Granola

Molly and I love breakfast. We've been having eggs every way you can name practically since she's been eating solid foods. Regular scrambled, fried, eggs-in-a-hole...

Our mutual favorite is a new way I saw on Rachel Rae--add a little water to the pan and cover while they cook, leaving you with a soft, maybe pouched texture? Whatever it's called, it gives us the perfect over medium--with a gloriously goopy yolk that spills out onto your plate when you cut into it. Mmmmm….

This year though, Molly's class eats breakfast together after everyone arrives. They all walk down to the cafeteria even you've already had breakfast, and sit together as a class. When Molly and I first learned about this routine, we were a little sad. We somehow knew it meant the end of our own routine we love so much.

At first she wanted to keep having eggs with me in the morning. But after day 3, she longingly told me all about the granola bar they have for breakfast at school where you pick your fruit and add yogurt to the granola. She admitted she wanted to eat it too, but didn't want to stop eating with me either. You could see how conflicted she was about it, so I encouraged her to go ahead and eat with her class. We could still have our eggs on the weekends. She asked if I'd be sad...I told her a little, but I'd be okay. I'm pretty tough 😉

So on the fourth day we skipped breakfast together, and instead got dressed and just walked out the door. It felt weird. Eating my eggs alone after I got home, I was a little sad. Its hard for chapters to end, to let go of our favorite things in them. Breakfast with my little bed-headed Molly is something that was always such a constant in my life...

And I realized it wasn't only that Molly and I have had breakfast together since I WAS breakfast that made this transition so hard, but also because it reminded me who would have still been eating with me. I was grieving the growing up of Molly, at the same time that I'm grieving the never growing up of my Drew. My eggs didn't taste so great that morning...

I've tried not to put this on her shoulders though. I want her to enjoy her granola bar with her class, and not feel bad or guilty that I'm eating breakfast alone now. How sad would it be for her to sit there and not eat with everyone else?  No, she needs to be a part of the class, enjoy the granola bar.  Me being sad about it isn't her burden to carry--Lord knows she carries enough.

So after a day or two of crying through my eggs, I decided to make the best of my new reality...a skill I've unfortunately acquired. What are things she never wanted to eat with me? Her yogurt and granola sounded good. Maybe I'd make myself some. I looked up recipes and found one that looked good. I got all the ingredients at the store and began a batch. It took some time, between the baking and cooling. But I finished it!  I felt all "crunchy Mom".  I was excited to give it a try the next morning (and guess who had to try a little before school? 😏).

As I ate my granola for breakfast that next week, I was somewhat unexpectedly taken back to the hospital. See, a friend of mine in town made me granola for quite a while during the time Drew was sick. I'd bring her the empty giant Mason jar at the end of the week, and she'd deliver a fresh home-made batch the next. I took it with me to the hospital, it was one of my favorite breakfasts there because it was so easy and good. I'd bring the tub of vanilla Greek yogurt and fresh fruit and would mix those with the granola. I guess I had my own granola bar going on!  And if we were home, I'd have it sometimes as an afternoon snack....

I closed my eyes, and I could almost see my Drew again, sitting in his bed, watching his morning dose of Paw Patrol, or the John Deere tractor DVDs. Occasionally looking over the edge of his hospital bed, investigating what I was eating. And for a moment, it was like I wasn't eating alone after all...

I've written about how smells, songs and sounds have instantly transported me back to the time I had with Drew. That week, it was a taste. Yogurt and granola. Just as sweet as the memories of my little Drewy Clause.



As I enjoyed the bowls of loaded granola for breakfast, I thought about the whole process it was to make my own batch. And how this friend made me a batch week after week. She took that time, for me. And I remembered so many others who took time for me and my family that year too.

I've shared before how family and friends left their own families to help me take care of mine. There were several times I was humbled by the acknowledgement I made in my own heart that before all of this, I probably wouldn't have done the same for them.  I smiled thinking of the examples that came to mind of people doing nice things for me, going out of their way, to help us in our time of need. It left me once again, filled with gratitude.

In the midst of the examples coming to mind, the verse where Jesus talks about laying down one's life in love for a friend popped into my head too. I looked it up, and found Jesus' words in John 15:13, "Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends." I've learned to not to dismiss these seemingly random thoughts, but recognize them for what the Bible tells us they are--whispers from the Spirit.

