Arkansas and Nashville

From Texas we travelled upward through Oklahoma.  In Oklahoma we stopped for lunch at a dirty diner and had our grilled cheese sandwiches served by a surly waitress wearing mens sweatpants and a Nascar t-shirt.  Once our fine dining was over is was Arkansas or bust for us and by evening we began to see the lake which was in my grandparents backyard.
It had been ten years since I had seen my mom's side of the family and though I thought of them, I didn't really miss them.  Not until I stepped into my grandma's living room and saw them, then I missed them so much it was tangible.  When I was a little girl I used to visit my grandparents and all of my cousins and we would band together to terrorize the grown ups.  But as I grew up they all moved from California and Arkansas and I became used to their being gone.  Sitting in their living room and seeing the years that I had missed, etched in the lines of their faces, I was reminded that I had put my family too low on my priority list.  I missed years of their lives that I could never get back.  I scarcely ever called them.
Sitting there in their living room and seeing my grandmother's antiques which I recalled seeing as a child and hearing them talk reminded me that I am not complete without my family.  They are an answer to the question of who I am.  I am my father's daughter and take after him so strongly that I forget that I am related to my mother's side of the family.  I am blond and blue eyed with a beak for a nose but they have the dark hair and milky brown eyes, displaying our Irish and Cherokee heritage.  But being there with them made a piece of my puzzle fall into place.
My cousins visited and they all had kids of their own though the last I had seen them they were just kids themselves.  There were three babies on the quilt laid out on the floor, rolling about and playing with toys.  I sat Jack down with them and watched the little ones play as I listened to my family talk.  I felt a glow of love and warmth just being there around them.  I had forgotten how much I love them.  My grandpa seemed happier and more chatty than I had ever seen him, he promptly asked my boys if they wanted to go fishing.  In less than five minutes they were outside with this great grandfather they just met fishing on the boat dock for the very first time.  They were happy as clams and could barely contain themselves when they each caught their very first fish.    I wanted to stay for days but I knew that time was of the essence and we had to press on the following day.  At noon we rolled out and said goodbye to my family and to beautiful Arkansas.

By nightfall we landed in Nashville, Tennessee.  The only hotel around with a vacancy was a Hilton, we were on a motel 6 budget but needed to get a room to give Jack his chemotherapy for the night.  I stumbled, bleary eyed into the hotel lobby and talked to the man behind the desk.  He had a thick Southern accent and was extremely polite and cordial.  He said their only room available was a handicap room and that he could give us a (huge) discount for the inconvenience.  Sold.  I helped Andrew drag our sleepy children up to the room.  As was custom, William literally ran for the nearest bed and fall instantly to sleep.  We followed suit.  Morning came too soon, we packed up our crew and with red eyes hit the road again.  We did need to make one very important stop before leaving Nashville.  We were told by some very good friends that we had to stop at a bbq restaurant called Jack's.  Because getting some real southern food was a must and because it was called "Jack's" we knew that we simply had to go.  Unfortunately, when we finally found it there was a line out the door and nearly around the block to get in there.  We drove around some more, determined to get some soul food.  What we did not know was that there the next place we found had the best kind of soul food there is.  We rolled upon another southern/bbq restaurant on another side of town which was also named "Jack's", though it was not affiliated with the other one.  We all got a good laugh at the irony of finding another restaurant sharing our son's name and jauntily skipped ourselves into that place. If you don't know this already, I am an old timey kind of gal and being in this restaurant that harked images of Fried Green Tomatoes made me a happy girl.  Then our order came and I was in food nirvana.  The majority of the people in the restaurant were African-American, so when our server with dreadlocks (who gave us free drinks because he is a dad and get what it's like to have three little ones) brought us our order, I was pretty sure that we were having some real, genuine soul food.  Sorry to stereotype, I'm sure there are some very nice white people who can cook up a good southern meal but well, some generalizations are true and this once is one of them.  We stuffed our faces and enjoyed every bite.  But the real soul food came after our meal was through.  It came in the form of an elegant woman with coco skin and soft, wise eyes.  She was dining with her family in the booth behind us and had walked to our table.  Without nervousness or stammered words she spoke to us a message that will be forever etched in my heart.  She said that Jack will be healed.  She said that Jack's veins will be opened and all blood flow will become free flowing.  She prayed for my family.  She also reminded us to keep asking, keep seeking and keep knocking and the door will be open to you.  Before we even began this trip, a kind woman from our church told us that we could expect people along our journey to come and speak God's truth over us.  And here, standing at our table was a woman of God, blessing this bedraggled white family with her wisdom and prayers.  That reminded us that we are not on a journey alone, God was with us and had planned everything.

Don't mess with Texas!

