The Journey Takes a Tour

A tour through the five boroughs of New York City, in fact. Tomorrow I leave for the Big Apple with “buzzin” (beloved cousin) Cara and her husband Aaron. We’ll meet up with “other buzzin” Kirby (Cara’s sister) and her boyfriend Philip. Aaron, Philip and I will do the ride, with about 30,000 other bicycle riders---a 42 mile jaunt through all five boroughs (for you non-New-Yorkers, that’d be Manhattan, The Bronx, Queens, Brooklyn and Staten Island). So we’ll be riding through the canyons of Manhattan skyscrapers, the greenery of Central Park, and the neighborhoods and bridges of the other famous boroughs.

This is an official “run to the fire” event in several ways. Dana and I have loved New York City. We have loved our “buzzins.” And we have loved to bike. When we were first married some friends gave us some old bikes. They were 10-speeds, but old. We decided to see if we actually enjoyed biking before we decided to purchase new bikes. Before long, we were true biking enthusiasts. So our first, and perhaps only, high-end purchase as a couple was two Cannondale hybrid bikes (part road, part trail bikes; bikes that came to be affectionately known as “the ‘dales”) ….and they were 21-speed bikes! Soon biking was our outlet: the country roads of Preble County, the flat trails of converted rail lines (Ohio is sorta famous for those, and we have several in our area), the beaches near Seaside, Forida, and sometimes our neighborhood streets in the spring and fall.

Our rides became a staple of our relationship. We would talk. We would laugh. We would process. We would dream. We talked theology. We talked about Pud.

They also accentuated our differences. I liked to see how straight I could ride, thus promoting efficiency. Dane liked to swerve and curve, promoting asymmetry. I liked to avoid trail detritus. Dane loved to crunch, seeking twigs, leaves, etc., to snap under her tires. At times of silence, while we rode past nicely quaffed farm fields, Dane would be thinking about “the love” and I’d be wondering how they got those corn rows so straight. I liked wide open, sun drenched trails. Dane liked riding through the cool tunnels of overhanging trees. We both came to love and embrace each other’s riding philosophy, which was a great picture of our relationship.

Over the last couple of years our rides became a rebellion against all we were facing. “Take THAT chemo” we’d say, as we clicked off a 35-mile ride between Waynesville and Yellow Springs.

And so this Sunday I will be riding on my Cannondale. Aaron or Philip will be riding Dane’s. We’ll be riding in a tour that Dana and I had our eyes on doing together. We’ll be riding in a city Dana and I both loved. I can’t wait to spend time with Cara and Kirby and Aaron and Philip. We’ll remember our sweet Dane. We will laugh. We will cry. I will seek out some twigs to crunch, and will certainly be thinking about “the love.”

I will run to the fire. Or in this case, ride.

Lilac Day

Today was lilac day.

I’ve been watching them bud in our backyard. And I’ve been wondering: when will I try to smell a lilac? Lilacs have had a special place with Dane and me, and it’s been a deeply embedded fearful question through our entire cancer journey: What will I do if I ever have to smell a lilac without Dane?

First some back story. For me, I was first introduced to lilacs when my childhood pastor, Bro. Haney, gave my folks a lilac bush many, many years ago. As I think about it, not only did Bro. Haney introduce our family to the art of being a lifelong learner of faith (or at least me, the rest of the family may have already been there), he also introduced us (or at least me) to fine woodworking, bird watching, and lilacs. When he gave us the bush, which was years after he had moved on from our church, he said it would take a few years to bloom. Which it did…most of my high school and college years I think. And then it bloomed. And bloomed. And it introduced me to the compelling fragrance of lilac.

For Dana, her lilac roots go back to her elementary school days near Chicago. On a particular day in the spring the school would have “Lilac Day” and all the students would bring lilac branches and blooms from the bushes in their yards (or acquired surreptitiously from public parks). The entire school would smell of lilac—-for days! Those innocent days of elementary school and a fragrance filled school ingratiated Dana to the compelling fragrance of lilac.

And shortly after we were married and settled into Middletown, we found lilac. We were married in March, and by April we found a park (Sunset, for you Middletown friends) that was lined with lilac bushes. We would drive to the park several times a spring to “take a hit” of lilac. And then 10 years ago we moved to a neighborhood within walking distance of that very park. But bonus upon bonus, our house had MANY lilac bushes, which were unbeknownst to us, having bought the house in the leaf-barren days of late fall! Of course, every spring we still made our trek (by foot, by bike, by van) to Sunset park for the “official” sniff of spring. And this included the spring Dane was first diagnosed with breast cancer 10 yeas ago…the spring we moved to within walking distance of the park, in fact.

