The Pineapple Experiment

About five years ago, we bought a pineapple and Brad planted the top in a little planter in front of our house. We weren't exactly sure what would happen, but it would at least make a nice little plant. We were not the best gardeners. Everything we attempted to grow was in pots, and we ended up with about 5 green beans, a handful of peppers, a bunch of basil, and one tomato. In fact, the "cute" little caterpillars we saw were actually not caterpillars at all and they ate all our tomato plants. Nonetheless, our little pineapple plant continued to grow. 

From the time we first planted our pineapple we had a baby, moved twice, opened and closed a business, experienced a two-year (ongoing) battle with cancer, and so much more. Through it all, we've just had that little plant sitting on our front porch. And one day, we had a pineapple! I brought Devin home from school sick, and he was feverishly laying on my shoulder when I brought him in the house and he spied it through the front window. He was beyond excited. He came out of his feverish haze long enough to exclaim, "Mom! There's a PINEAPPLE!!" We were all excited our little experiment had worked, and the next day he shared it with our entire family on Marco Polo. 

When we moved, the pineapple plant was the only one we brought to the new house. Between the drive and its shallow roots, it was leaning a little when we got to the house. I had to put it into a new pot, and I wasn't sure it would survive, but I figured we'd give it a try. It didn't seem quite big enough to eat, so I thought I would give it some more time. Then we left for Utah, and I trusted the rain would give it enough water if it would make it. 

The morning we came back from Utah I went out to the front porch for some quiet time. I looked over and the pineapple was gone! Brad had checked on it the night before (which I didn't know) when we got home around 1am. So sometime in the middle of that very night, it was chopped off. What was even more heartbreaking was when Devin announced he was going to check on the pineapple and we had to tell him it was gone. I don't know what happened. I don't understand why someone would take it. I could have given someone money for a pineapple. It was really more about the time we spent, the excitement of m son, and the journey. That was taken away for a pineapple. I don't want to make assumptions. But there was no evidence it was an animal, and the cut was quite clean. 

Ultimately, this post is not about the mystery of the pineapple. It's about what came to mind when I first saw it was gone. As I sat on the porch I looked over at that empty pineapple plant and I thought about the last five years and all that we've been through. I thought about the life we planned for ourselves and our kids. I thought about how we invest in our journey, only to find one day that our plans have been cut down and destroyed. That everything we have worked for is gone. That all the ways we expected things to go changed, and there's no going back. We can't regrow that pineapple. We can't bring back what was taken. And that's just what happens. 

But, we can choose what to do next. I can dwell on the missing pineapple. Or. 

We can plant a new pineapple. Our journey has been beautiful. We learned things during the time we opened and closed our store we could not have learned any other way. It was a journey that was so beautiful. I have learned things about aching, pain, sadness, hidden hard, that I never EVER would have learned if I didn't get cancer. I have been given a chance to be a mom and spend time with my family and live my life because of cancer in ways that I might not have with another illness. Our family has grown and our life has changed in ways that have been so full. 

So, the missing pineapple was an ending. A sad one. That happens, probably more than we want. But, it is also a beginning of the next journey that we invest in, and we get to choose if it's beautiful in the great and the hard. That's what's amazing about life. We always have a choice.

Life, Legacy, and the Journey

One day someone asked me, “What do you want your legacy to be? What do you want your children to know when you’re gone?” As I thought about it, my answer was that I wanted them to know that God is great. And He’s greater than cancer. 

I may not be able to grow plants, but I am really good at growing cancer, and I don’t even know how I’m doing it, but it’s back. And there isn’t really anything left for me medically but prolong the inevitable. I’m taking two different chemo pills, and I may get a few spots radiated to avoid Whole Brain Radiation, but I’m out of any other options. 

If you are thinking that I should try some holistic options, I have. If you think I should get a second opinion, I know what my options are right now. If you’re thinking maybe I should try more chemo, there are several reasons I would say that’s not an option, but honestly the biggest is that until God is done with me, cancer will keep coming back. My body so far hasn’t responded well to medicine. 

