Outside

 One of these days we are going to have to put a railing back up on our front porch.  Code, safety or some such nonsense as that will hem us in and and steal our away the feeling of freedom I get sitting out on my porch.   I am impulsive, Ryan is active and together we might have some measure of ADHD, so there are many a half finished project around our house.  One such project, that I would argue is so by choice, is our front porch.  One day, about a year ago we got sick of the rotting wood that made up the banister and railing up our steps and across the entrance to our home.  Ryan ripped it all down one day, and has since beautifully finished the columns with cedar.  We had plans and ideas to finish with new railing, but to this date, it sits as it has for months.  Open and free. 

 

I love to sit outside.  To watch my dog laze in the sun without a care in the world.  I love to feel the heat on my skin.  During spring it’s just a whisper here and there as the clouds part and breeze slows and for a moment I feel the promise of summer.  

 

Then a few months later it’s the full heat of summer and late in the day as the oppressive rays start to sink lower in the sky and the days seem to go on forever.  There’s no rushing, no agenda, just time to sit and enjoy. Watch my kids convene on the swing set for an evening chat session.  It ends it tears as often as it ends in laughter, regardless the moments are precious. 

 

In winter its less frequent, but those blissful North Carolina days where there is a sudden reprieve from the cold and gray and the stale air from being indoors all of the time.  A reminder of the summer days that seem so long ago.  A reminder of what has been and what is coming.

 

Fall, my favorite season of all.  Those cool mornings when you get to slip into sweats and cozy socks and sit outside and feel the nip in the air.  Watch the leaves on the maples slip from green to crimson and then to rust and fall to the ground.  When every year we exclaim with delight at the size of the sycamore leaves and compare them to the size of our head.  Where yardwork becomes just an excuse to be outside and doing, moving and breathing. 

Regardless of the season, my moments outside are so precious.  For some reason its one of the only times I feel ok with just sitting, and watching and breathing. I don't feel like I have to be doing and moving.  Not on my phone, not reading a book, not cleaning or organizing.  I can listen to the birds, think my thoughts, watch nature live its life around me.  And my soul says "amen". 

An honest update

 How are you?

I’m good, thanks?

But how’s your knee?

It’s better every day. Thanks so much for asking.

This is how the conversation goes.  I genuinely appreciate the thoughtfulness of anyone who asks But I’m not being completely honest in my answers because it’s just too hard. 

The real answer is “it’s hard”. Very. Very hard. Every day I deal with pain.  And I have to make a choice.  I can sit on my couch and be mostly comfortable.  Or I can choose to keep moving. To get on that bike, to push in my exercises.  I’m pushing against the bad form that keeps creeping in on the bike. My knee begs me to point my toe. My toe begs me to bend my knee. They are fighting each other constantly. 

Pain shoots through my knee at the most random of times as my nerves work to regenerate.  The most common time seems to be around 3 am. Right after I’ve finally drifted off to sleep as I’m still dealing with post joint replacement insomnia. 

Every fucking day.

I’ve still got about 10 hydrocodone left … that’s about the only way I get sleep. But the supply is dwindling and I know the worst thing I could do would be to try and get more. I need to deal with this in a healthy and responsible way. But I’m just so tired. 

Please don’t think I’m not aware of far greater problems in the world. Afghanistan (full stop).  COVID (again, full stop). Tomorrow I get on a plane and fly to Texas to spend 6 days with one of my dearest friends who is quite literally going through hell to save her life.  But that’s not “perspective “. It’s just more heartache. 

So dear ones. That’s my real answer.  I’m fucking tired. 

Catharsis

 Looking back through my older posts on Maybe Tomorrow,  I sense a theme.  In the beginning my blog was a place to connect and share funny stories about my kids or my musings on motherhood.  In recent years my blog has become a place of solace for me when I'm facing hard times. I guess the good news is the months that often span between posts are happy and light.  And I certainly have many periods of silence on the blog - for which I am thankful.

Right now is not one of those times.  I can feel the familiar fingers of depression reaching out to try and take hold and drag me down.  Everything in me wants to curl in - make a protective little bubble where nothing can hurt me.  During these times Ryan usually becomes my anchor.  The only thing I feel sure and strong - holding me in place and keeping me from running away.

Every day tasks feel exhausting.  My body is so worn down from all its been through - the act of loading my car after vacation, or cleaning a few rooms, leaves me feeling worn through.  Last night I came home to a mess at our Airbnb - cleaning it took hours as going up and down the stairs is such a challenge.  Afterwards I was too worn out to even think about making dinner.  Cue the feelings of inadequacy and self loathing. 

