Christmas with the Hendlers

Well, we have just returend from Christmas at the Hendler house on Henry St. in East Brunswick, New Jersey. We don't have time to say too much right now (I am off to yoga in about 3 minutes), but we had a great time. We got to see Susan and David, Seth's brother Greg and his fiancee Megan, Seth's other brother Jon and his partner Brian, Brian's mother Bernice, Aunt Audrey, Seth's Aunt Marcia and Uncle Robert, family friends Rich and Marlene Leitman, and Seth's high school friends Russell and Jodi. Whew! We also had three sweet dogs among us, Della and Pip belong to Jon and Brian, and David's present this year was a new puppy, who we think will be named Zoe. David does take his time in decision making, so promised to render this decision after having several days to mull it over. So far, Zoe is the favored name. She is just 12 weeks old and absolutely sweet. Myles, as you can see, had a great time with family and gifts and doggies! More on our trip later...

Thunder Road Reflection

Here are some pictures from the Charlotte Thunder Road Marathon Greg and I ran on December 8th. Greg flew down from New Jersey to run it with me. Thunder Road was Greg's 13th marathon. Boston and NYC are among the many others he has run. We stayed in a beautiful room at the Hilton overlooking the downtown, which seems to be doubling in size with mutliple sky scrappers under construction. The hotel was right next to the starting line so we kept warm in the lobby right until the race started.

This was my first marathon so Greg set the pace and gave me all the pointers I needed to have a sucessful race (successful as in not walking the last six miles). We got through the half-way point averaging about a 7:15 pace. I was feeling great and pushed the pace a little. Greg suggested that I wait until about 18 miles to pick up the pace, that way if I hit a wall I would would be closer to the finish. Everything was going dandy until mile 19/20 when my legs felt like they were turning into stone. This happened really fast and was an amazing feeling unlike anything else I've ever experienced. Everything tightened up: my quads, hamstrings, knees, bladder and back. On top of that my arches were sore and my toes were blistered. I stoped on the side of the road for an emergency pee break and had a hard time getting back into a comfortable stride. At mile 22 I stopped to stretch my knee. I walked for about 100 feet- my first time ever walking in a race- at least that I can remember. From that point on I was shuffling to the finish singing Pour Some Sugar on Me, which was stuck in my head since mile 17 when someone had it blarring from a stereo on the street corner.

I stumbled across the finish, and a volunteer placed a medal around my neck. I gulped down about 48 oz of Powerade. I wanted to sit down, but I knew I wouldn't be able to get back up if I did so I just leaned on everything: the drink barrel, the side of a truck, the fruit table . My legs were wobbling and my feet were burning. I limped over to the beer station with Greg and got a free Michelobe Ultra. This was a bad idea. Greg finished his and I donated mine to the trash can.

We got back up to the hotel room where we laid on our beds for three hours watching Steven Segal movies on TNT . We got up to get some lunch and I drained the blisters on my feet so I could walk. We walked to an irish pub downtown and shared a plate of loaded nachos. I inhaled a plate of sheppards pie, a gin and tonic and a soda. Greg had Guinness stew and Guinness. After lunch we headed back to the hotel for more sleep and Steven Segal. Later on we trekked back downtown for dinner, but couldn't find much so went to a martini bar. We watched the Hatton-MayField pay-per-view fight and had a surprise visit from 200 30-something bar crawlers dressed up in santa and elve costumes. After the fight we hit a hot dog stand and went back to the hotel.

I drove Greg to the airport on Sunday morning and headed back to Asheville where I strung the medal around Myles' neck. I took a week off and just started back running this week. I've put in about 20 miles and feel well recovered. I'm seeing a chiropractor for my shin problem and I'm beginning to feel results. I'm already thinking about my next marathon. As much hurt as I experienced running Thunder Road I had a great time bonding with my brother and learning what running 26 miles on pavement feels like . I think with some longer training runs my body will be better prepared for next time. All this posting is to say is that I have a new found appreciation for marathon runners.

Parenting

Three things have compelled me to reflect today. The first is a friend's blog reflection on attachment in parenting, which created a small firestorm in the comments section (why is it that we lose all manners when communicating electronically? It's like we don't realize there's a real human being on the other end. Or perhaps folks have just gotten more mean-spirited over the years.) I'd put down the link so you can read my friend's wise reflections on parenting styles, but I don't know if it's good blog etiquette to share blog addresses without permission of the author. The gist of her reflection, if I might be so bold as to summarize, is that while parenting styles are important, some parents out there adopt a style so militantly that every decision they make is checked and balanced against a rule book, so to speak, of expert opinions. Paige suggests that we make decisions in consultation with our best wisdom and that our parenting style flow from that. So we might be in the "attachment parenting" camp 75% of the time, but not let it hamstring every decision we make. Or we might really believe in co-sleeping but find it just doesn't work with our little one's personality. The ability to adapt is essential in parenting...

