Pillow Wars

Steve and I have an agreement. And we also have an argument.

Our agreement is that whoever gets up last in the morning has to make the bed. Which is a really nice deal and I would like to say right here that I am very blessed to have an Open Minded Husband Who Is Willing to Make The Bed. (Or an OMHWIWTMTB for short.)

However, it appears that he and I have a difference of opinion in the making of said bed. A difference of opinion concerning the decorative pillows. Yea and forsooth, we have a Decorative Pillow Opinion Difference.

With his gracious permission, I have decided to bring this difference of opinion to the masses. (That would be you. You are a member of the masses. There now. Don’t you feel special?)

In order to help you with your decision, I have taken a picture of my arrangement of the pillows and his arrangement of the pillows. I have also included a survey in the right column for you to complete as to which pillow arrangement looks the best to you.

I am not, however, going to tell you which one of us favors which pillow arrangement until the polls are closed.

This is important stuff, people. Don’t allow this opportunity pass you by; let your opinion be heard!

Pillow Arrangement #1

And—you guessed it!—Pillow Arrangement #2.

The polls are now open. Please submit your vote so that this stressful part of the Smith Marriage can be reconciled. Thank you for your support.

(My name is Becky Smith and I approved this message.)

Dead Roses On The Retinas

Today I’ll be gone 12-14 hours getting Sarah to Victory Junction Gang Camp, getting her checked in and then getting back home. (You’ll be able to read more about her experiences later this week on her site.)

One of the very few drawbacks of living on a lovely island near the sea is that just about anywhere you go is a long way away. Fortunately, Sarah and I both love to travel; in fact, she’s been experiencing a case of itchy feet recently and has been longing to get on the road and go somewhere. Anywhere! So this trip will be extra fun for her.

Plus, the journey will lead us right past our favorite consignment store in North Carolina, so we will definitely make a little mother/daughter stop there. (If you live in the area, the store is called My Secret Closet and it’s at exit 154 off I-85.)

Since my time today will be spent traveling instead of blogging, I’ll just post a few “porch photos” in celebration of our first week of living in a house that we can finally call our own.

Consider this your personal invitation to come up the front steps and sit a spell!

Unfortunately, I won’t be able to offer you a glass of sweet Southern tea while you sit and swing because it seems as though I have not yet mastered the art of making iced tea. I know, I know. How can I possibly call myself a Southern woman and not make—or drink—iced tea? It’s a travesty, without a doubt.

Snowy loves the porch, too and he is of the considered opinion that he is the king of all he surveys. And we always humor him in that regard so as not to damage his fluffy self-esteem.

A couple days ago, I glanced out the window at the porch and saw Steve and Sarah in this odd pose. I took a picture of them so that I could furtively study it when they weren’t looking in an effort to figure out what strange activity they were engaged in. Thankfully they saved me the trouble by telling me that they were trying to get water out of their ears after taking a swim in our neighborhood pool. (Which is about 200 feet from where we live. Which is yet another reason why we love our house!)

Thankfully, the water finally evacuated the ears of the Smith Duo and they were free to just sit and converse without any further gyrations. I love the look on Sarah’s face as she talks to her daddy.

Here’s Steve on the porch wearing a t-shirt given to him for his birthday. Don’t you love it? (If you can’t read the small print it says, “A legend in my own mind.”) Actually I think Snowy could use a similar shirt in a doggie size.

Okay. Now I really do hate to brag, but I believe that the following picture definitely shows off my remarkable and incredible photography skills. I mean, what other photographer do you know who would do that “fancy, blurry shot” thingie and frame the subject of the photo between two dead roses?

“No one,” you say?

Oh well. I guess I’ll just have to accept the realization that my photographic brilliance is unparalleled.

Just in case you missed the creative composition of the first shot, here’s another one for ya. Those dead roses certainly do create a certain, um, aura, don’t they?

Since I really hate to leave you with visions of dead roses on your retinas, I’ll finish up with a couple pictures that are a tad more inspiring.

Porch.

Home.

Grateful.

________________________________

A couple of you asked what was in the dessert concoction that Sarah had in the fridge. If I remember correctly, she said it contained Oreos, peanut butter, milk, and chocolate syrup with whipped cream on top. It was quite the yummy creation!

