tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34381575591724388302024-02-18T21:21:43.044-05:00The HassellsUpdates from Mt Hood Parkdale, OregonJordanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03912718411718959401noreply@blogger.comBlogger157125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3438157559172438830.post-53684071549856004672018-10-19T18:07:00.000-04:002018-10-19T18:08:03.709-04:00"I try to keep myself occupied, Even though I know you're not coming home"<div>
The Hassells are moving at warp speed right now. I can't believe how fast the school year is moving. The kids and I just wrapped up week number seven. Benton and Parker are coming into their own at school. Their personalities are blooming, they are thriving in their classrooms and when I spy on them throughout the day I see lots of smiles. I'm smiling every day at work too. I almost feel like I'm on cruise control this school year. As in I'm not slamming on the brakes and stomping on the accelerator all day long. I'm finding a rhythm to work that I lost last year. Days come and go pretty easy, I feel great about the work I'm doing and I'm having fun.<br />
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We are all settling into our daily routines. There are even some mornings I get out of the shower and I find Benton in my chair reading a book. He looks like an old man reading his newspaper before starting his workday. Things are clicking right now for us. But don't get me wrong 3:00-7:00PM each day feels absolutely nuts. I need two more arms and an extra hour to get everything done. I feel like I'm cooking for one most days because the kids refuse to eat regular people food. So I'm eating lots of the same thing for lunch each day and the kids are eating lots of apples for dinner. There are lots of little beautiful moments that I look forward to each afternoon/evening though. Parker is quickly learning to read and is determined to make sure that we get her twenty minutes of reading in each night (she is a much better student than I was). She has been checking out books from the library that oddly enough match the interest of a little boy in her class. So we just finished an incredibly detailed book about an asteroid that struck earth sixty five million years ago. I actually learned a ton.<br />
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When we were having dinner the other night Parker asked me "Is it hard taking care of us without mommy?". That led to an awesome conversation with both kids about how we are all in this together and that I need their help every single day. Parker continues to question and probe in her own way. Benton has been so thoughtful with some of the conversations and ways that I have watched him be a big brother in the last month or so. Guiding, protecting and being selfless. He has such a big heart. So while the kids make things crazy in the afternoon they seem to find a way to keep me grounded and present.<br />
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We all went to Bend last weekend and hung out with Eric, Stephanie and their three children. Their family has become a part of our family over the last fifteen years or so. Jordan and I walked side by side with them through college, marriage, having children, moving across the country and Jordan's cancer. Our children all look strangely alike and get along great. Whenever we get together it is a big mess. A big comfortable and heartwarming mess. There is an Eddie Vedder lyric "Yeah I'm a lucky man, To count on both hands, The ones I love, Some folks just have one, Yeah others they got none". Eric and Stephanie would get two of my fingers if I had to count to ten.<br />
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The thing I love and value most about our friendship is that is full of honesty and transparency. We have argued, we have cried, we have laughed and we have seen the ugly in each other. And we keep showing up and loving on each other with grace. In that, we have all got to watch each other grow in incredible ways.<br />
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Eric and Stephanie started a podcast a few months ago and they invited me to be their first guest. So last weekend I piled into their studio (a closet) and we did what we have been doing for the last fifteen years. We had an honest conversation about what the last year or so has meant for all of our lives. I invite you to <a href="https://showupnaked.com/2018/10/18/brack-hassell-finding-life-after-death/" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue;">listen along here</span></a>. My hope is that it might inspire you to join the conversation. The conversation of what it looks like to live a life of transparency and to meet each moment fully by "showing up naked".<br />
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If you like the episode please check out some of the other episodes and take a brief moment to leave them a review.<br />
