After a week of fun in the sun, a friend and I were driving home from the beautiful, emerald gulf coast of Florida. We wanted a bold adventure and thought traveling through the Louisiana bayou would add excitement to our travels. It was July 1983. We drove endlessly along Highway 10 towards our destination, New Orleans.
It was nightfall before we reached the borders of Mississippi and Louisiana and the temperature was well above 100 degrees. The star-studded sky was without cloud and a full yellow moon hung low in the east. Soon, we were driving at break-neck speed along a long stretch of highway over the swamps of the Louisiana bayou. I remember wondering if there were large numbers of crocodiles living in the waters below. It was sort of spooky along this highway.
I was driving my not-quite-a-year-old Pontiac T-1000. So far my little car had been driving well, but on this lonely stretch of highway, I noticed that the air conditioner wasn't spitting cold air anymore. It was an ominous sign for worse to come.
At some point I passed a white sedan. Soon their headlights could no longer be seen as I raced at least 15 miles over the speed limit. Perhaps 30 minutes later my car began to sputter and lose speed. My heart began to race as my little T-1000 slowly ground to a stop. None of the outside nor dashboard lights were working. Despite a full tank of gas, my car had surely died along this stretch of gator-country! Now I was scared.
Panic rising in my heart, I thought of all sorts of dangers that could befall my friend and I ... out here ... on a deserted stretch of Louisiana highway ... with the crocodile-infested swamp waters lurking below. We sat in stunned silence for a minute or two, then briefly discussed how best to deal with this current situation. We sat there for about 15 minutes ... alone ... in the dark ... without air conditioning ....
I glanced in the rear view mirror as two headlights appeared from behind us. "This could be good, or this could be very bad," I thought to myself. (Remember, this was before people had cell phones, and I'm not sure anyone would've had cell phone coverage in this sparsely populated region, anyway.) The car pulled up behind us and a tall, male stranger got out of the driver's side. It was the white sedan I'd passed earlier.
Windows up. Car doors locked. I turned my head to peer at the stranger as he slowly walked up to my side of the car. He flashed his flashlight beam into the interior of our car, sweeping first the back seats, then the front seats. The man held up what appeared to be a badge. I scrutinized the badge closely before deciding, yep, this was a legitimate policeman with a baton, side-arm and honest to goodness police badge. The white sedan was an unmarked police car! Oh my gosh, I was so relieved to see a policeman instead of someone else.
After assessing the situation, this kind policeman towed my car with chains for 20 or more miles to the closest gas station. I was told that it would cost about $200, which was a lot of money at that time, to fix my car. I had no choice but to wait for the repair, then continue towards home.
The very week, I bought a new car.
One thing I knew without a doubt was that the policeman was at the right place at just the right time and I could then, and now, clearly see the hand of God at work as He orchestrated our rescue. Not one to believe in coincidences, I believe that God placed the policeman on the same highway that night so that we could be pulled to safety.
Sunday, September 1, 2013
Friday, August 23, 2013
High Ropes Adventure
There I stood about 30 feet up from the ground! My weary arms encircled a massive tree trunk. Sweat trickled down my forehead, but I dared not let go of the tree to wipe the salty sweat from my eyes. "I'm safe," I kept telling myself. "Just stay here for awhile," I cried inwardly. Below I could hear others shout words of encouragement, "You're doing great, Kathy! Keep going! Don't look down!" My youngest daughter shouted, "Mommy, you can do it!"
My nervous stomach bubbled at the sight of my friends standing so far below on the ground. I wondered how in the world I was going to be able to maneuver through the rest of this course! Steeling myself for the next section of ropes, I glanced at my helper and guide, Tim. Staring deeply into his eyes, I muttered, "Let's go. I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." This was my mantra for the duration of the ropes course. With resolve I let go of one hand, then the other, to reach for my next grip of strong, cable rope. Tim smiled and gently admonished, "You can do it, Kathy. And when you finish this course, you will have learned much. Come on. You can do it. Just look into my eyes and put one front in front of the other ..." Slowly and carefully I began walking across one cable of rope with two stabilizing ropes to hold onto. When I reached the end of this section, I breathed a sigh of relief and once again, held on for dear life to another massive tree trunk. "I'm safe now," I muttered to no one in particular.
At Camp Barnabas there is a high ropes course that many of the campers enjoy tackling. Even those with special needs are able to walk through this course ~ with assistance as needed. The point is that most of the campers are able to journey through the ropes course in about 25 to 30 minutes. Each climber is securely attached to a pulley system that prevents them from falling to the ground. We are all secure because this course has so many checks and precautions. But when you're high in the trees it's a little more complicated. The climbers are safe and secure, but the mind battles the reality of standing so high off the ground. For me, my fear of heights developed later in life, but I was determined to overcome my fear by walking through the entire course.
