Marching Band, not just halftime entertainment

The Pride of Broken Arrow performing 2013's Utopia

Dear Staff and Creative directors of the Pride of Broken Arrow,

For some time now I’ve been wanting to express my great appreciation to you and the entire Pride staff.  I’ve had the privilege to support 2 daughters in the color guard, Molly and Katie, with the hopes for the remainder of my 4 children left at home to march someday with the Pride.    Please bear with me as I try to express in words the feelings of gratitude in my heart.

I am keenly aware that parenting is all about teaching, guiding and finding those opportunities in life as they become available.  The past few months have been chopped full of those parenting moments for me, Katie and the rest of my children.  When I was diagnosed with cancer my world was shaken,  and I thought I had felt the deepest of earth trembling shakes when my husband had passed away, I was wrong.  Your eyes are opened wide when you are given the task of fighting for life,  I was awoken to what being a mother was really about, one of them being the joys of simple things. 

This year’s show, Katie’s first year performing with the Pride was a God given blessing to me and my family.  Funny that a high school marching band can move a 39 year old mother to such emotions but it has.  As the season progressed, Kate and I would have night time discussions after practice, after football games, after wonderful trips to super regionals about how simple and beautiful the show was and how the music was soul moving.  Those moments with my daughter are forever etched in my mind and I hope lasting memories for her as well, for isn’t that what life is really about, creating those memories?   Being curious about the music, one afternoon I took it upon myself to research.   Not being very musically knowledgeable, I had no background information about the music composed by Aaron Copland.  I was moved to tears when the feelings that I had recently began to appreciate about life was an inspiration for the music;  Simple Gifts, the shakers hymn being the inspiration behind his beautiful composition Appalachian Springs.

"Tis the gift to be simple, 'tis the gift to be free,
'Tis the gift to come down where we ought to be,
And when we find ourselves in the place just right,
'Twill be in the valley of love and delight.

When true simplicity is gain'd,
To bow and to bend we shan't be asham'd,
To turn, turn will be our delight,
Till by turning, turning we come round right."

Katie Rose, center front color guard

I’m sure it was never your intentions to produce a show just for my family, I can just see you and Wes thinking “Hmm, how can we lift the spirits of the Summers family”  :)  But this is the purpose of my deepest thanks,  you did such this year when you guided, taught and inspired those children to become the best musicians and dancers they could possibly be.  You took beautiful music, the inspiration behind the music and produced something magical that I will never forget.  My family understands the importance of what this life is all about, time with each other, sharing opportunities, living life and enjoying the simplest of things, hugs, kisses, laughter, tears, joy and music. 

Thank you all for giving of so much of your life to this wonderful organization.  I will forever remember this time in my family’s life that we were taught and moved and lifted by something as simple as,  the Pride of Broken Arrow. 

Sincerely,

Rebecca

Katie Rose

Dear Chemo...

Dear Chemo,

It's that time again, our special time, just you and me time.  We've met twice now, spent some miserable evenings with you, cried about you and maybe even cursed your name a few times.  After these two encounters I have a few questions for you, things I've been pondering this week leading up to our third visit.  I'd like to take the time now and share with you my deep inner thoughts and contemplations about what makes you tick Chemo and I'm hoping that you can shed some light on your complexities.

So here goes...

1.  Are you the jealous type?  I've noticed that a few of my true deep loves, such as peanut butter, chocolate and especially Coca-Cola are ALL on my not so likie list since we've been seeing each other.  Is it that you can't tolerate the fact that I love others more than you?  Really, the color green does not suit you well.  I would appreciate the return of my taste buds, thanks.

