, a little Photo Booth fun with my boys.  

Anyone else having a hair dilemma at the moment?  And speaking of hair, go look at Steph's blog.  She lost her hair during chemo and it has started to grow back in.  She is over wearing hats (I don't blame her) and I think her current, super short look she has going right now is so beautiful!  I wouldn't be able to look that good because she has that "I beat cancer" glow.  Her fighting ways and love of life just kind of shines through her soul.

Speaking of Steph, (this is a really strange tangent post!) I was supposed to run Ragnar with her this year.  She ran.  I stayed home and kept growing my baby.  I sure did miss those beautiful mountains, the no sleep, the 3 am run and miles and miles of memories.  (Well, the mountains and memories are nice.)

Next time.

Also, here is what 34 weeks looks like via Photo Booth.  I know most of you come here for the high quality photos I post.  And yes, I do have one lone turtle on my bedroom wall.  He's means a lot to me though.

Someone asked me today if I had twins in there.  REALLY? I don't look that big do I?  Do other people get as many crazy remarks as I do?  I can't be the only one, right?

Thoughts on a Saturday Morning

I miss running.

I haven't ran in months.  I know physically, I could.  There is nothing medically holding me back.  But -- uffda!   The thought of moving faster than 3.5 miles an hour makes me want to lay down and take a nap.

I did go on a (semi-brisk) walk this morning with my ex-running partner.  Ex because she used to run too.  There were runners out in droves today.  A couple of women ran by us, geared up with their hydration belts and tights.  "That used to be us."  She said it right as I was thinking it.

We'll run again someday.  I have this whole pregnant / baby thing going on right now.  She's just getting over having cancer.  So, you know, life gets complicated sometimes.  It's amazing to think we were both getting ready to run a half-marathon this time last year.  And even crazier that my baby is due on the year anniversary of when we ran up a mountain, then back down, totaling 26.2 miles and didn't die.  There are other marathons besides the running kind.  Some of these even have bigger rewards.


I glanced at my google searches today.  Funny.  Here is a few searches people have done recently that have brought them to my blog.  I'll try to explain if I can.

• decline swim, swam, swum  - the time I wrote about taking swim lessons as an adult.  Complete with preschoolers waiting their turn and feeling like Michael Phelps after I swam 1/2 a lap.

• double wide strollers from hell- I have written about strollers quite a bit.  But from hell?  Good luck with that, whoever did this search.  You should probably stay away from that stroller if you ever find it.  Just a suggestion.

• dr. scott sampson mormon - the Dinosaur Train guy!  Remember when I met him because of an essay I wrote?  That was cool.  He gave such an amazing lecture about kids and nature.  It actually popped in my head yesterday when Gabe went to pick up a dead spider.  I almost stopped him, but remembered Dr. Scott's advice -- let children discover nature on their own.  Don't implant your own ideas about what they should and shouldn't be interested in.  i.e. picking up spider corpses is not something I would do, but he needs to discover his world.  So he touched a dead spider.  Big deal.  We're both still ok.  Also, I don't think Dr. Scott is a mormon.  Not everyone that lives or has lived in Utah is mormon.  Shocking, but true.  He's a brilliant guy.  If you have time, listen to his lecture I went to last year.  Especially if you're a teacher or have kids or even both or even none of those.  Just listen to it.  You won't be sorry.

• duct tape to fix stroller wheel - yup.  Been there, done that.  Again, good luck to you, google searcher.  

• icebath runninggear - first, you should try out the space bar more often.  It's a handy tool.  Second, ice baths are awesome and terrible.  I love them after really long runs (anything over 15 miles).  But I scream and hiss and make weird squeaky noises while getting in.  I miss running.  

• rexburg "making out" - oh boy.  I did attend a school in Rexburg, ID it's true.  Not a lot of "making out" went on though.  Promise.  Not sure why the searcher put it in quotes either.  Not sure I want to know the current euphemism for "making out."  Whoever you are, save your kisses!  Don't give them away so easily.  I know Rexburg is small and boring, but there are better things to do than "make out."  Like donate plasma!  Or work in a potato factory!  Or prank call guys in your ward!  Or look up cute boys on the student data base!  Or elaborate on old rumors from apartment complexes you live in!  Ahh Rexburg, you'll always have a strange, potatoey place in my heart.  

