It’s a only a few days into Lent, and those first few have felt very, well, … “lentish” ( if I can claim that as a new word for the season).  After an especially long Ash Wednesday, full of awkward conversations, multiple quarrels to break up amongst the kiddos, and suddenly wanting to eat my arm off during church (Simply because I’m supposed to fast.  Which only makes me want to do the opposite.  Because I’m stubborn like that).  I was already over LENT.

So when The Dude asked “How much longer ’til Easter?” (In his best “how much longer/road trip” voice), and Sunshine asked “So do you know what we’re going to wear for Easter, Mommy?  We’ve gotta get on the ball with that.”  I was just about ready to wave the white flag.  It was only Ash Wednesday, and it already was looking like this was going to be a loooong 40 days.

These miniature juvenile delinquents adorable 5 little munchkins were wearing me down!

My initial reaction to Lent was a big fat, “OY VEY!”

It would be really, really easy for me to regularly and publicly rant this year:

“Haven’t we sacrificed enough?”

“Didn’t I go through enough of this not being able to eat, business with chemo?”

“Can I count losing my hair (and now my nails as they peel off from the beds, as well as a losing a few “locks” of eye lashes these last few weeks… ‘Cuz ya know, ya can’t have it all!) as my lent sacrifice?”

“Chopping off breasts, replacing them with tissue that we chopped off of another area of my bod, and healing from all of that during radiation every day, while sore, etc…. That’s something, huh?”

“…WAAAAAAHH!!  WAAAAAHHH WAAAAAHHHH!!….. BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH…”

Seriously?!  STOP!  It’s a slippery sloap.  It’s way too easy to go there. Yes, I realize I did go there somewhat by even typing it in satire just now, and I could very easily go on and on about these grievances, adding on atleast double or triple to the “issues” that I and the million other cancer patients out their deal with, or that our sweet families struggle with because of it all.  We all could, cancer or not.  Correct?  But, why? Where will that really get us?  The road is too long, and it’s just not worth it.  Life is too precious to drag it through the mud for all to see.

I’m pretty sure that if Christ had a cell phone back in the day, he wouldn’t have been texting or updating his Facebook status about how much hungrier or more intense his fast was than anyone else’s during his 40 days in the desert.  Don’t think he would’ve moaned and groaned to the 2 other guys on the crosses beside him about “how haaaard” this is.  In fact, to the good thief, he said “Today you will be with me in paradise!”  

Don’t get me wrong, we all have our moments, and Christ was a listening ear and an open heart.  I am beyond thankful for my family and friends who have been listening ears and open hearts for my vent sessions no matter how long or short they may have been.  Sheesh!  Not so pretty, I know. And I welcome the friend that needs a shoulder to cry on.  That’s real.  We need that.  It’s what we do after that day, that moment.  That’s what He taught us.  To pick up our cross and keep going.

Isn’t that kinda the lesson learned here in Lent?  We make our sacrifices and bear our crosses.  “Bear it don’t wear it.” That was a definite fave catch phrase growing up.  We bear our cross in memory of and in love of God, not in spite of Him, anyone else, or what could have been.  Regardless of the weight or size of our cross, if each morning is another morning that I got to wake up again, then no matter what I have to do to be here, I’m thankful that I’m here to see my family and be with them a little longer.  That is a gift.

Sometimes, the cross feels a little too heavy.  There are days where I can’t see how I can carry this one and get through the day.  Didn’t Jesus get some help?  Simon of Syrene stepped in.  My family, my friends, they are my Simons.  There are days when I feel quiet, not so bubbly or ready to smile joyfully out and about in a group of people.  I still carry my cross, but maybe more quietly at home, or running errands by myself, or spending some time in the chapel.  Those are my days in the desert.  And yet, on other days, I feel God’s grace so strong that, regardless of any pain or discomfort, I want to put on a funny costume and dance around with my kids, go to a Mardi Gras parade, have a dance party, go out on a date with my hubby, or just plain live a normal life, but with a smile on my face.  Why not?  Those are my days out in the crowds, asking Jesus to give me the grace to do what He did and live a full life, regardless of the cross before Him.  He embraced His cross, He embraced His pain, He embraced us.  He did it all with supernatural grace.  That’s the same “peace and grace that’s BEYOND UNDERSTANDING” that he offers to us.(PHIL 4:6-7) It’s the only way I can explain all of the joy and energy I’ve felt through my discomfort and pain.

