Sunday, April 6, 2014
Four Years Later
It's now been almost four years since Haley went to Africa. A lot of life has happened since that time, and scrapbooking all those African pictures that she took has not happened. In an effort to wrap up this blog, now seems like the perfect time to include them! Enjoy!
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Four Months Later
Four months have passed since Haley arrived home from her two-month missions trip to Africa this past summer, and so much has happened. The last blog entry here told of Harris's dad's passing, but then two weeks after that, Heath was diagnosed with a brain tumor, and a whole new blog was started: http://www.westerkamp-family.blogspot.com/. Everyone's focus has kind of shifted towards Heath, and in the meantime, our daughter Haley has been left to process a lot of emotions on her own. She was thrown right into her role as one of the swim team captains and then started her senior year of high school just 10 days after arriving back on American soil.
Probably a couple months ago already, she decided she was going to make one of those paper chains so she could take off a ring per day and thereby count down her last days of high school. All she really had to go back to school for was gym and one more class, so her plan for a long time already has been to graduate early in December. Many people, including her friends, seemed bothered by her decision to do that, and she was baffled why so many people would look at her funny or try and convince her that she would regret it later and that she should just enjoy these last few months in high school. It took some time and some confident assurances from us, but she finally came to grips with the fact that if she and we were all okay with her decision, then that was just okay, and she no longer needed to be bothered by the fact that everyone else seemed to be bothered.
What made it harder was when everyone would ask her what she was going to do once she was done, she really didn't know for sure. That made her decision sound even more crazy! She just knew she needed some down time, some carefree time to go visit some family, and more time spent with God than what she was getting. She knew she had two jobs that she planned to fall back on, and she knew she would finally have some time to think about college or future ministry plans or whatever. Heath has been going to a school on a sweet scholarship program, and once it came to light that she could do the same next fall, the decision was made very easily in her mind that she would do that too. Even if she goes there for a while and gets some of her general education classes out of the way for free, she will give herself some time to contemplate her next move in life.
Lately we've all been reminded every day of her countdown, and she quite often will share that fact with the utmost amount of joy, exuberance, delight, loudness, and the most uninhibited enthusiasm as only Haley can do! She's always been our most flamboyant child, but she has just been over the top in excitement lately. However, if she hasn't been in that realm, she's been the most aggravated, irritable, and impatient human being to be walking around the house, and it seems as though there hasn't been much even-keeled attitude in her for a while. It's caused more arguments than usual, and we've had a really hard time just connecting on some of the normal things in life.
In my mind, part of it was just chalked off to all the other stressors going on around here in the last couple months, but for the last couple weeks, it seemed to be getting worse, so I've been more diligently praying for insight and wisdom on the matter. Any attempt by me to help her even out seemed pointless, and last Thursday night we clashed again big time. Afterwards, God reminded me of a time when she and I had gone out to a restaurant together and that she had just opened up and talked and talked about everything on her heart in that environment. I sensed that my prayer for wisdom was being answered in that moment, and I started looking for a way to make that happen again.
Saturday night after coming home from hanging out with her group of friends, who happen to be an awesome, stable part of her life, the house was quiet and peaceful, and I asked her if she would consider going to something at church with me on Sunday night and then maybe we could go grab something to eat afterwards. She picked up on it right away that I was just wanting to have a big talk with her, and before we knew it, we were sitting here having a major discussion in the living room. It all started with me asking her why she seemed to be at such extremes lately and what was really bothering her, and her immediate response was, "School."
Before Africa she was our child who took her studies most seriously, but this fall we have seen the most careless and disinterested attitude towards her studies that we've ever seen. One class in particular has been very difficult for her, and it took a great amount of coaxing to get her to ask the teacher for some help, and that is not like her at all. She shared with me that she really could care less because she knows she'll still qualify for the free tuition next fall, she thinks that sitting in Spanish class will never help her long-term because she has no desire to ever minister in Mexico, playing dodgeball in gym for 90 minutes is dumb, and Office Aid is just a waste of her time because all she's doing is running notes around the school to help out the staff.
She also shared with me that she's just really, really tired of hearing all the pathetic stories of what people are doing on the weekends. "I don't want to know where kids are getting their drugs or where the parties are or who's having sex with who. No one shares my morals and my values, and I just can't stand being around that anymore."
After listening to her rant for a while, I quietly said, "May I share an observation?"
"Sure."
I said, "Let me guess. Your heart lies somewhere between here and Africa, and you have no idea where it should end up. You know you're a homebody, but you know your heart aches for those orphans and child soldiers there. You know you'd like to go help them, but you don't know when or how or for how long. You're all of a sudden going to be given your freedom from high school, and you're just not sure what that's supposed to look like. You're not sure if going to school for psychology will be your thing or not. You know you want to get married someday, but you have no idea when that will happen and to whom. You just have this big ball of emotions fighting with each other on the inside, and you don't know what to do with them all."
