Don't Look Down!

It's always the sweetest irony how God aligns different moments of life. Two weeks ago, a friend of Gramma's invited her (and two guests) for a morning in a hot air balloon. She asked me and my cousin to accompany her and, of course, we immediately agreed. (I didn't mention that heights give me heart palpitations. Let alone experiencing them in a picnic basket attached to a stinking balloon).

However, the date we were scheduled to go was a super tough day for Gramma. There was just no way she'd be able to really leave her bed, let alone get tossed into a giant basket and flown into the sky. So, we postponed the venture indefinitely. 

Meanwhile, I became very anxious about my return trip to Florida. Care, caution, concern and completely freaking out are just inherent parts of my personality. But I've learned that, rather than just deny my anxiety or fear, I need to find the root of it and handle it (it leaves the enemy less room to mess with me). So what was making me anxious?

I made a list:

• The drive? Well kind of. But I have company so, not really. 
  
• Saying "see you later" to Gramma, possibly for the last time? I don't think so. I know she's in good Hands and I have already walked through much of the grief (as much as I can on this side of things). 
  
• Missing the rest of my family? Sigh. Toughy. Yes. I miss them. I hate leaving them. But, we've become well-adjusted to our circumstances and are actually a quite talented bi-coastal family. 
  
• So what is it? 

And, as He so often graciously does, the Lord gave me a word picture. Have you ever watched a film where someone has to cross over a raging river on one, narrow log? Or climb the side of a cliff without the benefit of a rope? And what's the phrase someone at the other side of the river or the top of the cliff always yells?...

 "Don't look down!!!" (Right, thanks.)

It occurred to me that much of life for me in Florida consists of things I secretly (not even audibly) asked Jesus to spare me from when I left my home in West Virginia to attend Southeastern University. 

"OK, I'll go. Yes. I will go. This is right. But please...I don't want to live alone. I don't want to pastor alone. I don't want to preach publicly - alone..." and the list continued. Basement level fears of my life. The kind you lock the door on because you have no intention of really facing them.

And, somehow, I ended up at Southeastern. Somehow, found a wonderful church. Somehow, landed a job. And, somehow, moved into my own apartment. The funny thing is, God pulled one over on me. It's like sneaking your kids their vegetables. And I never really saw that my life, in all its major areas, consisted of my largest fears! Until...

Until I got to Arizona. And until I started thinking about returning to Florida. And until...I looked down. And for a moment, I was like Peter. Oh me...of little faith. 

Awareness of your surroundings can do crazy things to you. The details of "reality" can send your head spinning, heart racing, palms sweating and knees knocking (I have been known to experience all these symptoms!) But, if you let it, the acknowledgement of the "impossible" situation can propel you toward a strength you never knew lay within your spirit. It can make you a professional water-walking, cliff-climbing, prayer of faith praying, powerful person of God. 

In the midst of these realizations, we finally rescheduled and took our balloon trip (full post to come; can't wait!). And what did I do when we arrived at our highest point? I tip-toed and leaned over the basket, peering straight down at the ground. Just to prove to myself that I can totally know what's up and not feel any fear about it. And I didn't.

There's a way to "see" the surroundings and not focus on them. 

I gazed at the ground, a few hundred feet below me, and smiled to myself...

This will be my last post while in Arizona. I have so much to say - notes jotted down all over the place! But I haven't had the time here to pull those thoughts together. Soon, friends! Stick with me! See you in the 863.

"Normal" Weekend, Extraordinary Dad

Friday morning began the weekend - at the steeply priced (gross understatement) breakfast. It was an interesting gathering of people, all rather affluent. And, while I came in with Gramma and met several individuals, I was actually seated at a different table while she took her seat at the distinguished head table. One of my favorite things is to be "anonymous" in places like that. A quote that struck me several years ago serves me today, "The true measure of a man is how he treats someone he thinks can do him no good." (And I add to that, "how he speaks in front of someone he thinks doesn't know anyone!".)  I simply greeted people at my table with my name and listened as conversation ensued. As we finished up our meal and Gramma stood to speak, one gentlemen made his way to the seat beside me.