I catch site of my reflection in a window as I walk into a shop and I am horrified by the unfamiliar curve of my leg, the unnatural gait, the swollen and scarred joint.   Walking into the store the other day, feeling people watch me, I wanted to hide.  Knowing I was being looked at because of my limp and the bend of my knee.  The fear that it won't improve.  That I'll look lopsided and awkward forever.

I was supposed to meet my dear friend at the pool this morning and I cancelled on her.  Because I'm afraid.  I don't know what swimming or pool jogging will look or feel like. I don't know what my cardiovascular system will sustain.  And I don't know if I'm ready to know yet. I don't know that I can handle any more disappointment.  

Maybe you didn't ask, but there is the answer to "how are you doing?".  The answer is, "not great". But as history would show, the periods of sadness, the times when my blog is a catharsis are short, and the greater periods of peace and joy always return.  So for now I will hold onto that hope of a return to silence. 

When grief comes.

 Something I've learned in the past few years, is that its often hard for us humans to just let others sit in their grief. To really give people space to grieve, without trying to put a positive spin on the situation.  

Maybe I'm unique and others appreciate that optimism during the grief process, but when someone who is not in my situation wants to shine a positive light on it FOR me, I tend to push back.  Because my pain is my own.  And while I am sure that many of the positivities are true, it doesn't mean that I'm ready to hear them.

My body has brought me great joy in this lifetime, it has also brought devastating grief.

The reason is simple.  I'm an athlete.  That is just part of my identify.  

If you ask anyone who knew me in high school to describe me during that time, I'm sure that almost every person would mention soccer.  I loved everything about the game.  The community. The feeling of pushing yourself to your limit.  The sweet feel of victory and even the bitter taste of defeat.  I worked my ass off to achieve what I was able to.  Because I tore my ACL the first time right before my junior year, and then my second ACL half way through my junior season, I didn't have anything to show potential college recruiters. But I knew if I worked hard enough I could walk onto a Division One team.  And I did.  I put in miles on the track by myself, hours on the field doing skill work, by myself.  Playing every single chance I got.

 All the hard work and pain paid off when I made the Liberty soccer team.  Then halfway through the season I was hurt again.  I went into surgery with the doctor optimistic that it was just a meniscus tear and I'd rehab and play again the next season.  I came out of surgery to find out that my ACL had been torn and that I would likely never play soccer again.

It was devastating.  The grief process was long.  I lost my sense of identify when I lost the version of myself that belonged out on a soccer pitch. Watching my teammates head out on a trip to an away game while staying behind in the dorms was heart breaking.  I knew that if I tried to play again, my knee wouldn't survive it.  Even simple things like kicking a ball often caused my knee to shift as my ACL couldn't hold it.  Last fall when we were together with Ryan's family a bunch of the kids were playing soccer.  The ball came towards me and when I tried to kick it back up over a small wall I could barely do it.  My nephew turned to his dad and laughingly said "I thought you said Aunt Lacey played in college".  I would be lying if I said that I didn't come home and cry.  

A few years later I found running.  I'm guessing that just about anyone who knows me now, knows how much I love to run.  For a lot of the same reasons as I loved soccer.  Pushing my limits, the camaraderie of my running friends, crazy adventures together to races, plus, I was really good at it. 

Well, needless to say I was very happy when we decided I was a good candidate for a partial knee replacement.  It meant that, while I might have to cut back on running, I would still be able to do it!  So, it felt like deja vu last week when I sat in my doctor's office and he looked at my knee and told me the partial replacement hadn't worked.  The ACL wasn't able to hold the implant in place.  If you haven't seen the X-rays it a pretty good representation of the awful situation my knee was in and why my pain was so bad (you could say I'm somewhat famous (i.e. freak of nature status) at my physical therapy office). 

So I knew what conversation my doctor and I were going to have when I woke up from my surgery on Monday.  My running days are over.  Done. 

And that, is really, really hard to come to terms with.  So, I am again going through a grieving process over part of my identify.   And I just need to sit in it.  And give myself time to adjust.  Hopefully with a minimum of well meaning, but unnecessary,  attempts by others to make my situation seem better.  

Mike

 

My father in law passed away this week.

It’s very sad but not in an immediate sadness. More in a grief for the relationship that Ryan lost many years ago when his dad had a massive stroke.

In some ways we have waited for the call for 18 years. But in others you get to a point where you don’t expect it to come. So on Monday morning when I woke up at 4:30 to missed calls from the nearby ER I was shocked. I called the doctor and when he told me that Mike’s body was shutting down I truly thought I might still be asleep.

