Following

I wrote the following post and saved it as a draft back in July when my world was in an uproarious change. But really it was just the first of an onslaught of changes.

There comes a point where you just have an overwhelming feeling that you have to focus on what your gut is screaming at you—or a little more sweetly, what your heart is whispering to you. You know, that prompting voice inside that leads? Okay, God, I'm listening. Trying really hard to unquestioningly follow.

Reminds me of this song: "Follow".

There's a fear that comes with letting go, but let me replace one f-word with another—let me rely more heavily on faith instead of crippling fear. God has never let me go, so why do I forget that He has me in every circumstance?

With my brain tumor adventures, I had utmost, complete trust in Him and it was amazingly peaceful and I've often felt that I want to go back to that, which sounds crazy, I know. I don't really want to have more surgeries, but I think what I have been longing for is that feeling of complete trust that's so easy to attain in the most dire of circumstances. What seems so blatantly clear now is that I don't have to wait for extreme situations to trust that Jesus has me. He is my constant.

I had decided in July to tell my manager at the company I worked at for seven years that I would be leaving in December. There were numerous reasons and little nudges for the change, but the biggest reason for the timing was that I knew my review was coming up and I wanted to convey that I wouldn't be here for next year since I was planning to go back to school in the spring of 2014. I joke that I shot myself in the foot by doing that because I gave way too much notice. Looking back though, it was perfect; and I'm glad I gave a ridiculous amount of notice. Understandably, there was no other option for management to ask me to leave sooner—the end of September instead of December—since there was my new partner and my replacement to train (who are both great and exactly where they need to be also!).

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight." —Prov. 3:5–6

Meanwhile, unexpectedly during that seven-and-a-half-weeks of "notice," my husband Kurtis and I learned that I am pregnant. Wow! I didn't see that crazy timing coming! So besides getting all registered for school via NAU (Northern Arizona University, my alma mater), we are getting prepared for a baby to join us in our little home and I was able to feel sick those first three months in the comfort of home. Come January, I will be undertaking a post-baccalaureate certificate in professional writing, and if things go well, I will continue to pursue a masters degree in English: Rhetoric and the Teaching of Writing. I'm super excited to earn the credentials to be qualified in the field I want to be in. I'm also thrilled to get to experience what it means to be a mother! Kurt and I will have a magnificent time figuring out what it's like to be parents together! Our baby is due May 17, 2014—again, what seems like perfect timing to coincide with my first semester back to school.

So, see? I'm reminded daily about God's surprising gifts and that I'm so not in control. I'll keep following.

Faithfully,
Dawn

Mr. Claus at home in the desert

 

That's right! Mr. Claus made a special stop in the desert. He's the best Santa ever—kind, jolly, caring, and he has just the right words for children of all ages!  

Ho, Ho, Ho!
Dawn

Two Scents

Leaving Macayo's Mexican Kitchen after a delightful, relaxing dinner with Kurtis upon his return from a two-day work trip, I spouted memories of visiting him at the nearby AlphaGraphics back in 2001 when we were both students and freshly dating. He had been a key operator there and I was a Picture People photographer. We reminisced about the occasions I would swing by and we'd chat on an outdoor concrete bench while he took his break.

"You had a different smell back then," I recalled aloud. (I had just finished off a deliciously tangy margarita, so perhaps that's why my word choice was "smell" and not "scent.") I clarified, "Not that you ever smell badly, but you just smell differently now than how you used to." We talked about the then-and-now variables, and then I pondered, "Hmmm...I wonder if I smell more like you now or if you smell more like me or if we made an entirely new smell."

Kurt replied, "We melded smells. We smelded."

Still laughing at our "two cents,"
Dawn

Brain Reflections

 
Forgive me for not posting about my last brain MRI from November, which thankfully shows things sittin' just fine! This is what I wrote on November 6, 2012 but neglected to post until now:

I had an MRI yesterday and while things seem to be going excellently with the noggin and my resuming work and regular life, my emotions started up when I had to fill out a run-of-the-mill doctor's office form. When it asked for my height (which hasn’t changed since I was 13), I thought about it and wrote 5’10" (which is actually my sister's height). Then while sitting in the waiting room after I had already turned in the electronic clipboard, a surge of panicked realization surged through me. Oh, Dawn! You’re 5’8 ¾”! I'm unfortunately very critical of myself...especially when I make what feels like "silly" mistakes. People constantly remind me that they make similar mistakes to the ones I make "all the time," but it's altogether too easy for me to quickly associate errors with my brain surgery bout.