Two grueling hours after beginning my first climb, I was finally at the end of this ropes course. I was so glad to be almost done. Tim instructed me to sit down on a small platform-like swing and to let my legs dangle. "We're going to count to three, Kathy. Hang on tight and enjoy the swing ... one, two, three! ..." My stomach did a flip-flop as I barreled in an arc across the sky. Holding my eyes tightly shut, I felt the cool breeze whip across my face. I heard Rebekah's little girl voice called up to me, "Open your eyes, Mommy! See how high you're flying!"
With her encouragement I opened my eyes to behold a beautiful sight. Silently I glided up, then down, flying just below and up to tree branches, then backward. My swing slowly brought me closer and closer to my friends on the ground. Cheers were said by all, ...I thanked Tim for walking the course with me, then I was left alone to contemplate my grueling, yet strangely satisfying, encounter in the trees.
Someone snapped a picture of me walking the ropes in the trees. I'm smiling!
I learned many lessons that afternoon:
My nervous stomach bubbled at the sight of my friends standing so far below on the ground. I wondered how in the world I was going to be able to maneuver through the rest of this course! Steeling myself for the next section of ropes, I glanced at my helper and guide, Tim. Staring deeply into his eyes, I muttered, "Let's go. I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." This was my mantra for the duration of the ropes course. With resolve I let go of one hand, then the other, to reach for my next grip of strong, cable rope. Tim smiled and gently admonished, "You can do it, Kathy. And when you finish this course, you will have learned much. Come on. You can do it. Just look into my eyes and put one front in front of the other ..." Slowly and carefully I began walking across one cable of rope with two stabilizing ropes to hold onto. When I reached the end of this section, I breathed a sigh of relief and once again, held on for dear life to another massive tree trunk. "I'm safe now," I muttered to no one in particular.
At Camp Barnabas there is a high ropes course that many of the campers enjoy tackling. Even those with special needs are able to walk through this course ~ with assistance as needed. The point is that most of the campers are able to journey through the ropes course in about 25 to 30 minutes. Each climber is securely attached to a pulley system that prevents them from falling to the ground. We are all secure because this course has so many checks and precautions. But when you're high in the trees it's a little more complicated. The climbers are safe and secure, but the mind battles the reality of standing so high off the ground. For me, my fear of heights developed later in life, but I was determined to overcome my fear by walking through the entire course.
Two grueling hours after beginning my first climb, I was finally at the end of this ropes course. I was so glad to be almost done. Tim instructed me to sit down on a small platform-like swing and to let my legs dangle. "We're going to count to three, Kathy. Hang on tight and enjoy the swing ... one, two, three! ..." My stomach did a flip-flop as I barreled in an arc across the sky. Holding my eyes tightly shut, I felt the cool breeze whip across my face. I heard Rebekah's little girl voice called up to me, "Open your eyes, Mommy! See how high you're flying!"
With her encouragement I opened my eyes to behold a beautiful sight. Silently I glided up, then down, flying just below and up to tree branches, then backward. My swing slowly brought me closer and closer to my friends on the ground. Cheers were said by all, ...I thanked Tim for walking the course with me, then I was left alone to contemplate my grueling, yet strangely satisfying, encounter in the trees.
Someone snapped a picture of me walking the ropes in the trees. I'm smiling!
I learned many lessons that afternoon:
* Life can be difficult and scary, but taking one-step-at-a-time helps it not be so scary.
* God provides rest stops along the way for rest and, for our enjoyment.
* When we are able to walk through the challenges of life, we can feel a sense of accomplishment.
* God may allow us to fall, but only for so far.
* Some segments of life are more challenging than others.
* God often provides unexpected moments of joy to help us along our way.
* God provides rest stops along the way for rest and, for our enjoyment.
* When we are able to walk through the challenges of life, we can feel a sense of accomplishment.
* God may allow us to fall, but only for so far.
* Some segments of life are more challenging than others.
* God often provides unexpected moments of joy to help us along our way.
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
Lady In Waiting
"Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage. Yes, wait for the Lord."
Psalm 27: 14.
"Please, dear God! Please let my boy friend love me as I love him!" I petitioned God one night. With silent tears streaming down my cheeks I cried, "Let us be together always!" The year was 1976 and I lay in my shared dorm room at K.U. (Kansas, that is.) flipping through my bible looking for verses of promise and hope. Most recently I'd been re-baptized and was trying to understand the Christian way of life. So far I was seeking answers to help bolster my own agenda. I found one from the book of John, verse 14: "If you ask anything in my name, I will do it." I clung to this bible verse asking God to give me the desires of my heart.