2.  Do you have OCD?  From what I've noticed since our first two meetings is that you have the tendencies to be extremely OCD in your schedule, like you haven't budged one single second of the day from your itinerary.  Monday-Wednesday you insist on presenting yourself as "the flu".  You are not the flu, why must you copy it's effects on a body?  Thursday -Saturday is even uglier.  Intestinal Distress, really??  It's one of my most least favorite things in the world, nausea, tummy troubles, not eating.  Chemo, I Like Food!!  Not cool, Chemo, not cool.  Sunday is a bipolar day, I guess you need to dabble in the mental health arena to round out your resume.  I'm happy, I'm sad, I'm energetic, I'm pooped.  Sunday is all over the place.  Maybe you need medication dear Chemo to deal with your OCD problem, just sayin'.

3.  Are your origins of a tropical nature, meaning what the heck do you have against the cold?  Have you had to drink lukewarm liquids for days on end Chemo?  Do you know what it's like to have pins and needles in your fingertips when ever you touch anything remotely cold?  Have you felt your throat on fire, gone hoarse because you drank water not quite the temperature of your liking?  I'm pretty sure you haven't or you wouldn't be torturing this hot natured gal so much.  We really need to talk about this effect you have on me, I really like Sonic ice, really like it a lot and I CAN"T HAVE IT!  It makes me grumpy to be hot, just ask anyone who knows me, the cooler the better for Becky.  I mean, I guess I won't complain too much, after Friday(refer back to your OCD question) I seem to have the ability to tolerate the cold again. 

I'm hoping that these few questions I have for you can be answered in a timely fashion.  We have oh so many more meetings, I wouldn't want our whole relationship to be clouded by the curiosities I have about you.  I do want to state one thing Mr. Chemo......  Thank you for giving me a second chance at life, a second chance at love, a second chance to be the best mom I can be.  You will be the gateway to Becky, part 2 and I Thank You for the bottom of my heart.

Yours Truly,

Becky

Grumpy McGrumpypants

I've decided that for the next 6 months, while chemo is in full swing, I shall legally change my name to Grumpy McGrumpypants.   I shall have a constant look of agitation, please don't talk to me, look at me or ask me to smile, just a general look of grumpiness.  

First round of chemo is done and over with and I will sing all praises to my saint of a husband who rarely if at all complained about feeling like crap.  The routine of chemo goes as such:  

Monday- wake up feeling great, drive to the hospital where I will sit for the next 6 1/2 hours getting pumped full of life saving poison.  My butt will start to hurt, my legs will begin to ache but as a whole my general disposition will be only mildly grumpy.  

Tuesday- wake up feeling like I have the flu, just blah all over.  I'll create a new rendition of Achy Breaky Heart, but it will be called My Achy Breaky Legs and I will complain about such achy breaky legs all stinkin' day long.  My general disposition will quickly decline to a perpetual state of pure grumpiness.  The pump that continues to administer the lovely chemo will become my fashion statement constant companion.  At times I will forget such companion and walk away from the lovely pouch only to be tugged back, cringing in the hopes that I haven't just pulled the needle out of my port.  That should only occur twice per day. 


Wednesday-  I will awaken to such achy breaky legs feeling much much better, and in that brief moment feel the sensation of... gasp... Happiness!  Only to have it crushed by the pit of my stomach churning in a fit of nausea, oh joy.  With such nausea, the return of Grumpy McGrumpypants will ensure that my day is right on track.... Grumpy.  I will take a prescribed anti-nausea drug, a fabulous drug that works Yet, doesn't work since all I can do the remainder of the day is sleep, grumpily sleep.  During this day of grumpily sleeping I will have a brief moment of happiness as I travel back to such hospital to have the pump removed and loose my sense of style companion, good riddance.(at least for another week and a half)

All attempts to brighten my days are quickly thwarted by the desire to drink cold drinks, lets be honest Sonic Coke with Lemon but the burning sensation in my mouth when I attempt such brightening is far to uncomfortable......grumpy.  Any smiling I do, any laughing I do, all happiness seems to be squelched by the case of the grumpiness.  So just ignore the woman with the grumpy face, the mom scolding her daughter for getting sick again, the nagging mom asking for the billionth time "Have you studied for that blasted ACT yet" That's just Grumpy McGrumpypants, she's only here for 6 months, she's not staying I promise, my kids sure hope she's not staying, I hope she's not staying.  

