Scars and All

“Those who trust in the Lord are like Mount Zion, which cannot be shaken but endures forever. As the mountains surround Jerusalem, so the Lord surrounds his people both now and forevermore.”
~Psalms 125:1-2

As I sit down to write this column, it is 2:45 in the morning on Saturday, July 1, 2006. My surgery took place as scheduled ten days ago, and I am happy to report that everything went fine.

During the days leading up to my surgery, I had several emotional meltdowns. The fear and anxiety seemed insurmountable. One night I was crying and I told Keen that I didn’t want to lose my breasts. He replied, “You’re not losing your breasts, you’re gaining your life.”

“No matter what might be happening in your life right now, take a deep breath, relax and let your thoughts be still. Just as darkness gives way to dawn, so does despair create a new beginning. Never allow yourself to forget that it is from the darkest moment of the night that each new sunrise is born.”

Kate Nowak, Live More Abundantly Productions
http://www.mayyoubeblessedmovie.com

One of the ways I believe the good Lord readied me for the big day was to send people across my path to offer just the right words of encouragement, such as several breast cancer survivors who visited with me before my surgery. When my sister-in-law Kihm heard me say that I felt like I was “doing this to myself” since I had other medical options, she reminded me that I wasn’t doing this to myself, I was doing it for myself. Our oldest son Jared called from Iraq to offer his support, and he emphasized how fortunate I was to be taking this step as a preventative measure. My sister Mary recounted something our mother said while sitting in the waiting room of a doctor’s office during her own battle with cancer. Mary said that Mom pointed out another patient and commented, “She’s lucky – she only has to get a mastectomy.” Although that statement may sound oxymoronic, it really isn’t, because my mom would have done anything to “only” have to get a mastectomy. After hearing that story, I thought to myself: “If Mom were here, she wouldn’t want me to feel sorry for myself because I was losing my breasts; she’d want me to be thankful that was all I was losing.”

"What the caterpillar calls the end of the world the master calls a butterfly." ~Richard Bach, American Author

Monarch and Milkweed ~ Photograph by Patricia Barrett

The night before surgery my sister Peggy called to let me know that she was thinking of me and praying for me. Before she hung up, she said, “Just remember that you have been the person you are for 47 years, and this surgery isn’t going to change that. You are going to be the same person that we love the day after the surgery as you were the day before your surgery.” For some reason, that was a real light bulb moment for me. It also tied in perfectly with something our son, Keen II, shared with me the morning of my surgery when he called to wish me well. He said that recently he’d been contemplating the concept of happiness and he came up with this quote: “Happiness is the ability to maintain a positive attitude despite circumstances that are beyond your control.” The combination of Peggy and Keener’s comments helped me realize that this surgery didn’t have to change me any more than I let it. If I choose to let it depress me, it will. And if I choose not to let it affect how I feel about myself, then it won’t.

“For as he thinks in his heart, so is he...” ~ Proverbs 23:7a (NKJV)

“Your mental attitude will lead you into the light or hold you in darkness. It will lead you to hope or despair, to a glorious success or a miserable failure, and it is entirely within your own power to choose which it shall be."
~ Orison Swett Marden, Early 20th Century Success Writer

With the help of God and all the many angels He sent my way, I finally felt prepared for surgery, and I realized that even the pre-surgery meltdowns were a necessary part of the grieving process.

On June 21st, Kihm drove me to St. Francis Hospital, with Keen and Kirk following right behind. After checking in, I underwent a pre-op procedure where they injected radioactive dye into my left breast in preparation for a sentinel node biopsy. That’s when they remove some lymph nodes from the affected breast in order to test for microscopic cancer cells. If the pathology report indicates lymph node involvement, then further treatment (in the form of chemotherapy and/or radiation) is required to combat the spread of the cancer.

Eventually the moment of truth arrived, and I was wheeled off to the operating room around 4:30 p.m. Although I was scared, I felt very peaceful and confident about my decision, and I was anxious to get the surgery over with.

When I woke up in the recovery room, I was pretty groggy and the room was spinning a little bit. I remember asking if I could talk with Dr. Berntsen. She came to my bedside to tell me that everything went fine and the lymph nodes did not appear to be cancerous. (A few days later the pathology report thankfully confirmed that the lymph nodes were clear and there was no invasive cancer found in any of the breast tissue.)

After they moved me to my room, Keen, Kihm, and Kirk were all waiting for me.
Keen and Kirk Van

The first thing I remember was Keen’s smiling face by my bedside. “I’m so proud of you,” he said. “You did this for us; for me, for our sons, and for our grandchildren. Thank you.”

I felt such a sense of relief after the surgery was over, that the loss of my breasts almost seemed like a non-issue. I was just so happy that I had come out on the other side, and I only needed minimal medication for the pain. After Keen and Kirk left for home, Kihm and I stayed up talking – or should I say, I stayed up talking, and Kihm listened! Bless her heart, I’m sure that she was exhausted and would have welcomed a good night’s sleep, but instead she sat by my bedside the whole night while I verbally processed all of my thoughts and feelings. Then when I was finally ready to wind down, Kihm read to me from a book I brought along.

Even though I only slept for two hours that night, when I woke up the next morning I still felt pretty good. Then Keen stopped by to see me, and we went for a stroll around the halls of the hospital. When Dr. Berntsen arrived, she said that everything looked fine, and since I was able to walk around then I could be released.

Going Home with flowers from friends Gary & Linda, and Mike & Julie

After returning home, Nurse Kihm did an amazing job of taking care of me. She kept track of my pain meds and basically waited on me hand and foot. Not only did she take care of me, but she took care of Kirk who had to have his wisdom teeth removed two days after my surgery. I honestly don’t know what we would have done without her.

“Greater love has no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.” ~John 15:13 (RSV)

Eileen and Kihm after surgery

The next major milestone came when it was time for me to remove the surgical bandages and observe the scars on my chest for the very first time. I started out by taking little peeks, and worked my way up to the full view. I must admit that it was a sight for sore eyes as parts of my chest looked pretty disfigured. But I just thought, it is what it is, and I reminded myself of all the valid reasons I had for doing this. Besides, I didn’t go in for cosmetic surgery.

After returning home, my next challenge was to show the scars to Keen. When we went for a morning walk, I forewarned him that the scars were ugly. Right away he stopped me and said that I should never refer to them as ugly, because they represented the battle I fought and won. “Your scars are your badges of courage,” he said.

Later on when I hesitatingly revealed my chest to Keen, he looked at me with gentle eyes of admiration and smiled. “Your scars are not ugly,” he replied. “They’re beautiful . . . just beautiful.” Then, he put his hand over his heart and softly said, “It’s an honor to look at your scars.”

As the tears streamed down my face, my heart overflowed with gratitude to God for blessing me with a husband who, like Him, loved and accepted me . . . scars and all.

“Pleasant words are a honeycomb, sweet to the soul and healing to the bones.” ~Proverbs 16:24 (NASB)

Strength for the Journey (Part II)

“Strengthen the weak hands, and make firm the feeble and tottering knees. Say to those who are of a fearful and hasty heart, Be strong, fear not! Behold, your God will come . . . He will come and save you.” ~ Isaiah 35:3,4

This week I would like to share the following excerpts from some of the inspiring notes and words of encouragement I have received over the past couple of weeks:

Dear Eileen:
I remember your mother (my dear Aunt Peg) far more than I should. I have no idea why. But I can't help but think that she would she would be telling you today "get off your rear-end young lady and get this over with, your family needs you strong and healthy. They love YOU, not your breasts."

********************

If you are not an inspiration for all of us, I don't know who is. My heart goes out to you with so much going on and so many decisions needing to be made. I so agree with your decision about the mastectomy; with your family history, it would probably have to be done anyway at some point in the future, so why not now when it can be a preventive measure? I know it's such a heartrending decision to make, but it seems your medical team and especially your son and brother all agree it's the most effective option. I know so many people who, like you, dread losing a breast, but breasts are not who we are at all. I think you've made the right decision, and you do have such a warm and caring family to stand by you.

********************

That statement is so true. "You are not your breasts." You will be a different person without them but it will be because of the experience and growing you will be going through. Just the realization and deeper meaning about who you really are will be growth and change. Every day we are different than the day before because we have added a day's experiences. Dramatic experiences sometimes change us at a faster rate, but it is growth in the Lord for one of His children.

********************
Eileen, my dear:
Adulthood brings one precious right:
The right to make your own decisions.
You're exercising that right. Fear not...

