Recap: Art on the Lawn Festival

Hi everyone. 🙂

Can I just say for a Monday, today was good! I read Psalm 23 this morning in my study of finding the phrase “steadfast love” within the Psalms. Psalm 23:6 says, “Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life.” I never took note of this before, but today I read the numerical at the bottom reference to the word “mercy.” It says, “Or steadfast love.” So I noted the verse in my notebook.

I found Psalm 23 exactly what I needed to read after getting through the rest of last week and the weekend. God’s mercy and goodness was evident, but I cannot say that I held on to the steadfast love in all areas like I should have–instead I chose to cling on fear to a few health related issues…forgetting the peace and calmness of the still waters; forgetting how He restores the soul.

I am entirely grateful to my family who put up with my frazzled grumpiness and helped me immensely in the preparation (writing the price tags, putting in the thumbtacks and twine on the back of the paintings for hanging), set up/take down of my booth on Saturday and stayed all day with me at the festival. I could not have done this without them!!

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I will say though that overall I was better prepared this year than past year, including getting a better nights sleep. It is interesting to see the difference one year can make, even within my painting style. As Mom and I were pricing on Thursday, I took note of my work: focused on smaller paintings, more abstract and ones with media. I stretched myself last year in my paintings to paint detail and broad themes; some of my best work is from last summer.

But over the year much has changed and I can see the paintings this year represent my style of what I am comfortable with and best at painting–a more relaxed approach yet detailed in its creativity. I would be lying to say that I don’t miss details, because I do. But sometimes even painting my “Mel” at the bottom corner is enough detail for me. I am just thankful that I can still paint!

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So how was the art show? Fantastic! It was a LONG day…I could have gone for a second round of coffee, but the day could not have been better. We were blessed with beautiful weather and my booth sat right in front of a huge tree, which offered pleasant shade in the afternoon. In conversation, I did fairly well. It is hard for me, because I talk more than I listen just because I can’t hear…but as time went on, I felt more relaxed–enjoying watching people point to paintings they liked and meeting people or talking with the friends who came to my booth too. At the end of the day, I survived staying awake through dinner but then fell asleep on the drive home (last year I fell asleep AT dinner).

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I want to say a thank you to the staff at the Village Artians, who coordinated this event. They went above and beyond making sure that the vendors’ needs were met. I can’t say that I will be in next year’s festival (who knows what another year will bring), but if the door is opened, then I would love the opportunity to participate again. Either way, painting this year will not stop for five months as it did last year–doors continue to  open and I am ready to restart on the journey through art.

Creativity takes courage. ~Henri Matisse

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Unshakable

The other night at dinner, we were discussing old movies. Old–as in black and white…as in Charlie Chaplin, Laurel and Hardy and the like. We grew up watching many of these kind…either that or classic reruns of black and white television shows, such as The Lone Ranger, Petticoat Junction, The Dick van Dyke Show, I Love Lucy, The Beverly Hillbillies or The Andy Griffith Show. If I ever need a hearty laugh, these are bound for success!

Don Knotts, who plays Barney Fife on The Andy Griffith Show, also starred in many funny movies: The Ghost and Mr. Chicken, The Reluctant Astronaut and The Shakiest Gun in the West are personal favorites. In the 1968 film, The Shakiest Gun in the West, we find Jesse W. Haywood (Knotts) fresh out of a dentist school in Philadelphia and now pursuing the West to open an office and provide his services there. One hilarious event after another, Haywood’s vulnerability places him right in the middle of a secret government case in which he has been lured into by the stagecoach robber, Penelope “Bad Penny” Cushing, who has been offered a pardon if she helps solve the case.

Haywood at the beginning of the movie is not what you would label a western man. Everything changes for him when the other wagon men see–what they perceive–as Haywood fighting off a group of Native Americans. Suddenly he is a hero. From that point on, his pride is fueled, enough even to accept a challenge from the famous and feared Arnold the Kid. It is only after this that he discovers the truth about his fighting abilities–it is not him, but has been Penny the entire time. Crushed, he returns to the plain old Jesse W. Haywood…a nobody in his eyes. I don’t want to spoil anymore of the movie, but I will say that in the end, we see that Haywood learns confidence. He has experienced the West and longed to be something big–but in the end, it is not his pride or fighting skills that earn him his recognition but simply by being himself and what he does best: being a dentist.

