good grief

So many things to say and so many ways I could start. I could avoid writing about this but that would feel dishonest to the kinds of things I talk about, which is real life. Oh blogging world, it's been a really hard two weeks. To be honest, it's been a really hard year and a half since November 8th, 2012 when I got a text from my big sister at 10:18pm that said "Can you talk?" I was getting off work after the world's longest happy hour, walking towards the Archives metro station in DC, and I immediately called Rhonda back. We knew she'd been having gastric issues and weird itching (the concept of the itching was so bizarre...who itches all over their body?) So I knew the phone call would be about whatever was wrong with her, and in my tipsy state, I held back tipsy tears as soon as I heard her voice.

Her calm voice said, "All right. So. They're saying it's cancer..."[Tears spill over]..."But they think it's just stage 1."

I react in disbelief, and Rhonda says, "But they caught it SO early, Steph. Don't worry. I'm really not worried. It's God's grace that I even had symptoms this early in the game."

Of course I was in agreement, but my heart broke in half. The C word was finally happening. You know it's going to happen. I mean, what is it - like 1 in 3 people get cancer in their lifetime, right? So I knew at some point, someone in my family or group of friends would be affected, and it would be hard. And here it was. It's super surreal when that happens, and it all plays out just like a movie. 

I went home and curled up on the floor and put my head in my husband's lap, and he let me cry. Mina came over and whined and licked my hands because she cannot handle crying.

Thus ensued the months ahead. Whipple procedure. Me in DC, calling and texting family constantly for updates. Christmas in the hospital. 6 months of chemo. Her losing weight but looking like the super hottie she is. She and my other sister come to DC to visit me in June of 2013, and we drink fruit and wine smoothies and talk about Jesus on my bed and go shopping for swimsuits at Macy's. Then she continues to lose weight. Cancer recurrence. More weight loss. 2 rounds of chemo before the doctor says she's too weak to handle it without gaining more weight. Our family looks into more integrative care. Rhonda weakens, pain increases, weight continues to drop. She is unable to hold much, if any, food down. She is given TPN to help her gain weight since she struggles to digest food. Loses weight despite the TPN. Admitted into the hospital for more pain. Hospice for two weeks. Home with Jesus.

It's been a whirlwind. I often felt very disconnected from my sister's illness because I live 11 hours from Nashville. Even though Rhonda and I talked a lot, and I always got updates on how she was doing, I had a hard time balancing my worries about everything going on in Nashville with the new world we had just months before settled into in DC. I feel sort of sorry for DC, because I didn't give it fair chance to put down  roots with so much of my heart back where my sister was.

When cancer came back last August, I remember sending her this entry from Jesus Calling that I had read on the day she called to tell me about the recurrence.

To which she replied (her words are in gray):

Of course her response is exactly what she would have said to ME if I were the sick one asking her why this was happening to me. Faith is a remarkable thing; It's like this little fire burning in our hearts that all of struggles throw kindling on, and that we tend and stoke based on how much we need Jesus. Rhonda's flame shined so incredibly bright that everyone saw it as soon as they met her both before she was sick, but especially after she got sick.

Grief has come slowly. "Good grief" takes on a new meaning, because rather than just an exclamatory remark, it's a statement that clearly acknowledges where we are right now. The grief that we feel is good. Right now it is full of memories and smiles and laughter through tears.

The weeks that we had with her in hospice room were some of the most precious moments - all of us in one room - my mom and Rhonda's step dad, Rhonda's dad and stepmother and stepsisters, my sister, Rhonda's cousins, Mark and the kids intermittently - all keeping watch over her like our little duckling. Ruthanne sat and held her hand, and we all talked about how much we loved her. I swear she was rolling her eyes half the time, especially when we said "Rhonda, do you feel like Jesus is calling you home?" To which she responded in her half-lucid state, "STOP talking about it", which made us laugh. When Ruthanne asked her another time, Rhonda replied, "Not yet." Ruthanne said, "All right then, we'll keep you hear as long as you want to stay." Rhonda half smiled and said, "Well, I'll keep you too."

In the midst of it all, she kept her humor, even if all she could muster was a silly little grin. I came into the room one day, and she said that I had a cute butt. She has a tendency to say things like this, but it was a pleasant surprise to hear her say it when she was so weak and out of it.

She got to talk to each of the kids and Mark one at a time two nights before she died, and even though it wore her out, I'm so grateful she got that time. We convinced her to record herself reading aloud a kids book that had a video recorder inside of it, and even though her voice was weaker than normal, it will be such a precious gift to the kids, especially in the later months.