Enter hot, burning oozing behind the eyes as I tried to suppress determined, leaking, salty tears. By the time I was in the MRI room with the familiar machinery blooping and beeping, whirring and putt-putting, I couldn’t hold them in any longer.

“What kind of music would you like to listen to?” the friendly MRI tech asked me (who either didn't see my sour-puss face or chose to ignore it).

“Anything non-emotional, please,” I requested at least one octave too high.

I chose what I thought was a safe local Tucson radio station: 92.9 FM. Still, I warned her that I felt like I was going to cry and apologized. She reassured me that I can go ahead and cry and she urged me to not be too hard on myself. “Crying is a good release.” I agree with her, but I just didn’t expect or intend on it at all yesterday morning. Besides my silly height error from earlier and the flood of memories from the reasoning for having to be in the loud coffin-like machine at all, of course the soundtrack inside my head had to be so beautiful: “Home” by Phillip Phillips. Let the floodgates open.

Hold on, to me as we go
As we roll down this unfamiliar road
And although this wave is stringing us along
Just know you’re not alone
Cause I’m going to make this place your home

Settle down, it'll all be clear
Don't pay no mind to the demons
They fill you with fear
The trouble it might drag you down
If you get lost, you can always be found

Just know you’re not alone
Cause I’m going to make this place your home

See what I mean? Much deeper of a song than I needed to hear while having a brain MRI. One that reminds me of my family and not being alone on a curvy, unpredictable pathway.

The challenge of staying still and stifling tears at the same time is so difficult and, in retrospect, comical. It was like having a deep hiccup every 30 seconds or so. I wondered if the image of my brain would be slightly blurry from my little intermittent jumps. Deep breaths in and out, but not because I was claustrophobic—no, I find comfort in that machine in many ways—like he’s an old friend, who has been there with me throughout this journey. It was a hodgepodge of emotions—too much to explain to the friendly administrator or even here now. In the end, she said she got good images and I’ll find out if there are any changes next Tuesday when I meet with Dr. Scully.

Whew! I remember those feelings from November (and now it's already nearly April) and I'm happy to report that it appeared my ventricles even shrank a wee bit!

Tumor still in there, but I think my ventricles shrank!

My MRI scan once injected with intravenous contrast.

My "noodle."

I can't help but see faces in my brain scans.

 My next MRI is scheduled for May and I promise to produce a much more prompt report.

I enjoy the reflection process and realizing the reminder that life is oh-so-quick, to focus on what is good and lovely—you know, the real important stuff—and to enjoy this life with which God has graced and entrusted to me. Go on, let's all live it up...and enjoy the soundtrack to accompany your story!

Sounds good,
Dawn

4th Avenue Street Fair Bands

March in Tucson always includes the 4th Avenue Street Fair:

While we wondered the booths and made our way through the crowd of people, we also enjoyed lemonade, corn dogs, and the music of several bands playing.

Characters abound. I loved having so many artistic people being their expressive selves and sharing live music and art all around us!

Charmed,
Dawn

Butterfly Landing

"Happiness is a butterfly which, when pursued is always beyond our grasp, but which, if you will sit down quietly, may alight upon you."

—Nathaniel Hawthorne

 

...and that is exactly what happened.

 La Encantada's Mildred & Dildred toyshop hosted a charming butterfly release two weekends ago. My two nieces and two nephews joined my mom and me to witness the butterflies trying out their fresh new wings. My sister's kids have had the experience of raising their own butterflies at home before but I think most would agree that butterflies never seem to get boring. The excitement was in the air and every child (at heart) wanted a butterfly to walk on their finger.

Megan sat patiently with Nathan as he tried so desperately to lure a butterfly to him with a flower. 

 

One the butterflies were released, all of the kids in the outdoor mall flocked to get up close and personal with the elegant colorful creatures.