And so, every spring of our married life we’ve made some sort of pilgrimage to the park. Since breast cancer round one, it was also our one time to declare something along the lines of: “Alive another year to smell the lilacs.” Even when we weren’t in the middle of a breast cancer battle, we knew we faced uncertainty. We didn’t talk about it much. But when we smelled the lilacs, we let ourselves go there.

And so today, I stopped and took my “official” sniff. It wasn’t planned. It was spontaneous. I had already taken some practice sniffs with the bushes in our yard. I had driven past the park on an errand run and noticed the flowers were about three-fourths bloomed. On my return trip I simply said, “What the heck.” I stopped the van and sniffed.

I’ve learned how to cry-drive, cry-ski, cry-golf (sort of), and cry-talk. But you really can’t cry-sniff. You sort of drown when you combine those activities. So I pretty much took a sniff, and just cried. It was a good cry. And a very sad cry.

Had we actually had an opportunity to process life and death the way Dane and Bear processed everything else, I would have asked “What should I do when I smell a lilac?” I had actually been thinking about that question for a long time. But I can see now it wouldn’t have mattered what Dane might have suggested.

There’s no good teaching point or God stamp moment on this story. It simply stands at face value. I will say, it was good to smell the lilac.

Love to all,
Barry

P.S. I just noticed a new comment on the blog asking how my Sunday morning talk went at the golf event; the comment made me realize I did leave that one hanging. I think things went pretty well. I feel that, despite myself, I said what I was supposed to say (and despite being distracted by my little travel clock I had put on the podium, forgetting the clock was 10 minutes fast!) and received a good portion of gracious encouragement from the folks who were part of the service. In fact, just today I received a note from Dan, the NCCAA director, thanking me for my words and sharing that God was still moving through the words and experience. As an FYI, Dan noted that he saw two deer in the woods off his deck a couple days earlier, saying that he will never look at deer the same since that talk. Also, his wife Kelly sent me a pix from the event showing over 50 pelicans in “gratitude” formation. I love those two people.

I’m up for letting God use this journey however He’d like to use it, if at all. The golf event was a gracious cocoon to help me get to that point.

God Stamps Continue

In my last post I talked briefly about the golf event I attended over my and Dana’s anniversary weekend. I wanted to add a little more info and share YET ANOTHER God stamp that occurred that weekend. It wasn’t all just cosmically bad golf.

The organization hosting the event was the National Christian College Athletic Association (NCCAA), a great group that provides national affiliations, tournaments and missions trips for small Christian colleges across the country. This event, which I’ve attended three other times over the years, is a fund raiser for the organization. They bring in PGA pro golfers to play with us amateurs. It’s a great group of folks who I have come to love and appreciate over the years. The director Dan and his wife Kelly are walking forces of encouragement. In fact, I had cleared my InWord speaking slate for the spring/summer, but this event bubbled up in recent months and seemed a good thing to do.

My task at the event was to share the message during the Sunday morning worship service. Of course the only subject material that seemed appropriate to share was to talk out of my and Dana’s journey and to relate the wonderful God stamps that He mercifully graced us with along the way.

That seemed like a doable task.

But the Saturday evening prior to my sharing on Sunday, I was hit with the enormity of what I was planning to share. I had stepped out on our fourth floor balcony to collect my thoughts, which went something like this: Other than the Carepages and this blog, I had yet to share publicly (in “speaking form”) about this journey. I realized there on the balcony that, not only had I not spoken about this journey, I had NEVER spoken about something so personal, something so deep. I also realized that I was sharing my take on some very obvious movements from God—the God stamps (the rainbow and the deer). I was overwhelmed with the thought that I was not up for this task. I even felt a wisp of loneliness, I think because I realized that if anything is to be shared from this journey, I am the one who is to share it. Without Dane. It’s OUR journey, but now….

After actually saying out loud the words “I am not up for this task,” I turned and looked at the fountain below—a fountain I had actually “cursed” a bit because its fountain noise kept us from hearing the God-made ocean noise just a few hundred feet away.

And that’s when I something special in the spray of the fountain. You can see it in the picture at the top of this blog. I grabbed my friend Dave’s camera and snapped this picture, using the last remaining space on his memory card.

It gave me some resolve. And I might add, or you might recall, that the Saturday this happened was our anniversary day. Nice touch, God.

If you’re new to this blog and not sure why a rainbow in a fountain would be so significant, you may want to scroll through the blog archives to February and check out the post “Where is God?”