Remember: you already have enjoyed many blessings in this life, and the close and loving support of your family in this crisis is in itself a boon denied millions in this world. I've told you before that in my opinion the Lord never gives us a load heavier than we can carry, with His help and that of our loved ones. . . .One further thought: Trust in the power of love, which transcends death and the grave, and in the care of your guardian angel, for 'tis sure you have one.

********************
Eileen,
You are so not just your breasts! You were a great person before you breasts developed, I am sure! You will be a great person without your breasts. You are your heart and soul! That will never changed no matter what the surgery entails.

I will love you just as you are and so will your other friends. Our bodies are like our houses, if people come to see our bodies or our houses instead of us, poor souls are they!

As for your little granddaughter, she will be the love of your life . . . she will adore you with or without breasts, and you will adore her regardless of her mental ability.

Remember, what doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger – and you see the world through much different eyes.

********************

We don't always (sometimes rarely) understand God's plan but we just have to trust and rely on Him for our strength. And, we are so blessed with loving families and hosts of friends from whom we can also gain strength. It often seems when we think our plates are full, we realize our most important lessons.

May God continue to hold you and your family up as you continue with your treatment and care and may He also continue to hold Josh, Lisa and Katelyn in His loving care.

“Trials are not enemies of faith but are opportunities to prove God's faithfulness.” ~ Author Unknown

“Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness. I say to myself, ‘The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for Him.’” ~ Lamentations 3:21-24

********************
You have been in my prayers and somehow I knew you would make a wise decision. Your faith has carried you this far and it will in the future. Hold on to the rope.

Remember what is most important.

It’s not having everything go right, it’s facing whatever goes wrong.
It's not being without fear; it's having the determination to go on in spite of it.
Remember that every day ends and brings a new tomorrow full of exciting new things.
Love what you do; do the best you can,
and always remember how much you are loved. ~ Vicki Worsham

********************
I Know Not
Author Unknown

I know not what the future holds,
Of good or ill for me and mine;
I only know that God enfolds
Me in His loving arms divine.
So I shall walk the earth in trust
That He who notes the sparrow's fall
Will help me bear whate'er I must
And lend an ear whene'er I call.

“For My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways, My ways, says the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are My ways higher than your ways, and My thoughts than your thoughts.”~ Isaiah 55:8,9

********************

Eileen – Your husband is right—and remarkably astute—when he said the procedure was a bridge, not a plank. And your doctor is right when she said you are not your breasts. You are much more than that, and you have shown us that column by column. More than that, you’ve shown that to me by the encouragement and love you’ve shown me even when I was a stranger. Believe me when I say that I am with you every minute of your journey. I am there holding your hand. You will come through this thing completely intact with all that matters. You will still be Eileen Umbehr, and we will still love you.

**********************

Eileen....Our feeling is how blessed you are that with your FAITH you can turn this whole situation over to the LORD for direction. I feel sure I have mentioned to you before that part of my nightly devotions includes the reading of the following:

“Have no fear for what tomorrow may bring. The same loving God who cares for you today will take care of you tomorrow and every day. God will either shield you from suffering or give you unfailing strength to bear it. . .”

"When you come to the end of all the light you know, and it's time to step into the darkness of the unknown, faith is knowing that one of two things will happen: Either you will be given something solid to stand on or you will be taught to fly." Edward Teller

Be at peace then, and put aside all anxious thoughts and imaginations.

“Do not fret or have any anxiety about anything, but in every circumstance and in everything by prayer and petition (definite requests) with thanksgiving continue to make your wants known to God. And God's peace, which transcends all understanding, shall...mount guard over your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus." ~ Philippians 4:6,7

*****************
'Leen....

I got this story [“God’s Cake”]
again today so there's some message for me (obviously)
and I'm sharing it with you :")

I will pray about and for your health.
Know that everyone is....
WE LOVE YOU.

Each of us are given so many blessings as well as
the 'balance' of those positives, too.

Strange to think that way, but it is the combination of both
that make us wiser and more compassionate if we choose to believe that God's hands are holding ours through it all...

I am taken back in time....

My son's face contorts with fear as he readies for the 'stick' of the needle.

His plaintiff cries cause me to break out in a cold sweat because I am anticipating his pain, yet I know it is for his own good.....so I smile and reassure him.

'Steady, now.....there....all done!'

Beads of freshly squeezed tears begin to dry on his smooth, rosy cheeks.

There...you did it!! See? It wasn't too bad was it?

“But who are you, a man, to answer back to God? Will what is molded say to its molder, ‘Why have you made me thus?’” ~ Romans 9:20

God’s Cake
(Author Unknown)

Sometimes we wonder, "What did I do to deserve this?" or "Why did God have to do this to me?" Here is a wonderful illustration.

A daughter is telling her Mother how everything is going wrong: she's failing algebra, her boyfriend broke up with her and her best friend is moving away.

Meanwhile, her Mother is baking a cake and asks her daughter if she would like a snack. The daughter replies, "Absolutely Mom, I love your cake."

"Here, have some cooking oil," her Mother offers.

"Yuck" says her daughter.

"How about a couple raw eggs?"

"Gross, Mom!"

"Would you like some flour then? Or maybe baking soda?"

"Mom, those are all yucky!"

To which the mother replies: "Yes, all those things seem bad all by themselves. But when they are put together in the right way, they make a wonderfully delicious cake!

God works the same way. Many times we wonder why He would let us go through such bad and difficult times. But God knows that when He puts these things all in His order, they always work for good! We just have to trust Him and, eventually, they will all make something wonderful!

“And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose.” ~Romans 8:28 (NKJV)


Eileen by campfire

Strength for the Journey (Part I)

“But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.” ~ Isaiah 40:31 (KJV)

As I prepare for my surgery this Wednesday, June 21st, I am overcome with gratitude to everyone who has sent a card or called to let me know that they have been praying for me. I have received unexpected, but welcome hugs from so many people who sincerely hope and pray that the surgery will go smoothly and my recovery will be swift. Even some of Keen’s colleagues and clients have added me to their prayer list! Best of all, I have made new friends in breast cancer survivors who were willing to share their personal experience with me. All of these things, along with my faith in God, have been a great source of encouragement.

"Cast thy burden upon the Lord, and He shall sustain thee. . .” Psalms 55:22

I also owe a special debt of gratitude to Keen’s sister Kihm who is coming to help me before, during, and after my surgery. This is an excerpt from the “real letter” Kihm sent me (as opposed to an email):
“Should you decide on surgery, I would like to offer my time to you. Basically, I work when I want to, and not working for an extended period of time is no problem. Help at home after you return from the hospital is essential! Please take an offer from someone or two or three for about 4-5 weeks after surgery. You will be so glad you did. I am available at your disposal. Whether you need or want me or not, know that I am upholding you vigilantly and constantly in prayer. Love always, Kihm.”

“A man has joy in making an apt answer, and a word spoken at the right moment, how good it is!” ~ Proverbs 15:23

Kihm’s handwritten note made me realize that she was truly sincere about wanting to help. After I told her that I would gratefully accept, she responded by saying that she was humbled and honored. Of course I told her that it was the other way around! I am the one who is humbled and honored that she would make such a huge sacrifice for me. And since she is a registered nurse, I feel especially blessed to be in such capable hands. God has truly provided for all my needs through friends and family members like Kihm.

This has been a difficult week for me. As the date for surgery draws near, the realization of what is going to happen has really started to sink in. The spouse of one breast cancer patient put it this way: “[The fight] takes you up, down, under, and around the full spectrum of physical, emotional, and mental dimensions.” (From the resource book “Show Me”, published by Penn State Medical Center) Last week Keen and I met with a woman who had a bilateral mastectomy with immediate reconstruction, and she was very straightforward about what is involved. The process of reconstruction is somewhat lengthy – about five months – and pretty uncomfortable. For most people, it is well worth the pain and trouble, but for me right now it feels like more than I’m prepared to handle, so I’ve decided to delay reconstruction at this time. I would like some time to heal from the emotional and physical aspects of the bilateral mastectomy first, then I can decide whether I want to go with a prosthesis (that fits inside a bra with a pocket in it), or whether I will opt for reconstruction surgery at a later date. Either way, they won’t be my real breasts,so it may not make a whole lot of difference.