Brad and I found some carpenter ants in a pot we had a tree in this summer. We poured ant poison in the dirt, and then moved the pot and covered the ground where we found more underneath. We hoped that we got them and they wouldn’t come back. I realized that’s exactly what we do for cancer. Once we find it we try to kill what we find, and we take out what we can from the source and hope for the best. But we can’t always tell where it’s coming from. They took my breasts, but the cancer had already moved to my brain. And how is it getting there? Nobody can say. Whether you take a holistic or medicinal approach, no one has all the answers. 

I wholeheartedly believe that our bodies are one of the most powerful ways God can talk to us and work with us. We don’t really appreciate what we have until we don’t. I also know that we are all different, so while there is often a “right” answer to our journey, God made each of us, and we are individuals.

Here is the most important thing I believe, that I’ve had a hard time saying out loud: I  believe there is a path for me and I believe I’m not done here. As far as medicine is concerned that is not true. And I’ve often felt like I was crazy. For one, it’s not everyone’s answer. But I don’t feel like I’m meant to stay for me. I feel like I’m not done with what God needs for me to do. So is this scary? Yes. Do I wonder about my family? Everyday. But I know that if God has a plan, and if I’ve misunderstood and that doesn’t include me being here, then He definitely has a plan for my family.

I do feel so grateful for many things on this journey. The biggest is that I’ve been able to live the last few years. I haven’t been laying in a bed unable to be a mom and a wife. It’s strange to be so sick and not feel sick. But it’s allowed me to live. I don’t have a thousand things I feel like I need to check off my bucket list. I’ve lived a beautiful life. I’ve loved so many, and have been loved by so many. And I’m a wife and a mom. I plan to be here to watch my babies grow. But I know that I’m on a journey and ultimately I will see it through, and do my part all along the way.

Land that I Love

 I think I am not a crazy big fan of a lot of things. I don't have a favorite sports team. I don't love a particular band. I definitely lean more to one side than the other of politics, but I like to think I'm pretty open-minded. But I can say that I LOVE the United States of America, and I love celebrating the 4th of July. I still tear up when I hear the Star Spangled Banner and say the Pledge of Allegiance. It doesn't matter how much we struggle as humanity to get life right. We still live in a country that's pretty great. I haven't personally lived outside of our country. But I've known those who do (or have) and most would say we have it pretty great. In fact, I learned that there are people from another country that get cancer treatments at my office, because they literally won't survive if they just wait for their name to come up on a list.

I grew up in a place that knew how to celebrate the 4th of July. In fact, I have gone back to Utah most summers to celebrate with my family. I love all the booths at the Centerville park, the concert and firework show, the beautiful (and sometimes super hot) Utah weather, the parade (and children's parade), the fun run, and the family time mixed in. Utah in the summer is magical to me. It's nice and cool in the evenings and mornings, and hot but dry in the daytime. I usually see good friends along with all my family. I love it. 

When we first moved to Florida I was a little bummed that people don't celebrate like they do in Utah. I still don't really understand. I know it's hot. But in Florida, we know how to handle the heat! But it seems like most celebrating happens indoors, with fireworks at night. Luckily, Winter Garden knows how to celebrate! We went to the children's parade several years ago, so we decided to do that again this year. My favorite quote was when Devin said, "It's really hot, Mom. It sounded fun to go to the children's parade." That morning Brad was sick, I just learned there was a huge fire on the mountain in Centerville, the boys were cranky from being up too late, and my health is not what I thought it would be," so part of me was thinking, Happy Birthday America! What a day this is shaping up to be! But, I wanted to make the most of it, and all those feelings melted away as I listened to someone sing our national anthem and I said the Pledge of Allegiance. I was so touched by so many who came out to celebrate and all chose to walk in the Children's Parade together. Yes, it was hot. But, it was magical to celebrate. 