The next few hours were a blur but by 8:30 he was gone. Praise God he wasn’t alone. I was able to be with him and hold the phone to his ear as two sons said goodbye, while the 3rd made it in time to be with his dad as he passed.

As I held his hand I talked to him about the glory that was awaiting him. His body has been so sick for so many years. I know that it was probably hard for him to imagine walking, let alone running in heaven. I told him that Ryan’s mom would be there waiting for him. And I know she was.

My kids never knew the dad that Ryan grew up with. He was a shell of the man who never missed a sporting event of his boys. Who coached them, drove them to practices, games and camps. Who was so immensely proud of them.

Over the years it’s been hard not to be resentful. Ryan’s mom’s life was never the same after the stroke and the stress may very well have contributed to her shortened life.

After she was gone the burden fell to Ryan. I wish I could say it wasn’t a burden but many times, it was. But Ryan was always faithful to take care of his dad’s needs, coordinate his care, take care of his finances, provide for his few physical needs. His dad lost his ability to truly express gratitude and to know how to put others first but that didn’t stop Ryan from doing what he could... knowing it would be thankless and never enough.

We’ve been blessed by friends who have just showed up this week, knowing the many and varied emotions we are feeling. For those who have sent flowers to bring smiles to our faces, who have brought dinner, wine, breakfast, cupcakes! For those who have taken over schooling so we could have some time together alone.  The reminders of our blessings are many.

We picked up his ashes and death certificate today. A routine we’ve become all too familiar with.  His death certificate lists the primary cause of death as sepsis but the secondary cause as COVID-19. There is no doubt in my mind, that had he not contracted Covid he would have been able to fight the infection that took him. He’s fought similar infections many times before. 

While we know with Ryan’s dad, that this was the time for him to go, I can’t help but think of the many others with pre-existing conditions whose cause of deaths are being politicized or debated for the gain of one side or the other. It certainly brings it into a new light as you stare at the words on a death certificate with your own eyes.

So, maybe the reminder in all of this is that life is rarely black or white. Republican or Democrat. Covid or Sepsis. Blessing or burden. Grief or joy. 

Most often, it’s somewhere in the gray. 

Proven

This morning during our online sermon, our pastor challenged me to think of a time when God has proven Himself in my life.

Because I know, many people are looking around at the hardships and hurt around them and they are wondering where God is.  And as we are asking that question, we can look at the proveness of God that we have experienced in the past, that will hopefully allow us to trust Him and His plan in this time.

When Pastor Dan asked this question it only took about 2 seconds for my answer to pop into my head.  And also example after example that supported my answer, followed in rapid fire succession in my brain.  I was sitting next to Ryan and he turned to me and he spoke aloud the exact word in my head.  

Jake.  

When we were given a gorgeous baby boy almost 16 years ago, we had such plans for him in our minds.  Oh the places he would go.  

As the years went by and he failed to progress as we excepted, those plans faltered.  And fear began to set in.  How was God going to make good on His promises when all were seeing was brokenness.

But time, after time, after time, God has showed us that His words “For I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future” (Jer. 29:11) are true for Jake.  Every time.

God did not just write those words for the neurotypical kids.  He didn’t just promise that to the kids who are academic all-stars.  Who are super popular.  Who have tons of friends and athletic success.  Those kids are awesome too, and I know their parents are super proud, but y’all, I wouldn’t trade 100 of those kids for my one Jake. 

God has an amazing plan for Jake and I get to have a front row seat to watching it play out.  He is going to (and already has) walk through life with Jake as His wonderful plan plays out..  Jake already is a powerful success story.  And God is just getting started.  

Merry Christmas!

Christmas greetings from the Trumbo family!

For the first time since 2009 I am not going to be getting Christmas cards out this year! It pains me to no end, but I promise its just a one-year hiatus and next year our smiling faces will once again grace your mailbox.  Between a new puppy, a new HVAC system and 4 kids worth of activities, it seemed like a good year to save money and time and go digital!  Also, without the constraints of pretty Christmas paper and print margins, I am able to ramble on and on …. You’ve been warned.  

2019 has been a good year for our family.  As always, we have been challenged to grow through numerous trials (burst pipes, mold, sickness, job changes, broken appliances) but as ever, the Lord shows us again and again that we have nothing to fear with Him by our side.

