Perspective

I want to introduce you to some really special people. They have been special to me for some time now, but recently, the word "special" has taken on new meaning.

This is Doug and Sue Bausch, my mother and father in law.

They look like ordinary people. They live in Iowa and work pretty ordinary jobs. They have an ordinary family (except their oldest son and his children, I think they are quite extraordinary!) They have an ordinary house, cars, clothes...

But recently they have become anything but ordinary. An ordinary day for any of us might include waking up, a cup of coffee, dressing for work, meetings, school, planning for the weekend, thinking about a vacation...

Nothing seems ordinary anymore when you find out you have two tumors in your brain and you have months to live...

You see, Sue is a cancer survivor. She had cancer a year and a half ago. And this is where ordinary stops. It is not so out of the ordinary for cancer cells to metastasize. However, as her doctor told her a week ago, he has only seen one other person in 35 years of experience to have it spread to the brain. So much for ordinary.

Eric and I took Hannah to Iowa last weekend because the same week she found out this incredible news was also her birthday. How ironic. And this is where I realized I no longer have ordinary in laws.

When we got there on Friday, her birthday, Sue informed me that the next morning we would be going to get her head shaved. After three radiation treatments, she was losing her hair, and she could have waited, but wanted me to go with her, so she went early. We talked later about how in the scheme of all that she is about to go through, having a hair cut should be so insignificant. She called it "just another step in the process". But we agreed that it was so much more than insignificant. It is facing with both eyes open the reality of what this is. It is an outward reminder that from this moment on, every single second is precious. It was anything but insignificant.

I wish more than anything I could verbalize what I saw her do. So many times this week I have felt like a painter must feel at Inspiration Point in Yellowstone trying to figure out how to capture all that beauty on one canvas. I don't remember ever seeing such grace, such dignity, such courage, and determination as I saw in Sue that day. Like David running toward Goliath in battle, she held her head high, and went forward. And when it was done, when her precious regrown hair from the first cancer battle littered the ground around her, she looked more beautiful than I have ever seen her.

And then there is Doug. You know, something I realized is that this is not just happening to her. He is losing his wife of 38 years. His best friend. His travel partner. His walking buddy. He calls her "Bugs". His fellow singer of made up songs to their grandchildren. Their marriage is one of those marriages that you hope your children find, that you hope to find for yourself. My earnest hope and prayer is that when anyone, not just someone I deeply love, is vulnerable and out of sorts, that I can be to that person such a safe place that Doug is to Sue. Because of the location of the tumors in her brain, she doesn't remember things well, or she gets confused, or can't recall what she just read. And he is her constant protector. He is so patient with her. So lovingly willing to esteem her and honor her. Again, if I just had the right paint brush or the right color, I might be able to paint my heart and thoughts...

So this week I have seen things differently. I have taken extra time to drink deeply the fleeting moments that so easily escape the busy mind and soul. Like when the children are laughing and playing with the wind in their hair and dirt on their feet. Watching Josiah today in the garden catch frogs and try to keep them in his toy truck. The flaming color of the azalea bushes. The smell of the freshly tilled dirt as I plant a seed. Trying to pinpoint the color of the full moon's light on the leaves of the forest trees I see out my bedroom window.

Beauty from ashes. That has to be one of Jesus' best talents. In the middle of a heartache we have never before matched has already come, for me, some of the sweetest gifts of my life. I aspire to face the impossible with as much resolve, as much unconditional love, as much life as I have witnessed from Doug and Sue.

Thank you, Grammie and Grandpa. You have given this family gifts no package could ever hold...