Gramma had just launched into her speech and mentioned, "I'll get to the part about the money in a moment.." when my new neighbor turned to me and snipped, "We all know that. I haven't seen her once that she hasn't cost me money!" And I just smiled, keeping my attention forward. A few moments later came another snarky remark, "They say she's sick. Seriously? She looks fine to me!" I shrugged, again keeping my eyes forward. And, since he hadn't gotten enough of a response from me, he turned to his right and made an additional smart comment (which I couldn't hear) to the lady next to him. 

"You're sitting beside her granddaughter," was her response. And he was rather attentive during the rest of her speech. I suppose he thought he'd be "found out", because after the breakfast he approached Gramma and said, "You look great, Ora, really. You don't even look very sick."  To which she responded, "Have you ever heard of make-up?" 

We got in the car and she asked me, "What exactly do they want to see? I mean, I could leave my make-up and wig off and come in my nightgown. Is that "sick" enough?" Who knows what people expect to see...

Yesterday, as we got ready for a trip to Phoenix to see my little cousin Drew in a production of "Annie", we realized that the plumbing in the house was having a little difficulty. So, Dad undertook the task of figuring it out while we journeyed north. Well, after working all of Saturday and Sunday, it looks like we'll have to call in some help. Dad has put in probably a total of 24 hours working on the problem. These two days served as a major reminder of the kind of character my father has. I don't see these moments as much, living so far apart, but I can't remember a time when he hasn't been just this faithful and consistent.

My dad has always:

• Done the outside work of our home (no small task in West Virginia where we heated our home with wood during winter months and cut acres of grass during summer months)
  
• Vehicle maintenance
  
• House maintenance
  
• Lawnmower maintenance
  
• Taken out every load of trash
  
• Raked gravel back onto the driveway after fierce rains
  
• Scraped all the snow off our cars and heated them up before we left the house
  
• And thought of everything we would need before we knew we needed it
  
• (in fact, after I arrived here in Arizona, he took my car and washed it and had it detailed)

And never once have I heard him complain! Never once. Not one foul word. In the midst of HOURS of cutting wood so we'd be warm in the winter, when the chainsaw broke, I never saw him kick anything (I would have!). Once, while cutting a tree for fire wood, he disrupted a bees' nest and yellow jackets stung him multiple times. He wasn't angry (at least in front of us) and that wood probably heated our home for at least a few nights. 

And this weekend, given the latest plumbing events, he sacrificed every hour he had off, even missing church (not a typical occurrence in the Bock house). Not one bitter word was spoken. When I went out to check on him this afternoon, he was all smiles, up to his knees in dirt.

My poor husband; he's got an insanely high standard to meet! A standard of service and faithfulness that would challenge any man. I grew up thinking, "this is just what men do." And now I know the reality:  this is just what my father does. Day in and day out, like the sunrise, he's consistent. Even when the jobs are thankless...Even when I'm thankless...It doesn't matter. What's right is right and it will be done. 

I'm glad I finally know how thankful to be...

Enjoy this little video from "Annie" just because they were so stinkin' cute and they worked so hard! (And maybe because the song feels slightly appropriate right now.)

Just sayin...

I really wish I had something inspiring, encouraging or helpful to say to you today! In fact, that's what's kept me from writing for a few days (or, a week-ish :/). I have been musing on David encouraging himself in the Lord. And it's been "bootstraps" time for me. Get knocked down; get back up; repeat. So, while I wish I could be lighthearted and motivational, this is the part where being "real" just isn't convenient, but it's necessary.

Yesterday was a great day. It started very early, leaving the house at 6:50am to attend a breakfast intended to honor Gramma as well as raise funds for the health center she was influential in beginning. She asked me to accompany her and I was excited for the opportunity. And then, Mom mentioned that this particular breakfast was held at La Paloma Country Club and was $1,000 per plate. And I thought, "Uhm...what the HECK do I wear!?" (It's a good thing I packed my entire wardrobe.)

We had a great time and the people really honored her. Her speech was flowing and empowering, as always. And she gave a minor smackdown regarding the Federal Government's involvement in local healthcare: "They need to take their hands off our local healthcare. We live here. We know what we're doing."

On the personal front, Gramma decided on Wednesday that she is fully and completely done with treatments of any sort. She told her doctor she'd see him in three months (which he whittled down to two). And another mass was found under her arm. What does that mean? None of us really know. We just wake up every morning, enjoy the day, and go to sleep hoping for a repeat edition. Today, we will drive to Phoenix to see my little cousin Drew in her performance of "Annie". I know we'll all be cracking up - Drew is performance and drama at her core (and a girl after my own heart!).