And for the record, I'm just trying to keep it real.  My next entry could introduce Bi-Polar Becky and her happy delusions of grandeur.  Yep, it's gonna be a fun 6 months in Summersville. 

 

Slaying Dragons

My good friend and neighbor, Heidi had posted this comic featuring a cross between two of my favorites.. Disney and my newest idol, Wonder Woman. Slaying Dragons... Defeating Evil... Saving the Kingdom... Staring Chemotherapy.  Tomorrow I go an start my quest, I go and create my own cancer fight story. 

From the beginning of this nightmare I could never shake the memories of Duane.  His diagnosis. His hospital stay. His chemotherapy.  His journey's end.  I keep comparing, keeping a tally of what he went through and how I've handled it, let me hear it now... Not Smart Becky, not smart!  I know, I have a problem with judging myself harshly, but who doesn't.  

One particular memory has been haunting me since last week when I scheduled my first chemo appointment.. Duane's last chemo appointment I shared with him.  At that time he was already orange, we knew something was going wrong but steps were not being taken quickly enough  to catch up with the damage being done to his body.  We sat there in the clinic, uncomfortably, usually we talked and enjoyed our "dates" as they became to be but this day was different.  I was tired and battling a sciatic nerve problem and he was well, dying and we both secretly knew this was the truth.  You would think that those memories alone would have made this last appointment one for the books but it was what happened to the  woman sitting next to us that made me never want to set foot in that clinic again.  My heart still to this day, 5 years later hurts for her friend as she called for the nurses to come over and check on her cancer fighting friend.  The woman had, I assumed, suffered a stroke or something like that.  I never asked.  She was unresponsive, barely a blood pressure to register and she looked catatonic.  I am ashamed of what transpired next, I quickly left my husband, my dying husband, next to the woman who was departing this world to go cry my eyes out in the car.  I could not handle the reality of what cancer and chemotherapy does to a body.  And that my friend was my last experience with chemotherapy, my last memory, a Duane memory.  

But tomorrow I  will create MY memories of MY fight, not Duane's epic battle but MY EPIC BATTLE!!   I will try and prove that chemo saves lives not damages lives.  I can't keep that memory as my own but only as a memory of Duane's.  I am different than my precious husband.  Please don't think that I'm putting down his memories, my memories of him or his time he fought so valiantly.  I am not, but I need to do it in some round about way, am I making sense?  My children need me to be Wonder Woman, dragon slayer, evil fighter, kingdom saver.  They need to see that cancer is NOT a death sentence.  I can't keep comparing what happened to Duane with what's happening to me. All of our memories and experiences with this evil disease need to be rewritten.  Duane showed me strength, grace, how to carry on(before it was cool to Keep Calm and Carry ON).  I will keep those memories and add to them MY very own memories, our memories, the kids and I.   

I'm excited, anxious, scared but mostly.... Ready to Slay a Dragon named Cancer.

Distractions

 We've all heard the expression "When it rains it pours", well right now I'm pretty sure I'm in the monsoon season.... But that's OK!  Weird, I never thought that I'd want so much chaos, so much upheaval going on in my life all at the same time.  But each downpour is just a distraction from the next.  Each one, on it's own would have put me into a complete tizzy!  I mean, full on, psycho nutcase, Calgon take me away, tizzy. 

 Let's start with something everyone with children will eventually go through, the oldest leaving home for college.  I've dreaded this moment since the day she was born, my sweet Molly moving on, growing up, leaving the nest.  When Duane passed away I clung so tightly to my children, they became my cure for my sorrows.  I knew I would have to say goodbye, but I always thought I would have Duane to lean on when I did have to say goodbye.  So when the rainy Monday came when my baby was to leave, I sobbed, I cried, I held her favorite baby doll Polly which she left at home for her little sister Hannah to care for.... But... it was OK!  I survived.