Silver Hatted Strangers

Last week I opened our refrigerator and saw the usual suspects. In their usual non-tidy line up.

However, when I looked a little closer, I realized that a few strangers had snuck into the back of the line up, strangers who were wearing sassy hats made of silver foil.

“Hmmmm,” said I. “What could yon strangers possibly be doing lurking amongst the usual suspects in The Smith Refrigerator?”

It was a question that begged for an answer.

I took a few of the front items out so that I could be afforded a closer glimpse of said strangers. And lo and behold, one of yon strangers had a note attached to its silver hat. And the note was written in my daughter’s writing.

The plot thickened.

I took an even closer look. I saw what the message said. I pondered the message. I pondered the messenger. I pondered the silver-hatted strangers who had taken up residence in my refrigerator.

And when I couldn’t quite get the Case of the Mysterious Silver Hat-Wearing Strangers figured out, I called in the writer of the words, the person responsible for affixing strange words to the sides of strange strangers.

And I was given the answer! I was handed the solution to the mystery! I was presented with the key to unlock the secrets of the universe! (Well, not quite.)

As it turns out, Princess Sarah had decided to use part of her afternoon to create a special dessert for the family’s evening meal. From her description of the creation process, the dessert consisted of her tossing a variety of miscellaneous sweet substances into the blender and whirring them around for awhile.

Then she poured the created concoction into three glasses and attached silver hats and the note, in an effort to warn her dad and me away from the surprise.

The mystery? Solved.

The desserts? Delicious.

The smile on my face over my daughter’s whimsical addition to my day? Huge.

I just love silver-hatted strangers.

Happy Fourth Of July

(I took this photo at a Thunder Birds exhibition a couple years ago.)

Pictures. And The Circle of the Broken

Sometimes I just get in the mood to look at old (and old-ish) pictures. Today is one of those days.

And guess what? Since you’re part of the Smithellaneous Family, you get to look at pictures with me! How fun is that?

So here they are, in no particular order.

This is one of my all time favorite photos. Warm, happy, fun.

Some of you may remember when we were told that Sarah would not grow any more. (She topped out just under 5 ft; without treatment, she would have been about 5’5.) Her doctor did a bone age study and said her growth plates had prematurely fused because of chemo during relapse. It took Sarah a little while to come to grips with that news. However, as I told her then and have told her many times since then, she is the “perfect huggable height.” As this picture so well demonstrates.

Cooking a huge meal for a large party. Accck!

I eventually got it all together. This is what the kitchen looked like before the guests arrived. Ahhhh.

My very lovely mom, Jo Ann Michaelson. (This was a year before she got married.)

My mom and her crew of kids. (There are ten years between the youngest and oldest.) She had three boys and then three girls which was pretty good planning, huh? I’m the oldest of the girls.

Sarah is giving Nathan a run for his money. It looks as though he’s in the greatest of agony.

Nathan doing home work in our RV; this is around the time Sarah was in treatment.

Nathan leaving to go back to college after a summer at home. Big ol’ mommy tears . . . (Um, the tears are big. Not the mommy.)

Sarah with Richard Petty

She was featured with The King in an article in People magazine focused on Victory Junction Gang Camp, which the Petty family founded in memory of their late son, Adam. (I originally--and inadvertently--put Kyle's name where Adam's is. Thanks, Lori, for pointing that out to me. My fingers got ahead of my brain!))

The Parson And His Flock

Big lady. Little lady. Big hair. Little hair.

Taken on the rooftop playground at Brenner Hospital where Sarah had most of her treatment.

Mom and Dad. Forever in love.

Every time I look at the way Snowy is sleeping I just have to laugh.

This was taken about six months after Sarah had finished her bone marrow transplant.

One of my favorite shots of the kids.

Okay, I know it looks like I have no hair whatsoever, but it was pulled back. Honest! The guy in the tux is Nate.

Nate and Grandpa unloading music gear at a church in Wisconsin.

And there you have it! A brief trip down memory lane.

__________________________

I also want to mention the comments (and e-mails) that I’ve received concerning my recent post, “Pearls In The Pain.”