I think each step for us right now is a little heavy, like wearing weights around our ankles. But I am convinced that the Lord strengthens us in ways we could never imagine in all of our trials. So, even in this, I give thanks. He's developing things in my heart and soul that are vital for victorious living - in this moment and the ones to come.

Oh, Yes I DID!

So today, I went with my mom into "town" (which, for all you people who have lived within "town" your whole lives, means that you have three things: a gas station, a grocery story and of course, a Wal Mart.) I dropped mom off for a hair appointment and lunch with friends and decided to stroll the local mall (another 15 miles into "town" ;).

Ok this story has several levels. So, enjoy it, but try to follow me...(we'll get back to the mall scene).

Part 1: Last week, Gramma and I stopped into a local consignment shop. And, completely randomly, I stumbled on a cute little denim skirt for four dollars! It looked a little big but, hey, four dollars! So, I got home and tried it on and it was a little loose, but not noticeably so. Score! New cheap skirt! I packed it and two pairs of jeans for the trip to West Virginia (one casual pair and one pair I could dress up).

Part 2: Last night, our whole family sat watching America's Funniest Home Videos and laughing hysterically. And, I grabbed a Diet Coke and sat down on the couch. As I poured it into a cup, I became enthralled with whatever humiliating moment was on the TV, forgetting the task at hand. It finally occured to me that the cup was overflowing when my entire lap was soaked (no exaggerration) with soda. Soaked...(which sort of made our own funniest home video).

Part 3: I got dressed this morning to go to "town" and had no feasible jeans to wear. My decent jeans now had Diet Coke Crotch. So, I opted for my new denim skirt - it'll do. But, as I strolled the mall, it wouldn't stop twisting and rising and I was constantly adjusting it. Ughhh! So, I popped in Old Navy and just happened to find a pair of sale jeans which fit perfectly! I went to the check out and asked the clerk, "I know this is crazy, but would it be possible for me to wear these out of the store?" "Sure! No problem. Just let me grab the tags and take the monitor off the bottom of them." (She's was so polite even though I'm so weird).

Part 4: I left the store. Ran into a friend's dad and chatted for a while. Stopped by Chik Fil A in the food court to grab some lunch (I know...I love me some Chik Fil A). And, as I stood there, a lady gently tapped my back and said, "Do you know you have a tag on your pants?" "No! Seriously!?" I looked down and there, down the side of my thigh, ran my pant size listed repeatedly and, underneath it, an accurate description of my legs..."short". Awesome.

I laughed. And thanked the kind lady for pointing it out. And now, I enjoy the moment with you. Oh, yes I did. :)

New shoes and bad haircuts.

This is my grandmother, Ora, and her lovely sister, Sarah. We all spent Mother's Day together this year which was such an "icing on the cake" time. And Gramma stayed an extra day with Aunt Sarah to give as many hugs, smiles and "see ya later's" as possible. Because Gramma lives in Arizona and and Aunt Sarah is snug in the hills of Monongahela, Pennsylvania, times spent together are very precious to them.

Cancer is an illusive thing. And I'm realizing the treatment of the disease generally causes people to appear sicker than the cancer itself. Our last bout with this was a far different story: chemo, long hospital stays, to the edge of death and back. The medicine was possibly more painful than the disease (in the short term). While Gramma is navigating this without treatment, she seems fine. Today, we drove an hour and a half to Pittsburgh, strolled the mall looking for a Cadillac of a crib for my superhero nephew, hit up a shoe store (where she bought two new pairs of Sketchers :) and ate lunch at Chik Fil A (a gift to me because I so sorely miss it!).

But, the reality? She's not fine. At all. Physically, anyway. Though when she greets people she extends a cordial, "I'm wonderful! And how are you doing, (insert name here)?". There are moments when we're laughing and enjoying things and the knowledge sweeps over me, "she's sick...". But she is so very strong. She walked with us all day today. She insists on pushing herself - says that people who push to (and sometimes beyond) their limits stay well. She also informed me today that cancer craves sugar and she's, "Starving it! Not even a morsel!"

And we do our best to laugh. Gramma and mom have meticulously cared for the wig she's been wearing the past couple of years. But despite their maintenance, it began to look a little dishevelled. Mom, who is the most incredible servant heart I've ever seen, took it upon herself to give Gramma's wig a little grooming. Let's just say Mom is a very good nurse...(so much for, "Don't worry...it'll grow out!").