 

I was distracted.  By goofiness, by life, by my children.  All of these things kept my mind off of the cancer, off of the pain of recovering from a colon resection, off of the pain of letting my oldest spread her wings and fly.

Beautiful flowers to say I love you... Distraction.

 A birthday, a new year, a new life to begin.  Happiness found in the simplicity of chocolate brownies, in a pan that was on fire, in the medication that took away the pain of a surgery done the morning of my birthday, a surgery to put in my port for chemotherapy.

 My port, the painful, ugly, feels like someone punched the heck out of my shoulder, device that will help deliver the chemo to my body.  I was so grumpy the morning going into surgery, I did NOT want the "nail put in my chemo coffin" as I so lovingly described the procedure.  But as the day went on I began to see the beautiful distraction that was my port, it helped take my mind off of my worry, off of my pain in my tummy, off of the pain in my heart of saying goodbye to my Molly.  I saw my port as the portal to the second half of my life, my new life.  It was beautiful, it was wonderful, it was distracting.

 Love is distracting, probably in the best way.  Love from your sisters, your friends, your family.  Notes of encouragement, meant to brighten my day, succeeding in doing such brightening.  Never hesitate when you feel the need to send love to someone.  It just may be the distraction from the sorrow in their life that is needed at that moment. 

 Love through sweet thoughts, actions, brilliant ideas on how to make my chemo sessions less... YUCKY.  For 6 months, twice a month I will undergo the fight to kill all those nasty little cells left over because they wanted to go explore my body.  Well they didn't have an open invitation, and I'm sending in the big guns!  But what a way to do it, decked out with such a cute reminder of what I'm fighting for.... These beautiful distractions.... My babies.  I couldn't ask for a more perfect distraction from pain, cancer, sorrow, growing up, worry,.... 7 beautiful distractions.

Veritaserum

So.... I survived.   Hands down, one of the hardest weeks I've ever endured.  I'm guessing my pain tolerance wasn't quite what I thought it to be because I've been hurting... A LOT.    

Coming out of surgery was actually the best part of the week, I had my self a severe case of Truth Be Told, ask and I shall answer...and then some.  Here are several things that spewed from my mouth with some of them prefaced with a "I really shouldn't say this but..." I just couldn't shut up!

1.  I missed my Pug, cried about it too

2.  I didn't miss the cat, became almost evil when I would mention her

3.  I love Tootsie Rolls, ONLY specific kinds- the long skinny ones.  I hate the fat ones, I hate the little ones, I hate the vanilla ones.

4.  My sister has beautiful eyes 

5.  My sister has horrible hair

6.  Daph has a weird tummy

7.  I'm a mean person

8.  I let my kids watch Supernatural

9.  I was waiting for my pregnancy test to come back from the labs

10.  I haven't had sex in 5 years.

The last three confessions were done in front of my Bishop, a sweet, kind, G rated kind of man.  WHAT THE HECK WAS I THINKING???  I'm also pretty sure some of my "confessions" were just drug induced loopiness because frankly I really can't stand Tootsie Rolls.

On the serious side of my truth serum,  I'm scared, I'm tired, I'm not sure I'm up to this fight.  I just haven't found the oomph yet that I see all the cancer fighting people proclaim.  I miss my Duane, profoundly.  It's been so hard to find the peace I'm wanting when the peace I'm wanting has to do with being held by my husband.  My mom has been able to give me some of the comfort that I need, my children give me a portion of my comfort, my dearest friends have given me some of that comfort but it's all lacking, Duane.  

 

I pray to find my fight.

You Are Very Rich

This week was all about getting things done, cramming in as much as I could before surgery and before my forced downtime.  Play dates with besties, sushi with my boys, back to school shopping, bills (yuck), a supreme haircut from the hair goddess and of course pedicures with the most important ladies of my life. 

 It was relaxing to sit in the magic fingers chair, plotting how I could smuggle it out of the salon.   Seriously, why don't I have one of those suckers!   

My littles were pampered, although 2 of the 3 found the pink head on top of their chair creepy. 

