happy-sad

The LORD is close to the brokenhearted
and saves those who are crushed in spirit.
Psalm 34:18

Tonight, I finally wept.

Even though God has been guiding us through this whole emotional processes of loss and sadness, I had yet to actually weep freely until tonight.  I really miss my Daddy.  I feel his loss so very much.  It pains me that I can't tell him anymore how much I love him and what an amazing man he was to so many people--especially me.  I will have to wait to see him again before I can jump into his arms, kiss his cheek, or snuggle up to him.  And that is tremendously sad.

I know Jesus sees all of this and that he knows what this great sadness feels like.

But I also know that my daddy wasn't mine to keep...God let him be ours for awhile until the work of Lee Harris was complete.  His was a beautiful story; even the portion of it that I got to share with him was incredible to see and be a part of.  It is sweeter still to be hearing how other people valued their time with my dad, and how on both professional and personal levels, he left an immense impact on a huge number of people.  Their stories and memories are trickling in, and they are a blessing. One of my personal favorites so far: "He was the coolest old guy I ever met."

We are realizing how important it is to cling to truth.  My Dad was an incredible man, but more importantly, he is with Jesus now, and that makes me so very happy.  He is far from dead, though he is gone from us.  God's promises were fulfilled: he who began a good work in Dad has carried it on to completion.

The days before and after Dad left us had some beautiful moments that our family will always treasure.  It also had some very painful and difficult times we will never forget.  But ultimately, they all lead us to praise the name of Jesus and turn our eyes upon Him.  And what a mystery that we can feel happy as we treasure the time we had with Dad even while we are sad he is gone!  We "have found a joy that jumps over sadness"!  Hallelujah!

There is so much more to share.  It will take a long time to articulate all that has been happening with me and my family over the last week.  So for now, it is important to LOVE each other and to glorify Jesus during this time of blended sadness and happiness, or as I've been calling it, the happy-sad.  He has such great plans and purposes that we are beyond what we can imagine.  I am so glad.

so much to say

I am about to take my mom home.  We have been together for ten of the last eleven days.  What a hard, beautiful struggle this journey has been.  It is too much to encapsulate in one little blog post, but I will try to share as much as I can articulate just as soon as I am able.

Now, off to explore the new normal.

survival mode

It is impossible for anyone to know exactly what life is like for us right now.  I know lots of people have personal experiences dealing with cancer in one way or another, but every cancer is different, and every story is too.

I wish that I could somehow communicate the odd chaos of the past year and a half, and particularly how life has changed in the last three days even.  If you have ever been involved with being a caretaker during the physical and mental decline of a loved one, you might have a bit of an idea what it is like.  Add to that the preceeding twenty one months of battling cancer, and you have quite an interesting story going on.

We are at the point of making sure one of us is always at Mom and Dad's while we try to mesh four different schedules into the picture.   I am now rarely home.  There have been dirty dishes sitting in our sink for several days now.  But I've at least gone to sleep in my own bed so far each night, unlike my brother Jeff (what an amazing sweetheart he is).  I didn't go to work today and probably won't make it there tomorrow either.  I can't even remember what day it is or what happened yesterday versus today or Monday.  I'm always feeling like I'm forgetting something, followed by suddenly remembering something that I know I will soon forget.  It's just because the needs are so vast and so hard to fulfill, and I continually feel a sense of responsibility to take care of it all.  Even delegating or asking for help becomes difficult when there is no time to even make a phone call or write an email during the day.

My dad can be more easily confused or occasionally fearful now.  He is fairly talkative, but sometimes it doesn't make much sense.  When he is communicating well, it can sometimes be difficult to sort out what he is really trying to say as he searches for word choices.  A laugh, a smile, maybe even a one-liner, are treasured reactions.  At times, he can be cracking jokes and laughing at the strange predicaments we find ourselves in, and at other times, he is very confused and asking strange questions.  He often asks the same question every minute or so because he doesn't remember.  This is a new development for us in the last twenty four hours, and we are learning as a family how to respond to him in a comforting and clear way.

Tonight was a beautiful picture.  He wanted to get out of bed in order to enjoy some family time at the table.  So there we gathered, laughed, and had just enough sense of "normal" to relax for a few minutes before bedtime...where we would again make the tedious transfer between bed and wheelchair one last time before the end of the day's work.

I feel like we need help.  The problem is knowing what would actually be helpful.   It's at the point where I really don't know anymore until something randomly comes up that needs to be addressed.  None of us can really keep up with it all...and that can be frustrating for a to-do list person and problem solver like me.  I want to organize everything and tackle it in an orderly, efficient way, and that's just not life right now.  It's one day at a time, each detail as it comes.

I told my dear friend Rebe at the start of the day that I hoped it wouldn't be another "survival mode" day.  She looked at me and wisely said, "And if it is, that's okay too."