Jane Dare turned 10 in September and is enjoying 4^thgrade.  For the first time in many years she is the only Trumbo at Pinehurst Elementary School.  Between her social life and her gymnastics schedule she stays very busy – but Driz likes busy!  She was moved up to Gold team at her gym which means she now practices 3 days a week for 3 hours at a time.   Her competitive season will begin in January – which will make for some long weekends. This year we will head to Virginia Beach, Charlotte, Raleigh, Winston Salem and Athens, GA…. And that’s just the regular season!   She continues to delight us with her social insight and amaze us with her self-confidence.  

Reid is 11 (12 next month) and after a couple small bumps he is now happily chipping away at 6^thgrade.  His sense of humor often finds him making Ainsley and her friend’s laugh during their shared study hall.  After a couple of frustrating soccer seasons, Reid decided to go out for wrestling and we are incredibly proud of how hard he is working.   After a long day at school he has 2.5 hours of practice each day.   This sport is a perfect match for Reido-torpedo and although the meets are LOOOONNNNGGGG, it’s worth it when he takes the mat.  Reid is a compassionate and thoughtful kid and we never get tired of watching him care for those around him.  

Ainsley will be 14 at the end of this month and it’s been a joy to watch her come into her own in 8^thgrade.  She has matured so much this year – she is working hard on her grades with big goals. Of course, if you follow me on social media at all you know that Ains’s passion is music and we never tire of hearing her beautiful voice coming from her room.  Ainsley is caring, thoughtful, helpful, and AMAZING (Jane Dare took over my computer to write this and far be it from me to delete!!!).  Showing us her perseverance, Ainsley was selected for the NC Middle School Honors Choir.  She has discovered a new love for reading and has a wonderful team of teachers at school.  She is growing in her faith and we love to hear the stories of her sharing her love for Jesus with those around her.  Ainsley also joined the cross country team this year and it was no small thrill to her mama to watch her – she is a natural! 

Jake is 15 and a freshman at Pinecrest High School.  This school year has been a wonderful time of growth for him and has been an answer to so many prayers.  We are continually reminded that God created Jake and has a plan for him that we can’t even imagine.  The block schedule at school – which means just 4 classes per semester – has really allowed Jake to focus in and do well in all of his classes.  Even math honors!!!  But Jake has really shined in his speech class.  Having a near photographic memory and zero fear of performing means Jake is killing it in speech.

Lacey continues to struggle to fill her days with more than bon bons and long baths.  Which is why we decided to get a puppy!  And Lacey got a job!  Ok, enough 3^rdperson.  Last January I started working for a local endodontist doing marketing, among other tasks.  It’s very flexible and part time and makes me wonder how on earth moms who are employed full-time manage it all.   While being a mom to 4 little kids was physically exhausting, parenting 4 teens and tweens is exhausting on a level I couldn’t have prepared for.   Between tutoring and lessons and practices and orthodontist appointments and after school clubs and youth group and Young Life and trying to have family dinners and a clean house I don’t get a lot of down time.  For this reason I am beyond grateful for the opportunity to spend a week in Montana as part of a Spouse Performance Program with a non-profit for military families like ours.  The friendships I gained, tools I learned and insights I took away from this week were, in short, life changing.  I am so very blessed.  I’m still running and biking and just incredibly grateful for the adventures this body puts up with (and for science and injections that let my poor knees keep moving!). 

After 8 years at the same unit it was time for Ryan to move on.  He was given a beautiful farewell ceremony last May that my parents and his brother were able to attend.  It was very special for our kids and family members to hear the impact Ryan has had during his time at an elite organization.  Change has not been easy.  A famous song says “you don’t know what you’ve got til its gone”.  On the contrary, we were well aware of what we had, and appreciated it fully, and being on the other side has really sucked at times. But I am incredibly proud of my husband and the fact that he always gives 100% and no matter what organization he is with, his reputation garners respect.  Its hard to believe that in only 4 ½ years he will be retirement eligible.  There was a time we couldn’t imagine retirement.  But after 16 years it becomes more and more appealing.  Rather than separations becoming easier, we dislike them more and more as time passes. As Ryan says “it seems we’ve become dependent on one another”.  We were proud to watch Ryan run his first marathon this year!  He swears he is one and done, but we will see. 

As we look to 2020 we prepare for some time apart in January and February.  Just as gymnastics competition season kicks off, musical theater practices begin, and wrestling is still in full swing.  On the horizon I’ve got 2 kids starting Drivers Ed this summer and so maybe, just maybe, there is a light at the end of the tunnel.  But in the meantime I’ll enjoy my endless miles and hours in the car for the precious time it gives me to listen and laugh along with my crew. 

We wish you a blessed and happy new year!