My Testimony, Thus Far

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart."

For ten years, I worked at the same school.  I loved that I was living out my dream as a teacher and I was happy to stay there 'til the end.  Never really being one too keen on change, I relaxed in the fact that I would never need to interview again or fill-in another laborious application.  I was content being a 'classroom teacher' and never sought out climbing the education version of the corporate ladder.  Management roles weren't in my future because I never wanted the responsibility of hiring or firing someone.  So all-in-all, I was grateful to be teaching.

Until one car ride home when I wasn't thinking about anything in particular:  "Move on."  That message certainly didn't come from me.  In fact, the day after I heard it, I told my head teacher because I had an inkling that it was what was going to happen.  I mulled over this on my way to and from work (an hour drive each way) for months, but the message never changed and it sounded more and more like the right thing to do with each passing day.  

After applying to schools and going to an interview, nothing panned-out and the official cut-off for resignations was fast approaching.  As a full-time teacher, I would have had to give at least "one term's notice" in order for the school to secure a teacher to replace me for the following academic year.  Four days before the deadline, I had an interview at another Catholic school; but alas, it wasn't meant to be.  I was devastated, but I knew that I had to go.  So, the next day, I handed in my notice and put all my trust in God.  Everything always works out, I knew that, but where I was going next was a complete mystery.  For someone that doesn't like change though, I had not one ounce of nervousness.  I felt so calm and ready for what God had in store.  I knew I was following His calling and He had greater things planned for me.

"Lean not on your own understanding."

Up to that point, I had been searching for more of the same--another Catholic school, full-time positions, even jobs with leadership roles that would have required more of my time at home to be devoted to the needs of the school.  What I got instead was a picture-perfect part-time position at a Protestant primary school just down the road.  Instantly, I could see what God wanted for me:  more time with my family, more patience to be a better mom, availability to volunteer and help at church.  I had my interview and offer only two weeks before the end of the school year.  This job was truly an answer to prayer.

Things were going along perfectly:  a school with an extremely serene environment, everything my family needed within a ten-minute radius, a copious amount of time to devote to my family during the evenings and weekends, time to cook healthily, time to eat, time to sleep.  It was heaven!

But still, there was something bothering me.  Toward the end of September, I noticed something different when I looked at myself in the mirror after a shower one day.  The top of my left leg looked asymmetrical to my right leg.  There was no pain or bruising, so I decided that I must have pulled my muscle and it was just a bit swollen.  I never mentioned this to anybody and thought to myself, "Just enjoy your nice new life.  You're looking for a problem.  It's nothing."

At the Christmas break, Lee and I were watching Christina Applegate's show Dead to Me in which her friend discovers she has cancer.  Linda Cardellini's character never had any outwardly obvious warning signs of her cancer, but she had it.  I found myself being unable to sleep and poring over webpages that might have some information to help me figure out my problem for myself.  There was nothing on the Internet that matched what I was seeing on my body--how is that possible?  I thought that there was a Google image for everything, but not for what I had apparently.  I searched for 'cancer symptoms' but I didn't have any of those either:  unexplained weight loss, soreness, fatigue.

So on January 4th, I called the doctor's office and asked to see someone about a "lump in my leg that's about the size of a tennis ball."  They said they could see me that afternoon.  When I met with the nice, young Irish doctor, she didn't seem overly concerned, but did find it puzzling.  She arranged an ultrasound scan for January 18th.  Still, I didn't tell a soul because I didn't want to worry anybody.  I figured that whatever it was, I could deal with it on my own--everybody else has their own problems to face and they don't want mine.  In fact, I thought that if I had still been working full-time, I would have even waited until the summer to arrange a doctor's appointment.

