It’s been difficult to write. It’s hard to come here with what is honest. These photos show some joy and normalcy in the storm. Please know these moments exist too.
In the past few weeks Elsa turned 9. She was supported and loved by so many people. Friends hosted her party, grandparents came, the sun shone and Andy was able to make it to celebrate with her for a couple of hours. She is a glorious girl whose light shines for us even in dark times. We rest in the fact that her spark will illuminate her own path as she grows through all that is beautiful and hard in this life.
And the last month has been full of dedicated play practice for our two. Daily they have gone to Viroqua with a kind and loving friend to put in hours on the stage readying for the big weekend, which is now. I have not seen a wink of it all aside from a few photos sent by friends. I hope to attend the final performance this afternoon to support these hardworking actors!
Andy and I stay home each day. Hours are filled with chores and naps and visits from many friends and family. As you might imagine some days (and nights) are harder than others. We work daily to manage Andy’s discomfort, to provide him restful spaces, to temper our grief by staying in each moment. Andy is on oxygen to help with his breathing, he takes pain medication around the clock, he struggles to eat well, and sleep well and often feels restless. He continues to receive immunotherapy treatment at Mayo, with a scan coming up again in a few weeks. We are unsure what that will bring. We have frequent and difficult conversations with each other, with the girls, with our parents and friends. These conversations bring clarity and relief and loads of sadness.
We have no idea how to do this. We fumble through with as much strength and grace as we can muster. Sometimes that looks like these photos and sometimes it looks like a gaping big hole of darkness. We are not alone though. Not by a long shot. Everyday we are surrounded by the love and support of this dearest community. There is always food in our fridge, someone to stay the night if we need, rides everywhere for the girls, lawn mowed, shoulders to cry on and plenty of moments of light and laughter too.
We’ve made a bed on the porch for Andy and he spends hours outdoors soaking in the beauty of this amazing life. Because, like every spring, the bobolinks and wrens fill the mornings with their persistent songs, the apples burst forth with blooms and bees and hummingbirds, and the fresh promise of nature’s renewal fills us with hope.
Yesterday while I was in the living room working, the kids called out that a package had arrived in the mail. It was long and slender with a return address of “The Goofballs at the Kickapoo Valley Reserve”. We were intrigued. When we opened it up we found a photo poster depicting the images above. There were some tears. Here’s the story as I know it.
On a January afternoon a couple of weeks ago, a bunch of our Kickapoo friends trekked out to one of our favorite places on earth to show our family some Kickapoo Love. They all wore red, they stomped hearts in the snow, they held up letters of love and they even found a guy with a drone to capture it all. I’m sure there was plenty of laughter and fun. Can’t you feel it? We sure can!
Even when the world seems dark and scary there are people out there holding up the light for you. Giving you strength and confidence to carry on. We feel the love from that little valley flowing like the river right here to the city of Miami. Filling us up, carrying us along. We miss you all and can’t wait to come home.
Cheers.
with photo credit to Jackie Yocum and Garick Olerud
The doctor’s decided to give Andy a week off the trial medications to see if his kidney function numbers would come back down. After about two days off, he was feeling much better (and his numbers were coming down) and our friends arrived! It was good timing, Andy had energy and a dose of home, laughter, and friendship was just what we needed to lift our spirits.
Summer is so gorgeous. Sometimes I think I love the mornings most, with the fresh dew sparkling in the morning light, the flowers in full bloom by 5:30, the air full of bird song, the otherwise quiet cool. But then sometimes I think I love the evenings best when the moisture descends into the valleys and the shadows make everything green in a new way. Sometimes I think I couldn’t love this place more. And then I do. We are so lucky.
We spent a weekend in the Twin Cities recently with friends and family. An annual retreat for us to city and poolside. Always such a pleasure and always so good to come home to this lush country.
Andy built a new screen door for us this week out of butternut boards he had milled from a tree that came down in my dad’s neighborhood. It turned out really lovely.
Tuesday we head to Mayo again for two days of testing and discussion. Maybe we’ll decide what’s next, maybe we won’t. It really couldn’t be more unknown right now.
And then maybe best of all, when Nina and Poppy headed home for Minneapolis they left little Phinn behind so he can try out being a farm dog. The girls are smitten. Aside from chasing the cats he is doing great, and even though he’s not big and floppy (and I’ll eventually need one of those), I have to say I’m warming up to him. 
A weekend full of celebration. Grandparents and good friends from near and far, plenty of cake and a “baby” party.
Another journey around the sun. Ten. It’s hard to believe. Full of grace and love, her nurturing spirit takes her weekly, to the humane society to care for homeless pets, to watch over young friends, to make clothes for her sweet baby dolls.
She’s no longer a little kid. We see clearly the young girl, the young women she will become. Of course is seem like yesterday she was a tiny thing nestled in our arms.
We know how fast the time goes and we will soak up every moment as we have done til now. We are so lucky to stand by the side of this sweet friend and sister, this caring soul who loves and nurtures the world so deeply.
Happy 10th Birthday, Iris. We love you.
Oh Big Lake. We can’t go a summer without you. We even took the old pooch and she swam and dug in the sand and had a grand old time.
Before we hit Superior we joined friends to paddle the Brule (and that was extra lovely-so clear!) and the girls had a great time playing with their friends, eating loads of s’mores and building the classic mossy/ferny fairy forts.
Elsa caught her first fish and couldn’t stop begging for more. They were all too little to keep but she was determined to catch one she could “roast”. Maybe next time.
It was good to get away, to laugh, sit around the fire, snuggle in sleeping bags, and get every pair of socks and pants wet and grimy. We soaked in every minute and literally dragged ourselves away at the end. It’s hard to come back knowing we are closing in on fall. In another month Andy will have a scan again and we’ll know something else. I think we are both trying to stretch the moments long enough to forget about that right now. Mostly it works. The days are bright and beautiful and we watch them unfold with an understanding of time and love that still feels new.
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