Attitude

We survived #polarvortex2019. It was a long week, I'm not gonna lie. We started off with the best intentions, and attitude! Molly and I went into it prepared: we got groceries, stopped at the library for some new entertainment, and made a plan for how to spend our days. In total she was home with me 4 out of the 5 days that week, so we had a lot of time to fill not leaving the house.

In addition to yoga and some melty-bead creations, we put together 6 Lego sets over the course of the week--I was seeing Legos in my dreams!

We also had a day where she made up a whole "school day" schedule--even down to 8 minute bathroom breaks!

But by the end of the week though, when the weather was warming up but school was still canceled because the busses wouldn't run--I lost my enthusiasm.

I just hit my breaking point of being positive, patient, and parenting 24/7. I could feel myself being cranky with everyone, even into the weekend. And really, if I'm honest, since Christmas I feel like I've been drifting into this more negative, frequently annoyed funk. I think many mothers about this time of winter can relate. The big let down after Christmas, cabin fever, lack of sunshine and fresh air, in need of a break from everyone--I was there with you all. And polar vortex 2019 almost pushed me over the edge.

I've mentioned before I started keeping a personal journal right after Drew was diagnosed. Just like these blogs, it helps me to sort things out in my head. But I'm finding they also serve a purpose when I look back on them to see where I've been. Many times I read old prayers, and have renewed faith as I can see how God perfectly answered almost every one. Being able to read the stories, daily antidotes, from the last three years and the thoughts I had as we held our son's hand through cancer treatment in 2016 is priceless.

This last week as I look through them, I'm taken back to those early days. It was 2 years ago that Drew was freed from this life and went to Heaven, but it was 3 years ago exactly that we were just starting this journey with pediatric cancer. The timing is so interesting, and makes it seem a never ending story. At the very same time of year that the journey came to an end, the memories and reminders start up again from one year earlier, when it all began. Pictures and my journals remind me where we started from during the winter of 2016.

So often I grieve now over how I'll never see Drew grow up, but if I look, I can see in these pictures how much he really did grow up in his last year. He looked like such a baby in these early photos from the first few Caringbridge updates:

He looks so different with all of his hair still. So innocent, seemingly untouched by the cancer yet.

In so many ways, Drew grew into something great during 2016. 

And through my journals, I can see how very much I grew too. Its interesting to read along as I was talking myself into, convincing myself of the truths that would shape our whole experience.

"It will be what I make it - what I decide it will be. Our attitude will determine a lot. Is this a sentence we face, or will we choose to simply keep living life but fight cancer along the way?...will I choose to enjoy each day I have with him, or pout, mourn and worry them away? May I choose, and the Lord help me, the former!"

"Will we ever be 'normal' again--probably not. Do we want to be normal? Taking for granted so much, not relying whole heartedly on God for every day we have on earth? Not living every moment appreciating the little things? Maybe not."

Reading these entries again, from such a profound time in our lives, really hit me this week. Especially with how my attitude has been lately in 2019. May I never drift back into being "normal" like I talked about those first weeks after diagnosis, not appreciating the little things. Not choosing to make the most out of each day and finding joy. No, we've come too far for that! If I managed by the grace of God to adopt that attitude when the going was so very tough, surely I can fight to maintain it during these days of relative ease.

It's so easy though, isn't it? The enemy just loves to point out and draw our attention to things that we don't like or wish were different. He whispers in our ears, encourages us to be disappointed, frustrated and annoyed at stupid things. With the same goal in mind that has been the goal since the beginning: to steal our joy. The joy that Jesus paid with his life for us to have, and have to its fullest. But we can't let him succeed now. If I found that amazing joy and peace as I cleaned up after my son, sick from chemo, I have no excuse to not hold on to it as we live our lives today.

It's all about our attitudes and our choices in the heart. I've wrote about this time and time again. My head knows this stuff by heart--I can recite the speeches I've given on the subject! But somehow I still need a reminder myself sometimes, a pep talk every now and then. This, is one of those weeks.

We can always find someone who has it easier, but we also can always find someone who has it worse. My mom always told me that, and life has shown me how true it is. Be thankful for what you have, and don't compare yourself to others. A discipline, a mindset, to constantly strive for. Because within it, we find the way to true joy.

And that goes both ways! In the positive, realizing how much we have to be grateful for over some. But in the negative as well. Being too conscious of how much worse we have it than others doesn't bring any joy either. If we are constantly trying to one-up another's struggles, to win a who-has-it-worse-game, the reality is, no one ends up winning.




