Four Seasons of Winter

“This year’s felt like four seasons of winter . . . “

I was out running errands when I heard those song lyrics on the radio. The temperature outside was typical for mid-March in the Shenandoah Valley, upper 30’s along with 40 mph wind gusts. The next day was expected to be in the mid 60’s. Even though we’ve come to expect this roller-coaster weather, we always look forward to flipping the calendar to April. There are times though when it certainly feels like four seasons of winter!

But this post is not about the weather. In three days we will reach the one year milestone marking the beginning of Neil’s cancer journey.  Looking back at my calendar and recalling all that has transpired over the past 12 months, I marvel at how far we have come. It is truly by the grace of God that my husband not only survived the grueling chemotherapy and stem cell transplant, but is in remission.

Spring Thaw

Neil’s four seasons of winter are over, along with the lingering side effects of cancer treatment. Always cold, he shivered his way through January and February, and is ready to shed the extra layers of clothing and head out into the warm sunshine. Hickory Grove’s garden beds are waiting, and the chicken coop is ready for its first residents. It’s time to embrace life once again.

This journey has taught us both what is important in life, and we are different people than we were on March 25, 2022. On Saturday we will give gratitude and quietly celebrate our survival together through four endless seasons of winter. Neil’s only request is to enjoy two of his favorite pastimes — wandering through antique shops and spending time with family. I will gladly tag along!

The Gift of Hope

Christmas 2022 will always be remembered as the year we received the gift of hope.

Our move to Hickory Grove in July of 2021 was intended to be temporary, so we have never fully unpacked. All of our Christmas decorations are buried deep in my brother’s basement along with many of our other belongings. I recall that last Christmas, as we dug out our tree and ornaments, we did our best to surround ourselves with the familiar comforts of home. Neil and I thought surely next year we would be celebrating in our own new home. But a few months later, our priorities shifted.

During Neil’s long weeks of cancer treatment in New York City and Baltimore, I kept longing for my home. My heart ached terribly, and I began to miss the house we sold. I missed having a place of our own, a space to surround myself with familiar objects and memories. We both loved Hickory Grove, but knew that it was not our home, but my brother’s.

Home vs. Haven

As we unpacked and then re-packed every two weeks for Neil’s stay in the hospital, Hickory Grove became our home base. We looked forward to the brief times we could sleep in our own bed and enjoy the garden and farm pond. But while we were living at Neil’s sister’s home in the Bronx, and then later at Johns Hopkins for 5 weeks, we traded home for a haven. Our vision of home became less about our dream space and more about a safe resting place. We embraced  any harbor in the storm, or in this case, any place other than a hospital room. We learned to adapt our expectations and focused our prayers on Neil’s healing. And throughout this trial, the Lord offered us the gift of hope.

Hickory Grove began to feel more like home to us. Even Gipper, our ginger tabby cat, seemed settled and happy. He provided unconditional love and companionship to my brother while we were away for weeks at a time. And Neil had his honeybees, the Victory Garden and a pond full of bass waiting for him between chemotherapy sessions.

Remission

In July, Neil’s brain MRI showed no evidence of disease – or in cancer lingo – “NED”.  But since Central Nervous System Lymphoma has a high rate of recurrence, we were told that a stem cell transplant offered his best chance at long-term remission. We trusted our physicians and again leaned on the Lord to get Neil through the most difficult challenge of his life. Prayers were answered.

Neil survived and is growing stronger each day. He has high expectations for his recovery timeline, and I often need to remind him how far he has come. We have learned to take each day as it comes and accept each step as a victory, no matter how small.

Christmas Present

During the weeks leading up to Christmas, I read the book The Hiding Place by Corrie Ten Boom.  In the first chapter, one paragraph struck my heart and made me reflect on my concept of home:

Childhood scenes rushed back at me out of the night, strangely close and urgent. Today I know that such memories are the key not to the past, but to the future. I know that the experiences of our lives, when we let God use them, become the mysterious and perfect preparation for the work He will give us to do. – Corrie Ten Boom

Our Christmas celebration was small this year. We were joined by our daughter and son-in-law, and their little dog, Kylo. Once again, we dug out our Christmas tree and a few familiar decorations. But one particular handmade ornament meant so much more to us this year, especially when Neil was able to hang it on the tree himself.

Lord willing, Neil and I have many years ahead of us to figure out where we will eventually unpack our earthly belongings. But God will need to lead us forward and show us what he wants us to do with our personal experiences from the past year. Through His gift of hope, we have been given an opportunity to share that hope and give back to others.