All that said,  I will remember this during these 40 days:

*Whenever I feel stress or worry about my body during radiation   …   “This is my body given up for HIM.”

*Whenever I feel like this Lent is just taking too darn long  …  After 40 days, I get to celebrate with a feast at Easter, many families in other countries won’t get that pleasure.  We are so blessed.

*When I think, I probably don’t have to give up anything this year, haven’t I given up enough already? …  The rest was not by choice.  I can choose to make a daily sacrifice of my own,  selecting it for YOU, Lord, who gave me the gift of LIFE to be kicking cancer’s butt and taking names!   I won’t forget it each and every day from here on out!

*When my kids keep asking, “How much longer? …Are we there yet?” ….  I will stop and pray for the grace to not go all “MADEA” on them and go a little more “Mary-like” (Jesus’ mama) instead.

2 of my many”Mommy” alter egos:

#1- Madea

#2- Beverly Goldberg

On the outside, I may look like a not quite 5’4″, blue eyed, soon to be blonde again, lil’ mama… but inside, I feel a lot more like I teeter along walking the line between being “Madea” (could snap at any moment, don’t mess with me; see pic #1 above), and “Bev Goldberg” (obsessed in love with my family, to the point of their own embarrassment; see pic #2 above).  So, being more “Mary-like” is definitely a good, healthy balance challenge that I need to work a little more on this season, for sure, far more difficult than giving up my fave “Mike n Ike” candies or other sweets. 😉

….

Regardless, I got my act together after our Ash Wednesday roller coaster, atleast,  as much as I could.  I dug into my old bag of tricks from years past and took the bull by the horns.  I’m not going to chuck this year off to being one that we “already had enough on our plate so we’re just going to moan and groan and woe is me our way through it” until it drags us to Easter.  Nope.  Not happening.  That’s not how we’ve handled this whole cancer bit, and it’s not how we’re gonna handle this.  It’s not all bad.  None of this is all gloom and doom.  It’s an opportunity.  There’s always an opportunity for growth.  If anything, that’s what we’ve learned.  So, once again, we’ll experience a little growing pains together, and we’ll sacrifice together and offer up each day for a new intention, and welcome the graces and fruits that come from it.  We’ll take the opportunity to soak up the graces and prepare out hearts for something better to come.  We’ll prepare for new life.

….

Now about that old bag of tricks?  Last year, I wrote a few articles in the New Orleans Catholic Newspaper: The Clarion Herald, each touching on practicle ways for families to bring faith into their homes and lives.  See the link below for details in one particular article on how we do what we do during LENT:

CLARION HERALD ARTICLE: BABY STEPPING THROUGH LENT

Check out a few updated pics below for visuals.  I wish I could say I thought of this, but I didn’t.  Most ideas come from www.catholicicing.com or fellow bloggers & college buds (www.sometimesmarthaalwaysmary.com) with big fams like mine who post awesome ideas (Winnie, you rock!) on Facebook, etc. (Thanks, y’all!)  I rarely get crafty. Creative, yes.  Crafty, nope. Frankly, I don’t have the attention span.  I assure you, this is all very simple.  And the kids can do it.  Everyone can be involved in each lent activity or we don’t do it.  It’s a family affair.  Keeps us all on our toes.  My family has kept me on my toes and kept my head in the game for my entire journey through cancer so far.  So why would wouldn’t it be the same now, during this 40 day walk of faith?  Granted, each kid, at each age level, is involved as much as they can for their age, taking each task as in depth or as simply as they are able.  Regardless, they can all participate.  It’s a pretty beautiful thing.

So here goes nothing!