I've been thinking about that verse, reading those surrounding it. And I wonder if it isn't only the literal meaning that we can draw from that statement--that the love Jesus had for His friends, for us, would be shown when he would actually lay down his life in death--as if that's not enough!  I feel Jesus also suggesting to me through His Word and the examples I was thinking about from my own life, that we also have the opportunity to "lay down" our own lives for our friends in love, just like so many did for me.

We aren't all called to die for each other, but could we set aside our plans, sacrifice the time out of our day, in love for one another? My friend did when she made me all those batches of granola. My parents and in laws, aunts and uncles, cousins, and friends did when they "laid down" their lives for a week to come to Minnesota to help us.  And so many others went out of their way to run errands, do favors, and have lengthy conversations to help me process what was happening to us (some still do!), in love for me.

When do I lay down my life for those I love--for a weekend, for an hour, or for even a few minutes? I should be trying to make that a question I have an answer for every day.

Its something we all would agree with, but actually doing it is what counts. Its easy to come up with reasons or excuses why we can't do whatever is needed. My generation is all about boundaries these days, but they seem to get in the way sometimes. I'm on board with healthy boundaries between those with which we are in relationship. I agree that it is important for the well being of all. But sometimes I wonder if we use boundaries as a trendy excuse to avoid doing things we don't want to do. A way to get out of being inconvenienced or uncomfortable, "laying down our lives", for others. When I think about it, it seems the way some people have implemented boundaries is somewhat at odds with what Jesus said about loving our friends in a sacrificial way.

I'm not sure if I have this all worked out yet, if I have it worded quite right. But my granola batch brought this all up in my mind, and I thought it was worth sharing. Something for us all to think about...




So as we make our way through this first quarter of Molly's school year, things are a little different. But we are adjusting. Making the most of it, and learning from it. I have my coffee to-go as we bike/walk to school, and I come home and enjoy some new things besides eggs for breakfast.

As memories come up, and grief demands to be felt again, I know it isn't in vain if we grow from it, if we learn something new.  I hope I will always be humbled and grateful by all that so many did for us in 2016. And hopefully I can continue to love others in the sacrificial way they loved and still love me today ❤

Fair Week

It was recently fair week in Austin. With Molly in school, we had to really make the most of our visits. We saw the animals, rode the rides, ate some treats, climbed on the farm equipment, saw a show in the grandstand--it was a busy week!

It was a difficult one too. I've come to expect that at times when we enjoy ourselves the most, we will also tolerate a great deal of sadness too. Gosh, Drew would have loved this. At 4 years old, he would have been at a good age for it all too. The Demo Derby was almost too much, but in my mind I could hear him squealing with every crash!

He only was a part of fair week two times. His first one though, was when he was only months-old and he didn't get much out of it. His last year that he could have gone, he didn't. It was right before the second bone marrow transplant and the doctors advised us to keep him away from the germs that posed a serious infection risk.

So he had one real year of fair...and he really soaked it up! Still able to keep him corralled in a stroller, we got through the animals, he climbed on the farm equipment, and checked out all the exhibits. Memories I am so thankful for.

There were so many young mothers last week at the fair with what looked like a two year old and baby, or a three and one year old. One walking, the other in the stroller, or both in a big double. And I remember being them those two years with Drew. Taking my littles to the fair. I saw the fits being thrown, the begging for treats, the tired but determined faces, and little Molly and Drew came back to life again. The life we had, was seemingly right in front of me.

A mother who had also lost a child wrote in a card I received after Drew's death that a part of her will always be 24--the age she was when she lost her son. This week, I understood those mother's words. I wrote about Drew being "forever two" and how I am beginning to see that. Now I can feel a part of me that is frozen with that little boy too. A mother duck and her two ducklings that won't ever be together again this side of Heaven, is fixed in my memories and my heart.

Behind my big sunglasses, there were tears not only for what was, but also what would have been. Molly voiced several times that she wished she had someone to ride the rides with. She wanted me to go with her, but many I was too big for. We made arrangements to meet up with friends too, but I feel like we both knew what the real problem was. Who was missing.