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-Brack</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Awkward school picture...</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Most awkwardest school picture...</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Parker went on a date. No comment.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIS2rOX_n88las4BkjEA5oB5V4-DRFdCdaGLFXP7AIznemuW4zE32ucHOAU6Mb3LC6gS_rskj8iWCWptt4TvAk8D1jwJM2gfygnpPOjnYXGi4L-QiH-yvM7ElP6OzohcXz_Ro-jBfBTlM/s1600/IMG_8411.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="711" data-original-width="1600" height="142" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIS2rOX_n88las4BkjEA5oB5V4-DRFdCdaGLFXP7AIznemuW4zE32ucHOAU6Mb3LC6gS_rskj8iWCWptt4TvAk8D1jwJM2gfygnpPOjnYXGi4L-QiH-yvM7ElP6OzohcXz_Ro-jBfBTlM/s320/IMG_8411.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"If I had a superpower it would be to heal anything."</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I might be 35 and owning an iron for the first time. Thankfully I have neighbors that like to help. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDI43rpSUAvmgPrvQ6MBk4vgh48d8cb27pM3g_ANNDV2bBtp-3LHOTJmaaNSPa0AugZ1AmODdF9-ZVb5lh7mPwx0K81PI_N68ATA9zLTU2CxLURji3o6C6AeVmg1eoeIoSrGDwWEjPU-o/s1600/IMG_8429.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="739" data-original-width="1600" height="147" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDI43rpSUAvmgPrvQ6MBk4vgh48d8cb27pM3g_ANNDV2bBtp-3LHOTJmaaNSPa0AugZ1AmODdF9-ZVb5lh7mPwx0K81PI_N68ATA9zLTU2CxLURji3o6C6AeVmg1eoeIoSrGDwWEjPU-o/s320/IMG_8429.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hard to concentrate on the neighborhood kickball game when this is your view.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSgs0m1awzi-E8z02DJjuUOsDaIhNLpGSmAHzl9HUALECEd0ktK1r49QWk_Rw053Re-w-kptEh-D-pnO1Cp_37BxL7zQnivtlzmCo2evUDEd22pKO28N0tr9cRu9egWPVv1BM3GG532I0/s1600/IMG_8431.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1328" data-original-width="1600" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSgs0m1awzi-E8z02DJjuUOsDaIhNLpGSmAHzl9HUALECEd0ktK1r49QWk_Rw053Re-w-kptEh-D-pnO1Cp_37BxL7zQnivtlzmCo2evUDEd22pKO28N0tr9cRu9egWPVv1BM3GG532I0/s320/IMG_8431.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The driveway frequently turns into an art gallery.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgruTvqrPIPCpg8OMjVRfmDSZH_2FaGk-8w88A_nWgJRXy0FMHCq-bv6p5ej6UFiKRVn8Va9hyBYqXCPWV1XvL_2_s2p38iQuvDNgkmS4DSrntPORT0N6EwU0lYhn6hYkOKBa6RT4wNqac/s1600/IMG_8480.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgruTvqrPIPCpg8OMjVRfmDSZH_2FaGk-8w88A_nWgJRXy0FMHCq-bv6p5ej6UFiKRVn8Va9hyBYqXCPWV1XvL_2_s2p38iQuvDNgkmS4DSrntPORT0N6EwU0lYhn6hYkOKBa6RT4wNqac/s320/IMG_8480.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I Recently got out for an overnight paddleboarding trip with a buddy.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidgM0qDzVudzYZkfvqULPRSBGT-dZOU6-pncFNHqtbKLk_GAm5C9uCjDiaSbToXUils2ttqD2dbZ46z9cnAqr-iXQUFvNIubLBs3Ax2V7XM7qE3IdmuyYw_AYD2rzqE-N_VCo_YvQ1pvo/s1600/IMG_8508.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidgM0qDzVudzYZkfvqULPRSBGT-dZOU6-pncFNHqtbKLk_GAm5C9uCjDiaSbToXUils2ttqD2dbZ46z9cnAqr-iXQUFvNIubLBs3Ax2V7XM7qE3IdmuyYw_AYD2rzqE-N_VCo_YvQ1pvo/s320/IMG_8508.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Being on the mighty Columbia is a gorgeous and humbling experience.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiyjF4lvSKQF16XzzaooZkhcZUh0HZgXCQsABEA4-CqUxhS0aDiyboReQHtnsx2sUB1A38Sz13VIUmP3oi146O5UB5y72eA3W4NtZ9QgNK-CAl4yPhmx6P7xOhHAJC7tSZjTkUzENRwwg/s1600/IMG_8528.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiyjF4lvSKQF16XzzaooZkhcZUh0HZgXCQsABEA4-CqUxhS0aDiyboReQHtnsx2sUB1A38Sz13VIUmP3oi146O5UB5y72eA3W4NtZ9QgNK-CAl4yPhmx6P7xOhHAJC7tSZjTkUzENRwwg/s320/IMG_8528.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My $650 Subaru is still kicking and going on all kinds of adventures.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8GvG-IE3S9XVLACksq2WHnqxjGF6F0wkBl2YkOxSbydpKpy8mLyyUb_X3MDKgjIZ413CdLinGf3KEXruWsuhyUoBTzvMWqhrw0AtXOoRRIPqFQdRBCriGFrg14SE1ZlxxLCZj6Bw7eN0/s1600/IMG_8548.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8GvG-IE3S9XVLACksq2WHnqxjGF6F0wkBl2YkOxSbydpKpy8mLyyUb_X3MDKgjIZ413CdLinGf3KEXruWsuhyUoBTzvMWqhrw0AtXOoRRIPqFQdRBCriGFrg14SE1ZlxxLCZj6Bw7eN0/s320/IMG_8548.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just a normal gorgeous fall day in Parkdale.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfeGSU99pFpoCh03Ej3ewlNhCXQoDUXgaWWmjYJ0inDPBrNc2la2SmWcKQKWlhyYdQs7ioG1i-Mxe10aHRsKuQBxw8bY5e3v6P4S5roHmACLH23OuKRv_KjxDjGbU-0pKqKZyaHpUDmfc/s1600/IMG_8572.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfeGSU99pFpoCh03Ej3ewlNhCXQoDUXgaWWmjYJ0inDPBrNc2la2SmWcKQKWlhyYdQs7ioG1i-Mxe10aHRsKuQBxw8bY5e3v6P4S5roHmACLH23OuKRv_KjxDjGbU-0pKqKZyaHpUDmfc/s320/IMG_8572.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pumpkin Patching it up!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlbWpeWIDPUVsakZSbpIkgGuHWvvlaF1z09iuck9O9jwUA5YSVddrYi8S-LRCSexy9WFaHWD9o0kOZp9GZWIehmWFu4AJpGGnrMx3apJMu5ujxyxQNzo5k_CkhRQlgT4tIdhuOV8keh64/s1600/IMG_8575.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1327" data-original-width="1600" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlbWpeWIDPUVsakZSbpIkgGuHWvvlaF1z09iuck9O9jwUA5YSVddrYi8S-LRCSexy9WFaHWD9o0kOZp9GZWIehmWFu4AJpGGnrMx3apJMu5ujxyxQNzo5k_CkhRQlgT4tIdhuOV8keh64/s320/IMG_8575.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Benton busting out his slackline skills.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjILKv0wG8unboR_aRDBXc8Pf1j1C2_NNkBtTBaXFFBOwNhmXERtUt48MMvJ959PrCiZHyPTeL_3ZQJbTFjCyQBFF5IfNjqmOC9v3hu3cZnzpvqZQFZ0UJv64mo0T5m9RBn1JHqUdxRY98/s1600/IMG_8588.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1203" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjILKv0wG8unboR_aRDBXc8Pf1j1C2_NNkBtTBaXFFBOwNhmXERtUt48MMvJ959PrCiZHyPTeL_3ZQJbTFjCyQBFF5IfNjqmOC9v3hu3cZnzpvqZQFZ0UJv64mo0T5m9RBn1JHqUdxRY98/s320/IMG_8588.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bend, beer and good company. A perfect Saturday night!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlcw9QzmrsNm6_1b9UN4qCnTcGv0m27nzOm3NNTusFlvLLn0l5_ROw6ZEYEefUE0SrTviPUNqUQ-AVNgxTfI2PKPpTVnT2F1HSjOSuKw9RF7sz7TZ9251Ma7Bq176OF6ADL1y0Gop7fyM/s1600/IMG_8598.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlcw9QzmrsNm6_1b9UN4qCnTcGv0m27nzOm3NNTusFlvLLn0l5_ROw6ZEYEefUE0SrTviPUNqUQ-AVNgxTfI2PKPpTVnT2F1HSjOSuKw9RF7sz7TZ9251Ma7Bq176OF6ADL1y0Gop7fyM/s320/IMG_8598.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A dress and a down jacket. How you dress if you are a cute girl in Oregon.</td></tr>
