Forge On!

My brain isn't working. I really don't have any profound thoughts at the moment. I write this post while sitting on my parents couch. The call came last night around midnight. We wouldn't have known that my mom was going into surgery if it hadn't been for my sister calling them and "catching them in the act" of sitting in the emergency room.

Long story short (I'm exhausted..so it will be short)..they called in the surgical team and after doing a scan they operated on my mom, removing over 18 inches of her colon and intestine. She will have another surgery to reconnect all her plumbing.(she will have my head when she finds out I blogged this)

I don't remember driving to the hospital this morning. A three hour trip took over four. Thirty of those minutes were spent at a McDonald's in Huntington, Indiana. Really, how much more can we take. "Okay, spiritual warfare spirits..Bring It On! We will fight this just like we have fought every other battle you have put us through." I sat in the parking lot and cried..said a few choice words..and collected myself before driving on. Forge on...I think this may become a motto of mine.

The chemo and radiation doctor told my dad to "forge on" when his cell count came back too low to continue treatment this week. That's what we shall do, as a family. We will forge on, once again overcoming any obstacle that comes our way. Of course, we won't do it alone. He is walking alongside us...my Savior, that is.

P.S. a big shout-out to my dad who followed in his youngest daughters footsteps when it comes having his voice heard. My dashing dad sent an email to Ms. Rachel Maddow of MSNBC. She has no idea who she is up against..lol! I think fatigue is setting in...I had better close for now before I get myself in trouble.
Night, loves!

Making Moments

Today's daydream started early. I was curled up in the office chair, hands wrapped around my favorite mug full of coffee...more flavored cream than coffee, please. My music played, devotional in hand, fountain trickling. I haven't had one of these mornings in a long time. It was the second day of school for the boys, too. I huge feat that I fell back into my comfy cocoon so soon after the summer vacation had come to an end. Looking out the window, I tricked myself into thinking it was cool outside. Those Indian summer days that I so lovingly adore. Time to get back in the groove, albeit a new groove...a new normal.

We visited my mom and dad this past weekend. We had a lovely time. Ice tea on the porch. Sweet corn at every meal...Indiana sweet corn can only be rivaled by that of Iowa's...or so I have been told by Mrs. Roe. Dad is halfway though treatment and visited the surgeon yesterday. Looking ahead, we may be looking at surgery in mid October. Every single day is another blessing..another day to make a memory that could possible sustain us for a while.

The boys were anxious to start school again. This anxiety was met with some relief, I believe. Their summer break was turned upside down, but they rallied and concluded it with a day "of doing nothing". When asked what they did this summer, they matter of fact stated that they spent the summer with their grandparents.."making memories". I prefer "making moments"...don't you?

So, today's daydream must come to an end. It is now time to go back and read some more. On today's agenda...being intentional in all I do. Being intentional and making moments...one at a time.

Numbered Squares

Thirty days has September, April, June and November. I love my calendar. Crazy thing to love, eh? Although lately I have been ignoring it. Ignoring future dates. Ignoring the beginning of school for the kids. Ignoring open houses. Ignoring the planning of Little New Neighbors activities..likely to get fired from the board. Ignoring deadlines for the Women's Christmas Celebration at church. Another one...can you be fired from a church committee? Ignoring calls from friends wanting to catch up. It's not that I don't want to do these things, but rather the thought of normalcy is so foreign to me right now. It has taken on the role of a stranger. "Hello, panic! You're back...you can leave at any time...I need to focus".

I don't want to think about days...my futile attempts to fill in the numbered squares. Guilt sets in. Guilt stemming from the fact that as I write this, my dad sits at home. I wonder if he hears ticking..ticking of a clock. There is silence. No noise from the grandkids running around. You see, we all had to come back home to regroup. This is something that I am not dealing with very well. He is at home seeking treatment, but the treatment is aggressive and has already taken its toll on his body. It is so sad that the medication to ease the pain has side effects that are just as bad or worse as the cancer.

Trav caught me looking at one of many websites that help patients and caregivers cope. I have met some dynamic people with their own stories of pain and joy. The sad thing is, there are very few, if no stories of survival. I responded to a post from a man whose mother had the same symptoms and diagnosis as my dad. I wrote to him seeking some additional info on her course of action. It was while I was sitting in an auditorium last week at the 2009 Leadership Summit that my phone began to blink. It was the kindest note from him. As I began to read the note, I could feel the "feeling" rising up in my throat. I knew what he was going to say next...his mom had passed away in June. I sat in my seat, tears running down my cheek, surrounded by friends and colleagues who couldn't tell the difference...if my tears were those of sadness for this man...my dad...or the poverty crisis this world is facing. I wanted to scream out, "I can't deal with my own crisis". There are so many with similar stories...I am just one of the numbers. I want my story to be in the forefront. My loved one is suffering. My loved one is dying. I am experiencing guilt. Tough words of honesty. Hard enough to type them, let alone say them aloud.

My dear friend JM told me this morning that I am going to have to let it all out. I have to feel the anger and sadness and it's okay to do so. I thought I had already done so, but now feelings of guilt are creeping up. Guilt felt from not being there with my parents right now. Guilt about trying to figure out some major things for my immediate family. Guilt about feeling withdrawn from the kids and Trav.