Seriously.  Just don't.  We started our journey driving through the endless miles of Texas at night so we didn't get a good idea of what it looked like. But when my husband pulled the car over to make a midnight restroom break, he was confronted by our first Texan, a massive hairy tarantula.  That turned into a rather quick break and he fairly ran back to the safety of the car.  With ashen face he locked the door and drove off, I didn't know that spiders could open doors but could understand his caution as this was Texas after all.
You may wonder why we chose to drive from California to Massachusetts taking the southern route. Primarily, it was to avoid to heavy storms we would have encountered had we taken the straight route but also there was the reason of Andrew's brother.  Since I met Andrew he would occasionally bring up the fact that somewhere in the world he had a half brother.  It really troubled him that he didn't know his brother, to the point where he finally started to casually search for him.  Thanks to good old Facebook he found him while I was in the hospital with Jack.  When I saw the pictures I knew without a doubt that this was his brother.  Same build and facial structure, same eyes, it was uncanny.  This man could be my Andrew in ten years.  They made contact and even talked on the phone.  He and his family sounded like solid, honest people and when we realized we needed to make a cross country trip he invited us to stop at his house and rest a bit.  You don't really "stop" in at Texas, you drive for three days to the next town.  This state is just enormous.  We finally arrived at his house just outside of San Antonio and found that he and his wife, son and daughter were the kindest and most hospitable people you could ever hope to meet.  They took time out of their busy lives to take in strangers and even showed us the Alamo and other beautiful places in San Antonio.  It was moving to be blessed by them, I will never forget it.

I ought to backtrack a moment and mention briefly that through out my journey with Jack I have seen images and signs of butterflies every time a pivotal moment in our story happens.  God sends me reminders to expect a miracle for my little boy.  So when I walked into the room we were to stay in, I laughed out loud to see that it was covered in butterflies and a large framed picture with butterflies and a quote. "Life takes us to unexpected places… Love is what brings us home."
Life had taken us to a very unexpected place and we left their home feeling humbled by God's kindness.  He orchestrated this meeting and blessed our time with this family we didn't even know.  They were warm and kind and I will always feel blessed to be shown Texas by these good hearted people.

When their son took Israel, our oldest boy, to see the chickens my little William felt left out and came trotting out to join them.  Only too bad for him, he stood on a fire ant mound.  Apparently, although small the fire ants are fiercely aggressive and their stings burn like the dickens.  Poor sweet William was attacked and his legs became hamburger meat as those relentless little devils stung him mercilessly.  He came screaming up to the house while they continued to sting and I tore out to see what was wrong.  And with my super mom powers I had that boy naked and in the shower faster than you can say, "fire ants should go back to the pit where they belong".  A shower and some children's benadryl later, William was fine but his legs were red and swollen, completely covered in raised angry looking bumps.  Thank the good Lord they didn't make it further up his leg.  Other than that little incident, we had an awesome time.  But all things come to an eventual end. Our three fabulous days in Texas were over and it was time to face the road again.  As a side note, when we arrived in Massachusetts we promptly shipped two live lobsters over to them as a thanks for their hospitality.  Nothing says thank you like a sea bug.

Oh and I forgot to mention that it was also in Texas that we found out via email that the job opportunity that sounded pretty much like a  done deal was not such a done deal.  Now with no promise of work and pay, the trip took on another layer of faith building.  We were thankful that at least we had a place to stay once we got there.  A family not far from the hospital was put in contact with us (through a friend of a friend who knows these people) and they agreed to host us for a bit until we got on our feet.  That was a nice reassurance.

We were ready to see the sights again as we had a really nice break from the car that was so full that we couldn't even put our feet down.  Talk about claustrophobia. Our next stop was Arkansas to visit my Ozark family.  I had not seen my grandparents in over ten years and this was my only chance to introduce their great-grand kids to them.  So far our trip was broken up by stops to see family; first to Arizona to see my father-in-law at his summer home (it was really lucky that he happened to be there), then Andrew's brother's house in Texas and next to see my family.  These were like pit stops in a marathon.  Stop quickly, get refreshment and get back to the race.

Getting Here

As I mentioned in my last post, my little family of five uprooted from California four months ago and travelled across the country to Massachusetts.  We sold much of what we owned and the rest we shoved into every nook and cranny of our u-haul trailer and our Yukon.  We also tarped things to the top of our car, conjuring images of the Beverly Hillbillies.  We were only missing the rocking chair with Granny.  The first day of our journey really looked bleak.  Our rental house still needed a thorough cleaning and there were still things to be packed and donated. We didn't actually leave till around four in the afternoon.  When we did leave it took less than thirty miles to realize that this was going to be a very, very long trip.  The trailer began to sway violently back and forth as we drove down the highway, causing us to pull over every five or ten minutes to stop the swaying.  My husband and I were feeling a little dismal at the thought of pulling over every five minutes on our way across the continent.  But in time, Andrew got the feel for it and was able to counter the sway before it started.  Thank goodness, I was afraid we would never make it.
For any of you who have small children, especially boys, you know that road trips are … challenging.  Here we were about the embark on the most epic road trip ever with two very active boys and I wondered who would kill each other first.  However, my boys turned into affable explorers and took great interest in the journey.  Our first stop was Arizona.  We travelled through California and made it to the desert of Arizona to see my husband's dad.  The Siguaro cactuses and rugged terrain were stunning.  I grew up in the desert of Southern California which were ugly and riddled with trash.  Arizona was the cleanest state I have ever seen.  My boys got a kick out of the cacti.
From there we travelled through New Mexico, also very beautiful.  You should know that, even three states in, my kids were great sports.  We listened to audio books and just enjoyed the scenery.  The buildings and settlements were so sparse that we felt like we landed in the West.  Especially when a distant train broke up the wildness and shot through the rugged scenery.  It was very Americana.