As I was talking, her tears started to trickle down and then started flowing. Only because of God's guidance in my spirit was I really able to pinpoint every area of frustration for her, and she was floored and amazed at how well I really knew her and ended up feeling relieved by it. Someone was finally able to understand what all was going on inside of her and talk with her about it. We were able to move into a peaceful and sweet time of conversation.
She said, "Mom, no one understands! No one! I'm so tired of people thinking they have it so badly. I'm sitting on a couch, for Pete's sake. I'm sitting in a warm home with people who love me. I have everything I need. There are children in Africa who are chewing SAND and running over pieces of broken glass without shoes on, but they are happy! They have nothing, and we have everything! I'm so tired of people grumbling about what they have to wear or not getting along with their parents. I just don't get it."
Our church recently had messages on tithing and giving, and we are in the midst of a capital campaign, so these thoughts came out of her mouth: "I don't understand why we should be giving to our local church so we can build a gym. We have so many churches here, and they would give anything to meet in a tiny fraction of our building. I just don't get it, Mom."
"I don't know why I have such a heart for Africa. I don't get it! I love being at home here with my family, but I just know I need to help those child soldiers in Sierra Leone or Uganda. Maybe I'm supposed to live with a family over there and help them. I know it's a scary place and tons of horrid things happen there every single day, but I just don't know why I feel I have to go there sometime."
Then the crux of the matter: "Mom, when I was over there, we had an hour every morning with God where all we did was spend time in the Word, worship, and pray. Then we'd go out on ministry all day and then come home where we would have a worship service under the African stars and hang out with everyone that had the same love for Africa, the same love for Jesus, and the same mindset all the time! Here we're all just busy all the time, and even though my intentions are good, I just can't find the time in my schedule to do that. Life is so simple there, and we just go around doing all these stupid things that don't even matter."
So much truth coming out of my 18-year-old's mouth.
Finally all we could do was talk about how to best utilize the next eight months of her life. Take time for peace and solitude. Take time to process what happened there and what goes on here and then figure out how to be content wherever she is. Take time to slow down a little and enjoy life. Take time to read the Word, study, and pray. Take time to be still and listen to what God may be saying.
I think that's probably a really good idea for everyone.
Probably a couple months ago already, she decided she was going to make one of those paper chains so she could take off a ring per day and thereby count down her last days of high school. All she really had to go back to school for was gym and one more class, so her plan for a long time already has been to graduate early in December. Many people, including her friends, seemed bothered by her decision to do that, and she was baffled why so many people would look at her funny or try and convince her that she would regret it later and that she should just enjoy these last few months in high school. It took some time and some confident assurances from us, but she finally came to grips with the fact that if she and we were all okay with her decision, then that was just okay, and she no longer needed to be bothered by the fact that everyone else seemed to be bothered.
What made it harder was when everyone would ask her what she was going to do once she was done, she really didn't know for sure. That made her decision sound even more crazy! She just knew she needed some down time, some carefree time to go visit some family, and more time spent with God than what she was getting. She knew she had two jobs that she planned to fall back on, and she knew she would finally have some time to think about college or future ministry plans or whatever. Heath has been going to a school on a sweet scholarship program, and once it came to light that she could do the same next fall, the decision was made very easily in her mind that she would do that too. Even if she goes there for a while and gets some of her general education classes out of the way for free, she will give herself some time to contemplate her next move in life.
Lately we've all been reminded every day of her countdown, and she quite often will share that fact with the utmost amount of joy, exuberance, delight, loudness, and the most uninhibited enthusiasm as only Haley can do! She's always been our most flamboyant child, but she has just been over the top in excitement lately. However, if she hasn't been in that realm, she's been the most aggravated, irritable, and impatient human being to be walking around the house, and it seems as though there hasn't been much even-keeled attitude in her for a while. It's caused more arguments than usual, and we've had a really hard time just connecting on some of the normal things in life.
In my mind, part of it was just chalked off to all the other stressors going on around here in the last couple months, but for the last couple weeks, it seemed to be getting worse, so I've been more diligently praying for insight and wisdom on the matter. Any attempt by me to help her even out seemed pointless, and last Thursday night we clashed again big time. Afterwards, God reminded me of a time when she and I had gone out to a restaurant together and that she had just opened up and talked and talked about everything on her heart in that environment. I sensed that my prayer for wisdom was being answered in that moment, and I started looking for a way to make that happen again.