Later that day we had a little pool time, made homemade ice cream, and joined some friends for an epic home firework show. The boys even got to do some sparklers. I'll be honest, I'm pretty sure sparklers are more stressful to me than any other firework, and I'm not sure who decided it was smart to give kids flaming metal rods to play with, but my kids definitely loved them, so you know, we'll probably let them have some next year too.

I'm grateful we celebrated. I'm grateful my kids see that celebrating our freedoms in important. I love the quote, "Home of the free because of the brave". I'm so grateful for all those who have made those freedoms possible, some from my own family. I want my kids to recognize freedom is important, and we choose it every day. We will never be perfect, but we can keep working on being a little better every day.

The Middle

 I felt like I needed to step away from Social Media and from sharing for a bit. And for the most part, even if I stop in on Social Media I don't stay there. I also am not sure I'm ready to share a whole lot yet. But someone the other day said, "We never hear about 'the middle'. We always hear about how someone's testimony has been strengthened after the fact, or how the miracle took place and what it looks like now. But we don't hear about the crisis that comes in the middle, or the hard stuff as it's happening." (I seriously don't remember where I heard this, but it didn't come from me). 

When I heard this I thought about the fact that I'm not having a crisis of faith. Maybe the opposite. But, I definitely am in the middle (and also, maybe we don't want to hear about the middle until after the fact because we want to know it all worked out. We like seeing the middle as a blip, rather than part of the journey when we didn't know the end of the story). 

I used to run my tongue over my braces as I lay in bed at night, wondering what it would feel like to feel real teeth since it seemingly would never happen, and I realized I'm in that place now. I wonder what it's like to put food in my mouth without labeling it. I wonder what it's like to take my kids to school and not think about what it would be like for them to have another mom. Or my husband to have a new wife. And while I don't stay there, they are real questions that I never thought I would be asking myself.

But even though I wonder about those things, I also wonder what the person in line with me is at the doctor for. I wonder if the car is front of me is rushing off to a hospital or just found out someone died. I smile at the kids who tell me their Ya Ya got the ultimate healing when she died from cancer. I ask them what kind and they don't know because to them it's just "cancer", and I don't tell them that I know a lot more about cancer than they realize. I don't want to be that face for them. I don't tell people that I've had brain surgery and a mastectomy. They can't see that. And that's ok. They don't need to see that. I'm not the only one who's carrying hard. Sometimes it feels less hard than a constant battle with depression, or even daily doses of pain. Ultimately I'm learning to accept my story, and the trickiest part is leaning into what God intended for me and surrendering to His story.

I just read a quote by EE Cummings that said, "To be notbody-but yourself-in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody but yourself-means to fight and never stop fighting." I read that in a Brene Brown book, after which she said, "'Staying real' is one of the most courageous battles we'll ever fight."

I've heard some people say they are surprised at what I've shared on social media because it's not everyone else's business. And it's true. So I'm sharing it here and hopefully the people who care will read it. And I was the person that invited 500 of my closest friends and family to my wedding because I love them all. Whether that love is returned, it is genuinely felt. So while I don't want to share my life with everyone, I'm okay with sharing some pieces of me, and saying that I'm afraid to be imperfect. I'm afraid to make mistakes, And I'm realizing that I trust God with my whole heart, but sometimes I struggle to trust myself. And maybe someone else is feeling that too.

I've had more than one friend say, "I'm so impressed with your faith right now. I'm not sure I would do the same thing you have done." Honestly, I've leaned into God because I would do that with anything in my life. So in that way-yes-I'm leaning into my faith, and that is a natural response. But also, it's my life, very literally. It's my kids. It's my family. And where else can I turn? What else can I do? So many that I know would absolutely do the same. And some wouldn't. I don't understand that. Not because I think they are wrong to figure out what gets them through. It is a heavy thing to make choices that literally affects my existence in this world and that would be hard for anyone. But for me, trusting there is a God who loves me is what gets me through every day. It's what allows me to trust that my kids and my husband will be okay no matter what happens to me. If He wants me here, I will be here, But ultimately, He has a plan for them, whatever His plan is for me (by the way, that's way easier to say than it is to live, but I believe it).