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Jordanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03912718411718959401noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3438157559172438830.post-54591499935601312502018-09-19T16:58:00.000-04:002018-09-19T16:58:24.122-04:00"I am sleep, I am breathing, I'm the missing of the passing seasons"<div dir="auto" style="-webkit-line-break: after-white-space; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; text-size-adjust: auto; word-wrap: break-word;">
Fall (Autumn) is not just a changing of the weather for me. I’ve learned to really lean into the seasons the last few years. They have taken on a sense of deep importance. A signal and constant reminder that life is perpetually moving forward despite the direction that I feel like I might be moving. I’m finally in a physical place on earth that has seasons. In the south, it was either hot or cold (and always humid). It just always seemed uncomfortable too. I don’t attempt to separate what that meant for me mentally, spiritually or metaphorically. So there is comfort from the sudden contrast I’ve been experiencing with the seasons of Oregon. A distinct separation of the what the planet is going through at different times of the year is such a recharge for me and also a giant kick in the ass.</div>
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In reality, fall is gorgeous here. Things seem to slow down. Birds don’t seem to be in a rush anymore. They sleep in later than I do now and have already started to head for warmer weather. The sun takes its time if it even decides to show up at all each day.</div>
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The gray soft lines of bare rock and soil on the mountain have begun their annual change. Clouds come and go. They hide the mountain temporarily while they dress it in fresh snow. Those soft lines are beginning to be filled by sharp lines of dark rock highlighted in white. The mountain seems brighter even though the sun is slowly starting its retreat.</div>
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The river becomes darker each day. The water seems forever restless and unable to decide which direction it should be moving. As it churns it looks like it could swallow you whole in seconds. But somehow those cold, dark waters look inviting.</div>
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The valley begins to lose the vibrant green that has been dominating every corner of the earth here for the last several months. Clouds, fog and shadows creep in. The longest shadows I’ve ever seen. Somehow they are able to soften the sun. When the sun hangs low or is just peeking its face over the horizon the gorge and valley remind me of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Hills and peaks that seem to roll on for days and they are all slightly different shades of grey and brown. A faint reminder of my favorite landscape of the south.</div>
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Fall is so strikingly different from the summer and that scares me. I’m honestly terrified of the transition that is already happening. Looking out into the vast expanse of what is coming makes me shiver. In the same way that I do when I wake up and I forgot to close the windows before I went to bed. My fear lies in what kind of man and father I will become. Will I continue to be able to find balance and insight in my own grief? Will I lose the edge of honesty and transparency that has helped to deepen my relationships with so many? Will I continue to remain grounded in the here and now?</div>
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Summer was a time to acknowledge that I am broken. Jordan’s death stripped away everything from me. It took things from me that I thought were one hundred percent me. When the dust started to settle I found there wasn’t much left of me to stand on. But what was left was significant. It was somehow sustaining. It was/is a foundation for who I will be for the rest of my life. But the process for building a new life is slow and arduous.</div>
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I want to take what the fall gives me. I don't know what adventures and mishaps it will offer. But I do know that I want to say yes. My goal in saying yes is to remain present in each moment. In that presence, there is an increased awareness of the goodness and beauty that surrounds me.</div>
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Yesterday I ran with a coworker. The sky was void of clouds, filled with stars and the sun hadn’t even thought of peeking over the ridge yet. The air was clean and crisp. It was just cold enough to notice. I was aware of my feet hitting the pavement. I was happy and content to be doing something I do every single day and to be sharing that simple act with someone. It just felt good to be alive. I want more of that.</div>
