The Ending of a Season

Two falls ago, during the radiation portion of Drew's treatment, we were home a lot more than we'd been the whole year. There was one afternoon I took my kids and their friend to the park. I remember watching them run to the playground, the littlest one, my Drew, was lagging behind. I took out my phone to capture the moment, and went on to take several more that trip to the park.

It was only 10 days later that we got the awful news--that the cancer was already back and Drew "probably" wouldn't make it. As I found myself looking back through my photos more frequently after that terrible day, I remember pausing at this one and not being able to hold back the tears.

I looked at that beautiful fall tree and realized that, even while it was beaming with color and vibrancy, it was dying. And I looked to my equally beautiful little son right underneath it who, too, was beaming with joy despite also, dying. It was crazy to me how much beauty and joy there can be in death.

But it's true, and both are very real and very present. The changing of seasons, the closing of chapters, they all have that mix of joy and sorrow, beauty and ugliness. I've learned that one doesn't have to negate the other, but instead actually brings the other one out. That fall I remember seeing the beautiful colors of the leaves all around as the last bit of life left them. I watched how gracefully they fell to the ground, and couldn't help but see the foreshadowing of what was coming our lives...

This fall, as the leaves start to turn and beam with color and vibrancy before they begin to shrivel and fade as the colder air sets in, I am once again seeing the beauty in the ending of a season, and seeing it reflect my life. This year, it is embodying this time of change as we prepare to move from Austin. I am feeling so loved and so much gratitude right along with the sadness and almost dread of ending this decade of my life in lovely Austin, Minnesota.


But before I go on, let me update you all and what's happened in the last couple weeks. Shortly after we found out we were going, the three of us visited Chicago together to house shop. We looked in a few different south west suburbs, and one house really stood out to us.

It has been recently updated, so it has a new house feel. We like the neighborhood/subdivision, and it's within 30 minutes of work for Josh in the Village of Bolingbrook (close to Naperville). It really seems perfect, and we are so thankful to have found a home so quickly that was empty so we could move right in. We just finished up the legal side after the inspection, and have a closing date of October 11th. Which is only 9 days away now--eeeks!

I'm excited for the house and some of the upgrades we'll enjoy--like my beautiful kitchen! It certainly helps to have seen where we are going. To have something to look forward to and be thinking about how we'll set up and decorate.

Meanwhile, we got a call from our realtor in Austin on the way home from Chicago who informed us that we received a full price offer on our house here! What a blessing. So on the same day we went into contract on our new home in the Chicago area AND with our current home here in Austin. God's timing makes you smile sometimes. And kind of further enforces that we are doing the right thing. Finalizing details with that contract as well, and soon it'll be set.

Warrior Wagon affairs seem to be coming together too. We had someone generously donate a storage unit to us, and we've been organizing and filling it with all things Warrior Wagons from our house. We've worked ahead and put together over a dozen totes to go in Warrior Wagons so it's easy for volunteers to pick up and deliver to Mayo. So let me know if you are local and would like to be on the list to help! I'm really excited for the community to be more involved in the process, to give people another way to support us besides resources--with their time. I think it'll work, I really do, and will continue to flourish. I can't wait to see what God is going to do through Warrior Wagons, here in Austin, and maybe somewhere new!

So now we're in an all too familiar place of waiting for an ending, anticipating a transition. A position that I'm unfortunately familiar--trying to enjoy a round of "lasts" without being too sad at the same time. Doing our best to save our tears for later and trying to enjoy TODAY. Which is hard. Especially when it brings up so many emotions from not that long ago when we were in similar place.

I can't believe we really only have one more full week here before the moving truck will be out front. It seems so fast, but I think it is a blessing too. Drawing out goodbyes only make them harder, and I guess I've been spared long goodbyes before. It's becoming our Becker style.

But that doesn't make them any easier, just because they are shorter. Having lunches and meeting for coffees with friends that I've been through SO much life with over the last 10 years is so tough. I'm tempted to wonder what I'll do without all the good, true friends I have right across town. Or down the street.

I have so far been trying not to cry when I'm out, because I'm not sure I could stop. But on my way home, the tears fall because my heart is so fragile now. Yes, my heart is getting used to carrying a load of grief, but it isn't interested in adding any more weight. Yet, I know it will be added as there are so many good people that will be missed dearly.