 The entertainment of course came from Katie, who could not control the bouts of giggles as her feet were being scrubbed. 

The finished results were a bunch of beautiful tootsies, a morning with my girls, my mom and my sister, memories of warmth and especially this reminder...

I am RICH!  

After being asked about my children,  I pointed to all my beautiful girls and added in that I have two handsome boys at home, the pedicure tech then exclaimed "YOU ARE RICH! So very blessed!"  

I couldn't help but think of George Bailey and the note that Clarence wrote him on the inside of Tom Sawyer:

 "Dear George, remember no man is a failure who has friends. Thanks for the wings! Love Clarence"

 

Life is hard and scary and down right stinky sometimes but I am RICH!  You are rich, every single person can find the beauty given to them from God, it just has to be found, sometimes pointed out to us by complete strangers, angels walking amongst us.  It is a Wonderful Life!

Carry On

Tonight as I read to Emma I couldn't help shake the feeling that Eric Carle's The Very Busy Spider was trying to teach me something.  I'm not sure necessarily it was the moral of his story but non the less it struck a chord within my soul.

Throughout the book different barnyard creatures approached the very busy spider as she worked diligently on her masterpiece, the beautiful web at the end of the book.  Each animal would invite the spider to ride, or eat some grass or just run in the meadow and each time the line would read "The spider didn't answer.  She was very busy spinning her web."

What web am I spinning currently?  My web is filled with fear and doubt, filled with anger and sadness.  Each time I start spinning this web something happens, my sweet little barnyard animals approach me, but instead of offering me a ride or to munch on grass I'm asked to rub a back or read a book or the most difficult one of all, listen as my high school senior talks about his desire to join the Marines.  My web of pity is halted in it's tracks, I am a mother first, always first, cancer fighter second.  I can't push aside the reasons why I'm so angry to have cancer, my children.  I need to listen and read and scratch some backs, I need to bake the brownies like I used to, sing in the kitchen again and giggle about what boy little miss Katie adores at the present.  I need to celebrate with happiness major milestones with my oldest daughter, applaud the daring jumps off the pool ladder and grimace as I'm sprayed with stinky perfume.  The very busy spider missed so many great opportunities to experience fun, and laughter and love, am I going to be like that?  Heck NO!  I need to be a mom first, I want to be a mom first, I love being a mom.  

So to be a little trendy this is what I have to do......

Carry on being what I love the most, a Mother.

Filling my vessel

Today my oldest hit the mail jackpot, a spiritual jackpot.  As she was reading one of the notes of encouragement something stuck out, "an empty vessel has nothing to give".  Sorrow can drain your vessel, fear, anger and all the worries that I was brewing in my brain, emptied my vessel, I could feel it empty.

 

Yesterday was a day to refuel for the next sorrow sucking session, for I'm sure it will occur many, many more times during this journey.  It started with a simple rain storm, a down pouring,windshield wipers on full speed, down pour.  It was glorious!  The smell of this summer rain brought back one of my most favorite childhood memories, playing in the flooded rain filled ditch by our house.  I called it our "pool", a muddy water, filled with debris pool, that my foster brother and I wouldn't trade in for a regular pool.  

I smiled, and couldn't stop smiling.  It was spirit lifting, something I needed .  My kids were tortured/privileged to hear my recollection of a summer's rain in Vincennes, Indiana.  Thank you momma and daddy for caring for that sweet little boy, living in that creepy house and letting your children play in who knows what was in that rain water "pool".

The second vessel filling moment is something actually embarrassing and quite trivial.  I'm convinced that refueling doesn't always have to be spiritual and Christ centered, as long as it is wholesome and uplifting, your vessel can be filled to an extent.  I owe Carly Rae Jepson's toe tapping, corny love song to contributing to my break in sorrow yesterday.  Call Me Maybe, cranked very loudly in the car, sung at the top of your lungs had such a wonderful effect on me that it may possibly be endeared to my heart forever, oh bother. 