As I watched her ride the rides alone, despite her smiles and laughing to herself, the thoughts flooded my mind and heart--it shouldn't have been like this. It wasn't suppose to be this way. She had a brother, we did all we could to give that companion to her, but here she is, alone. How incredibly unfair to her, my heart broke in a new place.

I am learning to handle the hurt in my own heart. The pain that comes when I see that young mother with her two littles. But when I see it on the face of my Molly, it hits a different spot. Reminding me of the torment it was to see Drew physically suffer, seeing emotional suffering in my daughter's eyes--even if she doesn't say a word-- is just as hard.

Why does she have to have this yearning? Why couldn't it have worked out, not only for Drew, but for her? It shouldn't have been this way...and I can't do anything for her. I can't "fix" it, like my mother's heart wants to. It's an all too familiar feeling, and it hasn't gotten any easier to handle...I struggled to put on a brave face for her, while inside, I felt like throwing a big fit myself.

I know these all are lies though. That it really wasn't "suppose" to be any way but the way it is. Drew had just as many days as God had planned from the day he was born (Psalm 139:16). I tell my heart that we can't let our self fall into that trap of believing I was robbed, or Molly was either. Like having two kids grow up together was somehow promised me, and then got snatched away. Or like Molly was entitled to a sibling, and that she was ripped off by cancer. No, that's not right, I know it in my head. But my heart, on days when the sorrow threatens to overwhelm, is tempted to buy those untruths.

I understand that this all is making Molly, and us, the people we were always going to be. Already she can tell me she wishes she had someone to go with her on the ferris wheel, yet, five minutes later get on anyway and smile as she goes 'round, occasionally saying something to the other single rider with her. She'll be much more independent, able to be on her own, than I am. She probably already is! And it will serve her well. She'll serve well, because of this.

As I watch this growth in Molly as she's forced to go many things alone in life, more "shouldn't have been's" fill my thoughts. We didn't intend to parent an only child. We imagined how hard that would be for the child, and for us as parents too, and were foolish enough to think we could choose our family size. But we are here. The Becker family, now a single child family physically, despite what we planned.

And it's true that having a singleton is difficult in its own way .  I believe it is just as hard being the parent of an only child as I imagine it is being the parent of several more. And this week at the fair, with an empty seat beside her on the carnival rides, I was feeling the weight of that too. Yes, there was no fighting or arguing.  It didn't take as long to get ready to leave for the fair, or to bath and bed after we got home.  But I'd have taken all that over the missing and the loneliness Molly and I felt in a heartbeat.

So it was a tough week. I am exhausted, physically and also emotionally. I'm not sure why it didn't hit me as hard last year, but I feel like this year--it made up for it.  It was a lot of work to fight these thoughts, to resist the temptation to be resentful and angry. It was tiring to battle the negative and embrace the positive. Choosing joy was hard this week, and I will admit that I didn't always succeed.

Grief is such a difficult state. It's so much more than missing someone. And yet somedays, that is "all" it is too. After over a year and half now there are still new angles, new ways this great loss manifests itself as we move through this life.  I am so grateful for the support, the Helpers, God has placed in my life to carry me through the hard days. Thank you to all of you who listen and encourage me. Thank you to those of you who let me know that someone cares, and our hurt hasn't been forgotten about. I have faith that with God and all of you, we'll continue to make it, one day at a time. Row by row ❤

Ripples

Molly and her friend were sitting at the edge of the pool during the mandatory pool break time. The water was so still in this deep, smaller pool under the diving boards and climbing wall. "Look!" her friend pointed at the waves on the surface of the water. You could see the broad waves spanning the whole pool in a big half circle. I agreed, it was really cool!  We three sat there for a moment, mesmerized. I pointed out to her how amazing it was that it all started out with one little ripple caused by the dipping of her toe in the water. We watched as she dipped her toe in the water again and saw the waves build across the calm pool from it.

I reminded Molly it was like our tiny seeds that we planted in the spring--and how BIG the plants have gotten from them! You could see her think about it, and then smile as she put together how much has become of those little seeds and small plants we buried in the ground this spring. Those little plants and seeds have grown big! And are starting to give us some produce.