All that said, I feel like God has been very direct to me. I believe that He's already performed incredible miracles on my behalf. I probably shouldn't still be alive. Even though I've leaned into my faith, He's also given me VERY direct answers. And that's the biggest reason I want to say that I TRUST HIM. But I have struggled to trust myself, that I will Hear him. And finally, I've learned to surrender. Which doesn't mean I am getting this all right. Sometimes I still try to do it my way. But I've learned to hold onto the plan He has for me. I've been learning about the Exodus and one thing I heard today was the fact that God has already saved us, and now asks us to obey and trust. Too often we expect to obey and then ask to be saved. I realized I have done that SO much. God has shown me over and over that this is not in my control. No matter how I eat or what I do for myself, this is out of my hands. That doesn't mean I shouldn't take care of myself, but it does mean that He wants me to trust Him, not just me and all the voices around me. We are all different. I can't control cancer away, or make it better. I used to think just a change in diet and making better choices could heal me. It can't. I think cancer attacks us from many different angles, and He's the one that knows My story. It's not my job to know everyone's or what everyone else should do... just me. I'm His. I love the way the Children of Israel kept thinking they were led away to die in the wilderness. I used to think they were so ridiculous for not trusting when God delivered them, fed them, gave them water when they were thirsty, etc. But I know that's me! Every day I have to trust all over again and remember all He's already done. 

Okay, that was a lot. But there are just a few things I have learned 'in the middle' I want to capture:

• Everyone is carrying their "hard", so be kind. I don't know what anyone else is carrying, but it's hard too! I'm learning to trust that everyone has their journey, so my job is to be kind. I have no idea what their perceptions are but God loves ALL of us.
• Be authentic! I feel like I've spent my life doing what everyone else wants, or trying to just be what others needed. I always tried to be authentic, but maybe I haven't always been totally true to myself. Sometime's it's hard when people seem to want you to agree with them. Also, when you have a disease, everyone has an opinion on what you should do. It's sometimes hard to hear my own voice and God's voice when I'm carrying everyone else's fears, not just my own.
• TRUST! I have to trust myself, but also God. He has delivered, He can deliver, and He will.
• Nothing is all good or all bad. God made us. He knows what we're capable of and what our bodies are capable of. That doesn't mean science is wrong. But we are also all individuals.
• We can't see the full picture. So we have to trust the one who does.

It's the middle of the night and I can't sleep. I hope I haven't said too much, or too little. I think it's important not to over-share. And I'm not naive enough to think I'm the only one going through something big. But somehow, I hope that my desire to trust might help someone else too. And it's part of being myself. Being willing to be vulnerable. To say I make mistakes and to be okay with that. And to help others know it's ok that we screw up sometimes. It's all part of the journey. Someone called this life "practice", and I liked that. We are practicing, and somedays we are rocking it, and somedays we just get through. But it's all part of the journey.

New Year's Day

 

I decided to take my parents to Saint Augustine over New Year's. I love the history and charm, and I thought they would really enjoy it too. I did not realize that the rest of the country loves to visit Saint Augustine that same weekend. It was CROWDED!! Luckily, many activities are completely outdoors and have lots of space for so many visitors. The activities we chose (the lighthouse and the Fountain of Youth) were perfect for our littles and for the rest of us, with lots of space to run around and play while also learning about the oldest city in America.

The trip was wonderful. I was blessed to have enough energy to enjoy the trip, and since we had to plan in some rest times for the kids, it was easy for me to make sure I got in some rest time as well. 

While the rest of the trip was sweet and enjoyable, the real magic happened on New Year's Day. My mom wanted to sneak in one more quick walk on the beach before leaving, so I snuck out the door with her around 7:30am, hoping for a few quiet moments to enjoy the rest of the sunrise. 