Saturday night after coming home from hanging out with her group of friends, who happen to be an awesome, stable part of her life, the house was quiet and peaceful, and I asked her if she would consider going to something at church with me on Sunday night and then maybe we could go grab something to eat afterwards. She picked up on it right away that I was just wanting to have a big talk with her, and before we knew it, we were sitting here having a major discussion in the living room. It all started with me asking her why she seemed to be at such extremes lately and what was really bothering her, and her immediate response was, "School."
Before Africa she was our child who took her studies most seriously, but this fall we have seen the most careless and disinterested attitude towards her studies that we've ever seen. One class in particular has been very difficult for her, and it took a great amount of coaxing to get her to ask the teacher for some help, and that is not like her at all. She shared with me that she really could care less because she knows she'll still qualify for the free tuition next fall, she thinks that sitting in Spanish class will never help her long-term because she has no desire to ever minister in Mexico, playing dodgeball in gym for 90 minutes is dumb, and Office Aid is just a waste of her time because all she's doing is running notes around the school to help out the staff.
She also shared with me that she's just really, really tired of hearing all the pathetic stories of what people are doing on the weekends. "I don't want to know where kids are getting their drugs or where the parties are or who's having sex with who. No one shares my morals and my values, and I just can't stand being around that anymore."
After listening to her rant for a while, I quietly said, "May I share an observation?"
"Sure."
I said, "Let me guess. Your heart lies somewhere between here and Africa, and you have no idea where it should end up. You know you're a homebody, but you know your heart aches for those orphans and child soldiers there. You know you'd like to go help them, but you don't know when or how or for how long. You're all of a sudden going to be given your freedom from high school, and you're just not sure what that's supposed to look like. You're not sure if going to school for psychology will be your thing or not. You know you want to get married someday, but you have no idea when that will happen and to whom. You just have this big ball of emotions fighting with each other on the inside, and you don't know what to do with them all."
As I was talking, her tears started to trickle down and then started flowing. Only because of God's guidance in my spirit was I really able to pinpoint every area of frustration for her, and she was floored and amazed at how well I really knew her and ended up feeling relieved by it. Someone was finally able to understand what all was going on inside of her and talk with her about it. We were able to move into a peaceful and sweet time of conversation.
She said, "Mom, no one understands! No one! I'm so tired of people thinking they have it so badly. I'm sitting on a couch, for Pete's sake. I'm sitting in a warm home with people who love me. I have everything I need. There are children in Africa who are chewing SAND and running over pieces of broken glass without shoes on, but they are happy! They have nothing, and we have everything! I'm so tired of people grumbling about what they have to wear or not getting along with their parents. I just don't get it."
Our church recently had messages on tithing and giving, and we are in the midst of a capital campaign, so these thoughts came out of her mouth: "I don't understand why we should be giving to our local church so we can build a gym. We have so many churches here, and they would give anything to meet in a tiny fraction of our building. I just don't get it, Mom."
"I don't know why I have such a heart for Africa. I don't get it! I love being at home here with my family, but I just know I need to help those child soldiers in Sierra Leone or Uganda. Maybe I'm supposed to live with a family over there and help them. I know it's a scary place and tons of horrid things happen there every single day, but I just don't know why I feel I have to go there sometime."
Then the crux of the matter: "Mom, when I was over there, we had an hour every morning with God where all we did was spend time in the Word, worship, and pray. Then we'd go out on ministry all day and then come home where we would have a worship service under the African stars and hang out with everyone that had the same love for Africa, the same love for Jesus, and the same mindset all the time! Here we're all just busy all the time, and even though my intentions are good, I just can't find the time in my schedule to do that. Life is so simple there, and we just go around doing all these stupid things that don't even matter."
So much truth coming out of my 18-year-old's mouth.
Finally all we could do was talk about how to best utilize the next eight months of her life. Take time for peace and solitude. Take time to process what happened there and what goes on here and then figure out how to be content wherever she is. Take time to slow down a little and enjoy life. Take time to read the Word, study, and pray. Take time to be still and listen to what God may be saying.
I think that's probably a really good idea for everyone.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Replacing the African Daisy
Three weeks ago today, we woke up to one of those early-morning phone calls that are never fun to receive. It was Harris's mom, Bonnie, telling us that the ambulance had taken Harris's dad, Howard, to the hospital at 5:30 that morning after a difficult night of pain and not being able to breathe very well. We spent the next couple of days learning that in addition to his prostate cancer, he was now dealing with a heart that had gone out of rhythm, an infection in his blood, some pneumonia, and the need for insulin and morphine and breathing treatments. He was a very sick man.
Harris and his brother, Vance, headed there Friday morning, and Stephanie and I and all the kids left on Saturday so we could all be there together. We had no idea what we were in for, but amazingly enough, we were able to enjoy a wonderful weekend together as a family despite his condition. He was able to converse with us pretty normally, which was wonderful. A couple weeks prior to all of this, he had decided to give his three boys each a gift from his Pella MotorWorks business, so they were having fun with their new toys . . .