As we drove through the miles and miles of nothingness, it impressed me how immense our country is.  And it was also remarkable how quickly the scenery changes from state to state.  Arizona and New Mexico are both deserts but they both are definitively different from one another.  It seems like, once the border to a new state hits, the land takes the hint and forms its own unique flare.
We travelled the length of New Mexico and finally came to the great state of Texas where hours of barren driving awaited us.  But something fantastic made us press on.  We were stopping at my brother-in-law's house near San Antonio.  Andrew never met his brother and this would the first time.

Hey there, Blog,  I forgot I created you.  Since your origins I have neglected you and for that I am sorry.  I got sort of …  busy.  When you were conceived it was in a simpler, more care free part of my life, now things are so stressful and complicated.  You understand … don't you?

It's only right that I at least offer an explanation for my betrayal and neglect.  Here goes:

It was summer and the cake pops were abounding.  In preparation for my lovely sister-in-law's Tahoe wedding I was cooking dozens and dozens of lovely little cake pops.  But that's not all that was in the oven.  I was laboring in the very hot kitchen when waves of nausea and dizziness began to overtake me.  Hot dang, I was pregnant.  I had wanted another baby for years now and my hubby wasn't ready (another Loooong story altogether) but now it was baby time and I never was more excited to be nauseous.
But I digress, this explanation isn't about cake or nausea.  It's about Jack.  He changed my life.  He changed all of our lives, as a matter of fact.  But he has given us many scares.  That's where the wedding comes into play.
Imagine a beautiful summer day in Tahoe.  The bride was stunning, the weather was perfect, all of the people arrived and were sitting on picnic blankets: it was a sweet outdoor wedding.  I was a bridesmaid wearing a pretty white summer dress and sporting the signs of a very serious baby bump. But ten minutes before the wedding, I began to bleed.  Without getting into gory details, it looked and felt like I was going to miscarry.  But there was no time to do anything so I told my husband, who was officiating, and we prayed.  Both of us agreed to suck it up and put on a happy face.  But as soon as we were able, after the wedding we snuck away and started the long drive home.
The pastor of our church and his lovely wife came when they heard what was happening.  They prayed for me and pressed me not to throw in the towel but to see a doctor about what was happening.  I had no insurance at the time so that was not very possible.  The church payed for our visit.
The following day while my man stayed home with the boys, I drove to my ob doc.  I explained what was happening and he looked very grim.  He wanted to do an ultrasound.  To my great surprise, the doc found a little tiny heart beat coming from a small life within me.  I was placed on bed rest (not really an easy task with a  four and five year old running about).
Three weeks shy of his due date baby Jack was born with a mess of white hair and the sweetest eyes.  He was so small, my other babies were mammoths, but I assumed it was due to being three weeks early.  I was wrong.  Four weeks later we discovered that his heart was severely malformed and he was rushed by helicopter to Stanford hospital for an open heart surgery.  Once we recovered from the shock of all that another and more serious heart disease was discovered and in he went for his second heart surgery.  This time they told me that the surgery was really only a temporary fix and that he was not long for the world.  The people of our church and all of our friends and families rallied together in serious and constant prayer.
His disease was very aggressive and within weeks he  was hospitalized again.  There was nothing to be done, they said, so they sent us home and put Jack on hospice.  Here is some morphine, they said, to keep him comfortable, and by the way will you sign this "do not resuscitate form"? No thank you.
Meanwhile, Jack's amazing cardiologist had been scouring the country looking for a solution.  That's how we found Boston Children's.  One leer jet flight later, Jack was under the care of a team of specialists who deal with his rare and often fatal disease.  This is the country's best hospital and that became immediately confirmed.  Jack was given balloon dilations of his veins and put on a chemo trial.  After several weeks we were sent home to California.
We soon discovered that Boston Children's really was the best and only hospital for Jack; that coupled with the fact that they wanted to oversee all of his procedures - which happen quite often- made us realize that we either need to have my husband and kids move in with my mother-in-law so I can move to Boston with Jack and afford the extreme price of living there.  Or we would have to sell our belongings and move together to Boston.  Rather than dividing our family we look a leap of faith.  We had to move fast, as Jack's heart couldn't wait long for another procedure.  Within five days we sold three cars and roughly half of our belongings and made an 11 day journey across the greatest nation on God's green earth.  That's another series of awesome stories altogether.
We are now living in a stunning apartment we can't afford in Salem, Massachusetts, not far from Boston.  Our lives have been yanked from the roots and replanted in the strangest place I have ever been.  More on that, another time.

So you see, my little blog?  You see why you have been left alone so long? It's been a wild ride and it keeps getting more and more interesting.  You understand ...  Friends?