A full revolution around the sun has taken place since you died.  The earth has existed in every possible orbit without you on it.  And here I am still turning.  I've heard grief compared to travelling on a Slinkie.  You go around and around and don't feel like you're moving forward.  It isn't until you look back that you realize you've actually come farther than you thought.  So here it is, the one year mark. 
Things have happened in our lives.  We moved.  I started some community volunteer service that I've always wanted to do but never had time for.  My girls started new schools, new activities.  My life somewhat resembled a list and I slowly checked each box. 
Grief group?  (Check). 
Kids grief group? (Check)
Good neighborhood?  (Check). 
Remodel house? (Check)
Start new hobby? (Running.  Check)
Take a vacation? (Check)
Take care of yourself?  (Gym membership.  Check).
Involved in church? (membership, bible study, small group, volunteer.  Check check check). 

Ummmm......what exactly is supposed to happen now that the list is completely checked?  Well, I guess I just live it, right? 
So what's this floundering feeling?  What's this restlessness?  What exactly am I expecting to happen? 

I don't know.  Perhaps this season in my life is more about questions and less about answers.  Perhaps not every life season comes with satisfaction.  Perhaps some seasons are meant for grasping and searching.  (Perhaps this whole post is nothing but a terribly long cliché that is starting to sound like a Dr. Suess book). 

When Kevin died, I remember telling my counselor that I felt like a plant that had been ripped out by its roots and tossed on the grass.  How in the world was I supposed to re-root myself when everything that was familiar had been ripped away?  Start, he said.  Just start.  Start somewhere...anywhere.  Any way you can.  But now........life is normal again. 

The biggest challenge in the grieving process that I have encountered thus far is actually right now.  I know not all grieving people would share this view, but it is mine, so I will own it.  Assessing my re-built life and finding satisfaction and joy in it. But that's the problem isn't it?  That word: finding. I feel I could search forever and continue adding to the list.  Just this hobby or that class or this or that.  But maybe the better word is choosing.  Choosing satisfaction is more freeing than finding satisfaction.  It's intentional.  It's unconditional.  It's.....really, really hard to do. 

I keep reminding myself (and others are quick to remind me too) that I'm okay.  It's okay.  This season is okay.  I know I will be okay....no matter what. 

I will end this blog the same way I began in my very first post. 

I know three things to be true.
1.  God is love.  He only allows trials for His loving purpose. Let this one be the anchor to which everything is attached, because this is the first one you will want to abandon when your life no longer resembles itself. 
2.  God loves my children.  He is their father first and last.  He knows what He is doing with them. 
3.  God hears and answers our prayers.  I'll quote Mother Teresa who says it so perfectly:  "I used to pray that God would feed the hungry, or do this or that, but now I pray that he will guide me to do whatever I'm supposed to do, what I can do.  I used to pray for answers, but now I pray for strength.  I used to believe that prayer changes things, but now I know that prayer changes us and we change things."

Thanks for being amazingly faithful readers.  I have received an outpouring of support during this time and I very much appreciate it. 

May Grace and Peace be with You,

Kristin

Shortly after diagnosis, during one of the bad nights when Kev was very ill, he turned to me, looked me in the eye, and asked the loaded question, "What happened?"  

This moment has been bouncing around in my head for the last month, surprising me by popping into my consciousness during the most unexpected moments.  That question:  what happened?  Our life was going as planned, we had a great house, two kids (planning a third) good jobs, good friends.  What happened?  Wasn't life supposed to be great?  Wasn't it supposed to be what we expected, what we deserved?  

I see this moment in my head, and my world rewinds back, back, back to the very moment I first set eyes on Kevin.  The moment we said our vows, held our babies, made our future plans, discussed vacations....and then....what happened?

Last week the Spirit whispered to me this verse, "Many are the plans in a man's heart, but it is the Lord's purpose that prevails (Proverbs 19:21)."  And I have come to realize that I have lived this verse.  We all have, but for me, "What happened?" is this verse.
Which begs the question:  So do I throw up my hands, surrender to the whims of a mysterious God, and abandon all planning and pursuits?   NO.  But let me tell you what I have learned:  Kev and I were often guilty of using God as a handy accessory, never short on thanks for all of the blessings, but also only occasionally consulting Him on decisions.  We pushed God to the back when life was good.  All believers are guilty of it, myself especially.  So when the tough parts of life hit........what happened?