When the scan rolled around, I finally had to mention it to Lee because he would be wondering where I was going at 6 o'clock at night.  The letter about my appointment stated that the sonographer would not give any feedback; rather, I would be told the results at the doctor's office in the following days.  This was not the case.  There were two older women in the waiting room with me.  We were all sitting still as stone, silent, and crippled by our worry.  They went first and each one exited the examination room beaming and giddy.  One was going to "have a good day now that I know nothing's wrong" and the other discovered it was "just a cyst."  Oh, so I will find out something then?  I was mostly hopeful after I heard this when it was my turn.  For nearly ten minutes, the sonographer didn't say a word.  He used four different tools to examine my lump and at the end, said that I would need further scans.  I knew this probably wasn't good so I drove all the way home from Ormskirk to Southport screaming and wailing and feeling very lonely and scared.  I don't know how I stayed on the road.

Two days later, I found out that I had a cancerous tumour called a sarcoma.  

My life went haywire in the doctor's office and I'm sure I had what could be called a nervous breakdown.  The doctor did her best and said the nicest things she could, but doctors have to be realistic and truthful.  I couldn't see why the problem couldn't be fixed immediately and demanded that she, "Cut it out!  Get it out!" but I don't think they do those types of operations at the doctor's office.  I wanted to hear that it could be fixed and that I would be fine, but she couldn't tell me that.  I'm not sure how many patients this young doctor has delivered bad news to, so she went to get my designated GP to answer some of my more specific questions.  How can this be fixed?  Why did I get this?  When can they get it out?  I asked if I was going to survive this and she kindly replied, "Many people do; but it is cancer, so people die from it, too."  

After 45 minutes with the doctors, somehow I got myself together, ran home, rushed inside, and delivered the news to Lee.  He was my literal shoulder to cry on.  When you're a sprightly 23-year-old and promise to love each other through sickness and health, you never think that life is going to deal you this 12 years down the line.  But, there we were.  

I had to compose myself enough to call my boss while Lee went to get Jackson from school.  Thankfully, Freddie was taking a nap.  I called one of my best friends, Karen, and then my brother, who was just about to board a plane.  I told them not to tell anyone since I didn't want to burden anybody else with my problems.  I was crying on-and-off all night, but I didn't take the sleeping pills prescribed by the doctor because one of the side effects was "hallucinations" which would have caused me more worry.

The next day, I knew I had to figure-out a way to cope because it could be weeks or months before my tumour would be dealt with and I had to be present for the boys.  I sent Lee and Jackson to buy groceries so I could cry some more, but instead I felt the need to pray.  I asked God what He wanted me to do and I got the message loud and clear:  "Support and Peace."  Again, I'm convinced this was not coming from me.

So I changed my strategy.  I knew that I would need a team of people around me for love and support to make it through.  I called my friends from church and my 'mom friends,' and I sent messages to some friends that I hadn't spoken to in a long time, but I knew they were believers and prayerful.  The hardest people to tell were my mom and dad which I called at night after the boys went to bed.  After I told my parents, it wasn't so hard to say it out loud.  

I have lived in England for nearly 12 years and I was surprised at all of the friends I have made in that time--and thankful that they were all here for me.  And their prayers did bring me comfort and peace.  My family in Ohio and my church friends here got all of their prayer chains to add me to their lists and each day, I found myself coping a bit better than the day before.  God was watching over me and the power of prayer was working.

"In all your ways acknowledge Him..."

The first few days, I thought about what I needed to do for Jackson and Freddie if this was a worst case scenario.  Devastatingly, I knew that Freddie wouldn't even remember me.  I was tormented by this, but I just tried to continue making his childhood as cheerful as I could.  For Jackson, even though I read to him every night, my first thought was that I haven't taught him enough about the Bible.  We talk about God using the Socratic method, but I had yet to teach him about the Bible in detail, albeit for the more popular tales of Noah, Jonah, Jesus's birth, and the rest of the Sunday School classics.  So every night, we would read his children's Bible and discuss what we thought it was telling us.  

I got the boys ready for church as usual two days after I received the news and as we said, "Bye Dad!  Love you!"  Then we heard Lee say, "I'm coming with you."  I had to catch my breath because I was overcome with joy, and I was so thankful.  It's so nice to have the whole family go to church together.  He's been coming with us every week since.  And you'll never guess what the opening hymn was that morning:  Standing in the Need of Prayer.