The second is that some beloved people in my life (who shall remain unnamed) communicated with me recently about my last entry out of grave concern that my son might drown in the dog dish or toilet in which he has been splish-splashing about. Who knew? Yes, I have heard the old adage that a child can drown in an inch of water, which does make sense to me, but I always assumed that happened in the tub when a parent turned their back. We have new toilets in our home, and they are so tall and sleek I can hardly imagine Myles being able to get into the toilet. And yet watching some of the physical feats he surprises us with daily is a good reminder that what seems impossible may in fact be very possible. So I am left with the yucky feeling that I have posted what I thought was a silly story only to find out I have disclosed an instance of parenting neglect. Now I don't want to for one second sound as if I don't take my child's safety incredibly seriously, and my role as a parent in keeping him safe with the utmost responsibility. But the awful truth of parenting is that none of us are perfect. None of us are "on" 100% of the time, and we all find our children at one time or another in a compromised safety situation. Most of the time we heave a sigh of relief and thank God that the worst that could have happened did not, in fact, happen. Other times, our children get hurt. And we have to come to terms that somewhere along the line we signed up for the beloved job of being a protector of our children, a defender of their safety and welfare. It's a huge job and one that simply cannot be done perfectly. We learn, we adapt, we cry, we laugh, we thank God, and we move on to the next adventure with a newfound sense of humility (which, on our better days can be refreshing and on our worst days can be crushing).

The third thing that has prompted this wordy reflection on parenting is an incident that occurred last Sunday at the Middle School youth group event. Seth is one of the leaders, and when I arrived to retrieve him, I learned that there had been a bullying incident that got physical. As a matter of confidentiality, I won't say much more than that. Except this: in talking to and listening to the parents of each child (the one that perpetrated the bullying and the one who was the target of it), I got a good dose of the fierce mama love that makes us want to defend our children from every harm and hubris. The thought of Myles growing into an awkward teen and being bullied by others is absolutely terrifying. And yet the truth is that the world doesn't revolve around our kids. Our kids are a part of a world that is, in many ways, broken. Now that's my theology coming out, maybe you have another view. But to my thinking, our kids are going to have their hearts walked on, they will be bowled over by the injustices in a world that might seem safe to them for a time, they will inevitably let the brokenness that lurks in each of us out for a romp and come to deeply regret the damage we can do to those we love. Myles is not yet a year old, and so I don't think about this too much. Except when mediating a bullying situation at church with mothers who love their kids just like I love mine. Wise beautiful mothers who are completely stumped by the cruelty and hubris of the early teen years.

I guess we all have to come to terms with the fact that we can't protect our children from harm completely, not the way we want to. We make too many mistakes. We are preoccupied or looking the other way precisely in a moment when our kids need us most. I am not saying I'm not responsible for Myles dabbling in the toilet. I am. But I think there's an element of grace we have to afford ourselves as parents or else we are paralyzed by fear at every turn.

The amazing thing about parenting is that it's a total gift. It's a spiritual practice in the best of times and the worst of times. When I keep my eyes open, I learn a whole lot more about myself than I ever wanted to know. I am learning to offer myself some grace when I mess up, and then again I am learning that my child is grace in the flesh, this incredible sign that we so often get more than we could ever deserve. I remember after Myles was born thinking that it was a lot like falling in love. Before I fell in love, I never knew that that kind of thing was out there. You hear about it, but until it hits you, you can't even fathom its incredible highs and lows. The love of a child is a love that I never knew was out there, this completely "other" kind of love. It rocks and topples you (as Annie Dillard would say).

I'll leave you with these words from poet Kahlil Gibran: "Your children are not your children. They are the sons and the daughters of Life's longing for itself. They come through you, but not from you, and though they are with you, they belong not to you."

And if I were bold enough to think I'd receive multiple comments on this post, I'd say...please, no e-fighting folks, this is a sweet spirited space.

Week Before Christmas

I have learned that whenever I hear the sound of water splishing and splashing, it is cause for concern. The first time, a few weeks ago, Myles had crawled his way into the laundry room (post bath, in his pajamas), found Juniper's water bowl, and was happily dunking his right arm in the frothy waters. Yuck. His face was sprinkled and grinning. So we cleaned the hand and arm, wiped the face, changed the p.j.s and away to bed he went. This afternoon, he happily charged past me on another exploration. I didn't pay it too much attention, since we have liberally baby proofed the first floor and I am more vigilant than ever about making sure the baby gate is up in front of the steps. Again, I heard splish splash. And yet I vividly remembered shutting the laundry room door. I turned the corner to find him happily immersed in the toilet. Again that offending right hand, splishing and splashing as he held up the toilet seat cover with his other hand. Yuck. He's a curious and determined little guy. On another note, he tried my lentil soup this week and liked it! Good boy.