Our relationship was doomed. I soon found out that this current boyfriend had another girlfriend back home, and I had been a happy diversion for a brief few months of time. My heart was broken, not only by the break-up of this relationship, but also with what I presumed was God's broken promise (as uttered by Jesus' disciple, John, no less.). "I thought you would give me the desires of my heart, God. Why wouldn't you let us stay together!? I asked in Your name!?" Weren't those the magic words to utter when asking God for something special!?
As in the past I turned to escape from the pains of this world with continued abuse of alcohol and free-style living. I fled from God, too. His way was just too painful for me to bear. I wanted my own way, not His way. Waiting wasn't an option! My heart was bruised and in great anguish from rejection, hurt and humiliation. In desperation I finished my year at K.U. in a haze of partying, then, abruptly transferred to a small university in southwestern Missouri.
For the next ten years I dated a string of young men who would never seem to really love me for me. Deep in my heart I grew afraid that maybe I wasn't truly lovable, and perhaps, would never find someone who would love me unconditionally. My varied boyfriends were lots of fun, but curiously, most were just as mixed-up as I was. We sought to find truth in this world through a host of other sources that didn't include God. We had lots of fun together, but had no destination in mind as far as I could tell.
Finally, the day came when I simply gave-up on my desire to find the perfect mate. I remember clearly watching my then-boyfriend leave for his homeland of Iran, knowing in my heart that we would never meet, again. As I turned and walked from the airport to my car I began to forge a new identity. The process was slow and rather tedious, but over the next several months, I gradually began to think of myself as a valuable human being who was capable to offering something of value to others in this world. I stood a little straighter and began to make plans for a future ~ with or without someone to share it with.
My plans were to finish nursing school, which I did, and work for a year in Kansas City. Then I intended to join the United States Navy as an officer. What better way to see the world, I reasoned, than by gliding along the ocean seas in a Navy destroyer!? Oh, what dreams I entertained. Visions of extending comfort and care to injured soldiers and rest-filled days off lying in the sun on some distant sandy shore offered a sense of excitement and authenticity to me.
I had begun to allow God just a little bit more into my life, too. "Please, God, help me to move forward. Help me to be a good person doing good works for those in need. And if perchance I ever meet a man ...," I prayed one night. The process of healing had begun.
Soon thereafter I met Rick ~ my soul mate who loves me unconditionally. It was a very long wait ~ or so it seemed to me. While most of my friends were already married, I was one of the last in my group of friends to do so. In the end, God's best turned out to be my best. My long wait for a soul mate was finally over.
Psalm 27: 14.
"Please, dear God! Please let my boy friend love me as I love him!" I petitioned God one night. With silent tears streaming down my cheeks I cried, "Let us be together always!" The year was 1976 and I lay in my shared dorm room at K.U. (Kansas, that is.) flipping through my bible looking for verses of promise and hope. Most recently I'd been re-baptized and was trying to understand the Christian way of life. So far I was seeking answers to help bolster my own agenda. I found one from the book of John, verse 14: "If you ask anything in my name, I will do it." I clung to this bible verse asking God to give me the desires of my heart.
Our relationship was doomed. I soon found out that this current boyfriend had another girlfriend back home, and I had been a happy diversion for a brief few months of time. My heart was broken, not only by the break-up of this relationship, but also with what I presumed was God's broken promise (as uttered by Jesus' disciple, John, no less.). "I thought you would give me the desires of my heart, God. Why wouldn't you let us stay together!? I asked in Your name!?" Weren't those the magic words to utter when asking God for something special!?
As in the past I turned to escape from the pains of this world with continued abuse of alcohol and free-style living. I fled from God, too. His way was just too painful for me to bear. I wanted my own way, not His way. Waiting wasn't an option! My heart was bruised and in great anguish from rejection, hurt and humiliation. In desperation I finished my year at K.U. in a haze of partying, then, abruptly transferred to a small university in southwestern Missouri.
For the next ten years I dated a string of young men who would never seem to really love me for me. Deep in my heart I grew afraid that maybe I wasn't truly lovable, and perhaps, would never find someone who would love me unconditionally. My varied boyfriends were lots of fun, but curiously, most were just as mixed-up as I was. We sought to find truth in this world through a host of other sources that didn't include God. We had lots of fun together, but had no destination in mind as far as I could tell.
Finally, the day came when I simply gave-up on my desire to find the perfect mate. I remember clearly watching my then-boyfriend leave for his homeland of Iran, knowing in my heart that we would never meet, again. As I turned and walked from the airport to my car I began to forge a new identity. The process was slow and rather tedious, but over the next several months, I gradually began to think of myself as a valuable human being who was capable to offering something of value to others in this world. I stood a little straighter and began to make plans for a future ~ with or without someone to share it with.
My plans were to finish nursing school, which I did, and work for a year in Kansas City. Then I intended to join the United States Navy as an officer. What better way to see the world, I reasoned, than by gliding along the ocean seas in a Navy destroyer!? Oh, what dreams I entertained. Visions of extending comfort and care to injured soldiers and rest-filled days off lying in the sun on some distant sandy shore offered a sense of excitement and authenticity to me.