I was so touched that you would share your stories of your own pain with me—everything from divorce, to the loss of a child, to the loss of a job, to poor health, to financial stress, to depression. I have read every word of every comment several times and am grateful to be reminded that none of is alone in what we’re going through. I was honored to read your stories and your words of support and hope.

Which reminds me of the lyric that Sue C. Smith (who I am honored to call a friend) wrote a couple years ago after being inspired by our family’s journey through Sarah’s cancer. Sue has won several Dove Awards and has written songs for many major Christian recording artists. Her skill in putting emotions into words is unparalleled.

I actually think that this song could be the Smithellaneous theme song, because we are all a part of the circle.

The Circle of the Broken

Lyrics: Sue C. Smith Music: Kevin Stokes Sung by: Becky Smith

1. We're the walking wounded, no pretending we're alright,

We meet to share the stories of the struggles in this life

And in the telling, though there are tears

Something happens here

CHO. In the circle of the broken

Where no one’s heart is whole

In the middle of the hurting

We find hope

For we call upon God’s mercy

We rest in grace

We’re all sinners, we’re all saints

When the circle of the broken prays

2. Words have offered comfort

Sometimes we’ve simply wept

And there is understanding

Though a lot is left unsaid

‘Cause in the silence, love is the bond

We know we belong (back to chorus)

Bridge

Are you desperate, grieving, filled with fear?

You are welcome, you are needed here (back to chorus)

Pearls In The Pain

A Brief Timeline of The Past Four Years of Smith Life:

2006

1. In June, Sarah had a cancer relapse. We dealt with major grief as we were reminded of the statistics that there are no long term survivors of relapsed Neuroblastoma. Her oncologist discussed with us that she may need a second bone marrow transplant. (A bone marrow transplant is one of the most stressful things on the planet.) He ended up trying chemo instead and after several months she was miraculously back in remission.

This picture was taken the night before we told her and Nathan about her relapse. I remember looking at her carefree smile and thinking, “Tomorrow your whole world will be torn apart.” And it was. She was absolutely devastated.

The oral chemo she was put on made her skin and lips extremely dry.

It was a tough time for all of us.

But it was a wonderful day when we got to tell her that she was back in remission.

2007

1. Nathan left home to go to college. Since we’re a very close family, it was a really tough adjustment to have him gone.
2. I was diagnosed with COPD (lung disease) and was told my lung capacity was at 60% of normal; I was also told I was a possible candidate for a double lung transplant down the road.
3. I had a health scare concerning my heart; after a few tests (including MRI of the heart) I found out it was a false alarm.
4. I started having severe vocal problems and underwent several tests and procedures to get to the bottom of them. I had difficulty singing (one of my great loves) and even had to go on vocal rest for awhile. The source of this problem was never discovered.

Here’s a picture of one of the tests I had. The only reason I’m smiling is that I was just posing; the wire (with the small camera attached) had not yet been inserted through my nasal cavity and down the back of my throat. It was NOT a fun experience.

2008

1. I had a cancer scare in February when I was told I had a 90-95% chance of cancer in one or both breasts. After many tests and biopsies, sleepless nights and tears, it turns out it wasn’t cancer after all. But for all a whole month, I truly believed I had breast cancer.

Waiting for my surgical biopsy.

2. Steve was diagnosed with skin cancer
3. We had major job (church)-related stress
4. Steve resigned from the church he pastored in November. We went largely unemployed for a year.

2009

1. In August, my dad passed away. We flew to Wisconsin for his last hours of life and his funeral.

2. Steve was voted into a new church in September; we commuted for two months before moving to Manteo in December.

2010

1. Sold house/bought house
2. In March, I was diagnosed with breast cancer; had a double mastectomy in April
3. I have more surgery pending in the fall

What do all of those experiences have in common?

Stress.

Stress wears many different faces but we all experience it in one form or another. And I know that there are a whole bunch of you who could write a list of your own stressors that would make mine look like a Sunday school picnic. I’m by no means saying that I’ve had it tougher than everyone else because I haven’t. Not by a long shot.

But still. Life is stressful. For everyone.