I was expecting the beach to be pretty empty. Since everyone stays up late on New Year's Eve, it seemed unlikely they would be jumping out of bed in the morning. The scene that greeted me as we stepped over the dunes was surprising. The orange sun was still climbing and partially covered with clouds. Mist created an ethereal feeling all around. People were standing and sitting along the ocean's edge-two or three together-as far as the eye could see, all facing the sun and looking out as if the crest of each wave was carrying their dreams of the new year into shore. Seeing the figures cloaked in mist along the shore deepened the feeling of anticipation, and the word that came to mind was hope. As we all gathered along the shore, we were connected by a hope for the days ahead, and a belief in the good that is coming. 

I was feeling guilty for leaving the boys behind so we started back to the condo, and as we got closer I suddenly heard "MOMMY!!!", and saw Brad standing at the shoreline and my two beautiful little boys running toward me. I was grateful for the few quiet moments of contemplation, and then overcome with gratitude for these three souls that are sharing this journey with me. There has been good, hard, scary, heartbreaking, joyful, and everything in between this year, and we have weathered them all together. I felt such joy for the opportunity to share this life with them, and for the hope I have in them, and our path together this coming year. 

I love the experience of each new year. I can't say I'm amazing at resolutions. But I love creating goals, hopes, and a new focus for the new year. This year I've decided my word is Healing. Here is to healing our hearts, our bodies, and our spirits in 2021. 

From Diagnosis to Treatment

My rock who has been there for it all

My friend Erica turned to me one day as we were driving and said, "Rachel! Stop telling me how to solve my problem. I know there is a solution, and I actually know what it is, but right now I just want you to listen while I vent about the fact that it sucks!" 

I learned two things about myself that day. First, my listening skills needed some work. Second, I realized fixing was always in my nature. While we all need to wallow about life from time to time, my go to response to a problem is to make it right whatever it takes. And that is great when there is a clear and defined path leading to a solution. But much more challenging when the answer is that ever familiar "Be still and know that I am God", or "You'll know when it's the right thing", or you know, anything that requires patience and listening (there's that whole listening thing again...). 

The initial stage of cancer diagnosis drove the fixer in me into weeks of adrenaline fueled life that left me wrecked by the time chemo came around. Unfortunately, life on adrenaline isn't something I ever recognize until later. I just thought I was managing, planning, taking care of what I needed to and trying to eat as healthy as I could. Then one day I realized I didn't know the last time I'd felt hungry, or tired, or aware of my body's needs. I'd already lost 5 pounds, I was suddenly getting nauseous, and treatments hadn't even begun. Yikes.

Living with something growing inside my body was clearly not working well for me. And then treatment was delayed because I don't fit into the traditional mold of American healthcare. After my doctor worked some magic, a date was finally set and things were in motion. Awesome. And also terrifying. We've all heard of chemo. We all hope and pray that it's not us that has to do it, and I pray even more it will never be my loved ones. 

My mom flew into town about a week before chemo started and I was so grateful to have her here with us. I was much more of a wreck than I even knew, and she jumped right in helping out with the boys, the house, and getting things in order. Knowing diet was a concern for me, she also ordered the Cancer Fighting Cookbook so she had an arsenal of tips and recipes that might be helpful during chemo, and she was a really good sport about trying to keep up with my daily updates on which new diet I thought would be best to follow. One day it was Keto, the next it was plant based, and some days I just felt like I should just not worry about it and deal with that after treatments (but remember how I'm a fixer? So yeah, that last one was never going to work).