When my sister was here in July, we watched this movie. 🙂 I have thought of it a few times lately more because it gives me a few good laughs when I get frustrated with my hands. As you may recall, my hands are weakening–curled fingers due to muscle loss in the left hand and extreme numbness in the right hand which results in lack of grip and sensation. It is not entirely noticeable but my hands also shake. Not violently but just a steady jitter.

When it first started, I did not think much of it, figuring it was just a phase or I was tired that day or anything else excuse-wise that came to mind. When changes happen in my body, I allow myself a certain period of time to test and take note if it is indeed a change or just a spontaneous reaction of tumors with the nerves. Sometimes things happen only once, never occurring again. Unless it is crucial–like my notice of hearing loss–I don’t mention anything to my parents or doctors until it becomes a relevant occurrence.

One night, my sister came home and as we were talking she just broke in midsentence and asked, “Are you feeling ok? Your hands are really shaky.” I had not mentioned it to anyone yet…guess it was time to say something. That was early summer. As the summer months progressed, so did the shake. Sometimes my left thumb will spasm. It does not hurt; I just have no control over its movement.

I really don’t notice the shakiness until it is obvious: when I eat, when I write or as I observed last night..when I paint in detail. I was finishing my last two paintings for Saturday’s festival (exciting 🙂 ), but on the one I was elaborating with flowers and side margin décor. My shakiness started to frustrate me as my marginal fancywork continued to expand farther and wider than what I wanted, topping it of with my right hand smearing the metallic red paint amidst the baby blue background.

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This past weekend, there had been (and will be) a lot of conversation about the days ahead and my health. Since my body continues to change, we are moving forward to get the help and resources set up in advance so when life gets more shaky, we have some stability. It was a rough weekend emotionally. As if shaking in fear of losing “independence,” I was reminded that receiving this help will in return help me to continue to live as independently as possible. There are resources and services that we are not familiar with…this is a whole new chapter in life.

It doesn’t come naturally for me to admit that I need the help, but it is then that I am graciously humbled. I had to set aside my pride to see the goodness in this situation. I see a parallelism to my prayers as well. I have been contemplating what it means to “ask, seek, knock” (Matthew 7:7). Three action verbs…why are they so difficult to act upon? And yet I can come before God at any time, not with shaking or trembling, but with confidence.

Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need…[and] let us be grateful for receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken.

Hebrews 4:16, 12:28a

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Good grief

If someone asked me if there was a particular book I found myself returning to and rereading, I would have to answer: The Book of Psalms. Don’t get me wrong…I could say ‘The Bible’ as a whole, but even within the Bible, I am consistently in the Psalms. The Book of Psalms seems to cover every emotion of the human heart: anger, fear, sorrow, joy, peace, praise, questions…whatever situation I find myself in, I can find a Psalm to encourage, comfort or challenge my thoughts.

I am not sure what initially caught my attention to the phrase, but I started to note that “steadfast love” made a common appearance throughout the whole book. I recently restarted the Psalms, this time with the intent of not skipping around, but rather reading through the book in numeral order and making reference to the verses containing the phrase, “steadfast love.” I have just begun and realize that there will be many references by the time I reach Psalm 150. 🙂

Seeing, reading, hearing or writing certain phrases (or words) will cause them to get in your mind, and out of the reoccurrence, a habit of saying the phrases (or words) is most likely to follow. Habits like this are strange. It is not that I planned to get myself in phrase habits…it just happens.

The first time I think I started getting into phrase habits was when my sister started to use the term, “cutsie” in describing things. I started to say it, because I heard her say it. Once I got to college, I stopped saying the word. Then there was the term, “Cool beans.” What that means, I am not quite sure but I am glad I chose that particular phrase instead of “Dude.” For some odd reason, I never found myself sounding realistic when I said, “I know dude.” It would be as if I were quoting Janice from the Muppets, “Oh wow, like for surely.” Both were just not in my personality profile I suppose.

Last summer the word was “genius.” If I agreed with something: “Genius!” If I thought a point was well made in a conversation: “Genius.” If I learned something new or finally understood something that was trying to be communicated: “Genius.” Along the way, with my fascination for English/UK history growing, I then ventured to also stating, “brilliant” after my train of thoughts if “genius” had not already been spoken. Of course, I know where I got my word “brilliant” from: try not to laugh but it is the truth–Yzma, off of Disney’s The Emperor’s New Groove. Truth spoken. 🙂 [And if you haven’t seen the movie…you must!]