And lately, the stresses of life have been causing me to niggle around the edges of depression. I think that thrown into the mix of the stuff listed above is the fact that I’m 48-years old and might be in the early (but non-terminal) stages of a midlife crisis.

And maybe those of you who are near the same age (or at least the same season) in life can relate. Your kids are out of the nest, or at least old enough to not need you as much as they once did. You’re starting to realize that you’re not going to change the world, or discover the cure for cancer, or be the first person to go to Mars.

Your physical body is--shall we say—changing. And not for the better. Your knees ache. You’re having to wear reading glasses. (Which you swore you’d never do.) The sands of time in your hourglass figure are all sinking to the bottom. Shopping for clothes is not as fun as it once was. There are jiggles where there didn’t use to be jiggles. And joggles where there never were joggles. When you wave good-bye to friends, the bottom part of your arm keeps waving long after your friends are gone.

You’ve been married twenty or thirty years by now and have weathered some pretty tough storms. You’ve come to the unhappy (but realistic) realization that there are no perfect marriages and that the only time any couple ever rides happily into the sunset with all their problems resolved is at the movie theater. Or maybe you’re divorced. Which is one of the biggest stressors possible.

Your kids turned out to not be as perfect as you thought they might be. Because after all, what young parent doesn’t gaze at their tiny newborn and have delusions that this little child will be the first baby on the planet who will be raised perfectly by the world’s best parents. (Ha.)

The dreams you had as a college student concerning your goals for a fulfilling, well-paying, world-changing career didn’t quite come to fruition. You’re coming to realize that you’re not going to retire with a couple million in the bank account after all. In fact, your current hope is that you’ll be able to find a way to retire at all before you turn eighty.

And I could go on. And on and on.

Life can be stressful. And depressing. And disillusioning. And disappointing.

And to think it only took a blink of an eye to even get to this point.

Wasn’t it just last week when we were fifteen years old and our lives were ahead of us, full of golden promises and possibilities? When we thought that anyone over the age of thirty was ancient and out of touch? When we knew that we had all the answers?

Now it seems as though we know all the answers to the questions no one asks!

Welcome to real life. Real stress. Real pain. Real tough.

Although I would be the first to say that many times life is pleasant and fulfilling and wonderful, this particular post is written for all the times when it’s not. And it’s written for all the people who struggle just to get from one day to the next.

Because life isn’t really about fluffy dreams and pristine perfection. It’s about just showing up. Again. And again. And again. And realizing that in the grittiness of life, a few pearls are inevitably formed.

In fact, if I were to look back over the stressors that I listed at the beginning of this post, I could very easily add, “This experience was tough but it brought something special to my life. This crisis made me into a person I never would have become without it. This challenge brought into my life some wonderful people that I never would have otherwise met. This health crisis made me appreciate life a lot more. This trial helped me to feel God’s presence and comfort closer than ever before.”

Truly there are pearls in the pain. And it’s the pearls that make the gritty parts of life doable. And bearable.

What you’re going through today might be the toughest thing you’ve ever faced. Hang on. Keep showing up. Know you’re not alone.

And remember that one day you’ll hold in your hand the pearls formed in the pain.

____________________________

I’ll leave you with the lyrics to a song that I haven’t thought about in about ten years, but it came to mind again this morning as I was writing.

Life is Hard (God Is Good)
By Pamela Thum and Joel Lindsey

You turn the key
Then close the door behind you
Drop your bags on the floor
You reach for the light
But there's darkness deep inside
And you can't take it anymore

'Cause sometimes living takes the life out of you
And sometimes living is all you can do

Life is hard, the world is cold
We're barely young and then we're old
But every falling tear is always understood
Yes, life is hard, but God is good

You start to cry
'Cause you've been strong for so long
And that's not how you feel
You try to pray
But there's nothing left to say
So you just quietly kneel

In the silence of all that you face
God will give you His mercy and grace

Jesus never said
It was an easy road to travel
He only said that you would never be alone
So when your last thread of hope
Begins to come unraveled
Don't give up, He walks beside you
On this journey home and He knows

Life is hard, the world is cold
We're barely young and then we're old
But every falling tear is always understood
Yes, life is hard, but God is good