As I spent more time than normal scrolling through social media last week during said polar vortex, it

struck me how many we-have-it-worse-then-you memes and posts were being shared. Northerners making fun of those who live further south struggling in the cold temps:

And sure, I got it. And laughed at some. Yes, it was 30 degrees or more colder up here than a few states south. Yes, the temps they were enduring was just our normal winter highs up here (or spring highs!). But does it help anyone to point that out? Does judgment and jokes warm them up any? Teach them how to cope in the cold? Did it help any of us up here feel any warmer in the bitter cold that we "won" the who-has-it-worse game?

While last week the ridicule was mostly light hearted, I saw how it totally relates to where my thoughts have been lately. How important attitude is in our experience of life. Feeling sorry for yourself, and demanding others acknowledge how rough life is for you, isn't what helps you feel better--or what causes anyone else to truly gain a different perspective for that matter.

And looking back this week, that's not what got me through what many would agree is one of the toughest things a parent will face. Having a "poor me" attitude, while the easiest one to fall into, doesn't serve anyone well. But what did, what myself of two years ago reminded me this week, was an attitude of being thankful. To not compare myself and situation to others, but to keep my head down, trust in God, and make the most of each day. I consciously decided, and I wrote it out on paper, to choose joy and not to let even a cancer diagnosis in my toddler son get in the way of living our lives to the fullest.

I was really convicted this week, in light of my current funk, to get back to that attitude God helped me find in 2016, and which has carried me ever since. As life looks pretty "normal" these day, let me not revert to a "normal" attitude of self-pity, annoyance, and general crankiness. Even after the 4th snow day in a week!😉


I say so many times, I write these mostly for myself, to sort out my feelings. To get the story straight in my head. Give myself that pep talk so I stay on track. And if someone can gain from it, if their perspective and attitude can be changed because of it, than what a wonderful result. God using this experience, this tragedy, to not only work His glory into my life, but into yours.

May you continue to choose joy with me, and not slide into "normal". That we all can make the most of each day, whether its in a hospital room with a child fighting cancer, or cooped up inside as a polar vortex is overhead, and everywhere in between! 

Keep Turning the Page

The pictures from our Make-a-Wish trip to Disney World really got to me as they popped up each day in my Facebook "Timehop" from two years ago. Oh, what a magical week that was. After a year of intense, back to back, to back!, treatment with Drew, our family finally got an escape.  Where brother, sister, Mom and Dad were together on a fun trip full of joy. We were as carefree as we could be, given the circumstances, and God kept us in His perfect peace. It was a gift from Him to all of us, I can so clearly see it now.

I looked through those pictures each day. Studied them. Closed my eyes and tried to remember all the details of each moment. I zoomed up on Drew. His hands--to remind me what they looked like. Searched his neck for the scar I knew was there from the catheter they used to collect his stem cells. I looked at his fluffy hair just starting to really come back, the shape of his eyebrows and ears.  Trying to bring him back to life, if only in my mind's eye...

I sat here last week, wishing I could have him back, even just for a day. Wishing I could jump back there to that week in Disney, that somehow I could just live in that week together with my family of four until its all over...

The trip came to an end, two years ago.  And little did we know how soon Drew's life would come to its end too. When we boarded the plane to Minnesota, he only had 10 days left.  Ten days.  Within 6 days he'd have one lung filled with cancer and fluid, and in the other, a chest tube placed to buy us a few more days.

Reflecting now this week on those last few days with him, as we watched him labor in the process of being born into eternity, it's a different hurt.  I don't long to live in that week.  It was a week so awful in so many ways, that we were all ready for him to go, so it would end.

Thank God Drew's not in that week anymore. Thanks be to Jesus, that he probably hasn't even thought about it again as he's overwhelmed by the joy and peace in Heaven.




Last year at this time I wrote kind of a recap of the first year, took stock of where I was at. Where am I this year? How have I, has the grief, changed?

I don't look in the backseat for him--and haven't for a while. Never do I wake up and think I hear him crying in the night like I did during the early months of that first year. No longer do I fold laundry and notice how much less there is without him. I used to walk by a little boy clothes section, or see listings on Facebook for boy clothes, and know just what size he "would have" been in, but not anymore.  It's hard to admit, but I don't watch videos to hear his voice as often as I once did.