Because of his love for guns, he had placed a special order for gold-plated rifles to be sequentially made and numbered for each of his grandsons. The guys picked them up and took them to Pella so Grandpa could give them to the boys, but because we couldn't cause a raucous in the hospital, Grandpa wasn't able to give them to the boys himself. We decided to have a little photo shoot outside Bryce's home, and pictures were brought to Grandpa instead.
After the whole family gathered around him in the ICU on Sunday afternoon and demolished a tub of ice cream together, we had a very tearful good-bye. None of us knew whether he would ever go back home to the farm or if that would be our last time of seeing him.
Months ago, Harris and I had stepped out in total faith and booked an Alaskan cruise to celebrate our 25th wedding anniversary. It was something we had wanted to do for our 20th already, but life always had a way of interfering with our dream. Finally, we were at a point that we just knew how desperately we needed a vacation away together, so we just booked it and trusted that it would all work out. Harris's dad had been sick with cancer for three years already, so what were the chances that his health would interfere now any more than it already had?
Because his dad was in the hospital, we really struggled with whether or not it would be wise to leave in a week as planned. Two weeks ago today, I had a conversation in the morning with Harris's mom, and we found out that the doctor had told them he would be here less than six months. We all felt as though that was a pretty safe answer on the doctor's part, but when she told me that he was being transferred to Hospice care that night, I just knew in my heart that meant our trip was going to need to be canceled. Harris was out of town that day, and the dread of telling him my gut instinct was about more than I could handle. However, my sister-in-law and I decided that maybe, just maybe, it would be wise to call the doctor and see if he could give us any more of an educated opinion on what he thought we should do rather than go on the emotionally driven, uneducated gut feeling I was going on.
After a long conversation with the nurse, I was pleasantly surprised to receive a phone call from the doctor around 5:30 that evening. We agreed up front that neither of us could possibly know what God's plan for Howard's life was, but after talking through our predicament, he advised me that he thought we should go, that Howard would want us to go, and that he really felt from his 20 years of experience that Howard would be around for another month and a half. He is a trusted Christian family doctor who we've all grown to love and appreciate, so to receive his blessing on proceeding with our plans was enough of a relief to just move into serious preparation mode. He agreed to call me up until 5 a.m. on Sunday, departure time, if he had any second thoughts, and we just continued to pray that all would be well. We knew that if we didn't go and he lived a lot longer, we would always regret not going. Harris made plans to be with his dad on Friday and Saturday while I finalized a whole lot of details on this end.
Sunday morning our kids took us to the airport.
We flew from Moline to Atlanta to Seattle. We captured this beautiful picture of Mt. Rainier from our plane window . . .
Some dear friends from newlywed days picked us up from the airport, and they gave us the royal treatment for the next 48 hours.
Not only did they share their home and food with us, but they spent time sharing their lives and their part of the country with us.
While they were taking us to the ship on Tuesday afternoon, I asked Harris if he wanted to call his folks before we got on the ship, and he told me that he already had a brief conversation with both of them. His dad told Harris he was okay, but he wasn't real talkative. We found out later that it was probably one of the last coherent conversations that he had.
We proceeded to get on the Carnival Spirit . . .
The next 24 hours were sheer bliss. Together, just the two of us, we enjoyed our final sights of Seattle . . .
. . . we enjoyed our room that had been recently updated from interior to balcony for a ridiculously low additional fee . . .
. . . and we just enjoyed the amenities of the ship, hanging out together, and relaxing.
We had gotten a text Wednesday morning telling us that Harris's dad had not had a very good night, that he was very cold, didn't want to take his meds, and was sleeping a whole lot. We knew that wasn't great news, but when we got back to our room after a late afternoon lunch and some peaceful lingering over a cup of hot chocolate, we had another text from Steph saying, "Please call right away." We knew that wasn't a good sign at all. We were able to call her on my cell phone and found out that Harris's dad at the age of 69 had just passed away very peacefully in the middle of a breathing treatment at 6:15 p.m. CST on Wednesday, September 8, 2010.
The next 24 hours were anything but sheer bliss. We picked ourselves up and walked through the formally dressed crowd who had gathered for the Captain's Gala and found ourselves explaining our circumstances to the kind people at the Guest Services desk. They asked us to come into their office behind closed doors and proceeded to contact Carnival's insurance provider for us, made flight arrangements with us, offered us bottles of water and free unlimited use of their phone and anything else we needed, and just very graciously and lovingly cared for us for the next little while. Thankfully we had paid for the trip insurance coverage when we booked the cruise, or this fiasco would have been much worse. We have no idea yet how everything will play out financially, but we're trusting God will cover all the bases.