The nights were the hardest because that's when everything is still and the things I was choosing to keep me busy--reading, crossword puzzles, listening to music--were not easing my troubles at all.  I would wake up screaming and crying and shaking.  I found that the only thing that calmed me down was  hearing "Healing Scriptures" by Pastor John Hagee on Youtube.  It relaxed me instantly and I was able to get some rest.

My whole life, I have read about the miracles in the Bible, and I have had the opportunity to teach at two religious schools in England where I could teach children these stories, too.  I thought that surely God's miracles aren't confined to the Bible times.  My friend Kalie once told me about a spiritual healer she met with in Ohio about a problem that teams of doctors couldn't solve.  She was healed instantly and the disease never came back.  I shared her testimony with many people through the years and I knew this was something that I needed to do.  I read about some healers that were into using crystals and other 'voodoo' but Jesus didn't use those things to heal people, so I was pretty sure that wouldn't be necessary.  Just the power of the Holy Spirit, please.  So, a week before I began radiotherapy treatment, I visited with a spiritual healer here in England.  I found someone who based everything he believed on Scripture was practising his gift without a focus on production value.  I felt a peace and calm come over me from this encounter.

"...And He shall make your paths straight."

This has been the scariest, most nerve-wrecking time of my life--especially at the beginning.  Nothing could have shattered me more unless it was bad news about the boys.  From the day the doctor delivered the news, it was two weeks until further scans and an entire month until I heard that what I had was curable.  Sarcomas fall into two categories:  low-grade and high-grade.  One is treatable and the other isn't--basically, it just has to sit in the body, slowly wreaking havoc and the patient is given anywhere from five to ten years to live.  Thankfully, I had the low-grade one.  This meant that although my tumour was 10x6 cm, it had not spread to any other part of my body and it was not growing at a rapid pace.  

The road ahead was rough.  Radiotherapy sounded like the easier option to me since I had never heard of it before this experience.  I had to go to Clatterbridge Cancer Centre in Liverpool every day for 25 days.  (Everyone I spoke to said, "Clatterbridge is where you want to be" in England for cancer treatment, so I felt lucky that we had settled down near Liverpool a decade ago.)  The first two weeks were barely noticeable.  Then, the third week, there was an itchy discomfort, but tolerable.  The last two weeks were excruciating.  I could barely walk and was reduced to sitting on icepacks all day and topping-up on pain medication constantly.  

After a four-week recovery from radiotherapy, it was time for the surgery to remove the tumour.  My surgeon said that most of the cancer cells had been killed by my treatment; however, the tumour was still the same size and it would be a 'big incision.'  Overall, I was so grateful that I was able to be treated and although I was nervous, I knew I could do it.  I was afraid that something would go wrong during the surgery and I would never be able to walk--or even worse, dance--again.  I had to put my full trust in the doctors and God.  I am happy to report that the surgery went very well and one week on, I am able to walk with crutches and I feel stronger each day.  The next steps will involve scans and appointments to monitor that it doesn't come back for the next ten years.  

With the rollercoaster of emotions I've had this year, I feel like I have more clarity than ever for what I want with my life.  Before this, I thought I would wait "until the boys were out of school" to do what I wanted with my free-time.  That is nearly 15 years away!  How ridiculous I was.  

I am going to join a local theatre group and take dancing lessons.  I am going to listen to more live music and see my friends more.  I am going to parent with more humour and made-up songs and silliness.  I am going to finally get a real piano and take time to play every day again.  I am going to say 'yes' to more invitations and have as much fun as possible.  I am going to live and enjoy this life that God has given me--now!  

I can also see clearly who is with me and who isn't.  My family--my Ohio family, aunts, cousins, and also my three English 'aunties'--have been with me every day.  They send me messages, call me, pray, and get people praying.  They are hopeful, supportive, loving, and caring.  They are what family should be.  My friends--of all ages and all over the world--have been like brothers and sisters and shown heartfelt concern and attention.  I have had so many calls, text messages, hymns, scripture verses, prayers, visits, and an outpouring of love and support during the past six months.  My boss even contacted me every week to see how things were going and to show her support.  God worked through them all because He knew I would hear the right thing at the right time to help me get by.  I could name people one-by-one, but they know who they are and how much I love them because I have told them.  Without my family and friends, there are times when I would not have been able to face the day.  