I'm not missing him in the same ways I did a year ago, but he is missed this second year in different ways. As time has gone by, it breaks my heart to say his physical presence is missed less and less, but what is increasingly noticed is his absence. Does that make sense?

This Christmas I helped Molly set out her milk and cookies for Santa.  The next morning I watched her run down the stairs to see the gifts he left her, alone.  I could hardly hold back the tears...

When I make a meal, and somehow I seem to always have 4 servings, one left over, I wince a little bit. When I'm oblivious to boy things now, because I only have a girl, I grieve.  My heart longs to know what the heck the deal is with Fortnight and whatever else young boys are into that I'll never know...

When I catch myself getting too obsessed with Molly, because I have no one else to distract my attention, I am reminded how much easier I felt it got after I had two. 

Having *just* one is hard. I knew it before, but I'm finding if you add to it a weight of grief--it's even harder. I feel I could write a whole post on this alone, and maybe I will soon. But for now, I will just say I miss having my two kids. For my sake and for Molly's.

I miss watching him grow, seeing what he'd be doing. I just wish I had gotten the chance to continue to get to know him, as I've continue to know Molly. Molly is so much like her Dad--some days its scary! Would Drew have continued to be more like me? How would Molly and Drew's relationship have grown? Would they be best friends now?

I don't seem to remember what it was like to have a two year old at my feet, changing diapers or putting on his shoes for him as vividly--my heart isn't hurting for those things as much these days. But what it IS hurting for right now, what I find myself grieving this year more, is what could have been. What we lost on January 19th, besides our precious Drew.  Am I making sense?




I've been thinking a lot this week about our lives as a story, written by the hand of God. Each chapter with a purpose, a contribution to the story as a whole. He authors the plot of our lives to culminate in the happy ending He paid so dearly for us to have, which is the reason for our Hope, for our joy, in the difficult chapters. This story will end with, "And they lived happily ever after...", we are promised that. Praise God.

The Becker book certainly has many highs and lows that many of you have already witnessed. But for us to get to that happily-ever-after part, I've realized we have to keep turning the page! It may seem too obvious, too simple. But this week I think that's what God is trying to tell me, the "Aha! Moment" I had. You have to keep turning the page.

We have to consciously decide to advance the story, choose to begin new chapters. We can't just live in one chapter (like I thought I wanted to last week as I relived the Disney World chapter) and wait for the end. We have to keep starting new chapters so that one day, we will get to the ending.  And we just might be surprised--there are some good chapters in between.




Last year, our first without Drew, I'd say we figured out how to manage our grief and still enjoy life. This year, I'd say we built from that and not only enjoyed our life while managing our grief, but turned another page, literally.

In 2018 we left the home we shared with Drew, the city where I'd spent my whole adult life, and started a new adventure, a new chapter of our lives.

Its been about 3 months since we moved, and really, we are doing quite well.  It has been good for us to get a break from the shadow of this tragedy for a while (though I'm finding that with a fresh start comes new challenges too).   But God brought us here for a reason.  There are things to do, people to meet, missions to accomplish here, and I'm kind of excited to find out what they are.

Warrior Wagons' story is unfolding too. Drew's little red wagons will now be rolling through a new city, a new hospital in addition to Mayo. In a place Drew never was, with nurses and doctors that never met him. Yet, they will gain from his life too. It is such a triumph to make this jump--to move this little project of ours forward into new places. I am eagerly anticipating the first Warrior Wagon to be given out in Minneapolis, and I'm sure will write more about how much that means to us. How exciting this new chapter will be for Warrior Wagons!

Just like a book, these new chapters bring with them things from the ones that proceeded them.  They are built on them. They couldn't stand alone, and wouldn't make sense by themselves. The past is as important to the story as the present, and is never forgotten or unimportant. The chapters with Drew, the ones that take place in my Minnesota town of Austin, are not insignificant now. They are important to the Becker story, and all worked together as we keep advancing towards that happy ending we long for.  What a comfort that is on days I fear we've moved on, forgotten.

We remember you, Drew. 

This Saturday, January 19th, and on every other day of the year. How that looks will continue to change, but we know you will always be a part of who we are, of our story. You are with us each day as you smile at us from so many walls. Each hour we spend working on Warrior Wagons, I feel you with us. When Molly brings home a drawing of our family with you still in it, or better yet, I note just for you, saying, "you are the best brother in the world", I know you see it and smile.

And each night when we end our prayer by asking God to, "say Hi to Drew for us"--I believe He does, and you hear our hello.