Binder of Family Acitivities for Each season of the Church Year: add a little each year…

Salt Dough Crown of Thorns with Lenten Fortunes/Challenges in the Middle (thorns pulled out for good deeds; new “fortune/family challenge” pulled each day to determine our daily family sacrifice or good deed challenge)

Lenten Family Prayer Jar: simple prayers to pull and pray for during family prayer time

Stations of the Cross: dollar store candles, Wrote roman numerals on each with gold permanent marker. (We’ll light each candle as kids rotate announcing & holding up a pic of stations while we color stations of the cross booklets and praying them)

……

That’s how we’ll roll… (fingers crossed, prayers offered), at least, we hope!  With a house full-o-kids, I learned a long time ago, my plans are all tentative, all hopeful, all adjustable.  We live day-to-day and minute-to-minute.  We embraced chaos a long time ago and learned that we ain’t in charge.  THANK GOD!!!  ‘Cuz I don’t have any idea what I’m really doing.  But He does.  So… again, thank God for that!

Here’s to all of us to making it through these 40 days and getting the graces we need for an amazing Easter.  We’ll all be ready to resurrect from the ashes.  Am I right?  Can I get an Amen?

No worries, He’s got this,

Yup.  That’s pretty much me.

God decided to bless us with some absolutely amazing, smart, talented, gorgeous children, and … to steal a line from my witty sister-in-law, Janice,

“It kinda feels like I have 5 Ferraris in my garage, yet I don’t have a license.”

I have the full potential to totally wreck these precious masterpieces that have been gifted to me!

I often function on survival mode.  If we made it through the day, alive, fed, and happy, then I call it a success!  Am I right?  No offense to all the crafty pinterest people out there.  I’m a creative, gal myself.  Atleast, I have creative ideas.  I could waste a day pinning my heart out; yet, my follow through is weak.  Very very weak.  I have the attention span of a gnat.  I may begin a crafty type thingamajig with my kids, get as bored or distracted/frustrated as they do, sprinkle a bottle of glitter over it (Glitter makes everyone happy, right?), move on to the dress up trunk and spend the rest of the day in everyone’s fave random costume playing some imaginative game or running errands in them for our own self entertainment.  Why not?  Especially with Mardi Gras upon us down her in NOLA, it all just makes more sense.

all decked out ready to hit the streets for our first parade of 2015

My new wig fettish fits right in this year… let the good times roll!

We’re more into entertainment over craft, I guess.  We’re social creatures.  It’s our morphine.

Although lately,  all the parades, the parties, the costumes, there just aren’t enough in the world to heal the struggles that I can see me kiddos grappling with these days.  The journey we’re on is getting harder.   The treatment itself seems less grueling as far as side effects go; yet the treck on our family is feeling longer. This second half is more confusing to the kids now. It’s equally more difficult to explain to others as to what we’re still doing when they are surprised that I’m “still receiving chemo?” (A: “Yes, I receive Herceptin every 21 days through my port just as I did during my other 6 rounds.  It’s just without the other 3 accompanying meds. I’ll continue it through August). It’s tricky for kids to understand fully what radiation is and why mommy really needs to have it if they said the cancer is out, or better yet, to explain it to anyone else for that matter.  In fact, people often trail off or walk away as we, or the kids, begin to explain it.  (Understandably, It’s not what anyone wants to hear.)  Everyone else, much like us, wants to hear that we are all done, or that this radiation is THE END.  We’re in the same boat!  But, we know it’s long, and boy do we wish radiation was the end.  However, we know each treatment is a step closer!

I, personally, feel good about that.  I feel very positive about my treatment and know that we’re totally kicking cancer’s butt and am ready to take the bull by the horns with every new step they ask me to take!

My kids? My family? That’s the toughy.

I see they’re worn.  They look to me for everything.  Radiation does make me tired, but if I can go back in my mind to my “chemo days” and remember to how I got up extra early, got showered, got dressed, got prayed up far before they woke up, then I can show them how we’re gonna face each morning.  Then they can cue off of that energy.  They can go “Punch the day in the face!”  They can look to God and say or regular morning prayer:

…..

“THANK YOU FOR WAKING ME UP AGAIN TO ANOTHER BEAUTIFUL DAY! 