Finally, on her last full day, we were sitting with her talking, and out of nowhere Rhonda whispered, "yes." Ruthanne asked her if she was saying yes to something else or yes to Jesus this time, and Rhonda said, "Yes to Jesus."

I honestly think that the hardest thing for her was letting go. Some of the last words that she whispered over and over were "four little kids..." It's interesting because you hear about the death of people who love Jesus, and it often seems that they are totally at peace with dying, which in and of itself is a miracle. But Rhonda's response was very much (I think) like Jesus in the garden of Gethsemane where He says, "My Father, if it is not possible for this cup to be taken away unless I drink it, may your will be done." And then she went. And now she's with Jesus, and it is beautiful and good and well with our souls, even though it really sucks. The prayers of the people have carried us in so many ways, showering this incredibly heavy grace over our family. I can definitely feel our "faith fires" growing throughout all of it.

If you would like to come celebrate Rhonda's life with us, her memorial service will be Saturday, April 20 at 10:00am at Belmont Church, 68 Music Square East, Nashville, TN. We would LOVE for you to come. There will be lots of worship with lots of people who love her dearly.

And because I heard this last night, and it made me think of her:

a table for coffee and other things - a tutorial

About a month and a half ago, I found a coffee table sitting by its lonesome on the curb. To be fair, Philip saw it from afar. Regardless, both of us could see beams of light and possibility shining down from the heavens as we approached it on an afternoon run. We traded looks, knew we should at least give it a try, and I ran back home to get the car.

it's the freakin weekend

I have good news! And not just that it's Friday. Prepare yourself, because it is crazy and sort of laughable and a bit like a wink from God. It's been my sunshine lately, but I can't keep hoarding it from all you wintered-out people. I have been officially commissioned to write 4 books for Flower Pot Press Publishing Company in Nashville, TN. I am going to be an author. My books are all based on Rudyard Kipling's "Just So" stories. They'll be board books, bound and branded with "Stephanie P Gilman" on the cover with illustrations by someone legit named Tom.

How did this happen? I have an awesome sister in law who is an editor at a publishing co and called out for writers just before Christmas; so I submitted a story. What does this mean for me? It really just means that 5 year old Stephanie Parker is getting one of her prayers answered. It's funny how a dream you have as a little kid can become a reality when you don't even realize it's a dream anymore. You realize it's a dream again when someone calls you to say "they liked your story. Want to write for us?" and your heart swells like it did when you were little and imagined being published. If I somehow get my other dream to be a meteorologist, I'll know God was listening. wink.

While most of life is this series of "wait...why?", it's an incredible gift to occasionally see the other side. I'm not really sure why I got a degree in sign language interpreting besides that sign language is cool. But in a lot of ways, it forced me to look beyond my major at what I wanted to do. I knew during my internship that while I love the deaf community, I was not cut out for interpreting - it was a job where I essentially had no voice, no opinion. I was someone else's voice. But if anyone knows me for about 2 minutes, they realize that I can't not have an opinion about something. Thus, writing. I get to do something where I am using my words and expressing my thoughts. Even if this is the only time in my life I am published, I am so excited to have my ridiculous brain written down on real PAGES. I'll keep you updated on where this takes me down the road, because I officially do not have any foresight into what is next. But, if you would be so kind as to direct me to a field where I can do everything I love all at once - writing, deaf advocacy, editing, the homeless community, communications, and coffee, that would be great. Thanks.

Ooh! Here's a fun read if you're interested in trains and writing and enjoying both for free.

from a young married person

I think something happens to you when you least expect it. I was reading a blog entry today from one of my favorites and as she talked about how snugly her baby is, I reminisced about all the little ways my mom always made me feel loved. I hadn't thought about them in a long time. She had a terrible old pink robe (which she still has), and when I was very small, she would wrap the both of us in it, and it was warm and safe and my favorite place. I also loved when sheets were fresh from the dryer, so she would "make up the bed" with me in it, tucking the corners in carefully. Before I started to panic, she would uncover my head and pile the pillows around me. During every movie we ever watched, she would scratch my back for its entirety. I'm not just talking the 1.5 hour Disney movies. Sometimes we would watch Anne of Green Gables or Gone With the Wind. These are long movies. But she never got tired.