At the beginning of this journey, a kind lady from church said that through all of this, "you will find out who your true friends are," and I can honestly say that every person has stuck with me.  I didn't feel like anyone left me in the dust or was too afraid to talk about what I was going through--they all loved me like I love them.   

That is except for a small group of people who have shown no concern at all.  If you don't have anything nice to say, then it's better to say nothing at all--and nothing, funnily enough, is exactly what I've heard from them.  And although their actions solidified what I already expected, I am content and at peace.  I can see who is with me and they are really good people.  

"Peace that passes understanding down in the depths of my heart."

Going forward, my heart and mind are clear and I have greater discernment.  Even though I thought I knew why God changed my direction in such a drastic way a year ago, I can see now what He really needed me to prepare for.  I have learned to give all my troubles to God because I really cannot handle them on my own.  When I don't know what to do, I ask God and I wait and I listen.  Sometimes, He reveals things to me and I don't know why, but I know that I will in His time.

I am finding myself in the same position as last summer:  I do not have a job in place for September and I do not know what God has in store; but, I feel joy in the depths of my heart because "like a tree planted by the water," my foundation in God is firm and I know that can only lead to a prosperous life.  I am ready and willing to go where He sends me.

I have complete faithfulness in and reliance on God and His plan for me.

"The Best Christmas Ever!"

For Jackson, it was indeed his "best Christmas ever" since he announced this twice while opening his presents this year.  Each year gets more and more exciting as we watch Jackson's reaction to Christmas.  The entire month of December is just one big bundle of giddiness and I think that's one reason parents are so exhausted once all the presents have been opened.  One month's worth of pent-up anxious anticipation builds until that morning and then after about 25 minutes, everyone begins to finally relax.

Since we couldn't go out as much this year, we made some new traditions at home during Advent.  We built a Pop-Tart house (in place of a gingerbread house) with Jackson.  He even ate the entire construction himself!  We also made Christmas cut-out cookies, peanut butter fudge, and oatmeal raisin cookies.  Jackson did some crafting and made his teacher and teaching assistant beaded wreath ornaments and sock snowmen.  I was impressed by the attention to detail he gave to the placement of the accessories and how carefully he chose the little extras to match what his teachers would like.  And lastly, Jackson can write his name very neatly now so he even signed all of his friends' Christmas cards!  

Little Freddie turned three-months-old on December 18th.  (He'll be turning 15 weeks old this Friday.)  He weighed 16 pounds that day and just two days before that, he rolled over--from his front to his back--for the first time.  He is currently trying to roll from his back to his front, but this is proving to be a bit more difficult.  I think he's worried about how he's going to stick the landing.  Also, Freddie decided that he was going to sleep for a five-hour stretch two nights in a row to celebrate turning three months.  We were very proud of him for his big accomplishments--and still, for being a fantastically happy, smiley baby.

Jackson's class made a video of the very first Christmas and Jackson had the role of playing one of the three wise men--the one with the gold, of course.  This was in place of a live nativity but in my opinion, it's better because we can watch it over and over; whereas, the ones at school are only seen once and you have to hope that you get a good seat and that you can hear your child's line over the whispering and coughing of the other audience members.  After Lee and I watched the video, I said, "Wow!  Jackson, you were the star of the show!"  But Jackson had the right response:  "No I wasn't; Jesus was the star."  

To keep Jackson occupied during his days off of school, we practised his spelling.  I laid out letter tiles for him to form words--which I was expecting three-letter words that he has shown me before.  He decided that he wanted to spell the word 'insect' and I let him try, although I thought it was going to be too hard.  Low and behold, without any help, Jackson laid out i-n-s-e-c-t!  I let him have a break (and some chocolate) after that.