And it is.  It's just so odd to suddenly find myself there so abruptly.  The interesting thing is, even being there, something is so terribly and awkwardly funny about catheter adjustments and poop, especially when your father is having a good chuckle about it too.  Oh, how we Harrises love to laugh.

I love my family.  I love my Dad.  What a wonderful thing that we are together.

processing

Glioblastoma does to the body what other cancers do but with alzheimer's symptoms mixed in.

I'm hoping my mom will be able to find some sort of affordable 24/7 assistance in the near future to give her a break.  She is so physically worn out from being the constant caretaker of a disoriented and immobile man.  She is at peace, but so very, very tired.

My life has kicked into crazy gear.  Today was a 13.5 hour day away from home with no time to rest.  I am still having to to juggle my two jobs, take care of my own home, and meanwhile, tending to my parents' (and grandmother's) needs.  I have been over at their house for several hours every day except one in the last week.  I know even just me being there has a tremendous impact--my mother's weary face brightens up everytime she sees me.  My dad is simply happy just being around those he loves.  My grandma has someone that she can talk to freely about simple joys or worries in her day.  I am happy to be there, but it is draining.  I can't even imagine what my mom feels like right now.

We also had to finish preparing the house on Ormond this week to be put on the market by Friday.  I can't tell you how thankful I am for my sister in law and my brother--they had the energy and the vision to tackle a nearly impossible goal, and it is happening!  Ormond is so close to being out from under our feet.  That alone has been a nearly two year battle, and I know it's a comfort to both my mom and dad to have it be nearly out from under them as well.  The effect of having the pressure of a seemingly impossible deadline, however, exponentially added to my stress level this week.  It just seemed like the worst possible time to make this happen.  But here we go!

* * *

I had a friend, so sweet and well-meaning, approach me today with advice about a doctor in New York who is practicing more alternative methods for cancer treatment.  She pulled me aside and began explaining why she would recommend checking into his research and seeking care there.  I listened until she was finished, calmly thanked her for sharing the information, and then explained our situation.

I was struck with how awkward it is to see people want to help in some way but not be able to help in the way that is needed.  Instead of asking me what our situation was or asking if we needed anything, she jumped into an assumption that her information would be helpful.

I'm sure this must happen all the time.  I know most people don't know how to respond, or maybe they just simply feel uncomfortable.  They want to do something helpful or even maybe feel that they need to do something...and that's not necessarily wrong as long as their need to help doesn't trump the actual needs of the people in trouble.  In that case, it puts those of us in these awful situations in an unusual spot.  If someone is offering help that isn't helpful--maybe harmful--then how do we react?  What if you want to just "pop in to say hello" and we really just can't handle it?  Are we allowed to deny you the right to visit us?

If I may, a word of advice.  The best help is availability...communicate your availability and mean it.  Don't assume anything.  Trust us that we will ask for your help if you tell us exactly what you are prepared to do.  The best and most comforting offers of help go like this:

"Is there anything I can do to help?  I am available during (days/times) to do (errands/household tasks/bring food/visit/etc).  Don't hesitate to ask, really."

Even reading this makes me tear up as I think of all the people who have said these very words to me.  Marie, Pam, Jeannie, Ryan, Katie, Annette, Terri, and so many others.  And still more that haven't said it in so many words, but where it is implicitly understood that they would do anything for us. We have had so much help from so many...and it has been so genuine and so selfless and serving.

Forgive me for my rantings above.  I'm not complaining, just thinking aloud.  I am so incredibly thankful for those around us who love us so much.

* * *

Writing is good for me.  Between that and conversing, it is how I process.

I am doing well.  Tired, stressed, but unusually well.  I am verbalizing my needs and pushing through when I just need to keep going.  I may end up crying in the arms of my husband most nights or in front of my new clients or boss occasionally, but it's the way it needs to be.  I am okay with this.  There is no doubt of the divine purpose and the endless, deep love of Jesus.  I soak it up.  I take long hot showers where I am so aware of Him holding me still, holding me near.  He is so good and faithful; there is no doubt.

So...off to the shower where, even at the end of a long day, I am renewed.

sinking in

"So has it hit you yet?"

At the time, I was mopping the kitchen floor, bending over occasionally to scrape up a dot of paint with my fingernail.  I glanced over at Ryan on the living room couch.

"I guess," I said, pausing to lean on the mop. "I mean, I've gotten used to living here."

"Me too," he agreed.  "But I'm not sure it's sunk in yet that it's actually ours."