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-Brack</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhagVvVdXxG1RVFhB1JnkFepezwPO5uOeiiSEPxCIC96tA1djzIbsrg9GkbcelTy22bKSLzVVi22uG-meG1bWgivcifq4sbSnBMzrDfQswtLSp8MhG8zlI4CqdD2DqEftZ8IJooPhXLXfs/s1600/IMG_5308.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhagVvVdXxG1RVFhB1JnkFepezwPO5uOeiiSEPxCIC96tA1djzIbsrg9GkbcelTy22bKSLzVVi22uG-meG1bWgivcifq4sbSnBMzrDfQswtLSp8MhG8zlI4CqdD2DqEftZ8IJooPhXLXfs/s320/IMG_5308.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Always a good time at Solera with co-workers and friends.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiICcIi8JzHGljOqIP71gWpfVh3chNT3ckluJ0tRVjotB4WVB-MbaXJmc6BBEnRI96m7U67G9TUN-XbMOvM5L20ukmPw7673qzt3A84gRWsUozRMI-HM0xeh2x56rs0RErag_xbGShbUGc/s1600/IMG_8091.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiICcIi8JzHGljOqIP71gWpfVh3chNT3ckluJ0tRVjotB4WVB-MbaXJmc6BBEnRI96m7U67G9TUN-XbMOvM5L20ukmPw7673qzt3A84gRWsUozRMI-HM0xeh2x56rs0RErag_xbGShbUGc/s320/IMG_8091.JPG" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Parker picking and grinning.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlMuKS92PVzF7SgbiQ3toZExpB_pZrq3nUZeyVZUGsQuPLtyi8W2zbeneq4Hh4EJwIMDhISf-VrJRDX6ncA-sxLFtZ1ilxvYZ_IW6l7nlWGFzckpftZ8WM0Hy1ZZ2W823K-LJ4AbMQBlg/s1600/IMG_8112.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlMuKS92PVzF7SgbiQ3toZExpB_pZrq3nUZeyVZUGsQuPLtyi8W2zbeneq4Hh4EJwIMDhISf-VrJRDX6ncA-sxLFtZ1ilxvYZ_IW6l7nlWGFzckpftZ8WM0Hy1ZZ2W823K-LJ4AbMQBlg/s320/IMG_8112.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Swiney the Elder was roasted up by a buddy for our joint birthday party.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihGYJwHGkwjShLGWUT7HF45ZKBpIlR4aPblGVjOLiOt6qM_-AsjP7sK_aNLDvYdgZPlCIse36L1bG6Zq_CJPgC-b1aD5xpk6miGrWrhir8NEW8l_y23Ly8AdzMFSg-PFTHnupX-0b5uIg/s1600/IMG_8111.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihGYJwHGkwjShLGWUT7HF45ZKBpIlR4aPblGVjOLiOt6qM_-AsjP7sK_aNLDvYdgZPlCIse36L1bG6Zq_CJPgC-b1aD5xpk6miGrWrhir8NEW8l_y23Ly8AdzMFSg-PFTHnupX-0b5uIg/s320/IMG_8111.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My birthday party got wild.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggyviaetPPB__qEX3aDsSTvBif9k7XTH6amoe4ugQGbd4ONBdn1f5yE0HC_ohs2tlbDn8pTezNaOhtM09dX-GTZfLl1Invrx36244KUg6B0qsD8zJw-1oRlXcGmEgcokqgbmnxUFTIdUo/s1600/IMG_8119.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggyviaetPPB__qEX3aDsSTvBif9k7XTH6amoe4ugQGbd4ONBdn1f5yE0HC_ohs2tlbDn8pTezNaOhtM09dX-GTZfLl1Invrx36244KUg6B0qsD8zJw-1oRlXcGmEgcokqgbmnxUFTIdUo/s320/IMG_8119.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My first ever hop harvest!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgsX3FBg9E25kx18SQ3Y1vgeAAtr3UuO3paKZcBMuK2GHZKbB8XAZzktKjTWh7Yhfzu1NJ3PN8rS2pgC2ALZpa5yqDwvbcBYy3fKKlG4PrtUCrFyezohkaoUx2KVroIr71QZEZeUVoyRo/s1600/IMG_8122.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgsX3FBg9E25kx18SQ3Y1vgeAAtr3UuO3paKZcBMuK2GHZKbB8XAZzktKjTWh7Yhfzu1NJ3PN8rS2pgC2ALZpa5yqDwvbcBYy3fKKlG4PrtUCrFyezohkaoUx2KVroIr71QZEZeUVoyRo/s320/IMG_8122.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Playing in the creek on the last day of summer break.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoCRiLC1my-bM5J5nJEBiQQATdy0nMXNayxRtVIWX-z5Xj_dimK3duzxzUcbEIfIZACN-4zmLjiKjMNmwfGoXCR735VLZ20-1usIYgwIOMOp6C5iOa2S7Oj2U9K6Dp6yTaJAn6SlH-II8/s1600/IMG_8133.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoCRiLC1my-bM5J5nJEBiQQATdy0nMXNayxRtVIWX-z5Xj_dimK3duzxzUcbEIfIZACN-4zmLjiKjMNmwfGoXCR735VLZ20-1usIYgwIOMOp6C5iOa2S7Oj2U9K6Dp6yTaJAn6SlH-II8/s320/IMG_8133.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The first day of school picture. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsXHMpXl-WRIj8_VV6zNX6C0ARH1R0CVWvBARaluWkZFs9wcE3hTnV1TV4H1-50wrJsg63SgLLw5w28bvxW_9-J65XgeczaSSZN_KTzYS9fCA4nqbaYsnQ_H4HHCF_K_BbXa9pRoR7EGE/s320/IMG_8139.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One more try.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsXHMpXl-WRIj8_VV6zNX6C0ARH1R0CVWvBARaluWkZFs9wcE3hTnV1TV4H1-50wrJsg63SgLLw5w28bvxW_9-J65XgeczaSSZN_KTzYS9fCA4nqbaYsnQ_H4HHCF_K_BbXa9pRoR7EGE/s1600/IMG_8139.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsXHMpXl-WRIj8_VV6zNX6C0ARH1R0CVWvBARaluWkZFs9wcE3hTnV1TV4H1-50wrJsg63SgLLw5w28bvxW_9-J65XgeczaSSZN_KTzYS9fCA4nqbaYsnQ_H4HHCF_K_BbXa9pRoR7EGE/s1600/IMG_8139.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgogHtUYJy-RoenaBn5gnQwXtKlqj6p08PfZNI3oKAIFSQ42sCftIYQS_ZnX_CWpoub_YP0TrXzWPKJFCCxAr4XYOh1jrmdKxNEMgqltpUE-M-3A0NmUO-Pg4nfD6M2JuAsJCnP2psTVfs/s1600/IMG_8174.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgogHtUYJy-RoenaBn5gnQwXtKlqj6p08PfZNI3oKAIFSQ42sCftIYQS_ZnX_CWpoub_YP0TrXzWPKJFCCxAr4XYOh1jrmdKxNEMgqltpUE-M-3A0NmUO-Pg4nfD6M2JuAsJCnP2psTVfs/s320/IMG_8174.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Parker likes to eat dinner in the backyard </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizu9rpAr8KwZtVM7JlF7-TTH6uEdAREnth_T3jeKUO2R5aBVje9FbbO9MEAtIybKW3ajS-_1YEumJqLGtLaZzQH8r0StqBUF3ecSf4gUXnkOh0DDeQIhdet6PYQI-gbyIqBRwhH9dIwxc/s320/IMG_8215.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Always a good time with the Molassells.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3nPS3aoUlwVnqJBvtBsRqC4k-584ofDcekgFK10rumcgyoQ8X7iCzqG4Rrk_EnBiocT9xSVbZdew5Do-CUyBugG8aOIoByvXDL0CJCY7eGky2Cf3gYW0MuN_kgdK_Xp9yjcvOw3aLp0I/s1600/IMG_8216.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3nPS3aoUlwVnqJBvtBsRqC4k-584ofDcekgFK10rumcgyoQ8X7iCzqG4Rrk_EnBiocT9xSVbZdew5Do-CUyBugG8aOIoByvXDL0CJCY7eGky2Cf3gYW0MuN_kgdK_Xp9yjcvOw3aLp0I/s320/IMG_8216.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">They could all be siblings.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfaDUckiPoASg84xslc8JopOYBRjVUrZFr9590qGJuLc63Opx4FqgXGQyBwZKYX-isyfnpMvSaHlWWxAMLqkANKm8VsBVm6wSj_ICx-qxkiTxuWBl8FrSbGNXaw_c_Wn3Pw4SXX0-KfSs/s320/IMG_8330.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="240" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Benton completed his first triathlon last weekend.</td></tr>