And now, Kevin has left this world, and I am faced with major life decisions:  Where do I live?  What do I do?  What is important to me, what are my goals?  Many are the plans of my heart.........but the Spirit whispers, "Seek first the Kingdom of God, and his righteousness, and all these things (what you need) will be added to you." (Matthew 6:33, italics mine).

Seek first.  In all things, even the mundane things.  Not because this prevents you from being blindsided by the bad things when they come, you will be.  But because ultimately God's will prevails, and you don't want to show up late to the truth of who lovingly holds your life.

Thank you to everyone who prays for our family.  The girls and I are doing well, working through each transition as it comes, and we are grieving together, surrounded by love and support.

Love to you all,

Kristin

I just realized today that not everyone follows our Facebook page and I have yet to post an updated blog.  So I am so sorry that this may be coming late for some of you.

Kev passed away peacefully on Monday, and is now residing with Jesus.  It was a whirlwind week, and I so apologize for not posting the service details on the blog.  The funeral took place yesterday (February 15th).  It was a beautiful service, with both of Kev's brothers giving tributes to Kev and his legacy.  I am so blessed with such an awesome and totally supportive family.

I have received a request to post the letter I wrote that was read at Kev's funeral.  It was read by our awesome pastor, Kevin Baker, who walked this entire journey with us.  God bless him, and God bless you all.

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Dear Family and Friends,

I have had 18 months to prepare for this day in my mind.  Of course I had hope, but it was always there in the back of my mind, the possibility that Kev may pass away from this disease.  

So we took steps to prepare certain things, have certain discussions, and took every opportunity to serve each other, knowing, in the back of our minds that the worst may, indeed, happen.  

But when Kev passed away, the level of my grief shocked and surprised me.  I had believed that I was somewhat ready for this.   But in facing it head on now, I realize that grief is something you cannot be sheltered from.  There are no walls that can be built, no plans that can be made, no items that can be thrown away, that could’ve prepared me for losing my best friend, my confidante, and my children’s father.  

Our marriage wasn’t perfect.  We fought, sometimes a lot.  He frustrated me frequently, and I him.  But in many ways cancer healed our marriage.  Cancer stripped away our pride, our petty arguments, and I would like to always remember that we made something beautiful together through this.  We served each other and loved each other in a way that I felt in my spirit was God-honoring.  But this growth brought so much pain and suffering.  We took turns with selfishness, self-serving behavior, and resentment.  I sometimes hated what I had to do, and sometimes he resented me for what I had to do for him.  We both became very weary.   It was an experience of immense suffering and broken beauty.  

So now, here we all are, and my grief is so deep and real.  I see my and my children’s lives fast forwarded through the future without Kev, and feel nothing but pain and dread.  

Someone told me today that pain and grief are holy feelings.  They are feelings that God, himself, has experienced, and they are appropriate and okay.  Lamentations 3 tells us that though He brings grief, He will show compassion.  Because of the Lord’s great love, I am not consumed.  

The feeling that “I am in a pit,” has been resonating through my head.  I can think of no greater description for my feelings.  Today, I read this in Lamentations 3: 55-57:  ‘I called on your name, O Lord, from the depths of the pit.  You heard my plea:  “Do not close your ears to my cry for relief.”  You came near when I called you and you said, “Do not fear.”'

Even in this pit, the Lord is with me.  And he is with my children.  And he is with you.  

God Bless you, everyone.

Kristin

To my dear and faithful followers of this blog and our family's story:  Thank you for your support and love. We have received many blessings over this last week from you all--thank you.  And thank you for praying for Kev and our family.

Here is the chain of events that lead up to this point:
Kev was about half way through the Pomalidamide chemo regimen when we received a phone call that his bilirubin (liver enzyme) was elevated, and we needed to immediately stop the chemo.  All myeloma drugs use the liver in which to metabolize, so we were hoping that once we stopped it, his bilirubin would go down.  It did not.  Instead, it began to rise very quickly, making it suddenly a very serious issue.  At first we weren't sure why his liver was becoming sick, but a few tests was all it took to deduce that it was disease progression in the liver.
Within one week we transitioned from a treatment mode to a hospice mode.  Those transition days were devastating for the family as we tried to process that the cancer fight was now over and we now needed to proceed with an entirely different mindset.