Tonight, I am soaking in a delightful fall evening on my back porch, drinking Tetley British Blend with half-and-half and listening to Chopin's nocturnes and acoustic Christmas music while I write this.  Every now and then I catch a whiff of my cinnamon spice candle.  It makes me start thinking of gingersnaps and shortbread cookies.  A boy across the street is shooting hoops to the light of his garage floodlight.  Other than the few houses that have outside lights on, it is nearly pitch black in our little section of neighborhood.  The moon is nowhere to be found, and the lack of glaring street lights seems mysteriously cozy.

I suddenly realize that this is what I have been waiting for--a place of relaxation and inspiration.  And here it is, tonight on my back porch.  It is so quiet, so peaceful, so secure.  Is this what home feels like?  Because I really, really like it.

I know there is something magical about the fall, and it doesn't seem to matter where you live.  As a life-long Floridian, I've never really seen seasons change before.  For me, I only know it's fall because a couple of mornings ago, I walked outside and it was below eighty degrees.  And when I stopped by the beach today, I realized I could be laying out and not get too uncomfortably sweaty.  But apparently, that's all it takes.

Something warm and fuzzy starts to happen to me when I notice the winter coming.  I start longing for comforts of home--peaceful music, warm liquids, family and friends, baked goodies, sweaters.

I am amazed and so thankful that I can come home, to our home, and enjoy all of these things with a sense of serenity and permanence.  God's provisions for us are unfailing; no matter how long we have to wait or what awkward circumstances we find ourselves in beforehand, He is faithful to give us more than we could have asked for or even imagined because we waited on His timing.

Why is it that after so many times of seeing His faithfulness, I am still so amazed?  Oh how He loves us...

jazz and beer

There is something about vocal jazz I just adore.  I am always in the mood for it.  Part of the reason, I think, is that my musical ear is normally quite bored and just soaks up the refreshing sounds of jazz and the variety of instrumentation.

I have, over the last few years, realized that I am constantly dissecting tidbits of musical information in my subconscious.  Sometimes I will suddenly realize what I have known all along -- what key a song is in, what the musical chord pattern is, or most of the time, both.  My awareness of this occurring on a daily basis is usually minimal, but occasionally I will acknowledge this activity going on in the background of my mind and smile.  I never know what to do with this information, but at the very least, I am reassured of my musical brilliancy.

However, I think this talent has been dulled a bit by the radio.  Pop music is, after all, the most predictable and most boring of all genres of music...save for country.  Bleh.  It's so unchallenging, I'm sure my mind has been going crazy with boredom.  (I think this explains why rap irritates me.  Now don't get me wrong--I do have an appreciation for talented rappers and their art, but the lack of musical diversity in the "music" part of their songs is nearly insufferable.)

So...jazz.  The unpredictability of jazz is so sexy, yet it still adheres to some type of structure or form.  The good kind still resolves in some way.  Jazz vocalists are so talented, so ridiculously sultry, and I envy their skills with a passion.  Privately, I've tried to pull off a few riffs, but I always end up feeling ridiculous.  I will never be Ella or Billie.  It just won't happen.

Nothing could be better than relaxing to jazz -- accept maybe listening to it with a martini in hand (or beer if you're broke like me).  As I sit on my couch, I can close my eyes and feel like I am dancing or gracefully eating a decadent meal in candlelight.  I can roll down the windows of my car with the stereo turned up and feel like I'm on a beach or twirling in a gorgeous red dress.  Jazz has to be the most sexy and romantic sound in the world.

And speaking of romance, I really enjoy weddings so much more now that I'm married.  I wonder if every woman feels that way.  It's like being the bride all over again but without the stress of the wedding day.  I just can't wait to get home to be adored by my own husband as soon as possible.  (And of course, I know he won't protest.)

Sean and Abbie's wedding was fantastic.  So classy, and so them.  Every wedding should be that way ... casual but classy.

It was a crazy couple of days.  I mean, staying in a two bedroom vacation house with more than ten people for three days is fun for the first couple of hours.  And, of course, it has its moments of hilarity throughout.  But when you are getting 4-5 hours of sleep a night (if you're lucky) and you have 19 hours of being on the road on top of it, it's a bit tiring.  But, so worth it.  I am so in love with all of my family.  My heart feels like overflowing sometimes, and I can't imagine feeling anything less.  I had such an amazing time.  It's good to be back, though, even though normal life isn't quite normal yet.

Now on to the next great adventure ... our home.  Wow, I like how that sounds.

worship

I just spent several hours with my guitar.  My fingers are sore.  My heart is happy.

I have avoided getting involved in leading worship music for awhile.  After spending the vast majority of my life required to go to church and play and sing in front of everybody, I needed something different.  I needed to enjoy worshipping again--free from responsibility.  When Ryan and were about to be married, we knew we needed a church that wasn't a weekly chore to attend.  Our past churches, we knew, couldn't do that for us.  No offense, but we were tired and burned out.