As you can tell, He is SO with us.

Love to all,
Barry

Golf, Grief, and God Stamps

In case you were wondering, golf and grief do not mix (see previous post for why this would be a question). I was wondering if the golf trip over my and Dana’s anniversary (March 20) would be a distraction or if the golf would cosmically stink. Unfortunately, it was the latter. My golf partners and friends David, Ethan and Scott were more than patient and gracious. The phrase of the trip: “We’re just helping you survive this weekend.” Which they did.

With the support of these great friends as well as the encouragement of the folks hosting the event, I also received a couple more gracious stamps from God—assurance that He is with all of us in this journey. On Saturday morning, THE anniversary day, I took a walk on the beach (yes, we were golfing along the ocean). I didn’t know what kind of walk it would be. I thought it might be reflective, or hopeful, or maybe restorative. I didn’t expect it to be doubled-over wail crying. The distance between the anniversary of our wedding day and the way things are now is simply an unbearable gap. So, I sort of scuffled along the beach.

At some point I simply said, “Okay Bear, get ahold of yourself.” This led me to walk a stretch trying to simply be thankful. That worked for awhile, but it would go something like this: “Thank you God for 30 years of friendship and 17 incredible years of marriage…17 great years…17 years…only 17…why only 17!!!” And then I would have to regroup. Finally, and knowing it was time to get ready for golf, I found myself declaring this statement of resolve: “I will live this day in gratitude.” I stretched out my arms, I turned toward the sea, and then I saw 4 pelicans skimming the water toward me in the exact same arm stretch. If you’ve ever seen pelicans do this, you know what I mean. Thank you God.

As I walked back toward the beach access steps, I thought, “It sure would be nice to see a deer right now, or a rainbow.” The deer of course is out of the question on the beach and it was a “severe clear” morning. No chance for a rainbow. Then my mind recalled a note I received from my friend Lisa this past January. Her husband Jerry passed away suddenly this past August after a battle with a virus. They were in Florida to leave on a cruise with Lisa’s family. Her note was in response to my writings on rainbows and deer God-stamps. She commented on how God uses “tangibles” to assure us of His presence. For her it was dolphins and “angel formations” in the clouds. She and Jerry loved to watch for dolphins on their beach vacations. And while she cared for him in Florida, she would take walks on the beach and dolphins (along with angel cloud formations) would make “unusual” appearances at just the right time.

As soon as Lisa’s dolphin God-stamp entered my mind I thought, “Now seeing a dolphin right now would sure be…” I turned to the sea…and there they were. First I saw one. Then I asked God for a confirmation to be sure I wasn’t making it up. Then I saw another, and another. All three were making perfect, smooth “wheelhouse” movements in the waves. I laughed. I actually laughed. And then I clapped and said to no one around, “Nicely done.”

When you think about it, dolphins are the deer of the beach.

And then, later that day (anniversary day, remember) as we were playing golf, on or around hole 12, I heard bells. At first I thought they might simply be bells from a community carillon and I dismissed them (so that I could try to salvage a golf round and not be a basket case). Then I noticed they were playing “The Old Rugged Cross.” These were definitely church bells. On the golf course. Beside the ocean. I finished the hole, pretty much in tears. I basket-cased my way through the next par 3and then dedicated the drive on the next hole to Dane. It was perfect. It was pretty much my only good drive of that day, and maybe the best of the weekend for me.

(For an explanation on the significance of deer and church bells, you may want to view this post: http://ajourneyobserved.blogspot.com/2010/01/deer-story.html).

Stay tuned for more to come from this past weekend.

And by the way, Dana's mascot picking strategy would have picked the Northern Iowa PANTHERS upset over the Number 1 Kansas cartoon-like JAYHAWKS. However, she probably would have picked the UNLV Runnin' REBELS to beat the PANTHERS in Round 1 (rebels always win…But UNLV isn't a southern rebel, it’s a wannabe rebel from Nevada. So she may have gone with the predatory cat on that one).

Love to all,
Barry

Brackets and Anniversaries

I’m just going to say it. My and Dana’s wedding anniversary is this Saturday, March 20. (Thus, the purple tulips above.) Of all the dates, of all the firsts, of all the obstacles to overcome, this one is looming to be the hardest. And I think it will be the hardest from now until the day I get to join Dane in heaven. March 20 represents so much. It was the most perfect (if anything can be “most perfect”) wedding day that anyone could ever enjoy. It was the culmination (and launching) of an incredible love story (more on that in subsequent posts).