I had begun to allow God just a little bit more into my life, too. "Please, God, help me to move forward. Help me to be a good person doing good works for those in need. And if perchance I ever meet a man ...," I prayed one night. The process of healing had begun.
Soon thereafter I met Rick ~ my soul mate who loves me unconditionally. It was a very long wait ~ or so it seemed to me. While most of my friends were already married, I was one of the last in my group of friends to do so. In the end, God's best turned out to be my best. My long wait for a soul mate was finally over.
Sunday, February 3, 2013
Sibling Storm
"A friend is one that knows you are you are, understands where you have been, accepts what you have become, and still, gently allows you to grow." ~~ William Shakespeare
It started over a pair of earrings! "Will you please help me change earrings, Kathy?" asked my younger sister, Judy. Sitting in her yellow bedroom in front of her make-up mirror, Judy was struggling to change her earrings. They were tender, having been pierced just a few weeks previously. "I can't get this one out!" she moaned. Judy was being extra special careful because she'd been wrestling with an infection immediately after her piercing.
"Oh, let me see!" Irritated and frustrated that my little sister had dared to interrupt my busy plans, I waltzed into her bedroom. As an older sister I wasn't always very compassionate or loving to Judy. This was one of those times. After looking at her earrings I took hold of one of them and yanked hard. Upon closer inspection I realized that this pair of earrings was mine, no less. Angry words tumbled from my mouth as I let my sister know unconditionally that my things were never to be touched. "Never! Never! Never!" I spat venomously!
Just 23 months apart, I used my elevated status as Older Sister to my advantage throughout our childhood. Until this point Judy had been just a pesky little sister. She and I didn't play much together as we had separate friends. Unless Mom asked me to let Judy tag along, I usually forbad her from playing with my friends and I. Oh, sure, I loved her. But we were two years apart and had ferocious sibling rivalry. And at this point in our lives, I was Queen Bee around the Taral house. Perhaps 15 years old at the time, I thought I was pretty cool and considered myself years ahead of my 13-year-old little sister!
After a minute or so of verbal exchange Judy had finally had enough of my self-centered behavior! She launched out of her chair and began defending herself. "You told me I could wear them! I didn't steal them from you!" Pretty soon our verbal exchanges moved into pushing, ... then scratching, ... then kicking! We were really at it when suddenly the doorbell rang. Both of us ran for the front door to open it, and as Judy placed her hand on the knob to throw open the door, I snatched the back of her hair and tugged backwards ~~ hard. Standing on our front doorstep with an expression of horror was our neighborhood Fuller-Brush Man. We pushed our way through the front door and landed ourselves in the front lawn ~~ still kicking and pushing one another! Further adding to the ruckus was the arrival of our parents whose expressions of surprise and total shock were registered as they slowed down to turn into our driveway! My mother's expression was priceless and I can still remember her open mouth and stark terror-filled eyes as she took in the scene: One Fuller-Brush Man at the doorstep, attache in hand, while two teenage daughters battled ferociously in the front yard under the canopy of two tall oak trees! Suddenly the wind flew out of both Judy and I. Ashamed, we both trudged back into the house.
I don't remember what happened after that incident. My sister and I had one more physical fight in college, then no more. Although our disagreements and episodic bursts of anger never achieved quite the status as this one, we did battle from time to time. But we also forged a tie that is strong even today. I know enough about relationships to know that sometimes there are misunderstandings and even break-ups. But I think that our tussles are what helps relationships grow strong, too. When friends and family can work through differences, yes, even angry episodes, then we're giving permission for the other to learn from their mistakes. Through the years I have learned many things from the relationship I have with my sister, but the one thing I have learned is that she loves me unconditionally despite myself and visa versa. And because we love unconditionally, we both better understand how solid relationships and friendships are to work. We are able to talk through our differences. Although it isn't always easy we have learned that talking through our misunderstandings is essential for maintaining our respect and support for one another.
I wish I had been a little more tolerant of my younger sister in our formative years. She's really a lot of fun and has a wicked sense of humor! We might have shared some really fun times together ...
Sunday, November 25, 2012
Christmas Charity
"May I see your invitation, please?" an elderly woman standing at the front door to the grocery-store-converted-into-a-Christmas-charity-store asked. The year was 1997 and I was standing in line waiting to enter this store with our two youngest children. Megan, just seven, was in school. Jeremy was just five years old and still quite a handful with his predisposition to wandering, while Rebekah was just a baby. It was my intention to quietly slip in for Christmas shopping and this woman seemed to be calling unwanted attention to our little trio!