Other than some learning games, I also tried to teach Jackson some Christmas carols.  For fun, I left out words of The Twelve Days of Christmas to see what he would fill-in.  In Jackson's version, there are "eight maids of courage" and "two turtle ducks."  

Leading up to Christmas, Jackson received an early present from stage school.  He was the only one chosen in his class to receive the trophy for Outstanding Achievement!  We always knew he was quite the entertainer, but it's nice that his drama teachers recognise this, too.  

And then, all of a sudden, it was here:  Christmas!  We were surprised when Jackson came into our room at 8:15 since we expected to see him around 5 A.M.  When we said that he had slept in, he told us that he had been waiting in his bed until there wasn't "any dark left" because he was worried that Santa might still be here.

Then Jackson told Lee and I that he heard "three thuds" on the roof during the night.  I said, "I didn't hear anything."  Jackson said, "Well, you should have been awake then.  Hey!  I thought Santa was supposed to know when we are awake and when we are asleep and he came when I was awake."  I guess he was a pretty convincing fake-sleeper.

Freddie stayed awake just until his last present was opened and then he was out like a light.  He took a nice long nap which allowed me to make breakfast (French toast, bacon, eggs, and hot chocolate) for everyone.  I guess even Freddie was feeling exhausted after all of that built-up anticipation.

Once all of the presents had been unwrapped, Jackson said, "I didn't get any presents."  I said, "Jackson, you got lots of presents."  He sadly replied, "No, I didn't get any presents for you, Dad, or Fred."  I told him that the only things we need are him and Freddie.

Jackson was reflecting on the presents he got from Santa this year and he said, "Usually, Santa only gives kids one present, but I guess I was the exception."  Lee and I were shocked by his correct usage of the word 'exception'!

At the end of the day after story time, when I tucked him into bed, I asked Jackson what his favourite part of the day was to which he replied, "Opening presents."  And then, after a few seconds, he followed that with, "And the thuds."

Merry Christmas!  

Love, Jackson and Freddie

Lee and Jackson on a wintry walk to Southport to see the lights

Freddie was bundled and ready for the walk, too!

Jackson's Pop-Tart house

The Christmas crafts for Jackson's teachers

Peek-a-boo!

And the award for Outstanding Achievement goes to . . . Jackson!

Freddie being casually cool

Thankful

Happy Thanksgiving to one and all!  I was grateful to have time to make a real Thanksgiving meal for my family this year.  When I am teaching, there isn't much free time to prepare feasts; but since I am on maternity leave this year, I was able to cook all of Saturday morning and then serve-up my favourite hearty Ohio dishes in the early afternoon.  Jackson, who can be a picky eater, even ate his mashed potatoes with "syrup" (it was really gravy, but I let him call it syrup as long as he was eating).  Come to think of it, most of the meat that I try to get Jackson to eat is just another form of "chicken."

Jackson was crowned Star of the Week again at school on Friday for his "amazing work in phonics."  He is already reading the little books that his teacher sends home (two per week) and he is memorising his sight words to read more fluently.  We are so proud of his hard work and quick progress!

And, as we expected he would, Jackson has become quite popular amongst his peers.  He has a magnetic personality and innate leadership qualities which I guess contribute to his coolness.  (Lee and I still don't know where his sense of what is 'cool' comes from.)  When Jackson was in nursery, he was about one-and-a-half-years-old, and I noticed other babies giving offerings of toys to him when he entered the room.  Then, when he was in the two- and three-year-old classes, a lot of the other boys' moms would say that Jackson was their son's best friend.  But now, Jackson has reached a new level:  as we walk home from school and the other children are being driven away, we hear, "Bye, Jackson!" yelled out of rolled-down windows passing by.  One day, there were three different cars trying to get his attention!  The other day, one little girl shouted from across the street, "Jackson!  I love your hair!"  If only she knew that he barely lets me brush it in the morning.  When we walk down the sidewalk, I feel like I'm escorting the next Sir Paul McCartney and the resurrection of Beatlemania has begun.  (Especially with the long locks he's sporting since the barbershops are closed due to Coronavirus.  All he needs now is a 1960s Liverpudlian accent and we'll be good to go.)  Lee and I serve merely as his security and crowd control.  We try not to bring attention of this phenomenon to Jackson so as not to inflate his ego; however, I am really proud that he is well-liked by his peers.  It fills my heart to know that Jackson is making friends and being his kind, friendly self, putting his best foot forward at school.