We are going to the park today, on this balmy Saturday.  I couldn't be happier about this winter weather we've had.  I'm sorry to all the snow people who do stuff in the snow and like the snow and have outfits that are made for being in the snow for long periods of time.  We're not those people.  

I'm missing being in Richfield right now to watch my youngest brother do his thing at the divisional wrestling tournament.  He's an amazing athlete, student, brother and all around good kid.  Thankful other members of our family are there to cheer him on.  

I throughly enjoyed and devoured a 32 oz Peach Perfection smoothie from Jamba last night, courtesy of a devoted husband who has never once complained about helping his wife indulge in recent cravings.  It was really good.  

I love the weekend.  Now I'm off to take a long shower because there is another adult in the house that will listen and get up with my napping darlings.  (It's the little things that make me happy.)

Happy

I'm really enjoying the sunshine lately.  

The kids took a fabulous morning nap.  So fabulous in fact, I was able to read every section in the paper.  Not just my normal, flip to the comics section.  That is usually the first priority when I have 

limited paper-reading time.  How about those 100mph winds yesterday, huh? Whew nelly! (That's the kind of thing us paper-readers say.)

I just made hummus.  With lots of garlic.  It just might be gone before lunch is over.

I went running in the 25 degree weather this morning with a friend.  She happens to be in the middle of her first chemo treatment.  Chemo be danged.  She wanted to run, so I happily and eagerly came along.

I just read this post, which tipped my already sparked Christmas spirit into a burn.  I really do love celebrating the birth of the Savior.  I hope I can relay that my little munchkins, who happen to be up from their nap now.  They are saying "Hi!" to each other from across the room.  

There aren't many things I love more than hearing them talk to each other in a happy, 'hey, you're still here too, I really like you,' kind of way.  

They make me happy.  So does the sunshine, a fresh morning paper, hummus, running, and Christmas.  

But those three?  They make me ridiculously happy.

Cheers to a great Friday!

    

New Plan

I made a decision late last night.

I am going to have a house that is always clean.  We don't live in slop or anything, but I seem to always have piles everywhere.

Piles of laundry.
Piles of paper.
Piles of toys.
Piles of laundry.
Piles of tiny hair bands and combs.
Piles of shoes.
Piles of dishes.
Piles of laundry.

Always with the piles.  So I gave myself a mini pep talk last night and this gal is going to be that person that has a pile free house.  I am giving myself a week 5 days to be that person.  And I already know what half of you are thinking.

"Why?"  "Who cares?"  "A pile-free house is overrated! We all have piles!"  "At least you don't have piles of crap."  (whoever said that last one -- gross)

Be that as it may.  I think I have reached some sort of clutter threshold.  I need to be free for a week 5 days.  If that goes well, then maybe I will make it another couple of days.  Isn't 21 the number?  Twenty-one days of doing something makes it a habit?  Not sure who came up with that, but I think it's malarky.

I like my plump ladies.  They look peaceful, don't they?

Regardless! I will press on with my plan.  Five days of a clean house, people.  I'm feeling good about it.  I think I can do it.  Today was a practice day.  Because I still have 3 separate piles of laundry in the living room.  I'm officially starting tomorrow.

While making my plan I also have a wish list in relation to household duties.

1. A dishwasher that requires no pre-rinsing of dishes.  When I say no pre-rinsing, I mean straight from the table to the dishwasher.  I want that sucker to have a garbage disposal.  I want to be able to put a half-eaten turkey dinner right into the bottom rack and come out shining.

2. A personal laundry assistant.  I will wash and dry.  She will fold and put away.  I will pay her and I choose it to be a woman because we have so much laundry everyday and she will be here a lot and I think we would become good friends.  (This wouldn't be on the wish list if anyone wanted to do it for free.  I will make you cookies or something.  You wouldn't have to fold and put away the unmentionables.  Think about it.)