Our oncologist felt that Kev had "weeks," but we really don't know how long....could me more, could be less.  Every day Kev becomes a little weaker and sleeps a little more.  The hospice doctor's first priority is to make Kev as comfortable as possible and, so far, Kev seems okay.

This is a very personal and intimate time for our family and we are coming together to support each other during this time.  It is a blessing that we have this time together to mourn and grieve while Kev is still here, and to be able to share with him what he means to us.  So many families lose loved ones with words left unsaid, and we are privileged to be able to have the time for this.

Due to Kev's condition and to respect his level of comfort, we are only having family visit at this time.  If anyone would like to share something with Kev, please leave it as a comment on this page, or, if you'd like it to remain private, please email it to me at kristinvanzanten@gmail.com, and I'll be sure to read it to him. Many of you have already done this, and you can rest assured that he has read/heard them all so far.

This time is all about Kev and making him as comfortable and peaceful as possible.  He has earned this.  He fought the fight like a warrior, and now he will receive his reward--an eternity in paradise with Jesus Christ.

The beautiful and mysterious sovereignty of God is not something to be understood.  Of course I ask God why.  How can I not?  It seems like such nonsense for my children to lose their father in this way, and at such a young age.
But we are told to write the words of God on our hearts (Heb 10:16) for times such as these when emotions cannot be trusted.  These words become our foundation, and strong foundations cannot be destroyed.  It will remain.....it will remain for something new to be built atop it.  Something beautiful that will glorify God.

I look ahead at my life without Kevin and I start to panic.  When I see a picture of Kev from "before" I feel an overwhelming pang of loss that I just cannot put words to.....it's like my insides are fracturing.

But when I look at him now, I feel so blessed to be able to care for him and serve him during this time. I pray for Jesus to give me the strength to serve Kev as He would: completely and selflessly. Although this is, at times, very difficult to do.

Death is a part of life, and we will all face it one day.  I feel blessed that it's not coming as a surprise and that we will have everything prepared according to Kev's wishes.  We won't have words left unsaid.  I'm not leading this into a cliche on purpose, but let my words mean to you what they will in this area......

Many would like to help.  Here are the most helpful ways right now:
Prayer, prayer, prayer
Gift cards to grocery stores or to-go type restaurants
Frozen ingredients for recipes that I can place in the crockpot when convenient.
**Please do not call before dropping something off--just knock and leave it on the front porch if no one comes...thank you :-)

I receive many texts and emails, I am reading them all, but may not respond.  Please know that I very much appreciate your love and support.  I'm not sure how often Kev is checking his phone, but if you want to be sure he gets something, send it to me as well.

God bless,
Kristin

I hope you all are finding some comfort during this "Polar Vortex".  I have heard it said, if you can find contentment during the inclement times you won't feel the need to keep searching for it.  For discontentment is a heart issue, not a material one.
So regardless of this weather, be rest assured that it is only a season, and it too shall pass.

I say this also in regards to our current circumstances with Kevin's illness.  We are in a season of praying and waiting.
Here is a synopsis of the last 4 weeks:
Kev was placed on steroids following the intestinal GVHD.  These steroids caused some pretty significant water retention in his "third space," which is a fancy way of saying his "tissues".  There was a point when we calculated he had about 30 lbs of water in his tissues.
As the steroids began to be weaned down, the fluid retention improved, but we noted that he also seemed to have fluid in his lungs (coughing, rattling chest).  We brought this up to the doctor, fearing pneumonia, so they began giving Kev weekly chest x-rays.  It showed there was some fluid in there, but they weren't alarmed.

 The issue was shelved for a week or so, until Kev went on a newer chemo agent called Pomalidamide.  This caused his white blood cells to drop to almost nothing, at the same time that our daughter, Claire, brought home a cold virus.  Needless to say, we all caught a cold, and Kev caught a cold plus viral pneumonia.

Of course, this type of logic never stops the hospital from running every test known to mankind, and after much testing, it was ruled that this was, indeed, viral pneumonia.  Kev became quite ill, but his vitals all remained normal.  He spent a week in the hospital, struggling to get a normal breath, but his symptoms improved and he came home.