Handing my invitation to the woman I embarked on a 60- minute walk through aisles and aisles of items on display for the Christmas season. As I ambled along, pushing a shopping cart with Rebekah in her car seat and pulling Jeremy along beside, an escort explained the rules to me. "You may pick two gifts for each of your three children, one for your spouse and one for the family. We encourage families (poor families like you, she seemed to gently imply) to pick one clothing item and one toy for each child." Glancing around at the others in this special store, some families seemed genuinely poor as evidenced by their threadbare coats and sock-less attire (in the winter, no less) while others were dressed with comfortable and warm clothes like me. But we all had one thing in common: We were all shopping for free items in a charity-minded store.
So how did I get here? Well, I'm not really sure. Although humbling to receive, this invitation was most assuredly appreciated this Christmas year.
Two years earlier Rick and a business associate had started a consulting business after working for many years as a banker. They named this new business venture "Integrity Management". I.M. was beginning to show signs of success and we were hopeful to see profits at year-end. For two years we had lived on a fraction of what we'd been used to and we'd given most of our life's savings to the start-up of I.M. The new normal was very hard for me to live with mostly because I'd never learned how to spend money wisely. And there was an irrational fear that someday we could be living in the streets!
Still, someone had turned in our name for help with the cost of Christmas shopping. Were we poor? Not as much as many others, but we were living on a significantly lower salary than in previous years when both Rick and I worked. Now Rick was the only wage-earner and we had three children, one with special needs. I was scared and truthfully, a little angry with God for allowing us to be in this position. I chose to shop for free simply because the opportunity arose and I was just grateful to have someone help bear some of the financial burden for this year's Christmas.
I never did learn who submitted our name. Although humbled and slightly embarrassed, I was very grateful for their thoughtfulness.
As I picked gifts for each of the three children I was overcome with a sense of gratitude not only to our sponsor but also to God for offering this gift to help relieve the burden of Christmas spending. I still remember a couple of those gifts and have kept them as a remembrance, or sorts-- a yellow, knitted ski cap for Megan and warm wool blanket for the family. And as I moved along I resolved to push aside any smugness or pride within my heart. I realized that I wasn't any better than those who have less money than I did. I learned that life is what it is -- lemonade can be made with lemons, so to speak.
Since 1997 I have been able to purchase all our Christmas gifts. And we have enjoyed taking part in a number of Christmas charities like the Angel Tree program with Prison Fellowship Ministry and Operation Christmas Child through the Billy Graham Association. The one thing I enjoy the most about Christmas is the giving of gifts, thereby showing my love for another. God knew I was angry with our position in life and He helped me to understand that there is so much more to life than what we have or acquire. God showed His love for our family through the thoughtfulness of another so long ago.
"Every good gift, every perfect gift, comes from above, coming down from the Father who made the heavenly lights, in whose character there is no change at all." James 1:17
Handing my invitation to the woman I embarked on a 60- minute walk through aisles and aisles of items on display for the Christmas season. As I ambled along, pushing a shopping cart with Rebekah in her car seat and pulling Jeremy along beside, an escort explained the rules to me. "You may pick two gifts for each of your three children, one for your spouse and one for the family. We encourage families (poor families like you, she seemed to gently imply) to pick one clothing item and one toy for each child." Glancing around at the others in this special store, some families seemed genuinely poor as evidenced by their threadbare coats and sock-less attire (in the winter, no less) while others were dressed with comfortable and warm clothes like me. But we all had one thing in common: We were all shopping for free items in a charity-minded store.
So how did I get here? Well, I'm not really sure. Although humbling to receive, this invitation was most assuredly appreciated this Christmas year.
Two years earlier Rick and a business associate had started a consulting business after working for many years as a banker. They named this new business venture "Integrity Management". I.M. was beginning to show signs of success and we were hopeful to see profits at year-end. For two years we had lived on a fraction of what we'd been used to and we'd given most of our life's savings to the start-up of I.M. The new normal was very hard for me to live with mostly because I'd never learned how to spend money wisely. And there was an irrational fear that someday we could be living in the streets!
Still, someone had turned in our name for help with the cost of Christmas shopping. Were we poor? Not as much as many others, but we were living on a significantly lower salary than in previous years when both Rick and I worked. Now Rick was the only wage-earner and we had three children, one with special needs. I was scared and truthfully, a little angry with God for allowing us to be in this position. I chose to shop for free simply because the opportunity arose and I was just grateful to have someone help bear some of the financial burden for this year's Christmas.
I never did learn who submitted our name. Although humbled and slightly embarrassed, I was very grateful for their thoughtfulness.
As I picked gifts for each of the three children I was overcome with a sense of gratitude not only to our sponsor but also to God for offering this gift to help relieve the burden of Christmas spending. I still remember a couple of those gifts and have kept them as a remembrance, or sorts-- a yellow, knitted ski cap for Megan and warm wool blanket for the family. And as I moved along I resolved to push aside any smugness or pride within my heart. I realized that I wasn't any better than those who have less money than I did. I learned that life is what it is -- lemonade can be made with lemons, so to speak.