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<br />Jordanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03912718411718959401noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3438157559172438830.post-12108247796853185322018-08-27T14:40:00.003-04:002018-08-27T14:40:53.838-04:00"Change your heart, look around you. Change your heart, it will astound you."<div class="p1">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-size: small;">I fully believe in the healing power of where my family has been planted.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">We have been spending time in the frigid waters of this place. Lakes, streams and rivers literally awaken your soul when you take the plunge (or fall off your paddle board). You are completely aware of every square inch of your body when the water you are in takes your breath away because of its temperature.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">We have spent time in the dry and dusty woods here. Being covered from head to toe in grit and dirt before our tent is even fully set up. There isn’t much else that makes me happier than seeing my children with bed head, dirt still smeared on their faces and stumbling out of our tent in the morning while the cool mountain air calls us to simply be aware.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">We have spent time in the dirty, somehow still going strong #adventurevan. Singing our hearts out to the terrible pop music my children are into while I try and balance out their taste with weird folk and hip-hop. We roll down the windows and feel the changing temperature as we drive through all sorts of ecosystems and mountain passes on the way to our adventures.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">We have spent time in our backyard and in the gardens of our neighbors. Taking time to literally stop and smell the flowers. There is so much beauty in the simplest of flowers, fruit, veggies and hops that are somehow continuing to thrive in our yard despite my haphazard approach to “gardening”.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">We have spent time in the chaotic and always unorganized place that Benton and Parker call a bedroom at night. Talking. Laughing. Reading Amelia Bedelia. My own little way of checking in. Seeing that my kids are actually doing really well. They are finding a way. They are a living and breathing example to me.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">We have spent as much time as possible being off of schedule. Staying out late, skipping showers, not wearing a watch, eating breakfast for lunch, Watching movies way past our bedtime, leaving messes in the sink and not having plans on purpose.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">We have been in the backyards and equally unorganized/chaotic homes of our neighbors. We have been getting to know the people that embraced us. Asking questions, letting the kids run wild, sharing meals and beers (so many beers). The stories are great, the people are better. What I’ve ultimately seen in the transparency of my community is that I live among generous, hard-working, big hearted and fun loving people. I’ve also seen that nobody has a clue. We are all trying to figure life out and find a balance. I love and value the honesty in the ability to have people admit that. I couldn’t ask for better neighbors.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">We have been in so many beautiful places this summer. We have grown. We have taken steps. We have embraced forward motion. This season was so necessary for my family. I can’t even imagine what the last few months would have looked like if I had to roll right back into work. This summer has given us a fighting chance to thrive. Having this time has allowed us to just live, just be and just love on each other.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></div>
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<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">We are excited about the school year and this next season. We are excited to welcome whatever it brings us as a family and to continue to fully embrace the healing power of where we have been planted.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">-Brack-</span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrIXwPEqeSV3-BsFnvL6M2WhQsAKwyu9iMR_CCLvzZAdQxINEcfD7D9-QMLKkEc9vF3rN0dAtyieIf4uQ9dXz69Vt9E-oiovZpsqKZC7lJUViIO4Z54NNIoyBzJ7fJieYxz2eG74zn-tw/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrIXwPEqeSV3-BsFnvL6M2WhQsAKwyu9iMR_CCLvzZAdQxINEcfD7D9-QMLKkEc9vF3rN0dAtyieIf4uQ9dXz69Vt9E-oiovZpsqKZC7lJUViIO4Z54NNIoyBzJ7fJieYxz2eG74zn-tw/s320/FullSizeRender.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Headshot of Parker from her art camp performance.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAvvbvJuJ5d4aFn4D4kQcZFjgWh6B-tKrrojjCkhBxJSk6zKEKezv1ISRJD2Ze-C5e4CDeZA0v2ZokgQKIzkmRS3W_EWXOx0x1WMFrtSrNKR4JowuBojhSrZdzO107uycjnATMaf317Kk/s1600/IMG_7864.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAvvbvJuJ5d4aFn4D4kQcZFjgWh6B-tKrrojjCkhBxJSk6zKEKezv1ISRJD2Ze-C5e4CDeZA0v2ZokgQKIzkmRS3W_EWXOx0x1WMFrtSrNKR4JowuBojhSrZdzO107uycjnATMaf317Kk/s320/IMG_7864.