We went back to our room and decided that instead of sitting in there and wasting away our last night on the ship, which happened to be the most formal night in the dining room, we would throw on some dress clothes that really could have benefitted from some ironing and make the most out of it anyway. The seating line was rather long, so rather than stand there uncomfortably, I marched right up to the hostess, explained our situation, and she had someone whisk us away to a nice table for two. Harris enjoyed every bit of shrimp and lobster he could get his hands on.
Our moods were down, conversation was sparse, and tears started coming before dessert made its way to the table, so we ended up leaving early.
When the sun set, there was still just water surrounding us . . .
The next morning I wasn't sleeping very well, so I ended up putting on some jeans and a coat and made my way to the front of the ship so I could enjoy the Alaskan mountains on both sides of us and the sunrise. I ended up going back to the room and dragging Harris out of bed at 7 a.m. so that he could enjoy it with me, knowing full well that his heart needed to see God's landscape as we continued to venture north towards mainland Alaska. It was a cool 52 degrees and rather cloudy, but the sights were still beautiful.
We spent Thursday morning lingering over an early breakfast, resting in our room, spotting glimpses of whales and dolphins from our balcony, packing up our bags, and then eating one final lunch before handing our bags over to personnel at 1 p.m. so they could be taken through customs. The captain made a point of greeting us in person, visiting with us, and then even gave us a signed card.
We were finally sitting in Juneau, Alaska, at 1:30 p.m. Normally, we would have ventured off the boat to check out the city, but because it was cold and rainy, our bags were gone, and we just weren't in the mood, we opted to just hang out on the ship all afternoon. The time couldn't have passed more slowly, but at least we were able to enjoy the view of the city from our ship.
We grabbed a final bite to eat and then made our way off the ship at 6 p.m. and took a taxi to the Juneau airport for our 8 p.m. flight.
Our glimpses of Juneau probably weren't the best we could have seen, but we really had to kind of chuckle when we got to the airport. We thought Des Moines and Moline had small airports! This was just kind of funny.
We flew via Alaska Airlines and arrived in Seattle at 11 p.m. Then we stepped onto a Delta plane at 12:30 a.m. and arrived in Minneapolis around 6 a.m. Friday morning. Thankfully the three hours' worth of time changes worked in our favor! After our final one-hour flight, we arrived in Des Moines at 11:30 a.m., and we were very thankful that our bags had arrived safe and sound as well. My sister, Sheila, picked us up from the airport and transported us back to Pella. As I've been saying, we definitely took the scenic route to Pella compared to our usual two-hour drive across the state of Iowa!
We were greeted with lots of love, hugs, and compassion, and before we knew it, we were thrust into the reality of planning a funeral, which is something we'd never done. Harris's mom, brothers, and wives had to meet with the funeral director all morning, but they saved some of the decision-making until we could get there. We didn't realize just how good it would be for us to be surrounded by family in this time of loss. It had been a tough 24 hours for us. Bryce's brother-in-law offered to take Bryce's kids home for the night, and our kids and Vance's kids were all still here in Bettendorf, so the seven of us adults were able to thoroughly enjoy some time together before all the kids arrived back in Pella Saturday afternoon.
The outpouring of love and support from all our family and friends was unbelievable. Calls, texts, visits, food . . . the food! My goodness! Other than buying milk a couple times, we never lacked a thing for one single meal, and my sister even lightened the mood by spoiling our guys with a special treat from the bakery: Miss Piggy cookies, their favorite! Silly boys.
My camera went into hiding the rest of the weekend, but there are some visuals that I hope never leave my memory:
* The family all gathered around the casket for our first viewing on Saturday night.
* The little -- and then big -- hands that reached out and dared touch Grandpa's lifeless shell of a body.
* The perfect display of pictures that commemorated his life.
* The sight of all of us gathered in the embalming room while the funeral director patiently answered every last question we could think of.
* The three boys hovered around their dad's casket having their own private conversation before leaving the funeral home.
* The long -- two-hour-wait-time-long! -- line of family and friends from near and far who came to love on our family and express their sympathies at visitation on Sunday afternoon.
* The beautiful display of flowers and gifts, especially the one with three little Precious Moments boys in big shoes with the caption, "Who's Gonna Fill Your Shoes."
* The sight of one of his friends coming through the door, knowing that God used Howard and his illness as a way of getting this man's attention and knowing that he had just accepted Christ.
* The sanctuary full of people as we rounded the corner and made our way as a family to the front of the church for the funeral on Monday morning.
* The pallbearers picking up the casket and Brandon turning around and flashing a big smile because he was honored enough to help at age 12.
