Summer slips away

Although the sun is still warm and golden, summer vacation has ended here. The beach crowd is thinning.  The middle and high school kids returned to classes yesterday. The college kids have moved back on campus. On Monday, our second son left for a year in Roma to study architecture. I started teaching my composition class at the Navy base last night, and my new class in Nature Writing starts next week.  

This shift to another school year has arrived all too soon, and the deluge of paperwork that accompanies back to school season has begun. School registrations, sports sign ups, syllabus sign offs, CRE registration, emergency forms all have to be signed and submitted. New shoes and school supplies have been purchased.  I bought some colorful Sharpies for myself to update the calendar, but the idea of color coding kids' schedules has already evaporated.

I have fewer schedules now to coordinate. Three have flown the nest now. Our house has suddenly shifted dynamics from being a "boy house" to being a girl led house.  Only one son is left to argue for action movies with his three romance minded sisters.  The quantity of meat and milk I will have to buy will decrease. 

Even with four still at home, it seems quiet around here.  The two high schoolers are playing fall sports, volleyball, and football, and so dinner is late or just a few of us are eating together. One of our bedrooms is now empty of regular occupants; the bunk bed is stripped down, and the mess is finally off the floor - mostly hidden under the bed and in the closet, to be sure, but some of it was actually discarded  I feel lonely for the big kids who were good company this summer and handy to have around the house for helping out with chores and babysitting.

Summer's end was marked by the blessing of spending our last full week of vacationtime in Indiana with my folks on their farm, where the summer heat intensified the smell of clover and growing corn. It rained the first half of the week, which delighted the four year old who hasn't ever played in the rain because here in southern California we haven't had enough rain to make puddles since she could walk.  She donned oversized rain boots and twirled an umbrella and delighted in the summer showers. The twelve year old played outside a little bit with her and with her best friend who made an extra special trip from Maryland to see us since we were somewhat "close." We had a steady stream of visits from my siblings, cousins, aunts and uncles, and old friends.  One day we spent in Kentucky at my aunt and uncle's beautiful farm, which they are selling because of health concerns that come with age.  Life is passing by too quickly. I'm almost tempted to have another baby to stall time. Or perhaps just put on black to mourn the passing of youth and childhood and ideals that have vanished or faded as my children move on into adulthood and my parents' generation slows down in retirement. Tempus fugit. 

Captured moments that exist only in the digital world or memory:

Big cousins and little cousins

The weekend's entertainment: driving the Polaris

Sunrise

Night visitor

Rain dance

Ice cream for all

College send off

Prayers for students

Double rainbow promise

After the rain

Checking on the cows

Chicken dance

Ironweed - remind me to teach my kids the names of these plants so they aren't nature know nothings like the WSJ points out

Garter snake

Zinnias in bloom

Dying sunflowers

Bittersweet

Sulfur butterflies

The harvest from my pot

Back in CA: passionflower blooming

Prayer Request

I don't often share requests for prayers out of respect for privacy, but I recently found out that a dear friend has bone marrow cancer, and she reached out asking for prayers from our family. This seems the kind of situation that calls for a barrage of prayers, for being the squeaky wheel in God's ear. Right now the type and severity of the cancer are being determined, but her diagnosis is something of a miracle. And the fact that she is seeing some of the best cancer doctors in the world also seems to suggest that God has opened doors.

This friend is no stranger to suffering. Years ago, she lost her first baby, a little girl who died shortly after birth. The baby's death was unexpected; she was a healthy baby, but something happened during delivery, and she only lived a handful of hours.

Then just a couple years ago, my friend's mother-in-law was hit by a car while she was on her early morning walk. The sun was just rising and blinded the driver.  She died at the scene. The driver came to the funeral to apologize and to tell them she smiled when she died as he held her hand. I remember my friend saying she was just so glad her mother-in-law was not alone. When she told me about this latest cross, I told her that God must trust her strength to give her so many valleys to wander through.

We have known this family since our kids were tiny. This is the third time we've had overlapping orders, so they are like family now. They are part of what makes military life so unique and meaningful. They are a warm and loving family of four, all of them nice and smiley. My friend is the kind of person who always remembers your birthday and brings small gifts. She brings hostess gifts. She is a perfect hostess who thinks of small details without seeming to stress about having fifty people over. She has been very involved with military support groups and spouse mentorship programs and works tirelessly as a volunteer. At the same time, she is always available for her kids. Her son wrestles on the junior national team, and her daughter is a top soccer player.

This diagnosis is a surprise, but also a warning. She had been feeling sick all year, tired and forgetful and just not herself.  The doctor told her to take it easy. She went back and asked for blood work, thinking maybe something was wrong with her thyroid. They gave her B12 vitamins. Then finally a doctor ordered some expensive but thorough blood tests, just to rule out leukemia.  The blood work revealed the cancer. The type was originally misdiagnosed, but in the midst of all of this, the family had to move from San Diego to DC. The new doctors at Johns Hopkins ran more tests and rediagnosed the type of cancer.

In the middle of a time of intense stress and anxiety, my friend was pointing out the way she has seen the hand of God in all of this. She said she is not dying of cancer, but living with a diagnosis of cancer. She is openly asking for prayers and already experiencing an outpouring of grace and gratitude.