You can take the girl out of the country...

...but you can't take the country out of the girl. (Brooks & Dunn)

But we all live with the scars we choose
They might hurt like hell, but they all make us stronger
~ Sugarland, Take Me As I Am

These are all my babies
Lord knows how we survived.
The first one was hard and the last one wasn't planned
What a big surprise
That's him with his daddy's eyes

But if life stayed the way it was
And lovers never fell out of love
If memories didn't last so long
If nobody did nobody wrong
If we knew what we had before it was gone
If every road led back home
This would be
The very last country song.
~ Sugarland, Very Last Country Song

Country music has always resonated with me. It captures the cricket-song nights, the dew on the grass, late summer breezes, frogs singing in the spring, moments at camps, on rivers fishing with my Grandpa, sleeping outdoors. Not only that, it has heartache. Not the angst-ridden heartache of rock-n-roll, but the simple, deep throb in your chest over the bittersweetness of your life. I remember belting out Trisha Yearwood songs in the woods when I was a counselor at 4-H camp in my late teens, wrestling with my heart condition and the limits it put on my life, struggling to find that fine line between independence and dependence on God and my family. I used to sing Mary Chapin Carpenter in my little lavendar car on the way to visit David in West St. Paul, praying for clarity as I continued in a relationship that just never "fit right". I was in a bluegrass phase when I began spending time with Aaron, and made copies of CD's for him, filled with everything from Bob Wills to U2 and Johnny Cash.

I was singing along to this new Sugarland CD on the way home from St. Cloud last night. I bought the CD for Aaron for our 6th anniversary, because track 6 is called Genevieve, and speaks of a passionate love lost. Fitting for what we are facing right now. In Very Last Country Song, country music is a euphemism for life: without pain, there is no joy; without suffering, what lends beauty to our days? Sometimes I wish I could hold on to a moment forever - snuggling Caleb and breathing in the baby smells from the crook of his neck; watching Rosy walk down the aisle as a flowergirl - in just a few years, she will be the bride! Katy's silly little songs all day long, and the tender way she cares for Amelia and Caleb; Amy's stutter and deep need for "Mom". These moments are so fleeting, and will soon be gone. But to name them as my treasure, put my stock in those moments of passing beauty in the here and now, is to deny that a greater treasure lies ahead and sell heaven short for a fading glory here on earth.

For what was glorious has no glory now in comparison with the surpassing glory. And if what was fading away came with glory, how much greater is the glory of that which lasts! ~ II Corinthians 3:10-11

Reflecting on 6 years

It’s amazing how you can speak right to my heart
Without saying a word you can light up the dark
Try as I may I could never explain
What I hear when you don’t say a thing

The smile on your face lets me know that you need me
There’s a truth in your eyes sayin’ you’ll never leave me
The touch of your hand says you’ll catch me if ever I fall
You say it best when you say nothing at all
~ Don Schlitz & Paul Overstreet, When You Say Nothing At All

Then:

• Leisurely walks through the farmer's market
• Snowboarding in the morning after night shift until our legs turned to jelly
• Homemade carbernet, roasted beets & steak off the gas grill in the backyard
• Traveling by plane
• Sleeping in - just two people in the bed!
• Working together on housecleaning once a week
• Cooking together in our tiny kitchen
• Working hard and playing hard
• Taking the dogs down to Minnehaha Creek for a swim
• Biking to work together through Minneapolis traffic
• Winter camping

Now:

• Celebrating the rare trip to the farmer's market - four kids in tow - and enjoying the veggies we buy for weeks at a time
• Snowboarding is a great mini-vacation in our own region...every other year!
• Sharing cab, roasted beets and steak with our kids ("You must eat four bites of everything!")
• Traveling by car, seeing the sites on the way
• "Sleeping in" - until 8 a.m.! Still feels great. Even though there are 6 people in the bed by the time we wake up!
• Working together on housecleaning every morning and every night
• Cooking together in our big kitchen, feeding bites of raw veggies to Amy to keep her quiet until supper is done.
• Working hard...and going straight to bed together - skip the playing!
• Taking the dogs into the backyard for a run or down to the slough for a swim
• Biking together - towing four kids! It's a much better work-out...
• Car camping - seriously, we filled the minivan AND the boat last time we went - and we still forgot some things!