HELP ME TO BE A LIGHT OF CHRIST TO ALL THAT I SEE TODAY.

AND HELP ME TO SEE THAT SAME LIGHT OF CHRIST IN EVERYONE I SEE TODAY.

HELP US AND EVERYONE ELSE OUT THERE WHO NEEDS PRAYER TO KICK CANCER AND EVERY OTHER AILMENT OR CHALLENGE’S BUTT! 

AMEN”

…..

That’s what I’m gonna have to do.  They need me. They need prayers.  They need that same overwhelming faith that we have been clinging to from the beginning, but maybe have taken for granted in reminding them how to do it on their own.  Maybe I’ve assumed they knew because it’s always been such a part of us.  But NOW… the road is rocky and the mountains are before us, and we need a lesson on “the extreme sport of faith“.

I’ve felt so helpless.  I HATE to see my family so broken.  I want to take their pain for them.  I wish they never had to go through any of this.  I wish I never had to ask anyone for help, or that no one ever had to watch me go through any of this.  If I could freeze time, crawl in a cave, cure myself of cancer so that no one else would have to deal with it , then unfreeze time once it was all said and done, I would .  Any mother would.  But the reality is that we are here, and we are all going through this together.  It is what it is.  I don’t have cancer alone.  My family does.  When one person is diagnosed, consider their family and their loved ones diagnosed as well.  I realize that.

(AND, CANCER, YOU’RE SOOO GONNA PAY FOR THAT… MARK MY WORDS!)

ANYWHO…

Things have been just coming out “sideways” at home (as we say).  My kids love each other.  We’re all very close, often hanging out all in the same room, on the weekends and evenings, no matter how many new toys they’ve just been given for Christmas or birthdays, or whatever.  They still all wanna be together, all on top of my husband or myself (like a litter of puppies piled on top of the mama dog) …even on the same spot on the couch, although we have many other chairs available in the house.  Yet, lately,  they’ve been bickering and fighting with each other.  Splitting off to play and randomly “biting each other’s heads off” about the most ridiculous things.  Granted, I know it’s normal, and yes, our kids do that, too.  But lately,  it’s just been different then the normal bickering.  It’s been below the belt. Harsh.  Unlike them.

It’s really kept me up at night.  I’ve prayed hard.  I’ve worried.  I knew it was because of me.  It weighed on me, leaving me feeling responsible because of my illness.  How can I take this away from them?  …. I can’t.  I have to help them work through it.  We’re in this together.  And just like I have to go through each stage of treatment.  I have to show them how to go through each stage of grief and counsel them through each feeling of “Mommy’s being cured of Cancer… STILL.”

I prayed for the moment, for the opportunity to present itself and for just the right words.  I love these guys with every piece of me.  God knows that they are my heart living and breathing on the outside.  They are what gets me through; therefore, HE will present the opportunity.  I had to trust that He loved them even more than I did and would help us.

The moment came just a few nights ago.

After a night of each of the kids randomly breaking off into ridiculous bickering arguments over chores, toys, picking out shows on t.v., or whatever.  I reached my limit.  I stood up, ready to “release the kraken!”  Instead, a tingling sensation came over me. (No, it wasn’t the wine from dinner) It was,  I feel,  the Holy Spirit.  Why? Because I stopped, did not raise my voice and walked upstairs taking them two at a time to the playroom (beginning with the oldest girls).  I don’t have that kind of self control on my own, and neither does the wine. That’s divine, right there.

I felt God telling me that conversation wasn’t gonna cut it today.  Time outs, threats, taking away kindles or other random punishments were just scratching the surface.  Something deeper was happening.  These kids have some anger that needs to be acknowledged, released, channeled, and then prayed about.

So…  I did what my tomboy at heart-mommy-self would do, and decided we should “start kicking some tail”.  The girls’ punishment was to clean up the toys that were in my way as I set up a “concert for them , so to speak”. And that’s all I could tell them.  I then dusted off my old cd collection from high school and college, finding all the best girl empowerment cd’s that I could to make a good butt-whoopin’ playlist.  Next,  I yanked the enormous couch pillows off and set them up to standing (child-height) all around the room.  Finally,  I gave them each pirate swords from the dress up tub in the corner; directed them towards their own side of the room full of “cancer pillows”; and told them to kick their butts and yell whatever the heck they wanted at them while I played some tunes.