Anyway, as I was remembering my mom moments (mom-ents if you will) I tried to a put a finger on the feeling I was experiencing. Nostalgia? Wistfulness? A desire to go back in time? And then it occurred to me. I'm getting softer. My desire was a longing for the moments when I could helplessly be loved by the person I trusted most...and another bound up longing to pour it on another tiny person. A desire to feel what my mom felt, to smell baby skin and know it's your very own and not someone else's baby. For the most part, I'm getting my fill in the form of my dog. I kind of see it in the way that I love the way her paws smell, how excited she gets when she's swimming or knows she's going on a walk, how I can't help but share my food with her, how I don't mind as much as I should when she gets paw prints on the bed, how I love to watch her sleep. But I feel like the little maternal molecules in my body are finally starting to cooperate and accept the fact that I am actually, for real, who-would-have-thunk a female.

To family and friends: Chill. This is mostly revelation that I indeed have a soul and may possibly potentially someday want to invest in a couple little souls. It's something I'm content to ponder...until the next time I hear a baby cry.

don't waste your winter.

I live in a foreign city. I do not know what has happened to it or what possessed it, but we have
SNOW. Lots and lots of it. The kind where I don't want to go inside but it's too cold to stay outside. I'm tempted to run outside in my sweatpants, baggy t-shirt, massive boots, and untamed hair, just like when I was little and had to be convinced to put on a jacket. This is the snow where the whole world is blanketed in clean. My grandmother used to get so excited when it was supposed to snow, and I can imagine how much she would love to be here with me, watching it accumulate.

It's the only thing this time of year that makes the pastiness and dry patches on my skin totally ok. Two of the best feelings ever: 1. Swimming for hours during the summer to the point of having raisin fingers and toes, and coming inside to sit on the floor wrapped in a towel, eating a sandwich your mom made for you, and watching a Disney movie. 2. Playing outside in the snow until you can't feel your nose or your chin, sledding, building snowmen, and throwing snowballs, then coming inside to blow your nose, warm up, and eat soup (memories, anyone?)

However, I will admit that I spend a lot of time inside during these months, wishing that the sun that's shining outside was as warm as it looked. What do I do? I have my go-to things like sleeping, throwing a ball with the dog at the park, watching a TV show, or scouring Facebook. But there are times when all that stuff that I'm only doing for myself makes me tired, and then I think about dinner. I think about birthdays coming up and cards to make. I think about the last time I called my grandmother. I think about washing clothes and cleaning out the car and making bread and doing things that anyone else - even if it's just Philip - could benefit from.

The deal is - don't waste your winter. There are winter blues, and they are normal. We can do something with them though, and it usually starts with forcing yourself to do anything. Here are some options:

- What are you doing for Valentine's Day? Do you have a gift for your best friend? Do you have a gift for your honey?

- It's really cold outside. If it's not cold where you are, then this blog post has very little relevance to you anyway (wink). There are also people who live outside. Buy a cup of coffee for the guy on the corner next time you're on your way into a coffee shop. Ask a nearby homeless shelter if they need warm blankets or other warm things for donations.

- Instead of buying bread, make this bread because it looks delicious...Or make this kind.

- Finish a book before Spring.

- Sit down and plan your garden. You know - the garden you don't have but want to have every year, but forget you want to have until it's the middle of summer and too late to plant summer veggies.

- Invite someone over for dinner. Or invite yourself over to someone else's house for dinner if you know them well enough. Just don't be a hermit.

- Learn to knit. Learn to sew. Learn to be still. Learn to rest. Learn to like black coffee. Learn to like yourself. Learn to do anything you don't know how to do.

- Where are you going on vacation this year? Just going somewhere for the weekend on your anniversary? Going camping? Doing anything to get away from the hustle and bustle of life? Start planning it.

- Call someone new every day of the week that you love, especially someone you know who is hurting and needs encouragement.

- Get a pedicure because your feet feel disgusting. Even if it means just doing it at home or asking your friend to paint them for you. It's amazing what can make you feel pretty when you didn't before.

- Get a dog. Get a cat. Get a fish. Get a pet rock. Get an indoor plant. It's fun to take care of things.

Just don't waste your winter. And enjoy this song while you wait for Spring, because it's been stuck in my head:

happy january

photo courtesy of Hope Stanley

A new year. This year I'll finish the sweater I started knitting in 2012. This year I'll lose some weight. This year I'll spend more time with Jesus. This year I'll sleep less. This year I'll spend less time on my computer and my phone. This year I'll drink less (as she sips her wine and keeps typing). This year I'll be more careful with the way I spend my (sigh, our) money. This year I'll love my husband well. This year I'll focus less on the things I don't like about myself.

So there's the list. Good thing it's still January, and I can say I made my resolutions. It's interesting, because I look at that list and feel pretty ok with it because those aren't bad things. They're noble, worthy goals that I and a billion other people make and congratulate ourselves about because admitting is a step in the right direction, right?