After six years, I still look at my husband and wonder how I got so lucky. I can't imagine living life any other way. Time is flying by. At his cousin's wedding last night, they had their first dance to the Alison Krauss song I sang to Aaron at our wedding exactly 6 years earlier. I looked at my husband, cuddled up to two of our kids, and thought how much life has changed in such a short time. I thought forward to watching our kids dance at their weddings. The grass withers, and the flowers fall, but the word of our God stands forever. (Isaiah 40:8) Life is bittersweet, isn't it?

Chaff in the wind

Persist steadfastly without anxiety. I think that is what God is telling me to do. I was doing a statistics assignment today and we were learning how to "correct" skewed data. It reminded me that my faith is in God, not my doctor, not the medical tests, not my risk score, not my tumor staging. All those things are just dry chaff in the wind (Isaiah 40 & 41). I have seen the faces of the people who are in the 1%, the 5% or the 50% that experience "negative outcomes". If I am in that percentile, so be it...but I am not going to base my decisions on a statistic, either way. I hope in the Lord, not a statistic. And I will fight and search for better answers, regardless of the statistics. I am going to persist steadfastly without anxiety.

Humble yourselves, therefore, under God's mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time. Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you. Be self-controlled and alert. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. ~ I Peter 5:6-8

Poured out

I am poured out like water...be not far from me, O Lord; O my Help, hasten to aid me!
~ Psalm 22

Today was my follow-up appointment at Mayo. I had a neck ultrasound, which initially looked grave - several enlarged lymph nodes (one 3 cm), one with very strange appearance, and another nodule (though small) in the area my thyroid used to occupy. The appointment with the endocrine oncologist revealed that the final radiology report was mixed: no mention of the enlarged lymph nodes, the nodule is probably "insignificant clinically", and the strange lymph node is too small to worry about right now. Based on the score they use to calculate risk and odds, the team feels it is appropriate to treat my cancer conservatively - no further treatment at the moment, follow-up in 3 and 6 months, and frequent ultrasounds for at least 5 years.

The difficulties are these: the information was contradictory, very similar to the information we received just before the decision was made to go to surgery (when one pathologist thought cancer and the other - from Mayo - thought benign). In addition, Mayo is the only facility in the U.S. that does not treat all cases of papillary carcinoma - follicular variant with radioactive iodine. The team is asking me to accept their superior expertise and override all the other information I can gather about this scenario. What to do?

I am back at the "dirty dishrag" stage right now - I think there might even be a layer of some slimy orange scum on me this evening (sorry attempt at humor here!). I am wrung out and wasted, completely poured out to the spiritual, emotional and physical exercise of accepting and comprehending the depth and breadth of this trial.

I.
For he must reign, till he hath put all enemies under his feet. The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death. ~ I Corinthians 15:25-26

Death is an enemy - one I should fight. If what is presented to me doesn't ring true with my past and present experiences, knowledge and intuition, I need to fight to find an answer that does resonate. If I am not at peace, I need to press on until I find that "peace that passeth all understanding" (Phil. 4:7).

II.
I had fainted, unless I had believed to see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Wait on the LORD: be of good courage, and he shall strengthen thine heart: wait, I say, on the Lord. ~ Psalm 27:13-14

Death and life are in God's hand, whatever my decision in this. He has laid out a path for me, and He may be asking me to "abide in Him" (John 15:5) through this difficult period of waiting for a clear answer.

The tears ran down my face this afternoon as I recalled the words to this powerful old hymn, and sang it to my children:

Take my life, and let it be
Consecrated, Lord, to Thee;
Take my moments and my days,
Let them flow in ceaseless praise,
Let them flow in ceaseless praise.

Take my hands, and let them move
At the impulse of Thy love;
Take my feet and let them be
Swift and beautiful for Thee,
Swift and beautiful for Thee.

Take my voice, and let me sing
Always, only, for my King;
Take my lips, and let them be
Filled with messages from Thee,
Filled with messages from Thee.

Take my will, and make it Thine;
It shall be no longer mine.
Take my heart; it is Thine own;
It shall be Thy royal throne,
It shall be Thy royal throne.

Take my love; my Lord, I pour
At Thy feet its treasure-store.
Take myself, and I will be
Ever, only, all for Thee,
Ever, only, all for Thee.
~ Frances R. Havergal, 1874, Take My Life and Let It Be