That's it.  Just two things.  I'm not asking much, right?

A pile free house.  Besides it clearing my mind, it gives us more room for important things like learning how to somersault.  You know, essential life skills.  I can't be bogged down by a cluttered house.





Part of the reason I was up, not sleeping and scheming about a pile free house last night was because of Stephanie.  She had her mastectomy this morning.  Last night, just thinking about it,  I kept trying to imagine what that might be like, the night before you are about to have poison removed from your body.  But with the poison, also an essential part of what makes you a woman.  But she is stronger than me.  She's incredible.  There is an update on her blog how things went today.  She's one tough chica.

We did some fun trail running together this summer in preparation for our insane mountain marathon.  We both loved it and started to like running the trails more than any flat, asphalted surface.  A few weeks ago we went on a hike.  We both missed the mountain air.  I snapped this picture of her in the leaves.

Which I love.  For obvious reasons.  This is who she is.  Conquerer.  She starts chemo next month.  So if you're the praying type, (even if you aren't) maybe think about her.

I will be.  It sure does make my piles seem a lot less important.

The Big C

"I have breast cancer."

This is what my healthy, 44 year old friend Stephanie says to me, standing in my kid's playroom, surrounded by toy trucks and a plastic basketball hoop. 

It wasn't exactly an ideal place to tell someone you have poison in your body, let alone find out yourself.  But some things just happen how they happen.  So there we were, with the ugly word "cancer" floating in between us.

I had called her daughter the night before to come and take some surprise birthday pictures of me and kids for my husband's 31st birthday.  Stephanie happily came along to help with getting all three sets of eyes looking in the same direction.  This was done with bribes of yogurt covered raisins and fruit snacks.

She didn't know her doctor would call her that afternoon with the results of her biopsy.  She didn't know how quick, blunt and hammer like the doc would drop the news on her.  Like Wile E. Coyote getting smashed with an Acme anvil.  Their phone conversation lasted less than 3 minutes.  So, some things happen how they happen.

We hugged each other and cried. I still feel guilty that she was the one to initiate the hug.  My brain was still ringing with that stupid word "cancer."    I'm as serious as cancer.  He's like a cancer.  No pleasant metaphor, simile or idiom relates to this word.

The rest of the time at my house is sort of a messy haze about conversations of what's next and trying to think of the right words to say to her teenage daughter, the photographer of the afternoon.  I love words.  I love writing them and reading them.  But it turns out, sometimes you have no words.  Nothing clever or funny or reassuring.  I had just cooked a pizza and sent it home with them.  I prayed it would taste good.  Isn't that a funny thing to pray for that day?  Of all the things.

Despite cancer's reputation, Steph has a plan.  A fighting plan.  She is having a mastectomy next week.  It's intensely ironic that we shared more than one joke this summer about our less than endowed chests.  How we both felt we don't even need a sports bra.  How nursing kids seemed to deflate us somehow.  Did I mention this is the friend that ran my first marathon with me?  The marathon that had 14 miles of running up a mountain?  Life has a funny way of creating intensely ironic situations.

After she recovers from her breast being removed, (Really?  Is that something you recover from or just accept and move on?) she will have chemo.  I know it doesn't seem fair to have both, and in that order, but some things happen how they happen, and this is the plan.

I kind of feel bad for the stupid blob of cancerous growth inside her right now.  Because she is a no nonsense kind of gal.  She's full of fire and fight.  She has an army of people on the ready for prayers, meals, shoulders, and whatever else her entire family might need to see this thing out the door.  It thinks it's all bad just hanging out in her boob with it's bad boy reputation and big scary moments it thinks it causes.  She'll show it.  It doesn't stand a chance.


Steph started a blog you can follow here.  We are also putting together a 5K in the coming months.  So if you haven't ever run one or like a good excuse like kicking cancer's sorry a**, then this is your chance.