After a hour-long detour of a pennies-in-fountain adventure and an ice cream treat, additional "happiness" in the form of a butterfly fluttered our way and found the perfect perching place on Nathan. The joyful feeling was definitely mutual.

 Nathan was thrilled and it became apparent that he realized he might possibly keep this butterfly when he took off at a hasty pace it seemed to get the butterfly home. It was difficult to stay ahead of him to get some pictures. He was so sweet and careful not to hurt the fragile butterfly.

"Many butterflies can taste with their feet to find out whether the leaf [or kid] they sit on is good to lay eggs on to be their caterpillars' food or not" (http://www.thebutterflysite.com/facts.shtml). He must have tasted delicious! Who would have thought a little boy of sweat, dirt, and ice cream would be so alluring to a butterfly?

The butterfly did a lot of tasting amongst a family of hands! Justin was very curious, but when the butterfly crawled on to his hand, he quickly shook it off, but she was sweetly rescued by Sarah.

Lovely Sarah and the butterfly.

 Time to bid farewell to the orange-white-and-black insect that delighted us and the entire afternoon.

Happily,
Dawn

"Move Along" Song Strength

It has been exactly one year since my second of three brain surgeries. I haven't written too much about my brain surgeries because there was a lot of healing and reflecting to do before I really even knew what to say.  Here goes...

With my husband Kurtis immediately before going into the second brain surgery, March 31, 2011.

First meal after the second surgery, April 1, 2011.

I remember the day I found out I had a brain tumor. My mom met me at my doctor's office so we could hear the results of my MRI together. I had been complaining about headaches that occurred when I did simple things like climb a flight of stairs, turn my head, or bend over to tie my shoe. Those reoccurring tasks would cause a throbbing jolt of pain to my head and then it would fade until I did one of those seemingly simple tasks again. The appointment was set up for several weeks out, but one day at work, tears leaked from my eyes out of pain and frustration so I called to see if I could come in sooner.

A few days later I had my appointment and strangely enough, my headaches had been less frequent, but I kept my appointment. I had to know what was happening! My doctor had the tough job of telling me the reality that a tumor the size of an apple or an orange sat in the center of my brain, where the cerebral fluid is made. Immediately after my doctor told me the news, he told me I needed to see a neuro surgeon that same day, whose name happened to be Dr. Scully. There were a few hours until he would be available to explain the situation in more detail to us, so we made some emotional calls to my husband, dad and sister to fill them in on the shocking development, then I went to work to tell my manager and co-workers all that we knew at the time. On the way to work I heard this song in my car on the radio: Move Along by The All-American Rejects

The song has stuck with me and is a constant reminder to stay strong no matter what. (I must add a disclaimer that crying doesn't mean one is not strong.) It definitely felt like God meant for that song to give me an extra boost of courage. At that moment in my car driving to work after the new information, I needed to hear that song.

At the end of the music video where all the hands come up to catch the man, I am so fortunate that I had that—the love and strength of a truly incredible supportive, encouraging, selfless system who wouldn't let me feel alone or defeated...even to this day. I thank God for the people placed in my life to lift me up.

My family wore "Live Strong" bracelets, which, even now, when I see them still wearing them makes me feel so blessed.

In my case, my rare central neurocytoma tumor turned out to be non-cancerous, which was and still is such a blessing. But when I recall first hearing the news, I felt I had so much still to do. I remember saying to Dr. Scully once he told me what I had, "But I haven't done anything yet." And I don't mean "anything," but there was just that overwhelming sense that I have more juice to burn and have allowed my procrastinating ways to hold me back. So many dreams that I hadn't pursued yet still lurked in my soul; so many wishes I had not explored yet.

I'm so thankful that my rotten headaches are gone and my life is pretty well back to normal. There are things I forget and I'm really terrible at math, but all things considered, things are getting back on track after a year-long detour. I am due for another MRI mid-April to see if the left over tumor has changed or not. I am eager to hear the status in May. While I wouldn't wish my experience on anyone else, I also wouldn't trade my experience for anything either. I just have to remember to keep going. Writing this post is a good reminder to myself to stop wasting time. Do things. Experience life. Live strong. Trust God. Love.

Keepin' on,
Dawn