First, they looked a little confused, naturally.  But, being the spaz that I am,  I got the ball rolling with a demonstration as Gloria Gaynor’s “I will Survive” played in the background (followed by Beyoncé’s “I’m a Survivor” & “Independent”). “For example“, I explained, (while kicking and punching the pillows) “Cancer, I HATE you! I’m made at you for making me yell at my sister.  I didn’t want to yell at my sister.  I wanted to yell at you, not her.  I love her.  I hate you! You can’t make me yell at my family anymore.  You don’t  get to win!!!”

Within seconds, they snatched those swords right back and had tons of things to say.  Through tears, through laughter, ’til they were hoarse.  It was such a release.  It broke my heart to hear that they had so much to say, yet made me so happy to see them so relieved and dancing at the end together, inviting their other siblings in, as they each came knocking , curious one by one.

By the time, the Dude came, the music quickly changed to the old original Star Wars soundtrack, and they bobbed and weaved through an imaginary space world, together, attacking “Darth Cancer“.  It was glorious!   Definitely a keeper activity for the back pocket.  They’ve been told, if they ever need to “release”, they must first, before doing so on a family member, come get me, and ask if they can go to the game room to “kick some butt” and I’ll set them up.  (Better I know first, to forwarn the others to not approach that room!)

Most importantly, we didn’t leave it there.  Anger release is just that and only that, if left alone.  In other words, we took off the bandaid. We got to the infection and diagnosed it.  Now it’s time to soothe it with a lil’ prayer ointment.  And we did.  We wrapped up our evening with our family prayer time,  always praying for the intentions of everyone in our prayer box and book (from the blog here and others that have asked for prayers to be offered), and for healing for our own family.  There was indeed a new sense of peace amongst our children and in the house as a whole.

We’re a work in progress.  We’re on an uphill climb and we cannot let go of this rope.  It’ll be a slow and steady pull to reach the top.  Yet, we have faith that our rope WILL NOT BREAK.

We know that we DO have a lot on our plates.  We know that we have a big family and that already was a lot that we discerned and chose to take on.  It meant that when faced with trials such as the one that we’re facing now, we still would have the responsibility of these 5 little faces looking back at us.  I still wouldn’t trade it for the world.  In fact,  they have gifted me in a way that I never knew they could.  My heart grew with every conception.  With these 5 kiddos here and our 3 angels in Heaven, my heart is 8 times bigger than before. Because my name is MOMMY.

Even that dirty, stinky little tom boy that I was back in the day,  knew she wanted to be a Mommy.  That little girl wanted to have a whole big mess of kids, and thank God, that He sent me a guy just right for me who had the same dream.  Without these guys, I don’t know where I’d be.  They keep me going.  They keep me focused. They keep my “head in the game”. They’ve got me more focused on wearing crazy outfits and working on a theme for them for each radiation treatment vs. worrying about side effects of what I’m going through.  Because, why should I?  As long as I’m doing all that I need to do to take care of my health, my diet,  and my skin, which I do. Then, why worry? Why not have a little fun? Why not laugh?

#prayerlaughterandmyfamilyaremybestmedicine

From the beginning, I’ve been singin Marley’s “Three Little Birds“, and I’ve remained worry-free, for the most part, in that regard.  I’ll play it on my ipod shuffle during radiation treatments as I go along these next 6 weeks.  However,  I might add that for these kiddos who keep me going, and who need prayer now more than ever, I’ll keep singing the same song to them every night that I’ve been singing since they were newborn babes…

They truly are.  They are my sunshine.  My kids, my husband, my family, and  my God.  They make me happy when skies are grey.  They make brave. They make me strong.  They make me whole.  It’s my turn to call upon you all for all the graces you can possibly pour out to shower this way over my kiddos (and my family as a whole)… so that they, too, can be happy and healed, when those skies are grey.

Thank you in advance!