Since 1997 I have been able to purchase all our Christmas gifts. And we have enjoyed taking part in a number of Christmas charities like the Angel Tree program with Prison Fellowship Ministry and Operation Christmas Child through the Billy Graham Association. The one thing I enjoy the most about Christmas is the giving of gifts, thereby showing my love for another. God knew I was angry with our position in life and He helped me to understand that there is so much more to life than what we have or acquire. God showed His love for our family through the thoughtfulness of another so long ago.
"Every good gift, every perfect gift, comes from above, coming down from the Father who made the heavenly lights, in whose character there is no change at all." James 1:17
Sunday, November 18, 2012
My friend, Miriam
"Two people are better off than one, for they can help each other succeed. If one person falls, the other can reach out and help ... " Ecclesiastes 4: 9-12 ...
Recently I had dinner with a long-time friend, Miriam. Our friendship has spanned almost 18 years and has withstood the test of time and distance. Catching-up while enjoying sushi and grilled tuna, Miriam and I marveled at how easily we slid into comfortable companionship. Truth be told, I consider Miriam to be my very best friend -- minus God, Rick and my sister. One might ask what is so special about this friendship? Let me tell you how our how friendship began and grew into a solid relationship built on nothing less than truth and love.
Dealing with breast cancer at the age of 36 was not an easy thing to do. For one, I had no one else my age going through chemotherapy, too. And because people often shy away from those dealing with cancer, I had lost a few very close friends as well. As I languished in bed, reeling from the effects of treatment, I asked God to please bring me a friend -- someone who would truly understand what I was going through.
I'm often told that God knows what we need and will provide for us in His timing. I desperately wanted a friend who would understand the pain and suffering I was feeling. But for the first six months of this new sort of life, no such friend surfaced and I wrestled with life as best I could.
Just one month after my first surgery, February 1996, on a cold and wintry Sunday, Rick and I decided to visit a new church. While settling our young children into Sunday school, one of the pastors told me of another young woman in their congregation going through breast cancer treatment like me. "Oh, could you please arrange for the two of to meet?" I implored. The young pastor promised to try to do just that. Soon thereafter I was given Miriam's phone number to call -- which I did. Weeks went by and I never heard from Miriam. In time I finished therapy and began trying to rebuild my strength and vitality.
In August 1996, the Kansas City Race for the Cure was held at Town Center Square. My surgeon opened her offices to host her special patients with a continental breakfast -- then everyone walked together to nearby Town Center Square for the race. While standing among mostly older women at my surgeon's office, I noticed one young woman standing alongside her husband. She looked to be close to my age. Being a super-extroverted personality, I quickly scooted to this couple. The four of us engaged in lively chatter and later walked most of the route together :)
As you might guess, the young woman was Miriam! The two of us learned that we shared more than just a diagnosis of breast cancer. We also shared the same breast cancer surgeon, plastic surgeon and same oncology doctor group. Miriam is just a few years younger than me, but we both had experienced this horrid disease in our 30's. She remembered my phone call, but was just too sick to return a call. Miriam, too, felt alone in her struggle against breast cancer.
In His perfect timing, God brought the two of us into a friendship that would help carry us through the next years with laughter and loving encouragement. Although we have very different lives -- Miriam is career-oriented and without children, while I mostly work at home and have three children -- God knew we would share more than just our outward lives together. We share common values and struggles, but also share our belief in Christ, as well. I am so grateful for this friend of mine.
Miriam and I were able to support and encourage one another through some very difficult years. We met often to share secrets with one another -- to talk about cancer, which is so important for some of us -- and to express our dismay with lingering side effects. When no one else really understood the pain I felt, Miriam did. To this day I meet with Miriam and enjoy the closeness that few others experience in life. We still talk about cancer but not as much as during those early years. Nowadays we talk about other things like our families and future career paths. Although my friend now lives in another state, we are able to travel to one another's cities at least yearly -- sometimes twice yearly.
This year we celebrate 18 years of living cancer free. It hasn't been an easy road, but in retrospect, it was easier just knowing someone else was walking through this war with me. Thank you, Miriam, for your unconditional love and support. I love you, dear friend.
"... A person standing alone can be attacked and defeated, but two can stand back-to-back and conquer ..." Ecclesiastes 4: 9-12 (continued from above)
Recently I had dinner with a long-time friend, Miriam. Our friendship has spanned almost 18 years and has withstood the test of time and distance. Catching-up while enjoying sushi and grilled tuna, Miriam and I marveled at how easily we slid into comfortable companionship. Truth be told, I consider Miriam to be my very best friend -- minus God, Rick and my sister. One might ask what is so special about this friendship? Let me tell you how our how friendship began and grew into a solid relationship built on nothing less than truth and love.
