New Years and New Words

Yesterday our whole family wrote down our top ten list from the past year. We have done a family list for five or so years now, we stole the idea from one of our friends all those years back, but this was the first year everyone, even Haven could write their own down. Some things made all of our lists, our new (to us) hot tub, some aspect of our amazing summer vacation to the west coast, the same with our trip to Hawaii last March. Swimming with a pod of wild dolphins is a pretty incredible event for a ten and eight year old to check off their bucket lists. All of my kids have some of their daddies love for adventure in them so cliff diving made all of the kiddos lists and so did doing some pretty challenging hikes. Also some aspect of regular everyday life: being homeschooled, working in the garden, cooking, reading books, each a little different but something ordinary made each list.

At times it feels like 2016 will always be remembered as the year I was diagnosed with cancer and that 2017 will always be the year I deal with the treatment. Yet I know that isn't so. 2016 was the year I found out I had cancer, yes but it was also the year we had the most perfect Christmas and hiked into a volcano. It was the year we started Anahola Board Co in earnest and it was the year Aaron moved his office to home and after covering two territories for almost a year, worked regular hours. Thus we had more down time and more sanity, we had forgotten how comparably easy it is for him to work only one job.

2016 was the year everyone could ski and swim and paddleboard and hike and bike well. It was a year of watching my not baby, babies grow and live, seeing more of who they are emerge, and let me tell you that is one of my most favourite things in existence.

It was the year we had so many full and rich days at home, just living, and talking, and being together, learning, pursuing our passions. It was a year that as parents we got to see our kids thrive at what they love and also push themselves at things that don't come so easily. It was a year we tried to do the same for ourselves.

It was a year of folding laundry and drinking coffee or tea, while the other person cooks (I'm laundry, Aaron's cooking in case you were wondering) and continuing to work on the home we love out here in the country, building a new deck and growing more flowers, mowing the grass and feeding chickens. It was a year of family and friends, laughing and crying. It was a year of many memories.

2016 was good. At times it was exceptionally challenging, not just in our own little blessed life here but obviously also in the world at large where there were much bigger crises than one called cancer. But despite all of this, there was love and it was good.

And now it is 2017. I'm a person who loves resolutions and intentions and one words and all that jam. Perhaps no year has taught me we can do all of that and still have so little control than 2016. Also, perhaps no year has taught me that we can do all of that and it can give us comfort in ways we never expected.

Although I never blogged about it, my words for 2016 were 'It is well with my soul'. The words come from this song.

'When peace, like a river, attendeth my way, When sorrows like sea billows roll; Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say, It is well, it is well with my soul.'

They were in the center of my vision board for 2016 and I can't really explain why at the time, except it was spoken to my soul and so there it went. I cannot tell you how many times looking up at those words helped me this year.

This year I'm keeping it simplish as specific plans are a little more up in the air. My word is 'nurture' and my goals are as follows:

1. Love well: God, my people, those around me in my own community and the world, myself
2. Kick cancers behind and enter summer of 2017 (medical timelines permitting) cancer free
3. Spread some peace in the world
4. Being open to whatever else comes my way; while praying this involves more jumping off things into water, sunshine and seeing all the miracles of everyday life.

2017 I don't know fully what to expect but I know this: there will be love and it will be good.

Happy New Year and lots of love from us

Finding light

Today is the shortest day of the year and also the first day of winter. I crept out of bed before any of my kids and even though it was past eight it was still pitch black. Tonight it will be solidly dark well before we have dinner. I'm looking out the window at part of our forest while I write this, the trees all bare but their branches beginning to be lightly illuminated by the sky behind them as the sun rises. There isn't even enough snow to cover all the fall leaves where they lay thick in the wild parts of our yard. Trees don't have trouble with the stark stripping down and apparent death of this season, they thrive on letting things go to nourish what is coming next. It's not always so easy for us humans.

It has been two months to the day since I had an emergency appendectomy where they found not an infected appendix but instead a tumour that had ruptured my appendix and also some deposits on my right ovary.

It has been about six weeks since I found out exactly what that tumour was, a low grade appendicital neoplasm and also that the deposits on my ovary were mucousy which is how this tumour  spreads.

It has been five weeks since I found out from my amazing surgeon (who did everything right during surgery even though this is very rare) an approximation of what oncology would do.

It has been a week since I have met with one of my oncologists for the first time.

Here is what I've found:

It takes about two weeks, maybe a bit less for your mind to wrap your head around the idea that yes, this is happening to you. You are really allowed to feel sad or mad or anything else you want about your diagnosis during that time even though there are worse tragedies going on in the world, because, well you just are.

It takes about a week (for me anyway) after it all sinks in to get incredibly fed up of thinking about life without you, so I wrote about it because that helps me process it and shake it off, but also my husband gave me this.

It takes about one week of wearing this elastic band with one hard snap each and every time I thought about life without me in it until I didn't really need it anymore. (Idea from Kris Carr's book, Crazy, Sexy, Cancer Survivor).

If I am having a bad day, I put it back on but mostly now it is this:

One day at a time

Putting your big girl panties on

Being held up by the prayers and encouragement of those who love you and a God who calls you beloved.

Because it takes about zero days to realize how much you love your life, and by that you mean your family, your friends, your faith, your very own self, even this often very broken world. I think this is what we call blessed; when you have all of this, so dear to your heart that you have such gratitude, despite what ever else is going on. So you suck it up, you breathe them in. You absolutely get drunk on everyday moments like brushing your girls freshly dried hair and saying I love you and eating dinner together around the candles.

You revel in moments that you no longer take for granted like waking up alive and hearing your prognosis is good. Because it takes about zero days to realize that to survive you have to look for the light, each and every speck of it, especially during the darkest days of the year.