And it was in the middle of March Madness.

But back to March 20. That date rings more true than my own birthday. I developed a warm affinity to that date because it was the day I got to bring into my life the only person I ever really wanted to spend the rest of my life with. There was hardly a day in our marriage that I didn’t think “I can’t believe I got to marry Dana.” Because of all my years of “unrequited love,” Dana jokingly occasionally commented that she hoped I never experienced “buyer’s remorse.” Not a chance. That comment was always followed up with the observation that we have one of the top five loves of all time.

I’m actually going to be in Palm Coast, FL, on March 20…playing in (and speaking at) a golf fund raising event for the National Christian College Athletic Association, a great group of folks. And I’m heading down there with some good friends: Scott, David and David’s son Ethan. So the golf (which is near the beach) will either be a good distraction, or I will cosmically stink at playing.

Back to March Madness.

While I’m not a bracket maniac (though I am a casual enthusiast), I did casually mention on Day 5 of our honeymoon (in Charleston, SC, perfect honeymoon spot) the idea of having some basketball on in the background one evening (this would have been Thursday). As you might expect, this wasn’t entirely understood, and I didn’t press it. Through the years we joked about the parallel between our wedding date and “the brackets” (as Dane referred to the tournament). Dana was never a sports person, but over the past few years began to embrace “the brackets.” In fact, three years ago she and I were our own “group” on the CBS bracket web site. The next year we expanded to include a few family members. I can’t tell you how much fun we had in filling out brackets, especially when rank and records were NOT the primary criteria, but rather mascots and colors. So, as a tribute to Dane, and a nod the “the brackets” we’ll all be seeing for the next few weeks, I give you Dana’s NCAA bracket selection criteria:

A TRIBUTE: DANA'S SELECTION CRITERIA
1. Anything with a rebel mascot (as in the South's Gonna Rise Again) was always a win;
2. Warrior-types beat just about anybody, except of course, rebels.
3. Devils/demons were always losers;
4. After a rebel, any kind of cat was a win;
5. Real-like animals trumped cartoon-like animals (like the Kansas Jayhawk).
6. Birds are usually losers unless it is a bird of prey;
7. The food chain was often employed for animal mascot match ups
8. If a mascot was indeterminate (a Zag??), it usually didn't stand a chance.
9. In case of a draw regarding criteria, it might come down to some sensible reasoning between mascots: A Badger will eat a Buckeye (to my chagrin); or even school colors (her preference).

I will appreciate your thoughts and prayers for this March 20 (and wouldn’t you know, it’s a Saturday). Meanwhile, God continues to be close to the brokenhearted. Psalm 34 rings true.

More soon, and love to all,

Barry

Both Sides Now

Since the opening ceremonies of the Vancouver Winter Olympics, I’ve had a song going through my mind---it was the background song to one of the skaters. After a couple “phone-a-friend” and “e-mail a friend” efforts, I learned the song was “Both Sides Now” by Joni Mitchell. It figures; Joni Mitchell was one of Dane’s fave artists and writers; she even has a Joni Mitchell Pandora radio station. A poetic song, its tune and lyrics have been my theme over these past few weeks.

The premise of the song is a commentary on my life right now: what Joni once saw as beauty, she now sees as pain. In the opening stanza about clouds, she writes that while she once saw “bows and flows of angel hair; and ice cream castles in the air; and feather canyons everywhere,” she now sees that “now they only block the sun; they rain and snow on everyone.”

As I’ve sought to “run toward the fire” these past few weeks, I feel like I have experienced both sides now of some of my and Dana’s treasured experiences: beach, mountains, skiing, and Jeni’s ice cream.

I was in Montana last week for a ski week with our good friends Kay and Randy. What made it harder was the fact that it was a trip Dana and I had on the calendar and would have done together. She had even scheduled it so that we could participate in the mountain’s “Dine and Ski” event---eating dinner at the summit house and skiing down by the light of the full moon (that night it was a full moon through some light cloud cover; the pix below is the next night, which was full moon through severe clear). This was something Dane had done and desperately wanted me to experience. So Kay, Randy, Brandi (Kay’s daughter) and I did the event---as a tribute to Dane and as a “we must press on” exercise for us. As we were at the top of the mountain enjoying a great meal I was overwhelmed by the fact that I am a blessed man: to have such great friends to journey with, friends who hurt right along with me. In fact, Kay pretty much wail-cried all the way down the mountain; you’ll have to read her take on that. I’ll figure out how to link to a document or simply paste it in at some point.