Today, as we arrived back at the house and changed our clothes after our day out on the town, Gramma smiled brightly at everyone and said goodnight at about 9 o'clock. I know she closes the bedroom door and is able to be quiet before the Father, unafraid to show Him her weakness, fatigue or indescribable pain. And I am so glad we all have Him. He takes such good care of each of us.

In other news, my newest nephew is totally and completely nocturnal. I'm sleeping in the family room and have the opportunity to smile every 2-3 hours as I hear my brother or sister-in-law creep by me and to the kitchen to heat up a bottle.

It's an interesting house to be in right now. New life...fresh, barely opening its eyes and stretching to take in as much as possible. And in the next room, life that could possibly be nearing transition. And a group of people grappling with all the hairy details of both ends. I look forward to sharing with you some of the more prominent moments of the journey. But, for now, I must protect those delicate things and all their implications until the Lord has fully shown me what is good to share.

I can say that there is a new depth and understanding in our family about the sovereignty, providence and constant care of Almighty God. Reading through a book by Elisabeth Elliot, I stumbled on this verse of an old hymn and it has reached into my heart with such comfort. Elliot describes the hardest moments for her after her husband, Jim, had died. "Waking in the morning was always the worst time - oh dear, another day without him...was my thought." But she said the Lord gently brought remembrance of these words to her:

"Still, still with Thee, when purple morning breaketh,

When the bird waketh, and the shadows flee;

Fairer than morning, lovelier than daylight

Dawns the sweet consciousness, I am with Thee."
-Harriet Beecher Stowe

Brings new meaning to, "He's all I need?" doesn't it? We must be careful never to sing words like those flippantly. We never know when we may be ushered into a season that brings the proof of such words to bear in our lives.

Consistency

Spending time with my bro and my dad has drawn more of my attention to the NBA semi-finals than I would generally give. We're keeping up with the games, players and stats and I always enjoy feeling like I'm part of the "club" with them.

Because we've spent so much time in AZ, we've always been Suns fans. And dad has especially had a good deal of respect for Steve Nash, a Suns point guard. Now, if you're not a basketball enthusiast, you may not recognize this name. He's not likely to be listed with the likes of LeBron James or Michael Jordan. He's not "infamous" like Kobe Bryant or one of the big guys like Shaq. But Steve Nash is one of the most respected players in the league for some different reasons...

(Girls, stick with me through a little sports talk! I promise there's a point! no pun intended...)

He's a beast when it comes to assists (7,000 in his career and five games with more than 20). He's the first player in NBA history to shoot 50% from the field, 44% from the three-point line and 93% from the free-throw line three seasons in a row. And he's humble and classy, to boot. Monday night, he played the entire fourth quarter with six stitches in his eyebrow and his eye swollen shut after taking a fierce elbow. And he played well.

Here's the point. Steve Nash also holds another record: he's been to the most playoff games without having ever played in the NBA finals. And he takes a lot of mess about this record. "He chokes" some people say. But, the fact of the matter is, nearly every season Steve Nash has been in the conference semi-finals. Every season he has performed just as well as the season before. Every season he has been the asset to his team that they have come to expect. Season, after season, after season...he has quielty, consistently and brilliantly brought strength and accuracy to the court.

In many of our lives, we may never see fame like the NBA finals. There may never be a roaring crowd holding up posterboards with our names creatively displayed. Other players may have shoes and stadiums named after them because of a moment of greatness. But, for us, we put a stake in the ground for today. And tomorrow, we subtly pass it, carrying it just a little further up the mountain and hammering it in. Like Steve Nash, we do our best. We bring assistance to others. We stay at our personal optimum. And, even if we're temporarily blinded by opposition, we follow our instincts and do what we know. Living by faith, not by sight. Because, even in the dark, we know exactly where the goal is.

Joyce Meyer had me smiling a few mornings ago when she said, "Most of life is just Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tues..." There's something to be said for doing the "everyday" really, really well! I hope I'm that kind of person. Consistent. The kind who knows my Monday work morning is just as important as the roaring-crowd, flashing camera moments...

Packing.