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Make a cute face for the camera please...</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv25129yETNEs0l5fpzaRsRnu2w2QVnuzHJbkD-yUn9wcDHjZxyMrZqzOBQk4CCP1q1mNa6SMDmqZALaf5nC2GIUmBQA-lyuUGIucm0LW1ktefAdsHxKRJKgw7QTHtVm8n9VN1OxLBa2U/s1600/IMG_7865.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv25129yETNEs0l5fpzaRsRnu2w2QVnuzHJbkD-yUn9wcDHjZxyMrZqzOBQk4CCP1q1mNa6SMDmqZALaf5nC2GIUmBQA-lyuUGIucm0LW1ktefAdsHxKRJKgw7QTHtVm8n9VN1OxLBa2U/s320/IMG_7865.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thanks...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmNLRK5UaQKRYKYP0TE78hz6t4q5eoX61XZ3C9t_Px7bYU74EC6QXIhbgeTz166iaSs9FG3ThJe3pe0VP2cS9Jq87Mdfzcd4FqzKqXfI5AxFNCk-nHLDRk_-nPl4l8RFfhbqvpfpzBimg/s1600/IMG_7880.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1324" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmNLRK5UaQKRYKYP0TE78hz6t4q5eoX61XZ3C9t_Px7bYU74EC6QXIhbgeTz166iaSs9FG3ThJe3pe0VP2cS9Jq87Mdfzcd4FqzKqXfI5AxFNCk-nHLDRk_-nPl4l8RFfhbqvpfpzBimg/s320/IMG_7880.jpg" width="264" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He was able to take home three tootsie rolls and a slap bracelet with all these tickets.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwqRu-Myl6RrFjZq1bym2qU2mCv2N_-W5rDyDcH0y28UTpLsvvNaTmEhI3kEuGzmrLKAcJ4oF0HqlY4eAK7in8q8zCWvrXe1FxEnygMbEZCgizHVTFZvDlJNySwQ2ZhkvFbZfyJ2Z36wU/s1600/IMG_7893.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwqRu-Myl6RrFjZq1bym2qU2mCv2N_-W5rDyDcH0y28UTpLsvvNaTmEhI3kEuGzmrLKAcJ4oF0HqlY4eAK7in8q8zCWvrXe1FxEnygMbEZCgizHVTFZvDlJNySwQ2ZhkvFbZfyJ2Z36wU/s320/IMG_7893.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Breakfast for lunch.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9BGwstvA9IZATfly2l0rTfTJX7JZ1cFqpnqdtHZQeQPAire6u9pqdx7T-wLSLAk0JbBypjY_C-US5TymGyCUe-NXURVQ3fJSTsi_yK7agA2ceiLyAJIHsettHKFEs0F5gwYIk1o0lYkU/s1600/IMG_7906.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9BGwstvA9IZATfly2l0rTfTJX7JZ1cFqpnqdtHZQeQPAire6u9pqdx7T-wLSLAk0JbBypjY_C-US5TymGyCUe-NXURVQ3fJSTsi_yK7agA2ceiLyAJIHsettHKFEs0F5gwYIk1o0lYkU/s320/IMG_7906.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The girl with a thousand expressions.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1bfbgq2Z6ot0mREJQDOhXcEvhS8kCZ4kQyJgvWNjqYEp4F32x6wEc9YBRly7Zc6fy40JwyDLhDs8uwiiTzoNJqe3qZq92s6vc3caqDh3VGZ-8h6YH9R9mrJvHqGiHd0i5Zs-WquYEkjU/s1600/IMG_7914.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1bfbgq2Z6ot0mREJQDOhXcEvhS8kCZ4kQyJgvWNjqYEp4F32x6wEc9YBRly7Zc6fy40JwyDLhDs8uwiiTzoNJqe3qZq92s6vc3caqDh3VGZ-8h6YH9R9mrJvHqGiHd0i5Zs-WquYEkjU/s320/IMG_7914.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Second breakfast is the best breakfast.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJbHLp25YFy9I6ZK61GlKiLWC5_1ETk03xOqTht76boWjJ3YkL4T4pL9ScsiqfR_Ip3WmceXPOih7qULJowle8odKn_Ly3WAQz39ziYifZqUZiSuXDkQLc5i6XRXTjDOn3UBBZVwqk60E/s1600/IMG_7943.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJbHLp25YFy9I6ZK61GlKiLWC5_1ETk03xOqTht76boWjJ3YkL4T4pL9ScsiqfR_Ip3WmceXPOih7qULJowle8odKn_Ly3WAQz39ziYifZqUZiSuXDkQLc5i6XRXTjDOn3UBBZVwqk60E/s320/IMG_7943.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Picking some awesome raspberries with a great friend.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoS0vBSp8DRe34KELizeW2nGmAnxV2-Rx29z0yczFxrhczrOSAx7Fpf-PjhVAGCkQWWTNncIF3tawEhrKdwhdG2BdR0cjz9Wj55EMHiBmeiYV7tNdi-jYH_teNO0hFsz9f9wylhcLkreU/s1600/IMG_7958.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoS0vBSp8DRe34KELizeW2nGmAnxV2-Rx29z0yczFxrhczrOSAx7Fpf-PjhVAGCkQWWTNncIF3tawEhrKdwhdG2BdR0cjz9Wj55EMHiBmeiYV7tNdi-jYH_teNO0hFsz9f9wylhcLkreU/s320/IMG_7958.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My first sunflower!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5CgSQYUrgcWwdokz3D-u2e08yto2e-bjk4PNU20QuAmUE93STi8oXu2w4djpj1cy49eq20_L1F_Xb2YfaVsHi4pBtdPWMBI_dwVdvl2p7WtyTSztBA6niiiOIS_hvaLfJxBtovbJLO_E/s1600/IMG_8029.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5CgSQYUrgcWwdokz3D-u2e08yto2e-bjk4PNU20QuAmUE93STi8oXu2w4djpj1cy49eq20_L1F_Xb2YfaVsHi4pBtdPWMBI_dwVdvl2p7WtyTSztBA6niiiOIS_hvaLfJxBtovbJLO_E/s320/IMG_8029.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Squeezing in some paddle board time with Parker. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFHlNt_-_j0SUiXFZ-1Xvftv8ZBdsXPPr-qCvBO1tonH0HgAwV6oEVIQmwFBcRejzTswnMHSAbCrtaEKB4ORh6KV_6_teaomtdvagC3qP9_YKdx-qHpleH_bnje41pb4rub7JevQPhFos/s320/IMG_8040.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="240" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There may or may not be a naked boy jumping on this trampoline with my daughter.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFHlNt_-_j0SUiXFZ-1Xvftv8ZBdsXPPr-qCvBO1tonH0HgAwV6oEVIQmwFBcRejzTswnMHSAbCrtaEKB4ORh6KV_6_teaomtdvagC3qP9_YKdx-qHpleH_bnje41pb4rub7JevQPhFos/s1600/IMG_8040.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFHlNt_-_j0SUiXFZ-1Xvftv8ZBdsXPPr-qCvBO1tonH0HgAwV6oEVIQmwFBcRejzTswnMHSAbCrtaEKB4ORh6KV_6_teaomtdvagC3qP9_YKdx-qHpleH_bnje41pb4rub7JevQPhFos/s1600/IMG_8040.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>
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Jordanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03912718411718959401noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3438157559172438830.post-61055725164347233942018-07-04T02:07:00.000-04:002018-07-04T02:07:22.710-04:00"Cold is the night without you here, Just your absence ringing in my ears"It has been thirty-six days. I've found myself saying things like "we are excited about ____" or "we will be there". Lots of we's still. Do I say that Jordan died thirty-six days ago? Do I say that she passed away? I stumble over my words often. The syntax of death is a bitch.<br />