Dealing with breast cancer at the age of 36 was not an easy thing to do. For one, I had no one else my age going through chemotherapy, too. And because people often shy away from those dealing with cancer, I had lost a few very close friends as well. As I languished in bed, reeling from the effects of treatment, I asked God to please bring me a friend -- someone who would truly understand what I was going through.
I'm often told that God knows what we need and will provide for us in His timing. I desperately wanted a friend who would understand the pain and suffering I was feeling. But for the first six months of this new sort of life, no such friend surfaced and I wrestled with life as best I could.
Just one month after my first surgery, February 1996, on a cold and wintry Sunday, Rick and I decided to visit a new church. While settling our young children into Sunday school, one of the pastors told me of another young woman in their congregation going through breast cancer treatment like me. "Oh, could you please arrange for the two of to meet?" I implored. The young pastor promised to try to do just that. Soon thereafter I was given Miriam's phone number to call -- which I did. Weeks went by and I never heard from Miriam. In time I finished therapy and began trying to rebuild my strength and vitality.
In August 1996, the Kansas City Race for the Cure was held at Town Center Square. My surgeon opened her offices to host her special patients with a continental breakfast -- then everyone walked together to nearby Town Center Square for the race. While standing among mostly older women at my surgeon's office, I noticed one young woman standing alongside her husband. She looked to be close to my age. Being a super-extroverted personality, I quickly scooted to this couple. The four of us engaged in lively chatter and later walked most of the route together :)
As you might guess, the young woman was Miriam! The two of us learned that we shared more than just a diagnosis of breast cancer. We also shared the same breast cancer surgeon, plastic surgeon and same oncology doctor group. Miriam is just a few years younger than me, but we both had experienced this horrid disease in our 30's. She remembered my phone call, but was just too sick to return a call. Miriam, too, felt alone in her struggle against breast cancer.
In His perfect timing, God brought the two of us into a friendship that would help carry us through the next years with laughter and loving encouragement. Although we have very different lives -- Miriam is career-oriented and without children, while I mostly work at home and have three children -- God knew we would share more than just our outward lives together. We share common values and struggles, but also share our belief in Christ, as well. I am so grateful for this friend of mine.
Miriam and I were able to support and encourage one another through some very difficult years. We met often to share secrets with one another -- to talk about cancer, which is so important for some of us -- and to express our dismay with lingering side effects. When no one else really understood the pain I felt, Miriam did. To this day I meet with Miriam and enjoy the closeness that few others experience in life. We still talk about cancer but not as much as during those early years. Nowadays we talk about other things like our families and future career paths. Although my friend now lives in another state, we are able to travel to one another's cities at least yearly -- sometimes twice yearly.
This year we celebrate 18 years of living cancer free. It hasn't been an easy road, but in retrospect, it was easier just knowing someone else was walking through this war with me. Thank you, Miriam, for your unconditional love and support. I love you, dear friend.
"... A person standing alone can be attacked and defeated, but two can stand back-to-back and conquer ..." Ecclesiastes 4: 9-12 (continued from above)
Saturday, November 10, 2012
Jeremy's Journey
When people first learn that Jeremy has autism, I'm usually asked this question: "So, (hesitant pause) when did you first know that something was wrong?" When asked this question I'm immediately transported back in time to two specific events -- both of which are vivid and fresh in my mind. I can still remember the horror I felt as I watched these two scenes unfold and the ache in my heart for our darling little boy, who was not quite two years old.
My first memory occurred when Jeremy was twenty-two months old. He was such a happy little boy -- and usually responded to my playful teasing with a smile and a gleeful laugh. This time was different. We played one game whenever I changed his diaper or dressed him and played the "name the body part game". That morning, as I was dressing Jeremy for the day, I tickled his little belly and asked, "Where's your nose?" Nothing. Jeremy simply didn't respond. He seemed to be staring somewhere else - definitely not at me. "Where's your nose, little guy?" I asked once again. Again, no response. Hmmm, That's strange, I thought. Let's try another body part. "Where's your eyes?" then, "Where's your ears?" and so on. With mounting anxiety I continued to try to recapture my son's attention. Jeremy didn't seem to be paying much attention to me no matter what I said or did.
My second memory I have occurred on Jeremy's second birthday. We had invited several children over to help celebrate this special occasion. But when I put the birthday cake down in front of Jeremy, he didn't seem to understand. Without batting an eye Jeremy's little chubby hand flew into that birthday cake! In mere seconds he'd grabbed some cake and stuffed a piece into his tiny mouth! It dawned on me in an instant -- Jeremy didn't understand. In fact, he didn't seem to have a clue that this was his birthday! He'd ignored his guests and simply dived into the cake because it looked yummy.
