Boston

I think I'll go to Boston,
I think I'll start a new life,
I think I'll start it over, where no one knows my name,
I'll get out of California, I'm tired of the weather.
And I think I'll go to Boston
I think that I'm just tired
I think I need a new town, to leave this all behind,
I think I need a sunrise, I'm tired of the sunset,
I hear it's nice in the Summer, some snow would be nice.
I think I'll go to Boston

Heard this song? It's one of my new favorites. It's mellow and explains how we all feel sometimes - a change of scenery, a new life, tired of the sunset, tired of the every day struggles . . . . . tracking with me? Most of all, I like that the destination is Boston. Boston will always be home to me.

On April 15th, I came home from work, walked in the door, and Mike's words were, "There's been a bombing in Boston." What went through my head in a short amount of time was fear at a very high level. Family . . . friends . . . . where and how were they? I couldn't reach anyone. In a moment of desperation, my fear turned to anger. Relief was eventual when I heard from everyone. What followed, however, has been a struggle since. I have watched news around the world . . . .politics, natural disasters, statistics of suicide, Middle East uproar, Sandy Hook . . . . . Boston was the "icing on the cake" and the catalyst for my fear, sadness and thoughts to skyrocket. I have always battled my overactive imagination and have to challenge myself to think about things that are true, valid and real. But Boston's events were ones that were too close to my family, and I was running my own first half marathon in the following two weeks. There have been days since that I've sat in my car and cried, asking the Lord how long until the suffering ends and wondering how much more some can take. My heart hurts from sadness and my head hurts from the things I conjure up that "could" happen. I'll spare you the details of those thoughts. It ain't been pretty! What I want to share is the goodness amongst all of it.

Mom, my sister and I went on a cruise last week. Ironically, we left from Boston. I had a whole week with Boston people. People dropping their "R"s, cheering for the Bruins, saying "wicked" about nothing wicked at all, and living Boston strong. It was home for me. Time with my mom and sister . . . just what my weary, overworked head and heart needed. The week was glorious. Sunshine, food, love, rest . . . . glorious. I sat on our balcony one day and asked the Lord for a dolphin - vet's daughter, what can I say. When I tell you that 2 seconds later there appeared a baby dolphin in clear view of our balcony, it is no exaggeration. There he was - flipping and turning and having a great time - no fear, no sadness, no concern for life - pure joy from this little guy. It was awesome. The next day I upped the ante and asked for a whale. Guess what appeared that afternoon? Now some of you are reading this a little concerned that I'm a tad bit crazy crying in my car and asking for marine sightings, but here is how sweet this picture is. The Lord granted my requests for something He knew would bring great joy to me. The dolphin spinning and playing and having a good time was a picture to me of how I should be living, knowing that the Lord loves me enough to grant the simple requests. The One who orchestrates the dolphins is the same One who orchestrates my life and the lives of others around me. Life will never get easier. I know that. But the reminder from the Lord to me on the cruise, was that He cares enough to grant me the little things and more importantly, He is in the big things. Those animals were the words in my heart "I hear you, I love you and I'm sweet enough to give you a tangible request at a time you need it." (Those were the Lord's words, not the animals - you were really starting to worry about me!). I'd love to tell you that in all Mike and I have walked through, my faith is strong, solid, unshakeable . . . . but I still need the reminders of the oceans and the tangible picture of love and security sometimes. I'm a work in progress, friends.

Mike's extended stay in the hospital and extensive testing yielded few results or direction. He has decided to start the oral chemo this summer, and we'll see what God does. We'd love your prayers through this. It won't be an easy medicine to take with multiple side effects, and the question of what to do if this doesn't work are a battle. But I'll remind myself of the joy in that little ocean gift, the reminder that God's got us.

Worn

Dr: “It’s time to stop testing for a diagnosis and passing you along to specialists and time to get an idea of what you have and treat your pain and symptoms accordingly.”

Durk: “Can you come to all my doctors’ appointments with me?!”

Here was the conversation as Mike talked with the new infectious disease doctor this afternoon. Last I left you, the plan was to get some bloodwork done and start an oral chemo, operating under the idea Mike had a rare endocrine autoimmune disease. When bloodwork came back and new symptoms became cyclic (swelling, joint pain and stiffness, high fevers up to 104), Mike was referred to an infectious disease doctor. The doctor is admitting Mike for observation of the high fevers and to run oodles of tests, bloodwork and scans. The infectious disease doctor’s gut is that Mike does not have any type of infection but wants a battery of test results in one place to which specialists can refer. Additionally, he wants to rule out infection if possible, to move forward with other treatment. He also will arrange for Mike to be seen by a rheumatologist in the hospital. The doctor he has in mind is one that will see Mike and not dismiss his case, overwhelmed by Mike’s significant and complex 4 year health history. Ummm, been there, done that. Doctors are happy to push Mike along when he doesn’t fit on the box; this rheumatologist has a reputation of being aggressive in finding a diagnosis, and if none surface, aggressively treating symptoms. Mike will also be seen by endocrinology, the only body system that has shown consistent abnormalities. Mike and I felt good about today. We felt like we were in a holding pattern for quite a while, we were growing discouraged, and today rejuvenated some of our “fight.” Just in the nick of time. Here is a song by Tenth Avenue North that has been playing frequently in my heart and head.

 “Worn”
I'm tired, I'm worn
My heart is heavy
From the work it takes
To keep on breathing
I've made mistakes
I've let my hope fail
My soul feels crushed
By the weight of this world
And I know that You can give me rest
So I cry out with all that I have left

Let me see redemption win
Let me know the struggle ends
That You can mend a heart that's frail and torn

I wanna know a song can rise
From the ashes of a broken life
And all that's dead inside can be reborn
‘Cause I'm worn

I know I need
To lift my eyes up
But I'm too weak
Life just won't let up
And I know that You can give me rest
So I cry out with all that I have left

The phrase that I LOVE and has been my heart’s cry on more than one issue in life lately: “Let me see redemption win. Let me know the struggle ends.” I’ve been holding onto the idea that redemption wins. Maybe some of you need that reminder too. Know that as we walk this, we pray for so many of you. Spring is coming!