In the meantime, I’ve been trying to picture myself without breasts so it won’t be such a shock – but it’s not easy. It’s kind of like trying to prepare for childbirth when you’ve never actually gone through it. But Keen has been unbelievably supportive throughout the entire, difficult process. He writes me encouraging notes to tell me how proud he is of the way I’m handling everything. The other day he taped one note to the bathroom mirror, and another note to the steering wheel of my car. It read: “I love you, Eileen Umbehr. You are the love of my life. Your beauty and grace give me the strength and courage to attack and defeat the dragons in our lives. Love, KAU.” After we made the decision to delay reconstruction, he sent me an email that read: “Embrace your freedom! You’ve earned it!” The other night we were talking in the hammock and I asked him if it was going to bother him to see me without breasts. “Not at all,” he replied, without skipping a beat. “Then I can hold on tighter.” Of course that brought tears to my eyes.. “Where do you come up with this stuff?” I asked. “Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks,” he answered. “I love you – the person on the inside. It’s what’s behind the breast that’s precious.” Keen said he believes that we’ll be closer than ever after this experience. That’s why I’m doing this – so that hopefully we can enjoy our love and life together for many, many more years to come.

“If children have the ability to ignore all odds and percentages, then maybe we can all learn from them. When you think about it, what other choice is there but to hope? We have two options, medically and emotionally: give up, or fight like hell.” ~Lance Armstrong

In closing, I’d like to share some more words of encouragement from “my old pal, Scott.” Once again, his thoughts are too good not to share. God bless you, Scott.

Dear Friend,

It seems like you are under a dark cloud these days--so many unexpected turns in the road. It must be nice to be someplace like Alma where you can get outside by yourself and scream your head off to release some tension. I'm a big believer in "scream therapy"!

It's interesting to me that you used the example of leg amputation to make your point to Keen. I have a co-worker whose husband was a hardcore biker before he became a Christian, and now he attends biker rallies around the country ministering to bike gang members. He and his wife are welcomed by some of the most dangerous groups in the country because they trust and respect him, and that enables him to preach the Gospel where no one else could. Recently, due to complications of diabetes, he had to have part of a leg amputated which made riding his motorcycle difficult. Friends pitched in to finance alterations (essentially, training wheels were installed) to his bike so that he would be able to continue to ride, and continue he did. His preaching became all the more effective and powerful due to his physical challenges. Since that time, he's lost part of the other leg, but his bike is outfitted with hand controls and he is still on the road preaching to his flock. As you said, "...we are not our breasts...," we are not our arms and legs either. It's all too natural that we identify with those things we can see and touch and feel, but we are much more than those things. What is the scripture that speaks of all the fullness of God being poured into these "weak earthen vessels"? Whatever happens to our bodies in this life, we live on as long as we can still contain the essence that God has poured into us, and life ends only when the vessel breaks and that which was poured into it is set free from containment. You, my friend, are a vessel that holds so much of God's greatness. The vessel may chip here and there, the handles may come off, but what you were fashioned to be--a vessel--remains, and we are all blessed because of you.

Eileen, you are facing some difficult days. Lean on your family and friends; let them be close to you. Sometimes we just want to crawl off by ourselves and isolate, but that accomplishes nothing but rejection of those people best equipped to lighten your load. Hold tight to them, and remember Keen's words: this is not a plank, it's a bridge.

“Fear not, for I have redeemed you . . .I have called you by your name, you are Mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you, and through the rivers they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through the fire you shall not be burned or scorched, nor shall the flame kindle upon you. For I am the Lord your God." ~Isaiah 43:1b-3a

Kihm Umbehr Blount

Facing Reality

“Besides this you know what a critical hour this is, how it is high time for you to wake up out of your sleep – rouse to reality.”
~ Romans 13:11

Before I begin my article this week, I would like to thank everyone who takes the time to read my stories in The Prairie Post. In the good times and the bad times of my life, this column has been such a therapeutic outlet for me. And a big thanks to Joann Kahnt for making it all possible.

First of all, I want to share our latest baby news! On June 7th at 5:37 p.m., our son Josh and his wife Lisa had a beautiful 8 pound baby girl named Katelyn Seraphina. We feel so blessed to have two grandsons and two granddaughters. As Asher told his Mommy, “Now it’s equal!”

I had the privilege of being in the delivery room (along with Lisa’s mom) when Katelyn was born. Lisa did an amazing job going through eleven hours of labor – all natural! Shortly after Katelyn’s birth, however, we knew that there were problems, and the doctors and nurses asked the grandparents to leave the room. After waiting in the hallway for what seemed like an eternity, Josh came to get us. We soon learned that our new little granddaughter has Down Syndrome. Of course it came as quite a shock to everyone, and there have been many tears shed, but with God’s amazing grace we have accepted the news and are anxious to surround little Katelyn with all the love and nurturing she will need to thrive in this life and reach her highest potential. We fully expect that this one special little girl will add a new dimension to our lives and bring us unimaginable joy. In fact, she already has. Grandpa Keen thinks that she will surprise us all. “We’re going to be an audience to a miracle,” he said.

Mommy Lisa and Baby Katelyn

Daddy Josh and Katelyn Seraphina

It goes without saying that I’ll be writing more about little Katelyn in future columns, but for now I’ll continue where I left off last week when Josh had finally convinced me of the need to have the reexcision done after the lumpectomy. Yes, it was time to face reality, but I still felt terrible about the idea of having to go through surgery all over again. It just seemed like I was in a hole and I was never going to work my way out. So that night while I was lying in bed, I began mulling everything over in my mind. As I reflected on what I went through last year (mammogram, magnification views, biopsy), and what I have gone through this year (mammogram, magnification views, biopsy, wire localization, lumpectomy – to be followed by reexcision and seven weeks of radiation), combined with what I’ll have to go through in future years (all of the above, plus yearly MRI’s, just to keep close surveillance on the situation), I began wondering whether I should consider getting the bilateral mastectomy done after all – even though I didn’t test positive for the abnormal gene. With four out of seven women in my family with breast cancer, there still seems to be something genetic going on. (Dr. Einspahr explained that there are some cancer-causing genes which haven’t been identified yet.)

After considering the pros and cons of a bilateral prophylactic mastectomy, I decided to get up and make a list. The results were extremely persuasive. On the pro side were things like: no need for further mammograms, magnification views, biopsies or lumpectomies, and no need for future radiation or chemotherapy. But the most compelling benefit would be that I can reduce my risk of developing an invasive cancer by 90-95%. In my mother’s case, she had a mastectomy, but it was too late. Although I realize that there are no guarantees in life and I may still have to undergo some measure of monitoring, since the type of cancer I have did not spread, I just feel like I’m in a unique position to obtain the maximum benefit from a bilateral mastectomy by attempting to prevent something invasive before it has a chance to get a foothold.

After I finished compiling my list, I began paging through a resource book titled “Show Me” (published by Penn State Hershey Medical Center). The book contains pictures and personal stories of women who have undergone various breast surgeries followed by breast reconstruction. One of the stories was about a woman who started out with the same thing I have, DCIS. They performed a lumpectomy, but they didn’t achieve clear margins. (Apparently this is quite common with DCIS since it is too small to be seen.) So she had the reexcision done and hoped that would be the end of it. But they still didn’t get clear margins. In fact, that time they found an invasive cancer, so she opted for a mastectomy. Her story really made me think.

The next day Keen and I went on a long walk and I told him what I was thinking. Even though he’s never wanted me to have to go through such a drastic procedure, he heard me out and could understand my point of view. I told him that it would be like having gangrene in your leg. Yes, you may have to lose your leg – and nobody wants to go through that – but the realization that it will ultimately save your life greatly diminishes the emotional impact of the ordeal. I also explained that I didn’t want to have my life hijacked and disrupted every year about this time. The stress, anxiety, and pain I will have to go through year after year (not to mention the time and expense), just to monitor the situation, is too much. In my mind, a double mastectomy provides a long- term solution, as opposed to a short-term solution that only gets me through this year.

Later that day we had a family meeting to discuss my change of heart. Josh, Keen II, and Kirk all understood my reasoning process and agreed with it. (My daughters-in-law, Erin and Lisa, our parents and siblings have been incredibly supportive, too. And Jared even called from overseas to offer his support.) Basically, if I am comfortable with my decision, then my family will support anything I want to do – especially if it will reduce my risk of developing something invasive in the future. I told them that I don’t want to spend my life putting out little fires and hoping that an ember didn’t get missed. I would rather fight one big war than multiple little battles, especially when my chances of success are greater. As Keener pointed out, the seven weeks I would have spent driving back and forth for my daily radiation treatments, I could be spending in recovery.