I'm a planner..wanna be spontaneous gal. This life experience isn't something that fits in the numbered squares on my calendar. I think if I just forgo the calendar for a while, I will be able to fill my days with more meaningful tasks. Tasks that are fitting to a mom, wife, daughter, friend and child of God. That's one thing I can plan on.

Purpose

One individual life may be priceless to God's purposes,
and yours may be that life!

-Oswald Chambers

When In Rome...

Lately I have been thinking about many of our family adventures. I laugh when I recall our family holiday in Italy. One that didn't begin as smoothly as we had expected, but ended being a wonderful time spent with my parents and siblings.

Let me take you back in time...

Date: September 11, 2005
Location: Italy
Participants: Mom & Dad, my two sisters and my brother
Reason: Reaping the benefit of living like no one else so we could live like no one else

It all began simple enough. The spouses and babysitters were in place for my sister and I. Living in Charlotte at the time, we flew to Atlanta to meet my parents and brother flying in from Indy and my other sister in from Orlando. We had abandoned all of the out-laws to enjoy some time together...just the five of us. The Zentz Five.

We all met in Atlanta and were a little nervous being the anniversary of 9/11. My mother had listened to countless hours on tape on meditation and overcoming your fear of flying. She was a tad bit medicated as she stepped on board the plane. We knew that if my mom was going to make the flight, we all had to. We travelled with our dear family friend Manuela who was born and raised in Italy, and was part of the cabin crew for that flight. We were fortunate enough(well, all of us but my brother and I) to be seated in business class. The two of us were seated in the next row beyond "the curtain". As we prepared for take off, the attendant noticed that the seat next to my dad was available. I didn't hesitate for a second, stumbling with my carry on to make myself comfy next to my dad.

My dad and I talked throughout the first two hours of the flight, spending time watching the one-board GPS tracking of the plane. We noticed the attendants, followed by one of the co-pilots pass by us several times. It turned out my brother and his fellow seatmates heard a knocking coming from the floor below. When a knock was done in a pattern, the knock from below repeated the pattern. Back up front, we noticed on the GPS that the plane had made a sudden turn, traveling back towards the US. The captain came on and told us that we were going to have to make an emergency landing for undisclosed reasons in Jacksonville, Florida. Two hours since take-off we suddenly found ourselves in a little state of panic. We approached the airport in Jacksonville only to be met by emergency vehicles, police vehicles, the SWAT team, several dogs and lots of ammunition. We were all taken off the plane, several questioned by the SWAT team and Homeland Security, and all huddled into a emptied area of the airport.
Then we sat...and waited
and waited
and waited.
Many decided not to finish the flight due to the "undisclosed" reason for our return. We all looked to our mom...I mean if she was brave enough to get back on the plane after all of that, who was I to bail on the family. Hours later we were allowed back on the plane and we set out on our trip. They apologized for the delay, wanting to be "better safe than sorry" yet failed to tell us the main reason for the return. When I called The Hubby from my cell phone, he panicked. He saw my number come up on caller ID and immediately thought the worst. He still talks of that moment with anxiety in his voice.
Thanks to our friend, Manuela, we were able to find out that here had been a
stow-away in the landing gear of the jet. He was able to "knock" loud enough to alert us, but due to the air temp and pressure, probably met his demise somewhere over the Atlantic as we landed back in Florida. So, despite the drama that always seems to follow the Zentz family, we regrouped and spent time in Venice, Florence and Rome. Seeing all the sights and eating the most delicious and flavorful food one could imagine.

I remember while at The Vatican, we entered St Peters. I was blown away by its immense presence. Having studied the art of Italy extensively in college, I was in heaven actually seeing it in person. I remember praying...praying at that time that I would once again become pregnant. An odd request for some, but my prayers were answered when I returned home to find out we were indeed expecting.(the gelato man was nice, but not that nice. sis margaret is 100% The Hubby). As I took the challenge to climb to the top of the duomo of St. Peters(a hefty feat for some), I stood overlooking the city of Rome. Nothing could be wrong in the world at that moment.
It was beautiful,
wonderful,
majestic,
awe inspiring,
my Lord's creation.

If only...if only I had known that the happenings of the past two months had already been planned. Would I have prayed any different? Would I have looked at my mom and dad with a different set of eyes as I watched them talk while dining in St. Mark's Square? Would we have sat a little longer at the cafe drinking our daily Cafe Americano? Would we have gotten upset when Cameron got us lost walking down the winding streets of Venice? Would I have left my LIVESTRONG bracelet on the altar of St. Peter's in honor of my dad? Would we have laughed a little more as we struggled with our suitcases on the LONG trek to our hotel in Milan?

Would we have just seized and totally surrendered to every single moment of that trip as if it was our last? How I wish we had.

Someday...and I truly mean this...someday, we will all get on a plane again and do it all over again. Not differently, just again...wherein making so many more memories together. Only my prayer at St. Peter's will be different. This time it would be for more time...more time with my Dad.