The announcement came on that pool break was over and the girls jumped back in the pool, splashing all the perfect circle waves apart. Who knows if they thought of the waves the dip of their toes made again, but I kept thinking about it the rest of the afternoon...

It really is astonishing how much can come from things so little, so seemingly miniscule. Even six year old girls can recognize it! How often this happens in life too--not just in gardens and pools. Small acts, casual decisions, "chance" encounters--change the course of people's lives for generations. I know this isn't a new concept, I am not the first to contemplate this wonder. I think it's even got a name--the butterfly effect? But I teared up at the pool that afternoon when the most beautiful example of this phenomena came to my mind: the brief life of a very special two-year-old boy.

The young, happy little soul of our Drew dipped in the previously calm pool of our little lives and began ripples that have turned into waves spanning well beyond it. How amazing it is that God can use such small things, small people, to accomplish so much. How many lives Drew touched just by being himself in a hospital, and a world, full of despair and sorrow. How many people live differently and treat their kids differently after his death we will probably only know when we join him in Heaven.

And we continue to see Drew's waves build today. Warrior Wagons continues to gain support and steam--we hope to have a big announcement soon! And as more time goes by, and more families are added to this growing community of Warriors, we are seeing how much more this is than just collapsible wagons. As some of our families now experience success in treatment while others unfortunately face bad news, it is an honor to both celebrate and cry with them. To offer then hope and encouragement gained from enduring the same crushing news.  

Drew's Wagons--Warrior Wagons--are connecting families who desperately need connection and support as they weather this violent storm of childhood cancer. And it all started with one thoughtful gift from a friend, one precious little life that inspired the dream.

As I look forward on my calendar, I am excited about a couple speeches/presentations already booked. More opportunities to share Drew's story, the things he taught us.  Keeping those waves he began going in another direction too. 

I love to tell people about my son. To share who he was, he IS, and all that he endured, all that he taught us. It's such a comfort, a boost for my broken heart as it helps to remind me how very much I have to be thankful for in being his Mother, as well as the responsibility I feel to share all that we gained through his life. To keep putting out all the JOY he brought into this world.

It's truly awe inspiring what can become of something, someone, so small. What God can do through our meager actions and lives. But, we have to be willing to make the first move. Dip our toes. Plant the seeds. Treat others with understanding and the love of the Lord instead of judgement and irritation. Choose joy when we could so easily choose hopelessness. And He is is faithful and builds amazing things for us to enjoy and care for from there.

It can be a struggle though to let it happen sometimes. To not want a bigger part. To not jump in as the girls that afternoon at the sound of the whistles, and tear apart the waves. It's tempting to want to make a bigger splash for ourselves so-to-speak. But it's not necessary. We only need to do what He asks us, and let His power take it from there. Do our part for Him to get the glory, not ourselves. Such a great reminder to all of us in this try-to-get-as-much-attention-as-possible world.

Maybe this sounds like a lot from a few moments sitting at the edge of the pool with Molly and her friend. But I have come to recognize this as how God speaks to me many times--through conversations with kids. They point something out, or Molly asks a question or says something that opens my eyes to a bigger Truth.  Jesus spoke so highly of children, and how we ought to all try and mimic their trust, faith and wonder for life. This is what that looks like in real life, in 21st century America, at least to me.

It was a fun summer. One that Molly and I grew so close during. We had a blast. And tried so many new things together!

We learned a lot--not just as we experienced new things together, but we also learned so much about each other. We had conversations, just like the one pool side, that I'd be willing to bet most mothers and six year olds don't have. About Heaven and God, about life and death, about what's fair and how we should respond to it. I can see the ripples Drew set off in our own lives and hearts continue to build in how sensitive and mature Molly is because of what we've been through.

She's wise beyond her years, a girl that will set off her own waves I'm sure of it! And I can't wait to see and be just as proud of her and of what she sets into motion as I am of her brother in this way.

And I begin this school year too, trying to get back into my groove. And with a renewed resolve to try and keep the balance of being willing to step back and let God build the waves, but also maintaining them and starting off my own as He guides. Not an easy task, but once again, I have a great example to follow in the effortless ways a cute little boy started so much by doing only what he was asked to with a smile on his face 😊