* The picture-perfect sunny day complemented by the casket spray of gorgeous fall flowers and ears of corn.
* The little boys watching intently as Grandpa's body was lowered into the ground.
* The fellowship hall full of people enjoying Grandpa's request, a catered meal, and the lineup of people ready to pour out some more love on Harris's mom.
In an effort to resume some sense of normalcy around here yesterday, I found myself tending the new flower arrangements we brought home and my flowers outside in my yard. Before Haley left for Africa, I had planted an African daisy in a pot, and it served as a gentle reminder for me all summer to pray for Haley while she was gone. The poor thing was completely dried up and gone when we got home, but as I took it out and found myself replacing it with this new beautiful fall mum that we had received . . .
. . . this blog entry was inspired. Replacing that dead African daisy with something so living, beautiful, and full of life and color made all the things I'd been thinking about come into perspective! Just as Howard passed from this earth and received his new life in Heaven, God is faithful to give us fresh reminders and promises of that new life while we are here on earth.
All weekend long we were reminded of just how generous a man Harris's dad was. It was not uncommon for him to loan out a vehicle or piece of machinery without even knowing who he was loaning it to or when he would get it back. It was not uncommon for him to just pick up the tab at a restaurant for a table full of family or friends, time and time again, and never expecting anything in return. It was not uncommon for him to help someone out who was struggling. He faced many obstacles in his life, but he was a hard worker, a risk taker, and a cheerful giver. God blessed his generous heart.
All weekend long I was reminded of just how special it is to be surrounded by loving family and friends and how important it is to care for each other. It bothers me to think of all the times I could have reached out and gave more or provided a meal for someone or sent a card or shown up to give a hug or just share a memory with someone about their loved one. The love and support we have received this weekend has inspired me to be much more sensitive to the needs of those around me.
We've transitioned from one season of our family's lives into another. A whole season full of new emotions, decisions, and changes has been forced upon us whether we're ready to plunge into it or not. Today is Harris's birthday, and to be honest, it's not exactly been a fun one. Along with the grieving, we're disappointed that we aren't flying back from our cruise today and frustrated that the hard drive in his brand-new laptop decided to fail today. All we can do is continually trust our Heavenly father with our future, learn from the victories and mistakes of Harris's earthly father, be thankful for the blessings God has bestowed upon us today, and keep glorifying God in the process.
Harris and his brother, Vance, headed there Friday morning, and Stephanie and I and all the kids left on Saturday so we could all be there together. We had no idea what we were in for, but amazingly enough, we were able to enjoy a wonderful weekend together as a family despite his condition. He was able to converse with us pretty normally, which was wonderful. A couple weeks prior to all of this, he had decided to give his three boys each a gift from his Pella MotorWorks business, so they were having fun with their new toys . . .
 |
| Bryce, Vance, Harris |
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| Conner, Camren, Keaton, Brandon, Karson, Heath |
 |
| Shanda, Alexa, Kelsey, Haley |
 |
| Vance & Steph, Bryce & Cherie, Harris & Jacki |
After the whole family gathered around him in the ICU on Sunday afternoon and demolished a tub of ice cream together, we had a very tearful good-bye. None of us knew whether he would ever go back home to the farm or if that would be our last time of seeing him.
Months ago, Harris and I had stepped out in total faith and booked an Alaskan cruise to celebrate our 25th wedding anniversary. It was something we had wanted to do for our 20th already, but life always had a way of interfering with our dream. Finally, we were at a point that we just knew how desperately we needed a vacation away together, so we just booked it and trusted that it would all work out. Harris's dad had been sick with cancer for three years already, so what were the chances that his health would interfere now any more than it already had?
Because his dad was in the hospital, we really struggled with whether or not it would be wise to leave in a week as planned. Two weeks ago today, I had a conversation in the morning with Harris's mom, and we found out that the doctor had told them he would be here less than six months. We all felt as though that was a pretty safe answer on the doctor's part, but when she told me that he was being transferred to Hospice care that night, I just knew in my heart that meant our trip was going to need to be canceled. Harris was out of town that day, and the dread of telling him my gut instinct was about more than I could handle. However, my sister-in-law and I decided that maybe, just maybe, it would be wise to call the doctor and see if he could give us any more of an educated opinion on what he thought we should do rather than go on the emotionally driven, uneducated gut feeling I was going on.
After a long conversation with the nurse, I was pleasantly surprised to receive a phone call from the doctor around 5:30 that evening. We agreed up front that neither of us could possibly know what God's plan for Howard's life was, but after talking through our predicament, he advised me that he thought we should go, that Howard would want us to go, and that he really felt from his 20 years of experience that Howard would be around for another month and a half. He is a trusted Christian family doctor who we've all grown to love and appreciate, so to receive his blessing on proceeding with our plans was enough of a relief to just move into serious preparation mode. He agreed to call me up until 5 a.m. on Sunday, departure time, if he had any second thoughts, and we just continued to pray that all would be well. We knew that if we didn't go and he lived a lot longer, we would always regret not going. Harris made plans to be with his dad on Friday and Saturday while I finalized a whole lot of details on this end.