As of the present, my phrase is “Good grief.” I have no idea where this came from–I don’t even read the cartoon Peanuts either.

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The phrase itself is neutral; the context of how I say it is when it differs from a plain mutter to a complete mode of venting my frustration. I don’t apply it to people as I did the word, “genius’, but rather I find this time my phrase habit is associated with my physical state. I run into the wall as I turn the corner: “Good grief” (muttered). I can’t get my bobby pins in my hair or my pants buttoned: “Good grief!” (with tone of frustration and a slight, ‘ugh’ added.) I spill something, drop something or can’t get something open: “Good grief” (sort of in whinny tone). These are just a few…but my reoccurrence of the phrase has me once and for all thinking in my mind: “Good grief…why can’t I stop saying this phrase?”

I have tried. Then I catch myself saying it again and it starts to play like a broken record in my mind. I am not sure how to break myself from this phrase habit. I have before with the others but this time since I am sincerely trying to stop the habit, I find it more continual. So as I read the Psalms yesterday, the thought dawned on me that if I see, read, hear, or write a phrase that a habit of saying it will be more likely to follow.

I may not walk around and say, “steadfast love” after every sentence, but it could very well be a map of a new habitual phrase. In seeking the continual reminder of God’s steadfast love, I hope to find that in the end all of my ‘good griefs’ will fade to where only His goodness remains.

Let your steadfast love, O Lord, be upon us, even as we hope in you.

Psalm 33:22 ESV

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Simplici-tea

Today was quite simple. And I savored it.

Delicious large chai tea at Stoney Creek Roasters.

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Read selections of letters and sermons from the Puritan era: Samuel Rutherford, William Tyndale, Thomas Brooks’ Precious Remedies Against Satan’s Devices.

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Finished a few more paintings; ready now to complete the details for the upcoming festival on Saturday! 🙂

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How was your day?

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One month…

Yesterday marked one month of taking the chemo treatment, Sirolimus. Because it was the end of my first 28 day cycle of the drug, Mom and I headed down to Children’s for a doctor’s appointment. It ended up taking all afternoon.

It is strange. This time around it is as if I am indifferent as to what comes next. In discussing the issues at hand, I made my point clear about what direction I wanted to take in terms of treatment time without much else running through my mind. My doctor asked me if I wanted to continue. I simply said that I would for one more month until the MRI. If I stop now then how will I know if the treatments have been given a chance to maybe show something positive on the next MRI? He agreed that one month more is a good decision.

My indifference comes in part, however, because I also mentioned that I would not be surprised if the scans reflected negatively–based on the amount of physical changes I have had over even just this past month. More wobbly balance, weaker right ankle, extreme numbness in right hand, and hearing loss in the right ear. From the time I bought the Phonak Cros to the time it arrived, I had lost hearing in the right ear and I believe I still am. I returned the Cros last week, but I am satisfied with my choice to do so and glad I at least gave the device a trial run.

It is hard to decipher what is causing what problems. Since I started the treatment, I have had more problems with my intestines…but it is hard to point a finger only at the Sirolimus when I have also had an increase of pressure from the tumors there at the lower spine. Every physical problem seems to get tangled around an “unknown source” linked to the problem. Of course we all know that the “unknown source” is a tumor, but which one? That is the question. And I think that is why I just left all emotions yesterday. I have no control over what happens over the next month. Tumors may or may not be growing; even if they do not show change in size, they can change in density and still cause side effects. So I just let myself become void of it all.

I was quiet on the way home. I was not even thinking much about the appointment. I was thinking more about the conversation my dad and I had a few nights prior. We were discussing my walking, weak ankles, my muscles and bones, and my shoes. If you don’t remember, I have a knack for cute shoes. To me, they complete the outfit. As Dad and I were talking, what he was saying made sense: I do need sturdy shoes as now my bones are thinning and weakening and my balance is only so-so. I wear good shoes for a majority of the time, but I like to wear a cute pair of slip on shoes if I am going out to church or to a coffee shop and I like to go barefoot when I can at home. It might be time to rethink that latter part–is what Dad and I discussed.

In my distress of our shoe conversation (serious…giving up my shoes!?!), Dad told me that I should not worry about my shoes, because I am fashionable with my accessories, like scarves and bracelets. I thought that was a nice complement. I talked with my doctor about the shoes and what Dad said when we were discussing my feet. “I agree with him 100%,” (referring to the sturdy shoe notion.) So on the way home, half lamenting and half planning what to do with my shoes, I just let my mind wander. All over shoes.