The week in bed really sapped his level of strength and now we're working on building it back up.  He needs to use a walker for balance when he's up and moving around, and is still struggling with shortness of breath.  He improves slightly every day, and we're praying for a continual upswing.

This set-back is daunting and unfortunate, since before it happened we were working on continuing to kill this cancer.  And we get nervous when we have to take breaks from that, since it has historically moved very quickly.
We brought this concern to the doc Wednesday, who decided that it was best to start the Pomalidamide again, this time at a slightly lower dose.  She also recommends further radiation on some of the larger plasmacytomas on his back.

I think we can all agree that Kev is one tough dude, and the fact that he is still walking into the battles like a fearless soldier is pretty amazing.  I know I've said it before, but I'm very thankful for Kev's strength to continue to endure this.
So although the battle continues, we are hopeful for a miracle.  As long as there is breath in Kevin, we will continue to fight and hope that he will be delivered from this.

Sometimes, when I am truly despairing, I remember "the Saturday" sandwiched in between the day of Christ's death and resurrection.  The time his followers "mourned and wept (Mark 16:10)," and also lamented over the fact that this man was supposed to have redeemed all of Israel! (Luke 24:21).
I can only imagine how terrible this day must have been for those who loved and believed in Christ Jesus.  Someone they had placed all of their faith in, turned in and crucified.  Even though Jesus had told them how it would end (Mark 8:31), they did not understand.
Like these mourners, we know through God's word how the story ends..... yet I do not understand why this is happening.  I can only read about the amazing truth of God's promises, and find comfort in that we're not the only ones who have mourned and doubted God's plans.
God gave them that Saturday for a reason: for all of us who are in our own Saturdays....stuck in-between the despair and the glory which is to come......

God bless you all for the meals, texts, emails, gift cards, money, prayers, and kind thoughts sent our way. We love you.

Love,
Kristin

An open letter to the 'sorrowful' this Christmas:

It starts in October. We get ready for the "Hap-Happiest season of all," Christmas. The music starts playing, the ads start running, the sales flyers start coming. We put out the manger scene showing a serene and beautiful Mary hovering over a peaceful and snug baby Jesus, the animals looking on reverently. We talk about the great news of Christ’s birth, how we all should be feeling such joy and peace this time of year. And if you're not a Christian, it's just the joy and peace of the season itself.  We're all supposed to be like the little Who's in Whoville, holding hands, singing.  Presents, fellowship, happy, happy, merry, merry!!

But what if you’re not feeling the hap-happiest this Christmas? What if circumstances of your life can’t simply be covered by wrapping paper and swallowed down with the glazed ham? Is there a place at Christmas-time for sadness? Is there a place at Christmas-time for lamenting? Is there a place at Christmas-time for uncertainty?

Is it possible that the good news of Jesus’ birth has been reduced by society (and even the Church) to a “Joy to the World” cliche? Is this all there is to the Christmas story--joy and happiness?  I don't know about you, but when I think of Christmas being “the most wonderful time of year” it only succeeds in causing a struggling person to feel alienated during this season. Is it any wonder that depression increases almost two-fold during the holiday months?

But I wonder what would happen if we not only emphasized the “good” parts of the Jesus story, but also the parts that aren't so “good.” 

 Allow me to present to you some words and terms from the scriptures surrounding the birth of Christ that you won’t hear sung about this Christmas: 

Fear

Betrayal 

Divorce 

Escape 

Murder

Think about (really put yourself there!) what Mary went through when her family and friends found out she was pregnant—before she was married. 

 Think about what Joseph must’ve felt when he learned of Mary’s “betrayal.” 

 Consider the fear of being in labor with no place to birth your child. Allow me to be bold and speculate that Mary probably felt terrible about having to place God’s son in a feeding trough. 

 Imagine smelling donkey dung while you attempt to nurse your firstborn child. 

 Imagine the fear you’d feel fleeing your country because a political figure wants your child dead. 

 And imagine being a parent in Bethlehem, watching your toddler boy be slaughtered because of one man’s narcissistic obsession with power. Somehow, O Little Town of Bethlehem just doesn't seem like the right song…..