<br />
There is this duality of life right now.<br />
<br />
I am desperately clinging to moments. Moments rooted in joy. Seeing my children smile around a campfire with smores all over their faces or tasting a freshly baked cookie. Moments rooted in simplicity. The feeling of the breeze on my face or the feeling of the earth beneath my bare feet. Moments rooted in the present. Zeroing in on the feeling and sound of a tattoo gun as it works its magic. Choosing to experience instead of trying to capture moments. Sure I'll forget them without a photo. But I need that rooting of the present more than anything else right now.<br />
<br />
I need that rooting because sadness is real. Guilt is real. Anger is real. Loneliness is so real. These are just the ones that have names. There are others. They can be subtle. Sliding into my day through someone's comments or a note I come across that Jordan wrote. They come uninvited by kicking in the door (I don't even lock my doors). They can be experienced in a brief moment or they can absolutely cripple me. But always when I'm driving. My God why is driving so sad? I feel sorry for anyone that notices me driving right now.<br />
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And the silence! Oh, the silence. The one thing that used to comfort me, allow me to think and bring a calm to my life. I absolutely cannot make sense of it. It is so welcome and so hated. The silence is deafening. The silence brings me back to the reality that I'm a mess and that this is all just starting. But the silence is the true place where healing will begin. For now, all I want to do is fill the silence with cussing and screaming.<br />
<br />
I'm trying my best to just acknowledge all these feelings. I'm trying not to assign them these subtle meanings of "good" or "bad" (It seems semantics is a bitch too). There is just no neat box with a ribbon on it for the things I'm feeling. I can't stuff them in the boxes I already have. They don't fit and I don't need another fight I'm not going to win.<br />
<br />
So here is to feeling all the feels. Acknowledging the pain. Allowing happy in. Embracing what is given in each moment.<br />
<br />
I invite you all along for this ugly and honest journey (no promise on the frequency of updates).<br />
<br />
-Brack<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4P5CQtJU5m7K59N5BNzpxFCwXx3r24hBCDewiY6oVdxu2dvxNFd9manx4Ni6otgVO-bdlago3CI4cGLzSzap18QzLXshr-NOrIKnoJJYBmSXkuKXKPCa5hHVFO1v1gjUr-3LlKqBokE4/s1600/IMG_7306.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4P5CQtJU5m7K59N5BNzpxFCwXx3r24hBCDewiY6oVdxu2dvxNFd9manx4Ni6otgVO-bdlago3CI4cGLzSzap18QzLXshr-NOrIKnoJJYBmSXkuKXKPCa5hHVFO1v1gjUr-3LlKqBokE4/s320/IMG_7306.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Snoring and drooling while sitting up.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFSPwUJfWFWVZ3fFdvrKLFwSjo-D_ZdMoVH9bvHzNfv-n78WkbJaMiltCRV8iXXBm6FWTnCKEyKwYi7rGNZNOXIYfTASmBG5StWni9LFKUhCG-lTc2AtJE1EG7B2Nz5F8eT5MrHnFOtB4/s1600/IMG_7297.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFSPwUJfWFWVZ3fFdvrKLFwSjo-D_ZdMoVH9bvHzNfv-n78WkbJaMiltCRV8iXXBm6FWTnCKEyKwYi7rGNZNOXIYfTASmBG5StWni9LFKUhCG-lTc2AtJE1EG7B2Nz5F8eT5MrHnFOtB4/s320/IMG_7297.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If you have never had a cold Chick-fil-A sandwich with a beer you are doing life all wrong.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyB2kjyBlbA65Ez_5X36ZLT2RLXhfZ9CUs2PwLhgNymAUpRaCdE8cOp8c5W8U89C8O2InEZpraxv3JcVfh9M73BPv86wuo54_Q-7S72b1mbk_mv8LL2Hbh0BheAOY5AuqBHuYAQn0invE/s1600/IMG_7334.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyB2kjyBlbA65Ez_5X36ZLT2RLXhfZ9CUs2PwLhgNymAUpRaCdE8cOp8c5W8U89C8O2InEZpraxv3JcVfh9M73BPv86wuo54_Q-7S72b1mbk_mv8LL2Hbh0BheAOY5AuqBHuYAQn0invE/s320/IMG_7334.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First ever attempt at a braid. It has to be all uphill from here right?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLoZ5hCL6ztc7QnTuo_35oxZr5bAYdMN5Y-8zNKvbCo5Rg8vS2CIR4VNDUMRr_39DAPcc-OEjivfKV-EOgjlNaxu4eRgQ63cvOJoNgFLPbYKBM0az5Bece0cWGTBQ1QzdSuPr3WKqB8Wc/s1600/IMG_7355.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLoZ5hCL6ztc7QnTuo_35oxZr5bAYdMN5Y-8zNKvbCo5Rg8vS2CIR4VNDUMRr_39DAPcc-OEjivfKV-EOgjlNaxu4eRgQ63cvOJoNgFLPbYKBM0az5Bece0cWGTBQ1QzdSuPr3WKqB8Wc/s320/IMG_7355.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There was a dance party when I told them we could buy Cheeze-its.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi49zp-Z936To-Yt0rIgowc-ZyxbwOVBPhlw_M9hVKY96ABQHA0rakf04CVVNniHmUL8vYg1QIQ_RZbW0NhmsdLiAjqfud_utAhv2NcfsH0y0DNI8pYPXxWFvJFNW3vasB7ujy1ebdA6Yk/s1600/IMG_7356.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi49zp-Z936To-Yt0rIgowc-ZyxbwOVBPhlw_M9hVKY96ABQHA0rakf04CVVNniHmUL8vYg1QIQ_RZbW0NhmsdLiAjqfud_utAhv2NcfsH0y0DNI8pYPXxWFvJFNW3vasB7ujy1ebdA6Yk/s320/IMG_7356.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Benton on his first legit mountain biking trail.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSsa5OJ43IR1RBHh7K8zHbHszmwid1w629zkiTSL4n7Rmfo1h2PqrJMMj9X29AHCo3_3fufVqjqiZngWhEBchWrgw4kzSUfB2lo_cMbcoaxQECG41lLbdowRkGnQWj4SFJ2eB6cuaZqYQ/s1600/IMG_7368.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSsa5OJ43IR1RBHh7K8zHbHszmwid1w629zkiTSL4n7Rmfo1h2PqrJMMj9X29AHCo3_3fufVqjqiZngWhEBchWrgw4kzSUfB2lo_cMbcoaxQECG41lLbdowRkGnQWj4SFJ2eB6cuaZqYQ/s320/IMG_7368.