We get home and Dad asks how the appointment went. “It was long.” That is all I said. Then I made tea. I finally started talking about the appointment (even though my mind was still on my shoes) and just gave a two sentence overview of the plan–get my intestines feeling better and go one more month to the MRI. Everything past that is dependent on the results. I think I was still indifferent to it all. Being an emotional person, to not feel emotion is weird. Maybe indifference is a slight emotion…or at least triggers one of self-pity. Whatever the case, I had it last night. I could tell: I ate a huge chunk of fudge and watched a movie. Then I just went to bed.

As I was turning off my light, I flipped through some flashcards of verses that my mom made me while in college. One read, “But He knows the way I take; When He has tried me, I shall come forth as gold,” Job 23:10. In one day, Job lost everything: his children, livestock, servants, property, wealth…and yet he still chose to say, “The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord,” Job 1:21b.

I admit, there are times when it is not easy to say, “Blessed be the name of the Lord,” especially when I feel that things are being taken from me–whether they pertain to my physical body or to my possessions. But remaining indifferent to the road ahead will only make the journey more tiring. Choosing a life of praise is a better path to travel.

“If God sends us on strong paths, we are provided strong shoes.”

Corrie ten Boom

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An Invitation!

It is that time of year again! Around this area, every town seems to have a festival of some kind throughout the summer and into the Fall. There are the art and craft festivals, the music festivals, farmer’s markets full of fresh produce, history festivities…to name a few.

Early last spring, through Beans-n-Cream, I heard about an annual art festival in Yellow Springs called, “The Art on the Lawn Festival.” Yellow Springs is an artsy, tourist town–and so the thought of being part of this event really excited me. It would be an opportunity to be alongside other local and out-of-state artists for a day. I would get to see their work and others could see mine. It would also give me a chance to tell more people about my story of living with NF2 and how I started painting.

So, I set out to apply for a booth space at the festival. After being approved, I vigorously painted for the festival, enjoying every minute of it (stress and tears were part of making the day a joyous one!) At the end of the festival, I was personally invited to next year’s show. I found that special and an honor.

In May, I resubmitted my application to secure a booth position and started slowly painting, thinking all the while, “I have plenty of time!” Here it is: two weeks to the festival! No stress or tears as of yet, but let’s just say these next two weeks, my primary focus is on the art festival details and finishing a few more paintings.

With that being said, you are invited! 😀 I am so thankful for the opportunity to be in this event yet again! If you are in the area and have the chance to stop by my booth, I would love to meet you and answer any questions you may have about my paintings or the NF2 disease. (For those who can’t make the day–a blog of the event and pictures will follow.)

I dream my painting and I paint my dream.

~Vincent van Gogh

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P.S. If you received a hard copy of the invitation from me, you may (or not) have noticed that the year was wrong on the festival date. Just disregard the error. 🙂

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When I Grow Up

Do you remember sitting in elementary school and being asked the question, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” Like an early career fair, sometimes you wrote a paragraph on the topic or discussed it in class when guest speakers came to relate their exciting tales of their specific job positions.

However, to be honest, I don’t ever remember someone specifically asking me this question (besides the classroom setting as a whole) or if I ever gave a specific answer. I have tried to think back to see if I can remember, but I think my career interests back then until the time I reached high school were merely daydreams. I do remember at a young age seeing an orchestra perform on television and that is when I decided I would someday learn to play the flute. When this turned into a reality, I then ventured to dream that I would play in an orchestra…maybe a famous soloist. Well, I did get my solo moments in concert band. We may not have been an orchestra, but I consider performing Georges Bizet’s songs from his opera Carmen a good try (plus it was my favorite solo moment.)

There were other daydreams. I had always wanted to be a singer in a band. I strummed my air guitar or keyboard as I jammed to the music. Being an over dramatic girl, I played the roles of Florence Nightingale or once pretended to be a doctor. I sat on the side of my bed, clip board in the left hand, and stared at my invisible patient. As I went on to explain how the eye is connected to the brain, my invisibility was intruded when my sister (unknown to me) walked in on my consultation. Yes, the eye is connected to the brain, and somehow that was the funniest scientific truth my sister had ever encountered.