We are beginning new chapters. Not forgetting the previous ones, but taking them with us, building from them. We will keep turning the pages, Drewy. So that we get to the glorious ending of our story that we look forward to with all our hearts--when we get to be together again. Row by row, page by page, we are getting closer to you ❤

Hope

Its been a busy December!  A few weeks ago I got a call from the JayCees of Minnesota letting me know I was nominated and selected for their Top Ten Outstanding Young Minnesotan award! I was aware that a lady from Austin nominated me back in August, but had forgotten all about it with all the events of the last two months. I was surprised and honored to have been chosen for this incredible award.

But I wouldn't be telling the whole story if I didn't say that I had some reservations about the award too. Of course it's always nice to be recognized for the work you do, but when the work is based on such a personal tragedy, it's sometimes hard to celebrate the achievements. In my mind, it really was Drew who was outstanding. He maintained such a great attitude and trust while he endured, suffered, and eventually died, and my heart has a hard time receiving an award for myself. I'd much rather just have him back and have none of this ever happened to us...

And knowing that much of the recognition is due to Warrior Wagons, I certainly don't want to appear to be taking all the credit. Not only within our family, but in the community. I am just one of many who are outstanding and deserve an award for the work being done in South East Minnesota for the brave Warriors going through treatment for pediatric cancer.

But I know it's good for Warrior Wagons. Making more people aware of what we all are doing at Mayo Clinic is a good thing. I hope it raises awareness about pediatric cancer in general, and its impacts on families just like ours. And it always makes me happy when more people hear our story, and know that there was a little boy named Drew, and just how was amazing he was. And just as importantly, how amazing GOD was, and still is!, when we trust Him through the trials of this life.

So I got myself an outstanding dress to wear😉, and we went up to the ceremony in Minneapolis! It was a wonderful night, one that was emotional, meaningful, and that I'll remember forever.

On our way up north, we stopped in Austin briefly. It was a quick visit--just overnight, less than 24 hours. But long enough to see a few familiar places and faces (wish we could have seen SO many more faces!)

I was so happy to know my way around, have memories from almost every street corner fill my head and heart, and get a Caribou coffee!! I stopped in to a friend's annual craft show, and almost cried when someone called my name. People know my name! That's one of the biggest things I'm still getting used to--not knowing anyone at the grocery store, or Walmart. Going to the dentist's office or library and not running into anyone I recognize.  I  know not all enjoy that, but I do. And it was such a wonderful feeling to be known again!

As nice as the short visit was, it reminded me that we don't have a home there anymore. Molly expressed some nervousness about seeing our old house when we passed through, and I felt the same way. We did drive by, and it did hurt as we had expected, to realize that other people were living in our old home. Seeing our old friends, being in some of our favorite places felt great--but not the same.  It will never be the same. A familiar realization...

Bur new house is definitely starting to feel like home. After the 6+ hour drive last week, I felt that familiarity/homecoming feeling as we drove into our subdivision, and down our street. But we are still filling this house with memories, which I think is what really makes a home. Still hanging our mementos and keepsakes on the walls, getting the place a little more "lived in". We're definitely making progress, but it's still new after only two months. Feeling the shift in Austin, yet not quite through the transition period in Chicagoland yet, has left me feeling a bit "home-less".

And Christmas season being in full swing doesn't help. All these songs and commercials talking about "home for Christmas" rubs salt into this fresh wound. This year most of my family is coming to us. And even though it's great that we don't have to travel, it means I won't be going "home" to my parents house in Iowa this year for the first time in my whole life. Home for Christmas--what does that mean? This year, I'm not so sure...

And the sentiment that home is where your loved ones are--which I have even repeated--hurts right now too. "Christmas is about being with those you love--that's all that matters" everyone and everything seems to say. But what if all your loved ones aren't with you, and some are never coming back? What if you are trying NOT the think of the many, many Christmases you will have to endure without a piece of your heart? I know too many other families who are in this same place.

And another family joined the unfortunate group last week, as one of our brave Warriors joined Drew in Heaven. It stabs deep each time we learn that of one of the families we serve have lost their child. The sympathy and empathy we have for the family, that I have for that poor Mother who had to say goodbye so close to Christmas, is great. It also obviously causes us to recall our own experience, and all the emotions that go with it.