My mind returned to Megan's second birthday just two years previously. She'd been so excited to have her friends over for games, cake and presents! "Oh, look at the beautiful presents!" she had exclaimed. "Here come my friends!" Jeremy hadn't given his guests much notice. And as I watched Jeremy eat his cake, it began to dawn on me that something really was wrong with our beautiful little boy.
By age four Jeremy still wasn't talking nor was he interacting much with others besides our immediate family. The professionals told us there was little hope for our beautiful son. No one expected Jeremy to talk or interact with others in a meaningful way. And he didn't really start to talk until much later in life. He was considered severely impacted by his autism.
This month Jeremy turns 21. As of now Jeremy understands that his birthday is a special day, indeed. He greets guests at the door, "How are you? ... (without missing a beat) I am fine!" Then we do something fun like bowling or roller skating before singing "Happy Birthday" and opening presents. Jeremy will tell you that his birthday means cake and presents. I'm not sure if he really understands the concept of age.
I wrestle with assorted emotions during this time. As the years pass by I sort of grieve because I know Jeremy will be in different places than peers his age. Don't misunderstand me -- I am very grateful that Jeremy has become who he is today. But I remember where we have come from -- "Where's your eyes, Jeremy?" and smile for now we've graduated to "Why do we need our eyes, Jeremy?"
And I'm reminded of just how much Jeremy has grown from those early lost years of one afflicted with autism. This year as we celebrate Jeremy's birthday, he will laugh with others, ice skate with others, eat cake with others and exuberantly open presents -- once more showing us his playful and interactive side! God has been faithful and good.
P.S. Jeremy has asked for this following birthday gifts: "I want a Peter Pan DVD, roller blades, a scooter and a ping pong table!" I find his birthday list just precious.
My first memory occurred when Jeremy was twenty-two months old. He was such a happy little boy -- and usually responded to my playful teasing with a smile and a gleeful laugh. This time was different. We played one game whenever I changed his diaper or dressed him and played the "name the body part game". That morning, as I was dressing Jeremy for the day, I tickled his little belly and asked, "Where's your nose?" Nothing. Jeremy simply didn't respond. He seemed to be staring somewhere else - definitely not at me. "Where's your nose, little guy?" I asked once again. Again, no response. Hmmm, That's strange, I thought. Let's try another body part. "Where's your eyes?" then, "Where's your ears?" and so on. With mounting anxiety I continued to try to recapture my son's attention. Jeremy didn't seem to be paying much attention to me no matter what I said or did.
My second memory I have occurred on Jeremy's second birthday. We had invited several children over to help celebrate this special occasion. But when I put the birthday cake down in front of Jeremy, he didn't seem to understand. Without batting an eye Jeremy's little chubby hand flew into that birthday cake! In mere seconds he'd grabbed some cake and stuffed a piece into his tiny mouth! It dawned on me in an instant -- Jeremy didn't understand. In fact, he didn't seem to have a clue that this was his birthday! He'd ignored his guests and simply dived into the cake because it looked yummy.
My mind returned to Megan's second birthday just two years previously. She'd been so excited to have her friends over for games, cake and presents! "Oh, look at the beautiful presents!" she had exclaimed. "Here come my friends!" Jeremy hadn't given his guests much notice. And as I watched Jeremy eat his cake, it began to dawn on me that something really was wrong with our beautiful little boy.
By age four Jeremy still wasn't talking nor was he interacting much with others besides our immediate family. The professionals told us there was little hope for our beautiful son. No one expected Jeremy to talk or interact with others in a meaningful way. And he didn't really start to talk until much later in life. He was considered severely impacted by his autism.
This month Jeremy turns 21. As of now Jeremy understands that his birthday is a special day, indeed. He greets guests at the door, "How are you? ... (without missing a beat) I am fine!" Then we do something fun like bowling or roller skating before singing "Happy Birthday" and opening presents. Jeremy will tell you that his birthday means cake and presents. I'm not sure if he really understands the concept of age.
I wrestle with assorted emotions during this time. As the years pass by I sort of grieve because I know Jeremy will be in different places than peers his age. Don't misunderstand me -- I am very grateful that Jeremy has become who he is today. But I remember where we have come from -- "Where's your eyes, Jeremy?" and smile for now we've graduated to "Why do we need our eyes, Jeremy?"
And I'm reminded of just how much Jeremy has grown from those early lost years of one afflicted with autism. This year as we celebrate Jeremy's birthday, he will laugh with others, ice skate with others, eat cake with others and exuberantly open presents -- once more showing us his playful and interactive side! God has been faithful and good.
P.S. Jeremy has asked for this following birthday gifts: "I want a Peter Pan DVD, roller blades, a scooter and a ping pong table!" I find his birthday list just precious.
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