Sunday morning our kids took us to the airport.
We flew from Moline to Atlanta to Seattle. We captured this beautiful picture of Mt. Rainier from our plane window . . .
Some dear friends from newlywed days picked us up from the airport, and they gave us the royal treatment for the next 48 hours.
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| Jerry & Janet |
While they were taking us to the ship on Tuesday afternoon, I asked Harris if he wanted to call his folks before we got on the ship, and he told me that he already had a brief conversation with both of them. His dad told Harris he was okay, but he wasn't real talkative. We found out later that it was probably one of the last coherent conversations that he had.
We proceeded to get on the Carnival Spirit . . .
The next 24 hours were sheer bliss. Together, just the two of us, we enjoyed our final sights of Seattle . . .
. . . we enjoyed our room that had been recently updated from interior to balcony for a ridiculously low additional fee . . .
. . . and we just enjoyed the amenities of the ship, hanging out together, and relaxing.
We had gotten a text Wednesday morning telling us that Harris's dad had not had a very good night, that he was very cold, didn't want to take his meds, and was sleeping a whole lot. We knew that wasn't great news, but when we got back to our room after a late afternoon lunch and some peaceful lingering over a cup of hot chocolate, we had another text from Steph saying, "Please call right away." We knew that wasn't a good sign at all. We were able to call her on my cell phone and found out that Harris's dad at the age of 69 had just passed away very peacefully in the middle of a breathing treatment at 6:15 p.m. CST on Wednesday, September 8, 2010.
The next 24 hours were anything but sheer bliss. We picked ourselves up and walked through the formally dressed crowd who had gathered for the Captain's Gala and found ourselves explaining our circumstances to the kind people at the Guest Services desk. They asked us to come into their office behind closed doors and proceeded to contact Carnival's insurance provider for us, made flight arrangements with us, offered us bottles of water and free unlimited use of their phone and anything else we needed, and just very graciously and lovingly cared for us for the next little while. Thankfully we had paid for the trip insurance coverage when we booked the cruise, or this fiasco would have been much worse. We have no idea yet how everything will play out financially, but we're trusting God will cover all the bases.
We went back to our room and decided that instead of sitting in there and wasting away our last night on the ship, which happened to be the most formal night in the dining room, we would throw on some dress clothes that really could have benefitted from some ironing and make the most out of it anyway. The seating line was rather long, so rather than stand there uncomfortably, I marched right up to the hostess, explained our situation, and she had someone whisk us away to a nice table for two. Harris enjoyed every bit of shrimp and lobster he could get his hands on.
Our moods were down, conversation was sparse, and tears started coming before dessert made its way to the table, so we ended up leaving early.
When the sun set, there was still just water surrounding us . . .
The next morning I wasn't sleeping very well, so I ended up putting on some jeans and a coat and made my way to the front of the ship so I could enjoy the Alaskan mountains on both sides of us and the sunrise. I ended up going back to the room and dragging Harris out of bed at 7 a.m. so that he could enjoy it with me, knowing full well that his heart needed to see God's landscape as we continued to venture north towards mainland Alaska. It was a cool 52 degrees and rather cloudy, but the sights were still beautiful.
We spent Thursday morning lingering over an early breakfast, resting in our room, spotting glimpses of whales and dolphins from our balcony, packing up our bags, and then eating one final lunch before handing our bags over to personnel at 1 p.m. so they could be taken through customs. The captain made a point of greeting us in person, visiting with us, and then even gave us a signed card.
We were finally sitting in Juneau, Alaska, at 1:30 p.m. Normally, we would have ventured off the boat to check out the city, but because it was cold and rainy, our bags were gone, and we just weren't in the mood, we opted to just hang out on the ship all afternoon. The time couldn't have passed more slowly, but at least we were able to enjoy the view of the city from our ship.
We grabbed a final bite to eat and then made our way off the ship at 6 p.m. and took a taxi to the Juneau airport for our 8 p.m. flight.
Our glimpses of Juneau probably weren't the best we could have seen, but we really had to kind of chuckle when we got to the airport. We thought Des Moines and Moline had small airports! This was just kind of funny.