I have spent a great deal of time researching this issue from every angle and I have spoken with several women who already had this procedure done. In addition, I’ve consulted with a nurse oncologist at Mercy Hospital and several doctors including Dr. Bernita Berntsen, Dr.David Einspahr, Dr. Diana Katt, and my brother, Joe – and they all agreed that a prophylactic mastectomy is a reasonable approach for women like me who are at a higher risk of developing breast cancer. In fact, my brother said that I’m a prime candidate for the procedure, due to the fact that I have already had a form of cancer myself, and I have a strong family history. Apparently, our insurance company recognizes the benefit in prophylactic mastectomies, too, because they informed me that they will pay for the procedure if I have two or more immediate relatives (i.e. mother, sister) who have had unilateral breast cancer. (I have three; four including myself.)

That’s not to say that I haven’t experienced any fear or trepidation about all of this – especially now that they have scheduled a date for my surgery – June 21. I told Keen it feels like I’m walking a plank, and he replied, “It’s not a plank, it’s a bridge.” Even though I have other options, those options only get me through this episode, and I just don’t feel like I can go through all of this year after year. It would destroy my spirit. I don’t like any part of this. I am not a good patient. I hate all the procedures and the anxiety that accompanies them. I don’t like sitting in hospital waiting rooms waiting for the beeper to go off. I do not like it, Sam I Am. I want to live! I have a husband, children, and grandchildren to love; people to help and books to write.

Although I feel comfortable with my decision, there is one obvious aspect that is particularly difficult – losing my breasts. I came into the world with these breasts. I nursed four babies from these breasts. I’d kind of like to keep them. Recently I had a dream/ nightmare where I was introducing myself to someone and I felt like I should announce: “Hi, my name is Eileen. These aren’t my real breasts.” There’s a part of me that wonders if I will still be a real woman if I don’t have real breasts. Dr. Berntsen put it simply this way: “We are not our breasts.” I will be the same Eileen Umbehr I have always been on the inside.

“The Lord does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart." ~ 1 Samuel 16:7b

And the heart of a person is the important part anyway.

“Do not let your adornment be merely outward--arranging the hair, wearing gold, or putting on fine apparel-- rather let it be the hidden person of the heart, with the incorruptible beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is very precious in the sight of God.”
~ I Peter 3:2-4 (NKJV)

My friend Scott shared an inspiring story about his own mother who made the same decision 20 years ago, and she hasn’t had a recurrence since. He wrote:

You are so very much in my heart and in my prayers--all of you. So much is going on in your world with the decisions you face, your sister’s announcement, the arrival of Emma Eileen, and the upcoming arrival of the new baby. I've known you a long time and one thing I've always been certain of, even when we were scrawny, green little pups at SAS, is that you are a wise woman. You are able to look at all sides of an issue--no matter how unpleasant--and wrestle with it however long it takes until you come to the conclusion that is the wisest and godliest one available to you. Whatever you decide will be the best for everyone concerned--I truly believe that. As your family surrounds you with their loving arms and prayers, know that your old pal Scott is in the circle too.”

“My soul, wait silently for God alone, for my expectation is from Him.” ~Psalm 62:5
Lisa and Eileen ~ Two weeks before Katelyn's birth

That Was Then

"You will forget your misery; you will remember it as waters that have passed away. And your life will be brighter than the noonday; its darkness will be like the morning. And you will have confidence, because there is hope." ~ Job 11:16-18 (RSVB)

In my last update, I shared the good news about our first little granddaughter being born. Emma Eileen is two weeks old now and is doing great. She spent the first week in the hospital while they helped her with some breathing issues, regulated her temperature, and treated her for some jaundice. But she is back home now with her Mom Erin, big brothers, Asher and Gabe (who just adore her), her maternal grandparents (Papa John and Nanny Lu), Aunts Misty and Michelle and lots of cousins and other relatives who love her very much. Unfortunately, Jared is still stationed overseas so he has had to settle for pictures of his new little daughter. Now we are anxiously awaiting the birth of our next grandchild, as Josh and Lisa’s baby is due on June 14th!

Also included in my last update was information about my lumpectomy surgery scheduled for May 24th. As you can see from the following e-mail I sent to family and friends, everything went fairly well:

Hi All -

Just a note to let everyone know that the lumpectomy procedure went well yesterday and I am doing fine. I had one short spell (I think they called it a "vagal response”) where I became lightheaded and felt hot and my heart rate dropped to 38. On the way home, I was nauseated and vomiting, but the doctor prescribed some medication and I was able to eat a regular meal later in the day. I slept well last night and feel only minimal pain this morning. I'll see the doctor again next Friday to find out when we will start radiation. It usually starts four weeks after surgery.

Thanks to everyone for all the prayers! God's grace definitely saw me through.

Love to all, Eileen

Well . . . that was then . . . .

Two days later I contacted the surgeon’s office to see if the pathology report had arrived yet. A couple of hours later Dr. Berntsen called to deliver some “good news and bad news.” The good news was that they did not find any invasive cancer cells – they only discovered additional DCIS cells, which was what they had expected. The bad news was that they did not get a large enough margin around the involved area. All the margins were clear, but in two out of the three they only got 1 ml. instead of the standard 2 ml. Dr. Berntsen explained that the remedy for this problem was to “simply” go back in to get the additional tissue (also known as a re-excision). The last thing I wanted to do was to go back under the knife again! I asked her if there were any other options available and she replied that the 2 ml. margin was the “gold standard.” However, she did agree to consider the possibility of letting the radiation pick up any cells that might have been left behind. Of course, that was music to my ears.

But that was then . . . .

The very next day I received a call from one of my sisters. After we talked about my surgery, she said, “Do you remember how I told you that I was with you, sister? Well, I meant that in more ways than one.” Then she asked, “Are you sitting down?” She told me that three weeks earlier she was diagnosed with another form of breast cancer known as Invasive Lobular Carcinoma (ILC). It is a form of cancer that is difficult to identify on a mammogram. Consequently, it went undetected for at least a year, resulting in the development of one very large tumor and another smaller one. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. It seemed surreal to learn that this dreaded disease had attacked yet another member of our family. But my sister is a woman of faith, and she is drawing strength and comfort from the knowledge that God is sovereign and He loves her.

“'For I know the plans that I have for you,' declares the Lord, 'plans for welfare and not for calamity to give you a future and a hope. '” ~ Jeremiah 29:11 (NASB)

Although I realized that my sister’s history was now my history and that her diagnosis had implications for me as well, it still didn’t change my mind about not doing the re-excision.

But that was then . . . .

That evening I received another telephone call; this time it was from our son, Josh, who is a 3rd year medical student at KU. Josh was inquiring about what decision I had made regarding the second surgery. I told him that I didn’t want to do it because I was looking at a three inch gash in my breast and the thought of having it cut back open again did not appeal to me in the least. I also explained that I felt comfortable with the 1 mm margin because the margin was clear and it was 50% of what they wanted to get. In my way of thinking, since the tissue closest to the involved area was clear, then chances are the tissue on the other side of it would be clear, too. Besides, DCIS is considered Stage 0 or pre-cancer. At that point in the conversation, Josh proceeded to give me an old fashioned “butt-chewing.” (The kind I used to give him when he left his wet towels on the floor.) He said, “You’re lying to yourself, Mom. You’re lying to yourself.” He said he just emailed me some information which showed that statistically the number one risk factor for recurrence was the failure to achieve a full 2 mm. margin, and anything less than that was “sub-par care.” By then I was crying because I just did not want to have to undergo another surgery. But Josh was unaffected. “Your tears mean nothing to me right now, Mom. I’ll hold your hand and cry with you later if you want me to, and there are medications they can give you to help ease your anxiety. But to allow those fears to keep you from making the right decision is just plain foolish!” He said that statistically 1 in 7 women will get breast cancer, but we have 4 women out of 7 who have developed it in our family. “That’s huge, Mom,” Josh exclaimed. “This is serious. It’s nothing to mess around with!” Finally I agreed to “think about it.” Josh replied, “Then I’ve failed. I’ve failed.” He simply would not take no for an answer. By the end of the conversation I was convinced. “I’ll probably do it,” I said through my tears.

Josh’s voice immediately softened. “Okay, Mom. I’m sorry I yelled at you. I love you, Mom.”

“I love you, too, Josh.”

To be continued . . . .

