FIVETRIBE

So many have asked me this question.  I don't have the answer. Examining my feelings is really not helpful to me at all. I just allow them to happen to me which means I cry in public places nowadays. This is not a 'ra-ra' victory post about how everything happens for a reason....or about how this is such a growth experience for us.... or any of those (possibly true) pontifications. Millions of people are in my position. I am not alone or unique in my pain but somehow that fails to comfort me in any way whatsoever. Faith summed it up recently: 'It is like my heart opened one day and all the light, love and joy walked out and now it is full of pain, darkness and despair.' I have to agree....I liken it to a slow bleed. I can only pray that it stops before it completely destroys me. This will eventually end and perhaps I will find joy and happiness again one day but until then I have to work extremely hard to cultivate those moments and even harder to keep f...

This is a question I have been asked countless times. The answer is not an easy one as each child responds completely differently in such traumatic circumstances. Telling the children was the single most painful experience of my life. Our prayer has always been that God would place an age-appropriate veil over each of the kids hearts and minds, that they would only hear and absorb what was necessary in that moment. Each of the kids have had conversations with me (and shed many tears) that show they have faced their worse fears.  They are aware of the severity of the situation but they understand that we hold a hope and a real faith that Russell will be restored.  We have been learning TOGETHER, as a family, to live in a place of uncertainty.  Initially we all almost suffocated within the confines of our fear and pain but TOGETHER we are making small inroads .... Knitting uncertainty, gratitude and intentionality into the fabric of our lives. This conversation be...

*Chemo weekends suck eggs. Seeing Russell literally devoid of all energy for 3-4 days has taken some adjustment. The first time it happened I fell apart. This weekend I fell apart a tiny bit less. I have to confess to having some intense moments of self pity this past week. It's not fair! How can this happen? Seriously?!   In my head I know that cancer does not play favourites. It has no demographic but SERIOUSLY?   And then the lights went out. Loadshedding. We were all sitting in the lounge, subdued and heavy-hearted.  I found myself reaching for a book called The Story by Max Lucado. I purchased it a year ago and it has been sitting neatly on our school shelf, untouched.   We read, by torchlight, for two hours. We covered Moses' birth until he took the moaning, ungrateful Israelites out of Egypt. We read about the incredible way  God provided and cared for his people and yet they STILL wanted to go back t...

Here I am 7 months later and our lives are  looking very different. I once again have to write, to process and ultimately share our everyday life which is now anything but ordinary. Russell was diagnosed with cancer a month ago. A shocking diagnosis that has left us breathless. In an instant our world has changed forever. My immediate instinct was to batten our hatches and keep everything close to home. I did not want to see  or talk to anyone. Ever again. I had my immediate family and some very close friends who were my safe space and they sheltered me from the world. Questions flooded my phone, each one piercing my  broken heart as I had to relive the horror of our situation. Ultimately my sister set up a fb page and whatsapp group for us to post relevant updates. Little by little I felt God breaking down my defences and preparing me to share our story. Initially I felt sick at the thought - sharing our struggles and pain felt indulgent and garish. I did ...

Started with the great idea to go to movies but nothing suitable for the 2 smallies. Ended up spending way too much money on Lego but kids had a great morning building...as they say...Busy Hands, Quiet Minds. Very therapeutic for them. Wish my morning could have entailed something quiet and creative. My days are FULL of research, sourcing, querying, emailing, cooking (for russ) cleaning and feeding.The that my kids are not doing school probably should be worrying me but it doesnt really even factor right now. I am so OVER trying to figure out food that is safe and healing for Russell right now. The pressure is unlike anything I have ever known but i think God may have spoken to me in Woolies today as I pushed my trolley around. Ultimately He is in control of our situation. I am not going to heal Russ with my incredible culinary skills. I am just required to do my very best and trust in Gods divine plan this journey of ours. It is hard. I am in mourning for my old life. Tho...

(Excerpt from journal) 9am We have been awake since 7am as is customarty these days as I have to inject Russ with Clexane at 12 hour intervals. A week ago the thought made me swoon but now it is just part of my everyday life. Right now Russ is reading next to me., Levi is propped up learning how to use iMovie on the iPad. Faith is downstairs checking her instagram and am guessing Rach is still fast asleep. The day stretches lazily before us. No plans, no agendas and no obligations. Living like this can be an amazing feeling but sometimes also feels like everything has stopped and we are waiting for something to happen. I guess I need to make some sort of mental shift to spontaneity or something. Tendency with us is to all lie around like sloths with our devices. Can freak me out some. Need to find balance. 9.35pm Its been another good day. Russ woke up feeling completely like himself. We ended up going for a 30min walk on Scarborough beach and then chips/milkshakes at Goema...

(Excerpt from journal) Almost 10pm. Not a great time to start writing. Particularly given the current circumstances of where we find ourselves. I barely know where to begin at all. Our lives changed irrevocably 3wks ago with Russ' diagnosis. My worst fears realised in a moment I have only witnessed in movies. But here we are 3wks later. Still standing. Still breathing. Still smiling through the pain. It has been an incredibly painful three weeks and at times I wasnt sure I would live through the sorrow, the horror, the realisation that nothing would ever be the same. But as time has passed I have realised that in our 'new normal' (although pretty awful) we can find beauty in it. I think a page for tonight will suffice. Its been a good day, the best in 3 wks - seeing friends, shopping, watching rugby. Normal life never tasted so sweet.