I don’t point to these scriptures because these are what should be emphasized about Christ’s birth, not at all. Emphasizing either extreme is best avoided, of course. But don’t we do a disservice to the Sovereignty of God when we fail to look at the whole story, the story that shows a whole gamete of human emotion? 

 For me, the Christmas story is ultimately about God’s sovereignty. How He orchestrated the events of Christ’s birth just perfectly, just how He wanted them. How he used Herod’s obsessive power grab, Mary’s fear, Joseph’s divorce plans, and a stinky manger, to bring about the most beautiful event in human history. We can read these few verses hundreds of years later and see the beauty of God’s sovereign plan. But for some of us, we need the whole story. We need the pain, the fear, the uncertainty, the heartbreak. We need it because we desperately need to see a God who works through them, designing something beautiful.

So if you’re not feeling like doing the jingle bell rock this year, don’t despair, God is with you. He may have you riding a donkey while you’re nine months pregnant, only to give birth later in a stinky barn with only your clueless husband to help you, but He is with you, rest assured, and He is weaving something glorious.

Merry Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Festivus, or whatever you celebrate this time of year. 

May the peace of God rest with you. 

Love, Kristin

Kevin is still suffering some ill-effects of the GVHD in his stomach/intestines that started a couple weeks ago.  He is on more medications now to manage it, but those meds have some nasty, unpleasant side effects.  
I wish we had a concrete and reliable measure of how much cancer killing is going on, but really, that test is the PET scan, and he can only have those every few months.  So not knowing what is truly happening inside of Kev's body is very daunting.  
He is going to work everyday, and in his typical style, battling his way through this like the badass that he is.  I'm so thankful for him and his strength.   
We're still waiting for some good news to confirm that along with this GVHD, we're getting some cancer killing done.  In the meantime, we wait.......

Go along with me on this one, and imagine this:

You're on a boat, in the middle of the night, with your friends.  The wind is buffeting the waves against your small boat, and you can feel the terrifying power of nature as you are rocked this way and that.  You desperately need to get to the other side of the lake because you're meeting your friend there, and he is waiting for you, depending on you.  
Something on the water catches your eye, and, shielding your eyes against the spray of the waves,  you see someone coming.  And this someone has not taken a boat, but actually appears to be walking on top of the water.  As the figure comes closer, you see your boat-mates pointing, their faces full of terror.  You cannot believe it--a ghost!  
But then the apparition speaks, and you realize with equal parts awe and fear that it is your friend, whom you were supposed to be meeting on shore.  
Overcome with faith, you ask if you can step onto the water with him.  He holds out his hand to you, gesturing you forward.  Boldly, you step onto the cold water.  Amazingly, you do not sink, as you take careful and cautious steps forward, toward your trusted friend.  But suddenly the brutal wind sends a large wave crashing against you, and you stumble, almost falling over.  You're sure that the water can hold you standing, but can it hold the weight of you falling?  You feel water starting to close around you and cry out for help.  Your friend is immediately there, pulling you up and back into the boat.  Terrified, you look at your friend for comfort, but he only asks you why you doubted him.  Doubt him?  You think.  It was the water I doubted.  
Hearing your own heavy breath, you realize, suddenly, that everything has gone quiet.  The wind is gone.  Your boat-mates are on their knees, weeping in praise.  This man has controlled the natural elements of this world.  With stunning clarity, you realize that doubting the water was, indeed, doubting your friend, Jesus.  

I sometimes visualize myself actually in the scenarios described in the scriptures.  It reveals to me what my true, natural tendencies are, and helps me to further understand what Jesus asks of those who those who trust Him.  The stunning thing about the above story (which is Matthew 14: 22-33) is how much faith Jesus asks us to have.  Peter was faithful enough to ask to come out onto the water, but that wasn't enough.  He had to have faith that, through Jesus, he could withstand the elements of the most unforgiving part of this world:  nature.

I want faith like that.

When I see the physical struggles that Kevin faces everyday, I feel the water coming around me.
When I read the statistics about myeloma, I feel the water coming around me.
When I see the blood tests, I feel the water coming around me.
When I see the symptoms not improving fast enough, I feel the water coming around me.

But He's looking at me, gesturing me forward, into trusting His sovereignty, his rule over all of the elements.  That he will never allow evil for evil's sake, only for our ultimate good.

Keep the faith.  Love you all,
Kristin