Lastly was dinner, an invitation I wasn't going to accept, an invitation my oldest insisted I take,  dinner to fill my tummy with deliciousness but more importantly fill my vessel to the brim, ready for the next day.  Thank you my friend.

I guess what I'm trying to convey here is... even when you feel you can't go on, when you're drained and the possibility of refueling your vessel seems impossible, look at the simple things in your day;  The rain storm, the memories, the song, the friend, the gifts from God, helping you to go forth with faith that all is well.

Life is like a box of Chocolates

Those days that you are running on empty can be the hardest, most challenging days to get through.  I'm feeling empty, almost coasting in on fumes right now.  My mind and my spirit are playing a wicked game of ping pong, back and forth, back and forth.  I hated ping pong as a kid, basically I sucked at it, I could never hit that stinkin' little ball.  The opponent usually would whack it at me so fast or to the side that I never really had a chance.  Today's ping pong match is an epic battle between my faith and my fears.

Since this blog/journal is really all about keepin' it real, I'll be completely honest... Today's score is as follows:  Faith-4  Fear-12

I had my doctors visit to go over my CT scan and set my surgery date.  I knew going into it, this time around, that I wasn't going to be surprised by what he had to say.  I wasn't surprised but that doesn't mean that I wasn't profoundly saddened and scared by what he said.  Just let me say, IT COULD BE WORSE, like Duane worse.  There are some lymph nodes that are enlarged, in colon cancer lingo that bumps it up from a Stage 1 to a Stage 3, good news my liver looks good, no organs looked effected meaning it's not Stage 4.  The degree of the disease will now depend upon the surgery which will take place July 29, mark your calendars folks.  I will continue to pray up until that point that the number of lymph nodes effected and the tissue around it will all be small, petite, miniscule.  Please continue to pray.  I need this ping pong match to have better outcomes than the one today.  I sucked at my game today and my kids need me to be like Forrest Gump.  I love you all.

The Courage of a Queen

For many years my heart has been endeared to the Jewish girl made queen, Esther.  I reluctantly admit that it first started to blossom because of the angelic voice of my Katie and a song she would sing from the VeggieTales video about "Queen Essie".  It melted my heart, into a puddle.  I decided to pay better attention to the account of Esther one Sunday as I was teaching a lesson in church, Wow! I loved Esther, I loved her courage, I longed to exhibit half the amount of strength she exhibited.  That was several years before our lives changed from colon cancer the first time around.

After Duane passed I believed I was endeared to this woman because I needed to follow her example of strength as I carried on, raising our 7 children without their father.  I can't recall the amount of times that the courage of a Queen has been given to me, a broad range from the trivial things like mice in the house to serious matters like a child being hospitalized for a brain infection.  Esther's courage gave me a path to follow.  Now her example leads me through this second round of colon cancer for my family.

I am a believer; a believer of the power of prayer, healing, the laying on of hands, faith, purpose in this life, a believer in Christ.  The day after my diagnosis I asked my father, my old Bishop and our sweet kind neighbor to come give me a prayer of blessing.  Afterwards I felt so strongly that I had something to share, what I need to share I did not know, that's what I'm trying to fumble through right now.  But as I watched this video I posted above, I felt so strongly to share my love of Esther, her courage, her strength that can be ours in any circumstance in our lives.  I liked this quote, "You don't really realize how strong you are until being strong is all you have left."  I have no choice BUT be strong and courageous.

"I started to pray"

When Duane was diagnosed in 2007 we were both adamant about keeping a journal of how we navigated through his cancer.  That lasted maybe a week.  I do have some great letters to rely on and a few inspirational journal entries to reread when I feel low.  I did start to blog, it was therapeutic, I loved writing, sharing my thoughts to be forever burned onto the internet(for better and for worse).  It was almost immediately after my diagnosis of cancer that I decided to continue on that path of blogging, for me, for my own personal journal, a journal that I could share with whom ever stumbled by.  I don't want to forget the little tender mercies, the moments that someday I will cherish.

