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.