I also wanted to be sure we had some Jeni’s ice cream in Montana to help us celebrate Dane, the discoverer of Jeni’s for us and one of Jeni’s biggest fans. Through the ordering process I spoke on the phone to one of their representatives, Alli. For some reason I shared the back story behind this order (how Jeni’s played a big role in this journey). Alli later e-mailed me that she was touched by the story and had shared it with Jeni, who was also touched. Wow. We made it to the top of the ice cream mountain. Dane would love that. On Friday night we had our ice cream fest and had a great time remembering Dana as everyone was experimenting with new flavors...I heard a few exclamations of "That's my new favorite ice cream." Naturally, that did my heart good. It was a picture of Dana's influence continuing.

The week in Montana was obviously heavy, tear-filled and at times sad. But it was also fortifying and comforting to spend time with Kay, Randy and others (like Cindy/Chuck Creech and Shelly/Jamey Gates and their families!) who knew and loved Dane. And there is an unusual comfort that comes from being in mountains that existed long before me, before Dane and before the story of Dane and Bear, and, depending on God’s plan, will be here long after.

While the week really was an experience of “both sides now,” some pain and some beauty, I can certainly say the trip was a net gain toward beauty.

(You have to Google the lyrics to Both Sides Now)

When Anchors and Stamps Collide

As I’ve stepped into this journey of grief and recovery, I’ve adopted a bit of a philosophy that goes something like this: when a friend or family member says “You should come to ____ [Florida, Seattle, Hawaii, etc.] to visit” I’ve pretty much answered, “okay.” To that end, I just spent a week in Florida seeing several sets of friends who invited me down. While the week was Florida-cool (50-60 degrees for the most part) it was everything I needed: grief processing and memory sharing with good friends, some satisfying golf, and lots of beach walks. While this wasn’t what’s been Dane’s and my usual beach vacation (reading on the beach sun-up to sun-down), it still had a strong “run to the fire” element. This was the first time I’ve seen the waves of the beach without Dane.

Along with God stamps in this journey I’ve also been collecting “anchors,” those promises or truths or epiphanies that give me a moment of clarity or resolve. Picture treading quicksand and suddenly your foot lands on something solid. It might be a brief respite, but it’s solid. On this recent Florida trip two of my anchors converged to form an even bigger, clearer point of resolve. It was a nice surprise.

Anchor One has simply been the thought that Dane is now in a place where she no longer has to worry about scary tests, or life anxieties. She is in her splendor…this is the “is” that Mark spoke of in the memorial service. Meanwhile, while she is experiencing her splendor, I just need to tough it out until I get to join her. That might only be 30 years, which is only 7 more winter Olympics. I can do that.

Anchor Two has simply been the realization that God is with me (and you) in this journey. The God-stamps have made this unavoidable and undeniable. It gives a sense of peace that He is on the job, even though there is still immense pain.

And here is the convergence of those two anchors. First, there’s something about seeing an ancient shoreline, stars, and the moon all at once. I found that my perspective is enhanced when I’m around elements that have existed centuries longer than me, than Dane, than the story of Bear and Dane; and these elements, depending on God’s timing, will be around long after Dane and Bear and their story. As I was experiencing this I had this realization of all the pain that people experience during their brief time in this fallen world. Pain has, does and will always happen. Where did we get the thought that it would be anything else? The only guarantee we have, the only promise we can rest on is simply that God…is….with us. It’s His most frequent promise in Scripture; from His calling people to a task in the Old Testament, to Jesus’ “farewell speech” to His disciples in John 14-17, to the assurances throughout the New Testament of God’s Comforter being in us and with us, this is truly the only thing we can count on.

So as I turn my heart toward toughing things out in this fallen world, I will do it with all the best things that God has to offer me through His promise of being with me: I will depend on grace, I will seek to rest in His comfort, I will seek His peace. And I will seek to maximize all the beauty that can be found in this fallen world, little gifts of God I think that are here to help us through brokeness: I will seek to breathe deep at sunsets, I will explore the night sky and wish upon stars, I will embrace intimacy of friends and family, I will let the panorama of mountain-scapes and the waves of ancient shorelines do their restorative magic, I will wait patiently for the things that bring pain to eventually, through God’s miraculous presence, bring fulfillment.

And I will continue to add to this list.

God is with us. And He has given us exactly what we need to tough it out. I think that’s the biggest theme of the Bible. Some of those gifts come from heaven itself: grace, peace, redemption. Other gifts are native to this world: beaches, mountains, and flowers. And some things are both: stars, the moon, the sun….and rainbows.