Little Freddie had to get his six vaccinations (two shots in his legs and one dosage of an oral medicine) on Wednesday and our brave little boy only cried for about 45 seconds!  The doctor said that he is very strong and she was surprised at how much he was moving around.  She even forgot that he was only there for his first round of immunisations and thought it was his second round because of his size and strength.  Freddie is now 60 cm long and has a head circumference of 42 cm.  

Freddie is smiling a lot now and even giggling!  Also, he is a great babbler and has lots of conversations every day with me and Lee.  I also think that Freddie is going to be a problem-solver when he is older because when his pacifier (dummy, UK) falls out of his mouth and it's near his head, he will softly whimper and try really hard to push it back into place or turn his face toward it to grab it again.  He doesn't cry to 'ask' for help; he tries to fix the problem himself.  Freddie is still a wonderfully easygoing baby and he sleeps for long periods throughout the day.  He does, however, seem to have nightmares from time-to-time and will wake up, crying and screaming.  He settles down quickly when someone holds him and reassures him, though.  Freddie also loves baths and getting his diaper changed.  For some reason, he thinks the latter is really funny and always gives us big smiles and says "a-goo" very sweetly over and over.  

Currently, Freddie's favourite songs are Christmas pop songs, Humpty Dumpty, Baa Baa Black Sheep, Happy Birthday, and the Hamilton soundtrack; and if he's ever upset, when he listens to music, then he is soothed within seconds.  He even seems to appreciate our singing!  (A nice change from his brother who refers to our singing as 'moaning.')  I still can't believe how lucky we are to get this joyful, constantly happy baby!  

Jackson went to Drayton Manor, home of Thomas Land, last Christmas and he told us this past weekend that he wanted to go again.  We said that he couldn't this year because of the "bad cold" (which is what we call the virus).  Jackson responded, "But they have hand sanitiser!"

Earlier this week, when I stopped to talk to a neighbour on our walk home from school, Jackson went ahead a few steps and stayed by himself.  After I was done, Jackson said, "I was just talking to God and Santa, and I gave them a kiss when I said, 'Bye.'"

Lastly, I thought I had heard all of the "English" terms, but there is definitely more for me to learn.  Two weeks ago, Jackson's school sent an e-mail reminding parents that there was going to be "mufti day" to support the Children in Need charity.  I thought that they misspelled "multi" and maybe the children were supposed to wear multi-coloured clothes.  Then, I thought maybe the school forgot to capitalise "Mufti" and it was some English character who served as the mascot for Children in Need.  "Oh great," I thought, "Now I'm going to have to buy some Mufti costume so Jackson will fit-in with all of the other kids."  So, I googled where to find a 'Mufti Costume' and low-and-behold "mufti day" is another way to say non-uniform day!  Phew!  I didn't have to buy anything and Jackson was excited to wear his own stylish ensemble.  In Ohio, we didn't wear uniforms at school, so every day, we wore what we wanted to wear; however, when we join the workforce, there is something called "Casual Friday."  Here are all of the synonyms that I found for "mufti day" on Wikipedia:  casual clothes day, casual Friday, colour day, own clothes day, home clothes day, plain clothes day, non-uniform day, mufting day, free dress day, civvies day, dress down day, uniform-free day.  Gee whiz!

All-in-all, we are very thankful for our two beautiful boys.  No matter how stressful life gets--and we've had quite a few curveballs this year--we can find pure joy, love, and happiness in our little angels.

Our sweet little Freddie

Modelling headshot

Happy Thanksgiving!

Sending his letter to Santa