Early this morning, around 5 a.m., I woke with a panic. Yep, I was still in this reality of cancer, yesterday wasn't just a bad dream.  Instantly my tears started to flow and as much as I could stifle the cry, the audible sobs surfaced.  Each night my little girls have taken turns having a "sleep over" in moms room.  I like it, sometimes they fight over it, having a little body with me is comforting.  Last night was Hannah's turn, my rowdy, tenacious 7 year old.  As I sat on the edge of my bed sobbing, trying to be quiet, a little hand reached up and started to rub my back.  Can you just imagine what that did to me?  Being a mom is the best job in the world!  I quickly was able to pull it together, snuggle that sweet child, kiss her forehead and whisper "go back to sleep baby".

I took my sob session to the bath, hoping to hide the pain I was feeling.  As I continued to cry I became calm and relaxed.  At the time I assumed it was the wonderful smell of lavender and the sunrise that I was witnessing outside but as my sweet Hannah approached me this morning about my tears she explained that "mommy, I knew you were crying in the bathtub, I started to pray for you."  What an amazing moment, what an amazing feeling to know your child felt compassion, your child knew who to turn to, her Father in Heaven.  That was my tender mercy for the day.  My sweet Hannah, sharing with me the power of prayer.  I will cling to that power, that faith my 7 year old exhibited.  Lesson learned.

Taste the rainbow

Don't you just love skittles?  Sometimes the kids and I do blind fold tests to see if we "know" our flavors.  Sometimes you combine certain flavors to create the CherryBerry, cherry/grape combo or my personal fav, the Skittles Sprite, lemon/lime.  Taste the rainbow, yum, wish life was as yummy, wish emotions could be as flavorful and fun to experiment with but alas they are not. 

Today my rainbow of emotions almost did me in, put a fork in this turkey because it's done, did me in.  I ranged from peaceful,  hopeful, confident, full of stamina for the upcoming marathon to ending the day beat, tired, confused and ready to crawl into my shell. 

I'm NOT scared, I'm not upset or even really complaining, I hope that's not how this is coming across.   I still feel so blessed by my Heavenly Father, so confidant that Duane has rallied his troops on the other side of the veil, so simple put... Loved.  But with all this has come a mind numbing, brain exploding, can't wrap my thoughts around just how many people care and love my children and myself.  That's amazing!!  To feel the love of so many people, it's like my Skittles Sprite.....Taste the Rainbow.  

Do it for them

I have always centered my entire world around these babies, my Seven Super Summers.  Since the moment I discovered my beautiful Molly would be coming to my world I shifted my priorities, happily.  They are my everything.  Every gray hair comes from them, every sleepless night, every stomach ache, all the worry lines, from these little monkeys I gladly accept.  But with all those things, things the world would consider negatives has come such joy!  They give me a purpose in life, a goal to reach, a reason to carry on.  They are my children, entrusted to me by a loving Father in Heaven to care, love, nurture and raise righteously. 

Five years ago when Duane passed away, I could have easily curled up and shriveled away from the world.  I had lost the love of my life to colon cancer, an ugly and unwanted word in our home.  My children, my Seven Super Summers, my little saviors, they saved me everyday.  They gave me hope and a reason to hold on, keep going and keep my chin up.  Sometimes I would fail, I'm only human, sometimes the grief would consume me but it wouldn't take long before I pulled myself back into a peaceful spot.  They always pulled me back.

So tonight I write this entry, alone in my bed, contemplating the new task that I have been given, a fight I have to fight.... I have colon cancer.  I have the unwanted word, I have the horrid disease that took my husband from me that November day in 2008.  I am human, I have at several points today been on the brink of utter despair.  Cried the ugly cry, thought the why, thought the what are the odds, given in to the negativity yet there was always something pulling me back to center, my Molly and Ben, Katie and Mr. Jack, sweet Grace and my littles, Hannah and Emma.  They are my gravity, my life, my reason to fight and fight with every blasted breath in my body.  Tonight, I Do It For Them!!