We flew via Alaska Airlines and arrived in Seattle at 11 p.m. Then we stepped onto a Delta plane at 12:30 a.m. and arrived in Minneapolis around 6 a.m. Friday morning. Thankfully the three hours' worth of time changes worked in our favor! After our final one-hour flight, we arrived in Des Moines at 11:30 a.m., and we were very thankful that our bags had arrived safe and sound as well. My sister, Sheila, picked us up from the airport and transported us back to Pella. As I've been saying, we definitely took the scenic route to Pella compared to our usual two-hour drive across the state of Iowa!
We were greeted with lots of love, hugs, and compassion, and before we knew it, we were thrust into the reality of planning a funeral, which is something we'd never done. Harris's mom, brothers, and wives had to meet with the funeral director all morning, but they saved some of the decision-making until we could get there. We didn't realize just how good it would be for us to be surrounded by family in this time of loss. It had been a tough 24 hours for us. Bryce's brother-in-law offered to take Bryce's kids home for the night, and our kids and Vance's kids were all still here in Bettendorf, so the seven of us adults were able to thoroughly enjoy some time together before all the kids arrived back in Pella Saturday afternoon.
The outpouring of love and support from all our family and friends was unbelievable. Calls, texts, visits, food . . . the food! My goodness! Other than buying milk a couple times, we never lacked a thing for one single meal, and my sister even lightened the mood by spoiling our guys with a special treat from the bakery: Miss Piggy cookies, their favorite! Silly boys.
My camera went into hiding the rest of the weekend, but there are some visuals that I hope never leave my memory:
* The family all gathered around the casket for our first viewing on Saturday night.
* The little -- and then big -- hands that reached out and dared touch Grandpa's lifeless shell of a body.
* The perfect display of pictures that commemorated his life.
* The sight of all of us gathered in the embalming room while the funeral director patiently answered every last question we could think of.
* The three boys hovered around their dad's casket having their own private conversation before leaving the funeral home.
* The long -- two-hour-wait-time-long! -- line of family and friends from near and far who came to love on our family and express their sympathies at visitation on Sunday afternoon.
* The beautiful display of flowers and gifts, especially the one with three little Precious Moments boys in big shoes with the caption, "Who's Gonna Fill Your Shoes."
* The sight of one of his friends coming through the door, knowing that God used Howard and his illness as a way of getting this man's attention and knowing that he had just accepted Christ.
* The sanctuary full of people as we rounded the corner and made our way as a family to the front of the church for the funeral on Monday morning.
* The pallbearers picking up the casket and Brandon turning around and flashing a big smile because he was honored enough to help at age 12.
* The picture-perfect sunny day complemented by the casket spray of gorgeous fall flowers and ears of corn.
* The little boys watching intently as Grandpa's body was lowered into the ground.
* The fellowship hall full of people enjoying Grandpa's request, a catered meal, and the lineup of people ready to pour out some more love on Harris's mom.
In an effort to resume some sense of normalcy around here yesterday, I found myself tending the new flower arrangements we brought home and my flowers outside in my yard. Before Haley left for Africa, I had planted an African daisy in a pot, and it served as a gentle reminder for me all summer to pray for Haley while she was gone. The poor thing was completely dried up and gone when we got home, but as I took it out and found myself replacing it with this new beautiful fall mum that we had received . . .
. . . this blog entry was inspired. Replacing that dead African daisy with something so living, beautiful, and full of life and color made all the things I'd been thinking about come into perspective! Just as Howard passed from this earth and received his new life in Heaven, God is faithful to give us fresh reminders and promises of that new life while we are here on earth.
All weekend long we were reminded of just how generous a man Harris's dad was. It was not uncommon for him to loan out a vehicle or piece of machinery without even knowing who he was loaning it to or when he would get it back. It was not uncommon for him to just pick up the tab at a restaurant for a table full of family or friends, time and time again, and never expecting anything in return. It was not uncommon for him to help someone out who was struggling. He faced many obstacles in his life, but he was a hard worker, a risk taker, and a cheerful giver. God blessed his generous heart.
All weekend long I was reminded of just how special it is to be surrounded by loving family and friends and how important it is to care for each other. It bothers me to think of all the times I could have reached out and gave more or provided a meal for someone or sent a card or shown up to give a hug or just share a memory with someone about their loved one. The love and support we have received this weekend has inspired me to be much more sensitive to the needs of those around me.
We've transitioned from one season of our family's lives into another. A whole season full of new emotions, decisions, and changes has been forced upon us whether we're ready to plunge into it or not. Today is Harris's birthday, and to be honest, it's not exactly been a fun one. Along with the grieving, we're disappointed that we aren't flying back from our cruise today and frustrated that the hard drive in his brand-new laptop decided to fail today. All we can do is continually trust our Heavenly father with our future, learn from the victories and mistakes of Harris's earthly father, be thankful for the blessings God has bestowed upon us today, and keep glorifying God in the process.
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