It was not until high school that I started to take interest in careers that were more than daydreams. Once I discovered I had interest in the world of business, I filled my schedule with classes such as Accounting I and II, Marketing, computer courses (much has changed in technology since then!) and I jumped at the opportunity to be an editor of our school yearbook. After I graduated, my job at the local florist shop gave me experience in every area, with my favorite of handling the money transactions or office management, such as mail and filing. It came to no surprise then when I started college with an Accounting major in mind. After failing miserably on my mid-term in Accounting II, I realized that the subject was way over my head and focused my emphasis on Management instead.

The funny part about having a degree is that sometimes it pertains nothing to your current career. To make a living while finishing college, I worked as a cashier–even after graduating. I slowly gained responsibility and trained to be a cash officer, which ironically, resembles an accountant’s role minus taxes and payroll. I enjoyed this and for the first time felt I had “a career.”

I was crushed when I felt God calling me to end my career that I loved last October, but I see now that it was His timing as the winter brought all the health battles. By the time March rolled in, I was feeling myself again physically and was becoming bored. So I restarted job searching. I wrote once back in college, “Job hunting is like chasing a white rabbit in the snow.” My sister wrote me back and commented, “That’s a simile.” I don’t have any clever similes up my sleeve this time, but I will say that the search has been frustrating. Not because there are no jobs on the market, but because I am not physically what I was even two months ago and I guess I question what I can actually perform in the world of work.

I know work means many things–there is work where you get paid or you can volunteer your time and work to serve others, both being honorable positions as long as the motive in your heart is pure. Colossians 3:17 says, “And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.” I enjoy the times of volunteering–even if it is just time spent with a friend on a lunch date. But I also have a desire to work and finally admitted I needed help in that process, so I contacted the Bureau of Vocational Rehabilitation. After being approved for their services, I had another meeting with them yesterday to continue the process.

I was still uneasy about the meeting, but over breakfast I did more brainstorming on different areas that I wanted to discuss with the counselor. As I finished my coffee, I set out to finish the last chapter in the devotional book I started about a month ago. God’s timing of words spoken to the heart never cease to amaze me. And so I read:

Out of all history, God chose this time for you to be on earth.

We may think back with regret on who we wish we’d been. We may look forward with fear about who we might (or might not) become. But the only place where we can offer ourselves, where God can use us, is the moment we’re in right now.

Gerth, Holley. You’re Already Amazing. Grand Rapids, MI: Revell, 2012. (180-181).

I may not kn0w my future career, or the timing of it how it will all come together, but I can rest assured…life is more than the aimless chasing of white rabbits in the snow.

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Shifting Agendas

I had an agenda for today. I had my various projects all neatly organized, ready to be completed. My day started bright and early with getting my blood drawn for chemo. It has now been three weeks on the chemo treatment and my lab results look good. I still have had no side effects other than in the intestines, which is like a roller coaster ride: some days I feel fantastic and other days not. I am in humble gratitude for your daily prayers.

Shortly after returning home, I made chai and settled down for a time of reading and studying. When I finished, I had a whole new agenda: Think of something you have been neglecting and respond. I cleaned my bathroom and changed my sheets (it is a full workout for me); I refilled Muffy’s water dish; I rested; I enjoyed the evening air; I painted. It was a fantastic day.

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Title: Prism.

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The Book: “NF2: Our Journeys”

Question: Where has this year gone? Here we are in July already! Stop and think for a moment on all that you have done in the past six months. If you are like me, you may be wondering how you are going to write your Christmas card this year; thankfully, we still have another six months to figure that out. 🙂

As I reflect, there is a list of major events on my calendar: blood clot, hospital trips, Physical therapy, paintings, a few visits to see grandparents, Spring Break vacation, books read, made new friends, turned another year older, overcoming new physical limitations, visited my sister a few times in Columbus and Megan visited from Colorado…and last but certainly not least: I wrote about my life (limit 1500 words) for this book NF2: Our Journeys.

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January 2, 2o13–a representative from The Children’s Tumor Foundation contacted me through my blog in response to a letter I had sent to the foundation at the end of the previous year. Three days later, she contacted me again. The Children’s Tumor Foundation works alongside a foundation in the UK called, Children With Tumors. There was an opportunity for those with NF2 to participate in this publication (sharing their story)–all started by Jessica Cook who also lives with NF2.

January 9, 2013: Unexpected blood clot.

January 10, 2013: In hospital and I get an email from Jess. This is where it began.

