2 months have passed!

This is the longest we've gone without posting to the blog.  I think we can be thankful about that.  I've looked back over the history of our blog, and watched the posting frequency change as the immediacy of our situation has eased.  We can give thanks for that.

Not that we haven't been busy, or that life hasn't changed much over the past two months.  Since our "sushi post," as friends have come to refer to it, Caleb has turned 6, we have ripped out the interior walls of our main floor, applied insulation, and installed a new kitchen.  And torn down a wall, replacing it with a beam.  It's been dusty.

We took advantage of the Home Energy Grants offered by the government--before they quickly and quietly ended the program--and did a Home Energy Audit.  Being a 1920's home, I think we got an F in efficiency.  No insulation makes a big difference.  As does an oil burning furnace.  Much has changed in two months. 

Most of the work took place over a week in February.  Tim and I planned it that I would take a week's vacation to get the kids out of the house, and he would stay at home and work each day.  Somehow we thought a week was enough time for him to get this done.  Why do we think things like that? 

Thankfully, we are not alone.  The community of our church, New Hope, came to our rescue and carried us through the week.  On demo day, February 18, Tim had approximately 15 different people come to help him for either the whole day or part of the day.  We are speechless at the offering of time that people have given.  Another few friends came each day during the week to help Tim, giving of their free time to slave away on insulation and kitchen installation.  People would come for a stage in the process, offering their particular area of strength, and then someone else would come for a different part.  It was never planned, just somehow it all worked.  We even had a few meals dropped off at just the right moments.  Hanging drywall, mudding, sanding, assembling cabinets, hanging cabinets, building glass block windows--all of this was done with the help of our community.

My sister has referred to their new Sprinter van as "Everybody's Van."  Our kitchen, our house, feel like "Everybody's House" through the gift of time and talents given here.  My hope is that we can honour everyone's gift to us by using it to bless people in turn as we have been so blessed. 

Our kitchen, with it's 1920's charm.

Demolition Day

Dusty!  The flash reflects of the plaster dust in the air.  Good thing one person wore a mask.

Nella wishes we had left the walls purple.

Assembling cabinets

Ta-da!  Finishing touches still waiting to be done, but we have a new kitchen!

The kids love the new kitchen, especially all the extra counterspace.

In other news, we now have our "last chemo" date.  July 23 is to be the final dose of chemo for Caleb!  It can't come soon enough!  Caleb has been having a harder time with chemo lately, experiencing nausea and achiness like he has not had before.  We have some new meds for him to help him cope with this, which seem to help.  The new med tastes gross, though, nearly making him throw up just to take it.  Ah, the contradictions of cancer and chemotherapy continue.  We are thankful that each test continues to confirm that he is cancer-free, and we pray for these same results to continue past his chemo.  It's hard to imagine what it will be like when we don't have weekly visits.  I think it might be difficult at first, although we'll be happy chemo is done, we'll be out of the regular routine of testing.  I think that may increase our anxiety for a bit.  However, family after family have done this before us, so we can do it too. 

My Uncle Jerry (my Dad's brother) is scheduled to go for a stem cell transplant this Wednesday.  Uncle Jerry's been struggling with MDS--sometimes called a "pre-leukemia"--for some time now.  We are praying that the transplant will go ahead without any more delays for illness, and that his body will readily accept the donor cells. 

I ran into a relative at the 3F clinic a few weeks back as well, also on my dad's side.  His name is Austin Huinink.  Austin's family have started looking for a bone marrow donor for Austin as he's living with Aplastic Anemia that has worsened recently.  I don't see them often, because we don't have the same chemo day, but if you think of it, pray for them too.

I don't get a lot of time to think these days, between working full time, housing renovations, and pouring as much as I can into my family.  It's hard to have time to process.  A window into my head?.... I've been thinking lately about how we stand in the face of darkness, of bleakness, and looming despair.  Something in me gets angry when I see how we struggle with cancer, and with loneliness, and with addictions, and loss, and uncertainty.  It's an anger that makes me want to shout light into its depth and stubbornly refuse the darkness.  I will not give up hope.  The light shines into the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.   I hope we can feel those standing with us, and experience the strength God can give us to stand and shout.  Sometimes I swear, sometimes I sing.  And it gets easier, and louder, when we can do that together.

Thank you. You help make it easier.