God brought us to Vineyard Christian Fellowship.  You can't get much more random than that.  A dozen or so people gathered together like a house church, the pastoral figure sitting on a barstool up front talking to us like we just happened to bump into each other.  This is now our famiy, and is worth the agony of getting out of bed in the morning to participate in it.  It's worth it EVERY TIME.

I know God is calling me into music again.  I am a worshipper.  I love to soar musically into His glory, into the overwelming awe of Him.  I had lost this.  How are you supposed to enjoy being a worship leader if you forget how to worship?

I feel that it will be good this time.  It sometimes is a difficult job, and is definitely a responsibilty, but I know I was made to worship this way and to share this with my family.

I'm actually excited about it...that's how I know I'm ready.

home

Over the past two years, our life has been uprooted by a family health crisis, loss of income, relocation, and all of the little additional consequences that follow.

It's been...well, to keep it short...hell.

But we've learned a lot, grown up maybe a little too fast, and are thankful for so much even during the hardest times.  Sigh.  We're really, really tired.  I feel very old.  I've been through a lot.  I'm thankful for those around me that help sustain my joy.

Then, in one marvelous day (yesterday), it's time.  Ryan and I are suddenly homeowners, and are closing on our house in 29 days!

I shouldn't be surprised.  Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be the glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever!  I know He works out more than what we can ask for or even imagine, but it always seems so shocking each time He does.  I feel so loved, so blessed, to know that He cares about us who are weary and who have suffered and who have struggled to persevere.

I can tell you why our house is amazing and how He is blessing us so immeasurably more than imagined, but you really just need to see it.  At any other time, we would be that young redneck couple in the ugly 2/1 with weeds growing through the roof.  But ironically, the same struggling economy that helped to make our lives a nightmare in the first place has helped us to afford something we could never have imagined possible.

It's ridiculous.  Pretty much impossible.  Even between our realtor, our lender, and our loan guy, no one has ever heard of a short sale completed in 17 days.  Apparently, God decided to tell us very loudly that He wants us in this house. What an unbelievable process to get to this point.  What exciting days we have ahead of us!

I know there is more work ahead.  There will be more crises to come, some of them a continution of the ones that have already crashed on top of us.  But what a tangible hope we now have, to see so clearly that He provides and brings us through and blesses us even in the middle of a raging storm.

Maybe the point isn't necessarily that He calms the storm, but that He's in the boat with us.

And He's probably smiling like He's up to something.

journal

My husband tells me I need to start writing.

"But," I protest, "I haven't figured out what I want to write about."

I know I'll probably write some kind of fiction.  I also know I have to write about what I know about: nothing before 1990 and only places I've lived in or visited.  But if I'm going to write some type of lengthy novel, I've got to have content.  And that's where I get stuck.

"Just start writing," he urges.  "Pick a theme, pick a place, pick a character, or anything, and start writing."

I sigh.  He's right.  I should follow my own advice I give to my own creative writing students.  Keep a writing journal.  Start writing and stop trying so hard.

inspiration

I need a piano.

I've had this thought floating in my head for awhile, but it struck me hard last week as I sorted through a few of my old research papers.  It should have been an obvious truth over the last couple of years, but two Saturdays ago, I suddenly hit a wall of conviction.  I've stopped writing.  I've stopped creating.

Music has become simply a distraction to me during long workouts at the gym, popular songs beating into my ears to urge me on.  I'm no longer appreciating music; I'm using noise to block out my self-inflicted physical pain.  And writing is purely for practical communication, mostly email and text messages.  Abbreviations and texting slang have cluttered my vocabulary.  I've deleted syllables out of words like "probably" and flowered my verbal communication with redundancies or contradictions.  ("I prolly will maybe...")  I mean, what am I saying anymore?

I'm reading my research papers, and I feel stupid.  Not because my papers are terrible, but because they are good.  I can't write like that anymore.  I sit down to play at the piano, and I realize that my fingers have forgotten where these keys and notes are.  My muscle memory from hours of practice every week is gone.

God is a Creator, and designed me in part to reflect this aspect of His character.  Why have I become so distracted by life that I have silenced a core part of my very soul?  This cannot be good.

Okay, so I need a piano.  And to start writing again.  And you know what?   I think it is coming.  The year 2011, I believe, is going to be a year of great redemption...a bringing together again of what was scattered or abandoned during 2009.  That's pretty exciting to me.  Unfortunately, there is a lot of work to be done to enable this.  But perhaps I will be able to sneak some artistic expression into my life in the meantime and not let it slip away.  I do understand why I abandoned my art, but now, it is time to nuture it again and delight in it.

I am so thankful for the life that has gathered around me during the last couple of years.  So many like-minded people have become my family and have adhered to this communal journey.  I love that.  And now it is my responsibility to be who I am and use my skills and gifts.  Oh what joy to do this together and inspire each other!