Josh & me on his 25th birthday, April 15, 2006

Reflections of My Mother

Note: I wanted to give you all a brief update. The results from the genetic test are going to take longer than we originally thought. In fact they won’t be available until the middle of May. So I’ve decided to take a trip to Mississippi to help Erin with the boys since her doctor has put her on total bed rest. She isn’t due until the end of June, but she has been experiencing various signs of early labor. So I’m going to do my part to make sure our little granddaughter stays put until it’s safe to come out. Besides enjoying my time with Erin, Asher and Gabe, it will help me keep my mind off things until the test results are released. After that, it will be decision time for us. The oncologist we visited with, Dr. David Einspahr, was very kind and helpful. He wants to visit with us again after I return from my trip. Meanwhile, Dr. Berntsen recommended that I have a colonoscopy done, so I bit the bullet and took care of that last week. Thank God, the results came back fine.

With Mother’s Day coming up, I’ve decided to share something I wrote shortly after my mother, Peggy Van Kirk, passed away from breast cancer in 1989. Some of you may have already read this. If so, I hope that you will enjoy reading it again. Happy Mother’s Day and God’s blessings to each of you! ~ Eileen

The Van Kirk Family, 1960 (Before youngest brother Bob was born.)

“Honor thy father and thy mother: that thy days may be long upon the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee.” ~ Exodus 20:12 (KJV)

On Sunday, May 7, 1989, exactly one week before Mother’s Day, my own mother passed away. I don’t know that this will interest anyone, but I somehow feel the need to write down my thoughts and share them with someone. I hope you don’t mind.

My mother was born on November 25, 1925. When she was two and a half years old her father died. She had one younger sister, Mary, who was six months old at the time. My grandmother could have married again, but she always said there was no one for her but her Bill. So she never did. Much of my mom’s growing up years were spent at the home of my grandmother. She had several brothers and sisters who all helped take care of them.

My mom met my dad while she was attending nursing school. Both of their moms were friends. So when my dad got stood up by his date for a night at the Ice Capades, his mother called mom’s mother. She asked whether her Peggy would like to go out with her Joe. Mom agreed. Dad says that he knew the moment he helped her with her coat that night that she was the girl he would one day marry. He was right. They were married on June 19, 1948. Last summer they celebrated their fortieth wedding anniversary by returning to the place of their honeymoon in Vermont. It was something they always wanted to do. I’m so glad they did.

My mom and dad always wanted a large family and have one they did. It started out with a daughter, Peggy, named for my mom, followed by Patricia, named for my mom’s Uncle Pat who had been a father figure for her all her life. Then came Connie and I’m not sure who she was named for. While in the hospital after Connie was born, Mom told my dad, “Joe, I had a dream last night. I dreamt I had six little girls. They were all dressed alike, standing in a row.” That dream eventually came true. After Connie came Joanne and then their firstborn son, named Joseph Edward Van Kirk, Jr. After Joe came my sister Mary, who was named for Mom’s only sister. Then I came along. Mom said I was named after her best friend from nursing school. My brother Bill (William Augusta) followed just sixteen months later. He was named after our maternal and paternal grandfathers. Last, but not least, was my brother Bob (Robert Alois) who was named after two lifelong friends of the family.

My dad worked for the 3M Company and was transferred around quite a bit. They moved about fourteen times in their married life, usually to different states and once overseas to Singapore. Until their last move to Florida, they always had several kids in tow. I don’t know how she did it.

My mom worked so hard. She was such a loving wife and mother. I can remember coming down for breakfast on school mornings and finding a long line of bowls with soft boiled eggs and toast in them. Those who ran late had hard boiled eggs. Then when we were all dressed and ready for school we’d come down and find a row of brown sack lunches waiting for us.

Mom always made holidays special. On our birthday we got a day off from doing household chores and received several gifts. We also got to choose the kind of cake we wanted. I always chose angel food. Every year on Thanksgiving we had the traditional turkey feast with all the trimmings. On Easter Mom would make up individual Easter baskets for all of us and hide them around the house. What fun! Even on Valentine’s Day she would give each of us a card and a small gift chosen especially for us. But the biggest holiday of all at our house was Christmas. Each year they’d take home movies of all the kids in their pajamas, lined in a row from oldest to youngest. Mom made us all big red stockings with our names on them and these were hung along the fireplace. When my sister Connie was old enough, she would dress up as Santa and come around the house from the outside, surprising the younger ones to no end. We never noticed that she was missing from the crowd and we never recognized her! We all took turns on Santa’s lap, telling him what we wanted for Christmas. On Christmas morning we would all rush down the stairs to find a living room full of presents. We would scurry around trying to find our own individual pile. I know how much effort it takes to shop for that many people and then wrap all those presents. Again, I find myself wondering how she did it.

In 1982, my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer. They did a mastectomy but found the cancer had already spread. The past seven years she has undergone many different types of chemotherapy. She lost her hair and was very sick from the treatment much of the time. She did manage to have some good years, though. It was like a yo-yo. She fought so hard to live and enjoy life and she never complained. Last month her doctor said that she was a master at masking the pain. Even when she smiled and seemed well we can only wonder how much pain she was actually in.

My mom always thought of others. She really started going downhill this past March and on March 7 she entered the hospital. She was in and out for the next six weeks but mostly in. When she was home, though, she found the energy to shop for a gift for her daughter-in-law because the blouse she’d sent her for Christmas hadn’t fit. Then she insisted on shopping for shirts for two of my sisters who both had upcoming birthdays. My sister Joanne was there at the time. She said that Mom was actually shaking but she was determined to wrap each present individually. She also included a gift for me and one for her new little grandson, Kirk Van. From the hospital she wrote Keen and me a letter thanking us for some flowers we had sent. Her handwriting was not good. You could tell it took a great deal of effort for her to write it. I think she knew it might be the last time she wrote for she closed it by saying, “Take care, dear children. I love you. Mom.” I cry every time I read it. She also wrote one to Jared, Josh and Keen II, thanking them for the cards they made for her. She wrote, “I will try to draw a picture of the hospital, although I am not as good as you.” I will also enclose lots of kisses and hugs….you know I love you.” I cry when I read that, too.

Mom grew progressively worse in April, but one day in there she felt well enough to talk. Dad called me and said, “There’s someone here who wants to talk to you.” Our new son, Kirk, was only ten days old. Mom wanted to ask me about him. We had always shared the births of my babies and she hadn’t wanted to miss out on that. Her voice was weak and shaky but she asked, “Is he a good baby? Does he sleep good at night? How are you feeling? Are you getting your strength back?” All those mother-daughter things. When we were finished talking, something welled up inside me. It was like deep down inside I knew that this might be the last time I ever talked with my mom. So before we hung up I cried and said, “I love you with all my heart, Mom.” As it turned out, those were the last words I ever said to her.

During the last two or three weeks of Mom’s life she was on morphine constantly for the pain. She slept most of the time, but when she woke up enough to say something, it was always something loving and sweet. She was herself to the end. One time she actually sat up in her bed, clenched her fists and said, “I want all the people of the whole world to know that I have the greatest husband in the whole world!” One or more of my brothers and sisters were with her all the time. Of course my dad was with her from morning to night every day. They cherished every word she uttered and even wrote them down so we could all share them. My youngest brother Bob took it especially hard. He was just sobbing and sobbing by her bedside. Her protective mothering instincts were still an active part of her. After seeing how hard it was on him, she became adamant about him leaving. “Go home! Get out of here! Enough! Enough of this! I don’t want you to see me like this!” She was actually yelling. She was trying to protect him from the pain. Later, she held Bob’s hand and said, “I will show you by the strength of my hand that I want you out of here.” She squeezed as hard as she could, showing amazing strength. When my sister Mary told her that they wanted to be with her, she sighed and said, “Oh, boy.” Later Mary said, “Mom, we owe you so much. How do you repay someone for a lifetime of love?” In a weak voice, Mom replied, “You don’t owe me anything.” Another time she softly said, “We’ll be together forever.” I hope that’s true. She uttered words of love and caring whenever she spoke saying things like, “You’re beautiful; I’ve always loved you; you’ll be fine.” Once she kept repeating the word love, love, love. So Mary asked, “Do you want everyone to know that you love them, Mom? Is that what you’re trying to say? Do you want me to tell everyone that you love them?” Her eyes widened and she nodded her head up and down. Then she said, “Always stay together….all nine.”

Before Mom passed away Mary was crying and hugging her. With her face so close to Mom’s she was able to hear the words she whispered ever so softly, “Don’t cry.”