I really don't have a whole lot of packing to do to distract me either. Hormel is wonderful and gives you a full service move when you relocate. But before the movers come, I've been gathering special things. Things I just don't want to even chance not making it to Chicago on the truck. Our wedding album, my bin of keepsake baby clothes, fragile pieces, things like that. And of course, a bin of Drew things that keeps growing. I think I'll need more than one.

So in addition to the goodbyes, my heart gets torn open with each thing that I find to add to the bin, removed from it's place in this home we shared with Drew. His favorite stuffies, his feeding pump back pack and binkie. I've taken his clothes down in the closest and added them to a bin. A task I've been putting off. I wasn't ready. Now, I guess I have to be...

But one thing that's been filling me with anxiety is taking his name off the wall. It's a small thing, but so meaningful. It's like the window chalk drawing I left on the sliding glass door for weeks after he died, not wanting to wipe it off and have it gone forever. I just can't bear the thought of taking his name down, and have this time gone forever.

I remember picking out the letters at Hobby Lobby. Deciding on the size, and font. Josh spray painted them white, and we even put them up before he was born. I was a little nervous to do that--thought it might jinx it or something. (the irony)

I remember us pointing to the name, and Drew saying, "Drew!" and Molly naming each letter as she was learning the alphabet.

And then after he died...I couldn't take it down. I reworked the room within the first two weeks, but had to keep his name on the wall

I've been so happy with his room, my quiet place, in the last year and half. And probably not just because of the décor, but because its Drew's room. A designation no other room in this world will ever be honored to have. I guess that's what it's really about, not the name. It's letting go. Letting go of the room I laid my precious baby boy down from on his first night at home, and the room he slept in on one of his last nights on Earth. And I just happened to take a picture of it because it was also the first (and only) night he slept without the railing on the side of his bed.

I'm not sure I'll put his name back up in the new house. Will it be worse to put his name on the wall of a room he was never in, or to not have a room with his name on the wall at all? I feel like the first one is worse, it rubs salt into the wound that he physically won't ever be in the new house. I've had friends suggest ways to do a collage wall with all of our names-his too, that I think could work. But I think for me, I am realizing/accepting that what I have in this house can't be replicated, that it will never be the same. No more even saying, "It's in Drew's room", because no room will have been Drew's room in that house.

We've been so busy up until this point, that I haven't had time for it all to hit me yet. And maybe that's a good thing. But it's the small stuff like taking Drew's name down from the wall that I could cry in an instant thinking about. And I think when it comes down to it, all the things that make me upset are because it just won't ever be the same...its that simple, it just won't be the same. I'm reminded how hard simple things can be once again.

But yet, there still is beauty in this ending of a season. The love that is pouring out to us, is enough to make me cry too. It's heartwarming to hear how much we've meant to some, comforting to know that we will be missed and thought of often. What a gift people give me when they share what I've meant in their lives. Like the vibrant colors of the leaves as the life leaves them for the year, the love from our friends and community is breathtaking as this chapter of our life in Austin comes to an end.

And when the sadness fills me after another "last", another goodbye, I remind myself what has saved me thus far--being thankful. How wonderfully blessed I have been in Austin. I'm so thankful for this house and all the memories that will last a lifetime which it gave me. So thankful for such loyal, loving, caring friends that I even have to miss. What a supporting and understanding community I could never begin to repay that sets a high bar for my new one. We've received so much love from people we barely know in this town, and I have the honor to pass that love on to new people. For as sad as I am to leave Austin, I'm as equally grateful for the time I've had to call it my home.

And that's how I've decided I'll handle this move. For every tear that falls for some place, something, or someone that I'll miss, I'm going to say a "thank you" in my heart. Thank you God, that I have so many things that have meant so much, which will be missed. And like before, when I meet my sadness with thankfulness, joy always follows. Hope returns.

If I have a God who has taken such good care of me, given me so much here when I needed it most, surely He'll continue to provide just what I need in Chicago. I have no reason to doubt, I have nothing to fear. My head is telling my heart that whether I think it'll be an awful move, or an awesome change--I'll be right. So we might as well decide right now it'll be great. I'm reassuring myself that when we get there, we'll just take it one day at a time, and we will be okay.



So we smile and cry at the same time while we do all the lasts this week. We'll say our goodbyes and soak in all of Austin that we can in these last 9 days. And then we'll look east towards the next great adventure the Lord is taking us on. Sad for leaving what was, but excited for what's to come...all at the same time.