I can count on both hands how many people I have known/met personally that live with either NF1 or NF2. Yes…less than ten people. It was only when I started this blog that my social group of “meeting” people who live with NF2 expanded slightly. When Jess first emailed me, it was about the book. I had no idea over the next five months I would not only get to be part of this amazing opportunity to share my journey of living with NF2, but also make a new friend in the process.

January and February were crazy months of doctor appointments, physical therapy and painting. I had until the end of February to write my story. Not that I procrastinated, but a combination of all taking place those months and just a lack of not knowing what to say, I finally forced myself to sit down a few days before the due date and write. I submitted it the day the rough drafts were due. By this time, Jess and I had been emailing back and forth and she responded to my draft with praise saying that it was what she had expected. That put my nervousness at ease.

My story was edited (spelling, grammar, punctuation) by Jess and a few of her friends and then sent back to me to read and review. I asked my cousin, who is known for her exceptional editing skills, for help on a few sentences and wordings–then satisfied–I sent it back to Jess saying it was final on my end. I picked my “author name” for the introduction and submitted a picture. (Muffy is famous! 🙂 ) By this time, I now had told my family about Jess and the book; I had mentioned it to my doctors in Cincinnati and wrote about Jess to my grandparents. Just talking about it all was exciting!

Getting to know Jess over the past six months has been both encouraging and inspiring. We never started our emails from the past (full life story)…we started right where we were at the moment. Sure, past events have come up in our conversations, such as, physical changes we have endured, emotional battles we have overcome (such as isolation and self-image struggles) and how living with NF2 has broadened our life’s story in ways unimaginable.

Jess’ work in the UK through her social advocacy website and group–Can You Hear Us?–has inspired me to be connected. I have been reading other blogs from people living with NF2 and (though good intentions) need to make a better effort to seek out the Deaf community here. It has also helped me to seek out the possibilities when life hands you disabilities; I believe God placed this book opportunity in front of me for a reason–because these past six months, I have seen my body change and weaken faster than the other nine years of living with the disease combined.

I say it often, but it is the truth: It is only by God’s strength and mercy that I can still function what I am. And He has shown me in abundance the past few months that what I currently struggle with physically is not the end–there is still more to my story waiting to be told. There is always room for hope…

My story: I seems to be a re-occurring phrase over the past few weeks. A few days ago I thought of the hymn “Blessed Assurance.” I think Fanny Crosby wrote what I feel about my story best:

Perfect submission, all is at rest
I in my Savior am happy and blest,
Watching and waiting, looking above,
Filled with His goodness, lost in His love.

This is my story, this is my song,
Praising my Savior, all the day long;
This is my story, this is my song,
Praising my Savior, all the day long.

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To buy a copy of the book:

http://canyouhearus.co.uk/nf2-book/shop/

(Shipping is included in the book price and PayPal converts the total for those ordering from the United States.)

For More Information:

Cook, Jessica (producer). NF2: Our Journeys: A collection of inspirational stories written by people with NF2. Lavenham Suffolk, UK: canyouhearus.co.uk, 2013.

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When It’s Hot

We’re experiencing a heat wave here. Even our bike ride yesterday late evening left us in a sweat. So imagine today when we decided to take a stroll at John Bryan State Park around one in the afternoon. Yep…HOT!

The shade from the trees offered a bit of relief but there was nothing more satisfying than a cold drink of water (and I suppose having the AC on full blast too).

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Jeremiah 17:7-8 says, “Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord, whose trust is the Lord. He is like a tree planted by water, that sends out its roots by the stream, and does not fear when heat comes, for its leaves remain green, and is not anxious in the year of drought, for it does not cease to bear fruit.”

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It has now been two weeks since I started the Sirolimus chemo treatments. Thus far, the only side effects I have had are an increase of problems in the intestines (which also is a combination of tumor pressure) and my mouth is always dry! It feels like I am dehydrated even though I am drinking more. However, I have no mouth sores yet, in which I am very thankful!

When it’s hot, I take a drink of water and remember the life I have been given–through trials, an opportunity for growth; through pain, an opportunity to give thanks; through weariness, an opportunity to rest.

“And the Lord will guide you continually and satisfy your desire in scorched places and make your bones strong; and you shall be like a watered garden, like a spring of water, whose waters do not fail.” Isaiah 58:11

Treasure Falls

Treasure Falls 2

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DSCN2491 Treasure Falls, (Hwy 160, Colorado.) 24×48 canvas. July 2013.

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Filed under Adjusting to NF2, Family Times, Paintings