Despite the intensity August brought, there were daily reminders of goodness that filled my cup to overflowing. My mom and dear friend Ashlee schemed and created a plan to bring in bread donations to the store as a birthday surprise. About 2 days before my birthday we suddenly started seeing familiar names buying up loaves of bread by the tens and even occasionally hundreds. I was overwhelmed with love and gratitude. I also started receiving unexpected packages and gifts filled with things to encourage and support me on my journey. While many of these came from close family and friends, we also had customers from our store that brought Brad things to share with me. One customer asked how we were doing, and then asked if he could pray for me. Brad of course said yes, and he stood right there in our store and offered a prayer in my behalf. As if all that wasn't enough, a few days after my first chemo, I opened my phone to find a GoFundMe that was started by dear friends from work, and they had already raised $6k, that was also for donations to go toward our store (it was just for a couple of weeks, so it's no longer open. I wanted to mention that since a few people had asked). I opened the link and just ugly cried. There were so many friends I had worked with that were so generous, along with complete strangers. The goodness just overwhelmed me.

Picture we used for the thank you post for 

bread donations

A little birthday gift from my brother

By the time treatment came along, I was as ready as I could be. Nervous, and unsure what the coming days would bring. But ready. That morning I opened the first link on my chain of inspiration (one part of the bonus package my sister and her family put together for me). The first quote on the chain was, "Can't go over it, can't go under it, you have to go through it," from The Bear Hunt. Perfect. Light. Simple and even a little silly based on the origin. Full of truth.

Day 1 of Chemo

Going through it is hard. Some days it feels totally doable. Some days I still wonder how this could really be my life. Some days I know for sure God knew this was meant to be my trial. Most days it's really hard that I can't "fix" this overnight. It's a marathon, not a sprint. I have months ahead, and even a lifetime to make sure I heal right, and I heal for good. But I'm grateful I'm not fixing it alone. In fact, I am reminded every day my life is in his hands.   

To Devin

 My Sweet Devy Dev,

It's been a long time since I've written just to you. Life has been a crazy intense roller coaster, and I haven't been able to document all the beautiful things that have come along the way I wish I could. But today, I needed to share with you, for you, what you've done for my heart. 

When I found out I had cancer, the scariest part was wondering if I would have to leave you and Davey behind. I trust God and His plan. But, the thought of not getting to see you grow up is a lot for a mama heart to take. Being your mom has been the most beautiful journey, and I wouldn't trade it for anything. And I can't wait to see what you'll do with your life! And worrying you might not know just how much I love you breaks my heart.  

I believe I will heal, and that we'll have so much more life together. And I know that this time will be a blur in your  young life that will pass, and maybe you'll forget the heaviness that you never quite understood. But I see you trying to process what is happening. You knew I was sick, but I didn't look like it, and I didn't act like it. Until one day I did. And I know that soon I will lose my hair, and you will know that something is not right. And there will be lots more days of watching me hurt and struggle. And amidst this you'll be trying to work out how to be a kid at school with new rules and new friends, and I worry that you won't be able to communicate the things you feel, but don't yet understand. 

All these things have weighted heavy on my heart. And then yesterday you reminded me that you are strong, and you are capable, and your heart is what is carrying me. You came in yesterday morning and gave me the sweetest kiss, telling me it was time to get up. When I said I didn't feel good and I couldn't get up, you just gave me a snuggle and offered me your blanket in case I needed an extra one. You were kind and sweet and excited about everything. Especially about being with Mimi and Papa. You got out the vacuum all by yourself, dragged it all the way into the family room, unwound the cord and plugged it in, and pulled out the hose to vacuum the crumbs you had left on the couch. And throughout the day you did things like offer to share your part of the couch as you said, "because you are so special to me, and Daddy, and Mimi and Papa."

Each of these little things were sweet. But more than the sweetness of each act, I felt you reaching your little heart and soul to wrap yourself around me in love. You, my little love, took care of me yesterday. My little big almost 5 year old. I am so proud of who you are. I'm so grateful for your sweet, loving heart. I want you to know that light is in you always. And I know that one day, when you can understand so much more, I want you to know what you gave to me. Because it was a big act of love for a very young boy. I love you Dev. 

Xoxo,

Mom