I wanted to share with all of you the good news that my dad has an appointment to consult with MD Anderson on January 4th. We are very happy that he finally has a date! And now he and my mom can settle in for their visit in Wyoming, they are out there until the 1st. For those of you who want to keep up with my dad's caring bridge website, go to:
http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/bobvoss
and click on "subscribe to journal update notification" under the "Journal" section. We appreciate all of your continued thoughts, words, and prayers...how do people do it without good friends?

We head to New Jersey on Sunday, then we will return to the mountains for a New Year's celebration with our ASP friends. One little glitch is that the Sunday closest to New Year's is one that my colleague Joe always takes off. So I am usually "on." This year I am not preaching, which I am grateful for (don't get me wrong, I love to preach, but it's a bit much coming out of the holidays), but I will be leading service. So that means I can't get to the cabin on Saturday as Seth would like. But two days is better than one, the glass is half full...anyhow we are looking forward to seeing longtime friends, new babies, and Seth's incredible moves on the dance floor.

Mylie Coyote

In an effort to take more responsibility for the photographic documentation of family life, I whipped out the camera several times today. Seth knows of my phobia of all things high-tech, and has recently accused me of leaving all the picture taking to him. It's true I can be a little lazy when it comes to this, but I'm so not lazy in every other area of life that I've just dealt with his complaints with a shrug of the shoulders. What has propelled me into a newfound appreciation of our camera is that Myles is too cute, I can't stand to not share it! So here are some photos I took of him busy looking at his reflection in the oven with a wooden spoon to gum. Notice the two new teeth that have popped through on the bottom! The photo of him by the couch is my attempt to catch him using his animal puzzle pieces as psuedo-pacis. He pulls out his pacifier, pops in the puzzle piece and happily sucks away.

Then there's Seth's icy beard. He went for a run today in sub zero conditions (or at least that's how it felt) and returned with an icy winter beard. Yes, he ran in shorts. I can't stand it! But he's trying to brave the winter blast we've had down here so that he can keep up with his brother next week when we travel to snowy New Jersey.

Not much else is new since yesterday, so I'll let you enjoy the photos without blabbing on too much. Tonight I'll be baking some cookies and getting some cards done.

Christmas at the Voss Home

On Friday, we headed over to my folks' house so we could celebrate Christmas early with my brother's family and my parents. Myles was a little bewildered by all the activity around him, but very interested in several of his new toys. He got some great stuff!! We put together his new wooden trike that sits very low to the ground when we got home, and he has been enjoying occasional laps around the house with one of us pushing. Maybe soon he'll get the idea of using his legs to make it go...

The new games were a hit with Seth, and we played bananagrams after all was cleaned up on Saturday night. I must say, I schooled the competition with my swift wit and clever cunning.

Sawyer, the youngest one present, was quiet as a little lamb and peacefully sweet. I got to hold him and recall what it was like when Myles was so small and immobile.

Of course, it was great to see my dad, who looked great and seemed to be feeling well. He got a stylin new hat for his bald head from Irene and Corey. With my dad being sick this year, it's an opportunity for all of us to remember what's important in life, and what's not. A refreshing reminder, this time of year. My mom cooked us a great meal, and we all heaved a sigh of contentment when it was over. Seth ate two of the Omaha steaks sent by my Grandma Voss in Michigan. I feasted on salad, cranberries, mashed potatoes, asparagus, and bread. We hit the road very early on Sunday in order to make it back to Asheville in time for me to get to Sunday school. I'm coteaching the confirmation class for middle schoolers this year.

We are looking forward to our trip to New Jersey on Sunday...

That's What I'm Talkin About...

I wanted to share some photos of my newest, lovely nephew Finnian James Schaffer. He is pictured here with his large and in charge father (Brian), and his older brother, Kaleb. My sister and her boys! Finn is nursing well, gaining weight, and loving life in the moby wrap, a sling that is especially good with newborns. My sister is sleep deprived and I know we all wish we could be out there to help her cook, clean, and care for the boys. My folks are planning to go out in a week, assuming they do not get an appointment scheduled before then to consult with MD Anderson.
I am pleased and proud to report that Seth finished his first marathon on Saturday with his brother, Greg, in Charlotte. The competitive runner in him is coming out, as I hear him say, "If I had to do it over again, I would do longer runs on the weekends during training." I can't imagine running 6 miles, let alone 26.whatever. Anyhow, Seth got to mile 17 and started to get a little concerned. At mile 19 his legs suddenly turned leaden. The last 6 miles were excruciating with every step. Wounds include a blood blister and the loss of his toenail on his baby toe. He limped home on Sunday. They finished in 3 hours and 33 minutes. Seth said they started out running 7.5 minute miles, but the race really got him those last 6 miles and he said he ran slower than I walk. (When he demonstrated his stride those last few miles, however, it was twice as fast as my normal running pace). So we are really proud of him. Myles took a liking to the medal that Seth brought home (I think all participants get one, as well they should). I think he has it in his blood to do another, but we'll have to bide our time. It's an expensive little enterprise, once you've paid for the race registration, the travel and meals, the time away from family...but I do see another marathon in his future, no doubt.