I’m going to miss my mom so much. Right after I received the news of her death I can remember looking around outside and thinking to myself, “The whole world looks different without a mother.”

It will never be the same without Mom. I’ll never be the same. Our eight-year-old son, Josh summed it up best with a note he wrote. It read, “I love you Grandma. I wish you didn’t have to die.”

The Van Kirk Family, 1979

The Road Never Traveled

“Fear not, (there is nothing to fear) for I am with you; do not look around you in terror and be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen and harden you (to difficulties); yes, I will help you . . . When you pass through the waters I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you. For I am the Lord your God . . .” ~ Isaiah 41:10; 43:2,3a

I’m not quite sure where to begin, except to say that this past month has been a difficult one, to say the least. For that reason, I’m going to have to take a break from writing my column for awhile.

As you know, I took a trip to Mississippi in February to visit our oldest son Jared, his wife, Erin, and our two grandsons, Asher and Gabe. The night before my arrival, Jared learned that he would be deployed overseas for an undetermined length of time. (He just left last week.) Then Erin started having some premature contractions and had to be admitted to the hospital. Thankfully, she is doing fine now, but I had hoped to go down to help her for several weeks if necessary. Then life threw me a curve ball.

In mid-March, I went in for my yearly mammogram, which I’m faithful to get because my mother died from breast cancer and my late sister Patricia was diagnosed with it at the age of 38. The test results showed some signs of microcalcifications, which are tiny flecks of calcium – like grains of salt – which can either be non-cancerous or an indication of an early breast cancer.

The next step was to have magnification views taken of that specific area. The radiologist who read my films said that the results were “indeterminate.” In other words, he couldn’t really tell if it was something, and he really couldn’t say that it wasn’t. So he recommended a biopsy.

Keen and I arrived at St. Francis Hospital for the biopsy on Thursday, March 23, which was the one year anniversary of my sister Patricia’s death. Not a good day.

The doctor removed eleven samples during the procedure, and the following Monday I received a call from my doctor’s office saying that two of the eleven samples revealed the presence of “ductal carcinoma in situ” (DCIS). Our son Josh (a third-year medical student at KU), immediately began researching this type of cancer and learned that DCIS is the most common form of non-invasive breast cancer in women. Ductal carcinoma refers to the development of cancer cells within the milk ducts of the breast, and in situ means “in place,” referring to the fact that the cancer has not moved out of the duct into any surrounding tissue. (Thank God.)

One of the internet links Josh sent me was www.breastcancer.org, where they answered the question about whether DCIS is really cancer:

We generally think of cancer as a type of disease that grows out of control. DCIS, on the other hand, is not an invasive cancer. It stays inside the milk duct of the breast in which it started. . . .it does not spread outside the duct into the normal surrounding breast tissue, to the lymph nodes, or to other organs. In the staging system that doctors use to classify cancer, DCIS is known as Stage 0. And it is sometimes called "pre-cancer."

So that’s the good news within the bad news. I’m sure you can imagine how relieved I am to know that we caught it at this stage before it spread to any other part of my body.

Whenever one of my kids or friends have gone through trying times, I’ve always encouraged them to focus on the positive aspects of the situation rather than the negative, because focusing on the negative only brings you down and destroys your spirit. So now I guess it’s my turn to practice what I preach.

“Summing it all up, friends, I’d say you’ll do best by filling your minds and meditating on . . . the best, not the worst; the beautiful, not the ugly; things to praise, not things to curse. Put into practice what you learned. . . .” ~ Philippians 4:8 (The Message Bible)

That’s not to say that fear has not reared its ugly head a time or two this past couple of weeks, or that I have not shed my share of tears. Someone commented about how it must be hard for me not to think about what happened to my mother. But my situation is very different from my mother’s. By the time they discovered her breast cancer it had already spread to the lymph nodes. Although she took all the treatments and fought it bravely for seven years, it eventually took her life at the age of 62. But in my case, it was discovered before it had spread to any other part of my body. Therefore, the doctors have said that my prognosis is very good – and for that, I am extremely grateful.

“Why are you downcast, O my soul? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God.”
~ Psalms 43: 5

Our next step was an appointment with Dr. Bernita Berntsen, a surgeon from Topeka. I was blessed to have plenty of family support from my husband Keen, our sons Josh & Keen II, and Josh’s wife, Lisa. We all agreed that Dr. Berntsen was just wonderful. She spent at least 45 minutes with us interpreting the pathologist’s report and explaining all of the options. Her first recommendation was for me to have my blood drawn and sent to a company in Utah which conducts a test for hereditary risk of breast and ovarian cancer known as a BRAC Analysis (www.myriad.com). With the history of cancer in my family (my father also had two bouts with cancer), combined with the fact that my sister was diagnosed before the age of 40 and I am under 50, Dr. Berntsen felt it would be worthwhile information for us to have, and it will help us determine the best course of treatment. If the test comes back positive, showing that I have a genetic abnormality or mutation, then my risk of developing breast cancer sometime in the future increases to 56% to 86%; and my risk for ovarian cancer increases to 27% - 44%. In that case, the doctor would recommend a double mastectomy and the removal of my ovaries. However, if the test comes back negative, then I can opt for a less drastic and less invasive form of treatment which would involve removing the breast tissue around the affected area (also known as a lumpectomy), followed by seven weeks of radiation treatment. Either way, I am looking at a challenging couple of months, which is why I need to take some time off from writing my weekly column. I also hope to spend some of this time researching the various options for getting my book published, now that the manuscript has been revised and is completed.

The other day I came across this verse from II Corinthians 12:9:

He said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore, I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.”

That’s what I’m clinging to and counting on – that God is faithful and His grace will be sufficient for me, regardless of what road I may have to travel in the future. In addition, it is my sincerest hope and prayer that something positive will come out of this negative situation, and that perhaps my experience will serve as a wake-up call to other women who have been procrastinating about getting a mammogram. Even though it can be frightening, (and no one relishes the thought of having their breast squished between two flat surfaces) – early detection is the key. It’s like my son Jared said, “It’s not the cancer that kills you; it’s the spread of cancer.” In fact, the microcalcifications found in my breast could not have been detected by a simple exam. So this is one situation where "what you don’t know can hurt you."

Of course Keen has been incredibly loving and supportive throughout this whole ordeal. He even brought me a dozen white roses the day I received the results of the biopsy. But something he shared with me has really helped me through some rough spots. He said that our situation reminded him of the story about when the disciples were in the boat with Jesus during a terrible storm. The winds were blowing and the waves were getting higher and higher. All the while, Jesus was sleeping peacefully. Finally the panicky disciples woke Him up and said, “Lord, save us, we are perishing!” And Jesus replied, “Oh ye men of little faith.” Then He rebuked the winds and the sea, and there was “a great calm.” The disciples remarked to each other: “What manner of man is this, that even the winds and the sea obey him?” Keen compared that to what we are going through. The waves are beating against our boat and the winds are blowing fiercely, but Jesus is in our boat, and He has everything under control. He has promised never to leave us or forsake us. So our level of peace during this difficult time is dependent upon our level of faith. Do we really trust God to take us safely to the other side?

“Do not pray for easy lives; pray to be stronger men. Do not pray for tasks equal to your powers; pray for powers equal to your tasks. Then the doing of your work shall be no miracle, but you yourself shall be a miracle. Every day you shall wonder at yourself, at the richness of life which has come to you by the grace of God.” ~ Phillips Brooks

After I learned that Jared was going to be deployed, I was reading through Asher’s little Bible (which Rocky, their Labrador, chewed into a million pieces the very next day), and I came across the following verse:

“No one knows what lies ahead. So who can tell what’s going to happen? He can’t stop the wind from blowing. And he doesn’t have the power to decide when he will die. No one is let out of the army in times of war.” ~ Ecclesiastes 8:7-8a (NIRV)

As much as we would like to think that we can control the outcome of our lives, or that we can protect ourselves or our children from all harm, we really can’t. No one knows the future except God. Our part is simply to trust. Trust in His wisdom. Trust in His mercy. Trust in His love.

“One of the ways that our faith expresses itself is by our ability to be still, to be present, and not to panic or lose perspective. God still does his best work in the most difficult of circumstances.” ~ Tim Hansel

There is a very special poem called The Rosebud (author unknown), that talks about how we humans cannot unfold a rosebud, no matter how hard we try. It is something that happens in its own time, and in its own miraculous way.
Photograph by Patricia Van Kirk

The poem reads in part:

If I cannot unfold a rosebud,
This flower of God's design,
Then how can I have the wisdom
To unfold this life of mine
So I'll trust in God for leading
Each moment of my day.
I will look to Him for guidance
Each step along the way
The path that lies before me,
Only my Lord knows.
So I'll trust Him to unfold the moments,
Just as He unfolds the rose.