And I know we aren't the only ones with mixed feelings at Christmas. There are many others that won't be with the ones they love this season. Christmas morning will come without the children that are so desperately wanted in many households. All the romantic sentiment during the holidays will be a painful reminder that the a soulmate is yet-to-be-met for some. Too many may be with their loved one physically, but the mind of that special person is drifting away quickly due to disease. Families which are separated by seas, borders--or who maybe are just across town, but separated by a deep sea of bad blood, will have more than a little sad mixed in with the joy this Christmas. And even for the families that travel just didn't work out this year, and there's a chair empty at the dinner table, there will be some regret at the absence.

What about all of them?

All of this about home and about hurt was filling my head last week as I stood over my sink, tears falling into my dish water. I was beginning to be overwhelmed, asking God why it had to be so hard all the time. Why even the happy times, "the most wonderful time of the year", had to be so painful for too many. Why there has to be so much disappointment in this world. Wishing I could enjoy this season without so much of the sorrow. And then I heard a familiar whisper in my heart telling me,  those things aren't what this season is about...

But in fact, its about God's answer--His solution--to all of these hurts! It's about the Hope that was born 2,000 years ago. Hope for those yearning for Home. Hope for the broken hearted. Hope, in the form of a precious baby boy that caused the Heavens and Earth to sing for joy--that is why we celebrate.

Because God himself came into this world as a person--a real person--born of a woman like all of us, to suffer and die, so we can have Hope that there will be more than this disappointing life. God sees, and the Bible tells us he counts, every one of our tears. And in response, He sent his Son into this world to save. To redeem. So that someday we could be HOME with Him at Christmas. Along with all our loved ones again. That's the good news for all of us!

I smiled. It is good news, the best news! My heart seemed to smile too. It makes me want to "go tell it on the mountains"!! Jesus Christ is born.  There is hope for all of us!



But Christmas is still difficult after the loss of a child, even when you get a divine reminder of the big picture. Everyday is a battle, to embrace the joy and remember the Hope. My heart still aches to see my little boy dressed up on stage at a Christmas program, as I scroll through my Facebook feed and see everyone else's. I want to hear both my kids' excitement as they search for the Elf each morning. As I helped Molly with her Christmas tree school project, I wonder how Drew would have decorated his tree...

Seeing Molly with Santa this year was a gift. She hasn't ever been a fan, and has refused to see Santa in the past. So instead of a kid-crying-with-Santa photo, we've steered clear and just sent a list with our Elf. But this year she said she'd go. She wrote a letter with her list and hand delivered it as she sat beside him.  I was so proud and tried very hard to be in the moment, soaking up the magic of a little girl meeting Santa and still believing.

Yet when I looked through the photos later, I couldn't help but think about who could have been there with her, but wasn't. Drew was never afraid of Santa, and I have several pictures of him with the big guy:

It's hard not to think of what Drew would have wanted for Christmas, as I buy gifts for Molly. Would he still be in to Paw Patrol? Still have his tractor obsession?  Once again I got him something John Deere. Last year I decided that might be my tradition, away I could still buy something for my boy. This year I got a green gator ornament, that I know will be a special addition to our tree.

And putting up the tree this year was easier, but the meaningful ornaments still brought tears.  I have a feeling they always will, and I'm okay with that.

But along with the difficult feelings, I am given Hope in the everyday this season too. I have a pretty grand tree in my entry at this new house, if I do say so myself. When we walked through the house I knew I wanted a tall tree right in the foyer. It's beautiful. I absolutely love it.

I pause and stare when I walk by it and as I go up the stairs. I sit in the front room and just look at it with the lights out at night. I can't believe it's my tree! And it came to me one night as I sat in it's glow admiring it--this awe I have for my new tree is just a glimpse of the wonder and awe that awaits us all in Heaven. Its the feeling we all will be engulfed in for Eternity. Wow, how hopeful that thought is. And it also gives me a taste of what my Drew is feeling, not just at Christmas time, but every day, in God's Heavenly Kingdom. Which is such a wonderful comfort. Certainly a reason to feel better during this difficult season.

So as you gather with family--or maybe not; if you are at home--or in a place that doesn't feel like home; if your heart is full--or if it's broken this year; remember it's the Hope given to us when Jesus was born that we are really celebrating. It's okay to be sad, but it's also possible to have joy and peace in your heart too. We can sing Joy to the World, as tears stream down our faces together. Because that is what this season is all about. Onto US a child was born. Come, let us adore him, Christ the Lord.

Merry Christmas, from our family to yours!