Tonight we had a memorial service at church for a 19 year old named Heather who died last Monday. Heather was born profoundly developmentally disabled, and the doctors did not think she would live past 3 years old. She was adopted by a family that just recently joined our church, and the service was absolutely beautiful. All kinds of folks came, several in wheelchairs. I was reminded of when I worked in a group home for autistic, developmentally disabled adults when I first moved to Asheville. It's such intimate work, caring for folks in every way possible. And yet it really shifts your view of the world, opens your eyes to new things, deepens your sense of humor and inevitably humbles you. I always said I would be a better mama some day because of my short stint caring for the men on Ora Street, and I daresay that I am. The stories told about Heather, about the gleam in her eyes and the way her spirit could fill up the room (though she never weighed more than 35 lbs) were heartbreakingly beautiful. After the service we went outside and released 19 balloons, each representing a year of Heather's life, and watched them fly away. I came home to a marvelous mushroom risotto that Seth thoughtfully prepared, and now I'm headed for bed.

Myles is into everything. He has learned how to turn the light on and off with the light switch, he knows how to scale the stairs, he methodically opens cabinets and empties them of their contents, as well as our cd and bookcases. He leaves piles in his wake and crawls on to the next adventure. He loves to stand up, but is not yet making much attempt at walking. He has become impossible to dress. I put him in his crib so he can only move so far as I'm yanking things over his head. Is it possible that he's gotten cuter??? Today I had to pick up a Christmas gift, and when we got to the store he was asleep. I woke him up gently and he was in this ultra chill mood as we shopped, his cheeks were bright red as they always are after he gets up from a nap, and he was just as sweet and beautiful as a little angel. I'll post some sweet photos that Seth took later this week.

News About my Dad

On Sunday afternoon, my mom called. The tone of her voice tipped me off to the fact that my dad's scan did not show the results we'd been hoping for. Although they did not meet with the oncologist until Tuesday, my brother had looked at the scan and delivered the news that my dad's cancer had doubled in size during the last three months of chemo. Unless you've been there, I can't begin to explain the weight of words like these.

On Tuesday, they met with the oncologist. Together, they decided that the next step will be to schedule a consultation at MD Anderson, a huge cancer research hospital in Houston. Based on this consultation, my folks will decide whether to proceed with a clinical trial treatment that might be available at MD Anderson, or to do in-hospital chemo in TN which will require my dad to be in the hospital for 5 days every 3 weeks. The oncologist recommended that my dad wait no longer than 2 months to begin another treatment of some kind, given the growth of the cancer.

The good news, I've been told, is that the cancer has not invaded an organ. It remains in the lymph nodes. And of course we don't know what good things MD Anderson might have to offer.
Our Christmas plans (on the Voss side) are on hold for now, until the consultation is scheduled...

Please continue to keep my family in your thoughts and prayers. Along with my parents, I am grateful that God can offer a peace that passes all understanding even in the midst of difficult times. Do not be troubled and do not be afraid, we are often told in the gospel.

It's the season of Advent, which means that we anticipate the birth of Jesus, we wait for the new thing that God will do among us. Last year at this time, the word cancer was not on our lips, and I was hugely pregnant with Myles, waiting with lots of joy and anticipation. The waiting this year is very different, but I know that with God nothing is impossible. And I'm grateful at least for that.

Mylestones

A few mylestones to let you know how the boy is...
He popped two teeth in the last week on the bottom.
He pulls himself up to standing on just about anything.
He can eat more food in a sitting than can possibly fit in that little belly of his, we're not sure where he hides it!
We think that he said "doggie" as his first word at GG's house (Great Grandma Voss) when staring at her ceramic statue of a boxer. We also think he's said "book." To the amatuer, however, it may simply sound like babble.
He loves to drink water out of a cup like a "biggie boy." (An expression I never imagined myself using so readily in my pre-baby days). He's a food grabber, so watch your plate at all times! Bath time is an endless crawling parade back and forth in the long tub with duckie in hand or mouth. He loves the Advent calendar, with each day producing a new "ornament" for the Advent evergreen tree. When sleepy, he will occasionally snuggle into my neck and lay his head on my shoulder. Full of sweetness, this one.