“Would you question Me of things to come concerning my children?”
~ Isaiah 45:11b (Amp)

Before I close, I would like to thank my family and friends for their love, support and prayers. I would also like to thank Joann Kahnt for graciously allowing me to share the journey of my life for the past three years. Thank you for your understanding, Joann, and for assuring me that you will welcome me back whenever I am ready to start writing again – even if it is only once a month. My heartfelt thanks also go out to you, my readers, because without you, I would be talking to myself – and Heaven knows, I already do enough of that!

Lastly, I would like to share the following poem I wrote several years ago during another difficult period in our life:

IN THE STILL OF THE NIGHT
By Eileen Umbehr

I sit here, Lord, with my paper and pen
Wondering why, wondering when
My heart seems to beat out of my chest
Help me, Lord, to enter Your rest.

So many questions, so few answers
Fear runs rampant, like a dreaded cancer.
I feel so alone, in the still of the night,
How do I overcome this unbearable fright?

Night after night, I lose hours of sleep
Unable to trust in the Shepherd of the sheep
But I cannot run, neither can I hide
So I will face the future, with God by my side.

For life, though a struggle,
is a gift nonetheless
We must keep the faith
until we pass the test.

“Do you not know? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He will not grow tired or weary, and His understanding no one can fathom. He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak. Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.” ~ Isaiah 40:28-31

On the Wings of Love

"Let no one despise or think less of you because of your youth, but be an example (pattern) for the believers, in speech, in conduct, in love, in faith and in purity."~ I Timothy 4:12

“Do you know that your soul is of my soul such a part, that you seem to be fiber and core of my heart?” ~ Excerpt from “To My Son” by Margaret Johnstone Grafin

Time got away from me this week, but I wanted to share a collection of poems in honor of our youngest son, Kirk Van, who will be turning 17 on April 2nd.

I remember the day we brought my little namesake home from the hospital (my former last name was Van Kirk, so we just reversed the order). It was Election Day that year and Keen was running for a seat on the local school board as well as the Alma City Council. With our newborn son in tow, and my hospital band still on my wrist, we drove straight to the voting center to cast our votes. Keen joked that he would get elected even if he had to raise the voters himself! (He did win both races.)


I have often said that Kirk Van was born responsible. All his life, I never had to prod him to do anything, from making his bed to doing his homework – he’s always just known what he needed to do and done it. As his principal said to me recently, “Kirk really steps up to the plate and takes care of business.” In fact he just earned straight A’s on his report card – and he’s taking some challenging courses such as Chemistry, Advanced American Literature and Algebra II. On top of that, he played on the basketball team, joined a paintball club, and just got a job as the youngest disc jockey ever hired by Complete Music in Manhattan. Kirk is, and always has been, beyond his years.

In Catherine Marshall’s book, “To Live Again,” she writes about the loss of her husband Peter, and the difficult process of letting go of her son, Peter, who attended a prep school in another state. She wrote: “…as love is progressively purified, possessiveness is dropped out. The deeper and truer the love, the more completely it releases the beloved. . . .As my child was growing up, I saw an analogy in my love for him. The highest function of my mother love would be fulfilled when my love was strong enough to cut the apron strings and let my . . . child move off into his own life. I would succeed as a mother only when I had so reared my child that he would no longer have need of me. Yet this is not tragedy; it is growth. This is no betrayal of love. This is love.”

Not too long ago I saw a television story on 20/20 about mothers who were still calling their kids in college to wake them up for class. One mother said it usually took four telephone calls before her daughter would finally get up for good. An expert on the show commented that while the mother feels like she’s doing the right thing, she’s actually doing the opposite, because she is unintentionally sending a message to her child that: “I don’t think you’re capable of managing your own life, so I will do it for you.”

"Spoon feeding, in the long run, teaches us nothing but the shape of the spoon." ~ E. M. Forster

This is a poem I wrote for Josh after he transferred to Manhattan High in 1997 during his junior year in high school:

Roots and Wings
By Eileen Umbehr

Some people say,
There are only two things,
That you can give your children,
One is roots; the other, wings.

They'll have their share of ups and downs,
At times the skies will be bleak,
But we must allow them to spread their wings,
Even if they bump their beaks!

It's hard to know when to let them go,
Some are ready sooner than others,
But no matter when that time comes,
It’s always hard on their mothers!

But deep down in our heart of hearts,
We have always known,
We can't keep them with us forever,
One day they will be on their own.

And we really wouldn't want it,
Any other way,
We have to allow them to fly and be free,
Even though we wish they could stay.

So we'll raise our children
With faith, hope and love,
And a prayer that God will watch over them
From Heaven up above.

Then when the time arrives,
For them to leave the nest,
We’ll wave good-bye with a tear in our eye,
Knowing that we've been blessed.

“A ship in harbor is safe, but that is not what ships are built for.”
~ William Shedd

This next poem was written for Kirk when he was just six months old:


For Kirk
With love from Mom

You are the youngest of our four sons
Our pride and joy, our precious one

You were sent to us from God above
To fill our hearts and home with love

Although having a girl
Would be a dream come true
That doesn’t mean
We regret having you

Just one look
at your smiling face
And we forget all about
those ruffles and lace

Loving you, holding you
Makes our heart sing
Kirk, we wouldn’t trade you
For anything!


And this is the latest poem I wrote for Kirk Van:

On the Wings of Love
(For Kirk)

My child, fly free
With the wind on your face
In this brave new world
To discover your place

We’ve tried to prepare you
The best that we can
By teaching the importance
Of holding God’s hand

There will be challenges, obstacles
And goals to pursue
But with the Lord as your Shepherd
You’ll always know what to do.

Don’t follow the crowd
Instead, follow your heart
Even though that might mean
That you’ll be set apart

For your future is bright
Young son number four
Just stay on the narrow path
And discover all God has in store

We know that you’ll go far
With help from up above
Just remember that you’re flying
On the wings of love.

You're gonna fly with every dream you chase
You're gonna cry, but know that that's okay
Sometimes life's not fair, but if you hang in there
You're gonna see, that sometimes bad is good
We just have to believe, things work out like they should
Life has no guarantees, but always loved by me
You're gonna be

~ You’re Gonna Be ~ recorded by Reba McEntire

Life After Patricia

“... the time of my spirit’s release from the body is at hand and I will soon go free.” ~ II Timothy 4:6b (Amp)


But when I get where I'm going
And I see my Maker's face
I'll stand forever in the light
Of His amazing grace
Yeah when I get where I'm going
There'll be only happy tears
I will love and have no fear
When I get where I'm going

~ When I Get Where I’m Going – recorded by Dolly Parton and Brad Paisley

It’s hard to believe, but March 23rd will mark the one year anniversary of my sister Patricia’s death. I must admit that I’ve been dreading writing this column. I just don’t want to feel so sad, because that’s not what Patricia was about, and that’s not the way she would want the rest of us to feel after her passing.

In some ways it is still such a shock. One minute Patricia was frolicking on the beach, dodging Diana’s video camera, joking about only taking pictures of her from the “eyes up,” playing in the water with Caroline and Bev, watching the jet skis go by and talking about the time her crazy brother-in-law Keen let their niece Emily take him for a ride on the jet ski after Emily’s parents had strictly forbidden her to, and laughing about how Keen fell off and Emily didn’t realize it until she drove by the boat that picked him up and saw him waving at her.

One of the last things Patricia said before she was stricken with a brain aneurism was: “Every time I get in the water, it makes me feel like a kid all over again!” Some have said it was the perfect way to die – doing something you love with the people you love, right up until the very last minute. When I think about how our mother battled cancer for seven long years, I honestly don’t know which is worse – losing someone you love suddenly, without warning, or watching them suffer over a long period of time.