I realize my post from a couple days ago may be a little bit confusing if you don't know why I made this trip to the middle of the desert! (Which, currently, is a much more comfortable temperature than stiflingly humid Florida :). 

In 2006, my grandmother was happy and healthy - working full-time and bossing all of us around. At 74 years old, she never seemed a day over 65 to us, with more energy than I had on my best days and a driven personality that rivaled the Apostle Paul. 

Our family experienced shock and sadness when she was diagnosed with Stage IV Non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma. We've experienced a lot of things together but nothing like this. Nothing that came out of thin air and stole our breath this way.

Brave and stubborn, and knowing in her spirit that God was not through with her time here, she underwent more than her fare share of chemo and endured a grueling stem cell transplant (which people her age are generally denied as an option). The doctors were amazed she was able to withstand them both and come out the other side - in remission!

It's been 18 months since that time. We have been thankful for each day and made the most of one another's company. But, we learned a few weeks ago the cancer has returned. It is progressing rather rapidly with no feasible options for treatment. And now, Gramma has decided her time is more about quality than quantity. So, with an estimated two-six months left here with us, she is staring "transition" full in the face and making preparations. 

I sat with her the other day and she was as honest as she's always been. Just like she was when she started a health clinic in a town which had no possibility for anything of the sort. She told her employees, "This will be hard. We won't have enough money. There will be times when it seems what we have to do is unreasonable. And, if you need out, that's fine. I will understand and I will still give you a good recommendation." (She kept all her employees and the health center now has two cites in the town and several physicians to serve the peoples' needs.) 

She sat and told me, "You need to understand these things:  I'm not scared. I have no fear - never have. Because I know in Whom I have believed. And you need to know I'm not angry. I know I'm in the middle of God's will. So you can't be scared. And you can't be angry." Unusual things for someone with six months to live to say. The kind of things only a real champion of the faith can speak. 

I journeyed here to help her with the last minute things:  house details, personal items, finishing up things at work and doing any and everything she may not be strong enough to do (which, so far, she has let be very little). And, besides those things, to share in conversation and in space, each other's company. 

A friend called to check in on her the other day, "Ora, I heard the news. What are you doing about it?"

"I'm packing!" she responded. 

She told me, "I have no regrets. And I am not sad. My only sadness is that I am leaving you for a while." 

I'm thankful we have the opportunity to share these words. So many do not. Death sweeps in and steals away those sort of precious moments. We are creating as many of them as we can. 

Today, as I watched her move about the house, hurriedly returning phone calls, taking one interview from a local newspaper, attending two meetings and managing to cook dinner for her older brother next door...I sat back in complete awe. She refuses to take anything "sitting down". As I observe her, my own courage is nurtured. 

There is not much else to say right now. We are doing what must be done. We are enjoying all we can. We are soaking it up. Letting out tears sparingly (we're a bit of a "big girls don't cry" family, though I am an exception) and laughing as much as possible at everything from the conveniences of baldness to the aggravation of trying to draw two identical eyebrows on your face. 

A few pictures of the journey...

1988 - My fourth birthday

January 2006 - My brother's wedding :)

Mrs. Claus for the town's Christmas celebration, 2007

After establishing a new park and working railroad, October 2008

Stem Cell Transplant, September 2008

Home for Christmas, November 2008

New hat :) Christmas 2009

Grand Marshall of the town parade, March 2007. 

August 2009 - Adopted grandchildren are also an inheritance of the Lord. 

July 2009, thanks Kristen Schnoor for capturing some precious photos for us. 

Here. Home. Tired!

We made it! I would say we squealed in on two wheels however, it was a far different experience. By the time we left Florida, we were already just a little bit...well...exhausted! So, upon reaching San Antonio (day 2 of the drive) we decided we may need just one day there to make sure all their retail stores were running efficiently. And also, that PF Chang's is the same all the way across the US. (Both were very satisfying, by the way.)

We arrived in Marana, AZ on Wednesday at about 6 and joined my family for dinner and good conversation. But there just hasn't been time to catch up on here with the latest events. Things are good. Quite heavy at moments and that's when we remember laughter really is the best medicine. But we are enjoying each other's company. 

I am anticipating giving you all a more comprehensive report of our travels and my time here, but...that will have to wait. We have learned in the last few days that time may be getting shorter, and that's when the wise rearrange priorities. Sorry, my backburner blog-friends! I promise to do my best.