Two months before Patricia died, I had to have a suspicious lump removed from my left breast and I decided not to tell everyone because I didn’t want them to worry needlessly. But Patricia called me that day – right out of the blue. She said she’d been thinking about me and just wondered how I was doing. You see, Patricia was a breast cancer survivor herself, having been diagnosed at the age of thirty-eight. After going through all the treatments, she went into remission and had been cancer-free ever since. So when she called that day, I couldn’t keep my secret in, because I knew if anyone would understand the fear that gripped my heart, she would. And she did. After I received the results that the lump was benign, Patricia was one of the first people I called with the good news. I told her how the experience really put things in perspective for me and made me appreciate my life so much more. I will never forget Patricia’s reply. “I guess I’ve always assumed that I would die young,” she said. Taken aback, I replied, “Oh Patricia! Why would you say such a terrible thing?” She explained that since she had breast cancer and also had several skin cancers removed, she always just felt that her life would be short. When she passed away two months later, her words echoed eerily in my mind.

Over time, however, I have come to see Patricia’s premonition as a positive thing. Perhaps that is why she had such a genuine zest for life. Perhaps that is why she would drag Nikki out at 5:00 in the morning to go bird watching. Or why they bought a second place known as Periwinkle where they loved to relax and walk on the beach. Perhaps that is why she took trips and traveled when most of us only talk about it. Perhaps that is why she celebrated life the way she did. Perhaps she truly, truly understood, as Robert Louis Stevenson once said: “The best things are nearest: breath in your nostrils, light in your eyes, flowers at your feet, duties at your hand, the path of God just before you.” Perhaps that is why she loved to capture so much of the beauty in the world around her. Perhaps ... she just knew.

I would like to dedicate this column and short poem to Patricia’s partner and our other sister, Nikki.

You have been brave
You have been strong
You’ve found a way to laugh again
You’ve learned to carry on
Your circle is wide
And their love is deep
We’ll be here for you always
Please do not weep.

I love you, Nikki. Shine on.

Nikki & Eileen after Celebration of Life for Patricia on Whidbey Island, March, 2005

Nikki shining on, 2006

I’m already there
Take a look around
I’m the sunshine in your hair
I’m the shadow on the ground
I’m the whisper in the wind
I’m your imaginary friend
And I know I’m in your prayers
Oh, I’m already there

~ I’m Already There – recorded by Lonestar
Eagle above and sunrise below photographed by Patricia

Silencing Hate

“If someone says, ‘I love God,’ and hates his brother, he is a liar; for he who does not love his brother whom he has seen, how can he love God whom he has not seen?” ~ I John 4:20,21 (NKJV)

“Hate destroys the vessel it’s kept in.”
~ Author Unknown

When I see the so-called “Reverend” Fred Phelps of Topeka, Kansas, and his band of followers picketing the funerals of soldiers and/or gay men across this country (all in the name of God), I become enraged. This man is hate personified.

The Phelps clan recently traveled to Dodge City, Kansas, to wreak havoc on the funeral of Army Sgt. Jesse Davila who was tragically killed by a suicide bomber in Iraq on February 20, 2006. Holding signs saying “God Hates Your Tears” and “Thank God for Dead Soldiers,” the Phelpses promoted their hate-filled message while the family and friends of Sgt. Davila gathered to mourn his loss.

Although Keen and I are firm believers in freedom of speech, we also recognize that it is a double-edged sword. The same freedoms that give us the right to speak out against the picketers, also give them the right to espouse their despicable views. We cannot decide which views will be tolerated and which will not, because this great country we live in is not only free, it is diverse. There are Christians and atheists; those who support the war and those who oppose it. There are individuals who staunchly lobby for abortion rights at all stages of pregnancy, and those who seek to ban it all together. There are those who believe in equality for all, and those who express extreme hatred toward various minority groups. But the fact remains that we are all Americans, and as such we possess certain inalienable rights – first and foremost, the right to vigorously support the views we hold dear.

In spite of the fact that I cherish freedom and wholeheartedly believe all of the above to be true, I still find myself wondering if there couldn’t be some exception made for people like the Phelpses. In fact, last year when I read that the Phelpses planned to rent advertising space at the newly-constructed Hummer Sports Park in Topeka, I placed a call to Paul McMasters, the First Amendment ombudsman for The Freedom Forum (www.freedomforum.org). After explaining how hateful the Phelps's messages were, Mr. McMasters responded by saying that the answer to offensive speech is more speech – not less speech. In other words, we have to fight speech with speech. He went on to say that people such as the Phelpses are like schoolyard bullies who get away with hurtful tactics because nobody has the courage to stand up to them.

Well, that was not exactly what I wanted to hear; it’s not exactly what any of us want to hear, because it requires something from us,and we just want it to stop - we don’t want to have to get involved. Although I believe most Kansans are embarrassed by the Phelps’ family and their abhorrent conduct, we feel helpless to do anything about it. The protesters and their gaudy neon signs are everywhere – and they seem to have a boundless amount of energy for picketing any time, any place, in any kind of weather. Although they claim to be Christians, the Phelps family members have been known to hurl vile, disgusting insults at anyone who dares to confront them.

In a March 7, 2006, article about the Phelps’s decision to picket Sgt. Davila’s funeral (published on CNN's web site), CNN reporter Ed Lavandera quoted family patriarch Fred Phelps as saying: “You can’t preach the Bible without preaching the hatred of God.”

He couldn’t be more off-base.

"Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you travel land and sea to win one proselyte, and when he is won, you make him twice as much a son of hell as yourselves. . . Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you . . . have neglected the weightier matters of the law: justice and mercy and faith. These you ought to have done, without leaving the others undone. Blind guides, who strain out a gnat and swallow a camel!"
~ Matthew 23:15, 23,24 (RSV)

Shockingly, Mr. Phelps was also quoted as saying: “Every time a soldier gets blown to smithereens, we rejoice.”

How sick is that?

Getting back to what Paul McMasters said about answering speech with speech, there is a valiant group of volunteer motorcyclists known as the “Patriot Guard Riders” who have undertaken the task of doing just that. About 400 riders gathered in Dodge City last Saturday to line the streets and block the protesters – drowning out their hateful chants during the funeral procession.

The article further reported that Sgt. Davila’s mother, Linda Claus, was very grateful to the Patriot Guard Riders. "When people begin to know what they're (Fred Phelps's family) really doing -- killing the American Dream -- they won't be around very long, because nobody's going to let them. They'll drown them out. They'll be gone." Claus said.

Famed African-American photographer Gordon Parks, who sadly passed away last week, left an inspirational legacy for us all. A recent tribute published in The Manhattan Mercury reported that when Mr. Parks was once asked what propelled his life and work, he replied, “I wouldn’t let bigotry stand in my way.”

By the grace of God, neither will I. Neither should any of us.

“And this commandment we have from Him: that he who loves God must love his brother also.” ~ I John 4:21 (NKJV)

An Otherwise Ordinary Week

An Otherwise Ordinary Week
By Eileen Umbehr

Have you ever had a case
Of the Grandma blues?
Well last week I got the bug
And didn’t know what to do.

So I booked the first flight
Out of Kansas City
And two days later
I arrived in Mississippi.

Jared and Erin came to greet me
Along with Asher and Gabe
Who ran as fast as they could
For hugs and kisses I had saved.


The day after my arrival
Erin surprised me with a treat
When our future granddaughter
In utero I did meet!

Our next stop was the girls' section
Of the local department store
I think she’ll be the best-dressed baby
From birth to age four!

After seeing his sister's wardrobe
Asher asked Grandma to think
"Do you know Mommy's favorite colors?"
Answer: "Pink, pink and pink!"

Gabriel was his usual
Cutie-patootie self
He said, "Don't interrupt me, Grandma –
I'm talking to myself!"

But not everything about my trip
Created laughter and joy
You see our firstborn son found out
He soon may be deployed.

But I have to remember
Freedom isn't free
That’s the reason he enlisted
In the United States Navy.


The news just made us treasure
Our time together that much more
We talked and laughed and reminisced
And said, "I love you" many times over.

Since none of us knows the future
‘Tis best to leave it in God's hands
And live one day at a time
As the Good Book does command.

On the day of my departure
Asher said that he would miss me
And little Gabriel cried
Making my eyes a little misty.

My next stop was Josh and Lisa's
To check out their new place
And attend Lisa's next sonogram
To meet our grandchild face-to-face!


What a miracle to see
Those tiny feet and hands
It almost makes the three-month wait
Impossible to stand!

But soon enough June will arrive
And with it two "grand-Umbehrs"
It's such a thrill to contemplate
We’ll be doubling our numbers!

In conclusion I would have to say
That my vacation was complete
But otherwise it really was
An ordinary week.

“Grandchildren are God's way of compensating us for growing old.”
~ Mary H. Waldrip

Asher and Gabe at the park