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This family brakes for cheese.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG995mDmdcptrcdKmmn2c9JuN9DSP7uVf85YuORHiphJXgTh04QgRQoHk2Auw_bObALeZsfCI_K0lTgQlfDaSkXcUwM4ggSNSkp307Wtu7AWhZZpUhMquUO4yWucOMJlbXYzrZVIN5YME/s1600/IMG_7377.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG995mDmdcptrcdKmmn2c9JuN9DSP7uVf85YuORHiphJXgTh04QgRQoHk2Auw_bObALeZsfCI_K0lTgQlfDaSkXcUwM4ggSNSkp307Wtu7AWhZZpUhMquUO4yWucOMJlbXYzrZVIN5YME/s320/IMG_7377.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bottom of the Astoria Column.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhigFNyBnKvQNHS5hvZr-idhP1eT3Ypit7bW3nHtMYynXuOwAxXPHd2wVTOrqAPJN5wNRzAldAX3rrbJHwkF-RP7iPompyEpqKV40VQSHS7cnwgbEDsEVLicq144tBQi7kVCDXNIjUkj0o/s1600/IMG_7376.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhigFNyBnKvQNHS5hvZr-idhP1eT3Ypit7bW3nHtMYynXuOwAxXPHd2wVTOrqAPJN5wNRzAldAX3rrbJHwkF-RP7iPompyEpqKV40VQSHS7cnwgbEDsEVLicq144tBQi7kVCDXNIjUkj0o/s320/IMG_7376.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">164 steps later at the top of the Astoria Column.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfRvQBm5IgF_jFOdw624eVtbEBZkQ_y3X5RUiHk54d1k8iqpiqNa2z8beJZNhhEjNY7nf5_MXBvKEV_WMoaPd3FWmPiunPdwr4QclCcn1kGkwYh4Qzyur-WyTiwK8NTeVxWLxmz9szCSw/s1600/IMG_7383.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfRvQBm5IgF_jFOdw624eVtbEBZkQ_y3X5RUiHk54d1k8iqpiqNa2z8beJZNhhEjNY7nf5_MXBvKEV_WMoaPd3FWmPiunPdwr4QclCcn1kGkwYh4Qzyur-WyTiwK8NTeVxWLxmz9szCSw/s320/IMG_7383.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These kids love some ice cream!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKtSldEZg6f6LS51oq6iBNmummIOx7kaNbaSwjPm2h_aQaXhmjo9GqVJ9FKJ_ayY9tXQQoPyzz0AJFDVa0PMDZiMYoUgs4r5d-d1IYX84u8mYDPK5oOcdhUXCWkJCWF8Po01DHYFUHeDs/s1600/IMG_7406.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKtSldEZg6f6LS51oq6iBNmummIOx7kaNbaSwjPm2h_aQaXhmjo9GqVJ9FKJ_ayY9tXQQoPyzz0AJFDVa0PMDZiMYoUgs4r5d-d1IYX84u8mYDPK5oOcdhUXCWkJCWF8Po01DHYFUHeDs/s320/IMG_7406.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Safety first when manning the outdoor grill.</td></tr>
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<br />Brack Hassellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12804018723941605037noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3438157559172438830.post-11143383595410180042018-06-03T03:28:00.000-04:002018-06-03T03:28:10.000-04:00"The stars are mapless, They have no purpose, Without you here"We had to say goodbye a few times this week.<br />
<br />
On Tuesday morning Jordan's parents got to spend some sacred alone time with her in the bedroom while she slept. Jordan's breathing became shallow and weak. Jordan's mom woke me from a nap upstairs and I came down to check on Jordan. For ten minutes or so we sat alone in our bedroom. I held Jordan's hand, ran my fingers through her hair and whispered in her ear while she slept. She took one last breath that seemed more like a deep sigh and with that she was gone. Joe, Kim and I wept together for a while. We pulled ourselves together the best we could and started making phone calls.<br />
<br />
I went and got the kids from school and we sat down on a bench in front of the building. I held them close, looked them in the eye and told them that their mother had died. My sweet precious kids cried in a way that I've never seen them cry. Before that moment I wasn't sure my heart could break anymore. But at that moment it hurt in a way that felt like it would never be whole again.<br />
<br />
We walked home together. Benton normally rushes ahead but he decided to hold my hand in that moment. I'm not sure if it was for me or for him but I appreciated it. We went into the bedroom together and sat with Jordan. We sat in that awful and soul-crushing space together.<br />
<br />
We were joined by friends that have become family. We cried, we cried, we laughed a little, we cried and then we cried some more. When the funeral home was on its way out we all gathered in the bedroom around Jordan. We shared some funny stories about Jordan and had a few more good cries.<br />
<br />
Then we said goodbye again. This time as Jordan was taken from our home. There was immediately a sense of emptiness there. Our home physically felt empty. I felt empty too. Empty emotionally. I found myself concentrating on my breathing. As if my own body wanted to be gone too if I hadn't caught it and kept things going with another breath.<br />
<br />
After we sat around feeling sorry for ourselves we ended up at one of Jordan's favorite spots in town. We did something simple that felt right and that we have done hundreds of times. We shared a meal and some beers with friends. A simple act that attempted to put some normalcy into a day that had been spinning out of control. I drank a pint of the same beer that Jordan had shared with me just a few days before. I may have even mustered a smile as I took in a whiff and a big swig of this delicate and beautiful beer. After our meal, the kids played in the sand on the bank of the Columbia River. I dug my toes into the sand and made sure to get them wet in the frigid water. I tried my best to take that moment in fully in between catching my body and reminding it to take in oxygen.<br />
<br />
That night I took the futon mattress out of the playroom and plopped it down in between the kids beds. I got to experience a little of the kids being silly at night and I loved it. It was the same thing I am typically marching up the stairs to scold them about. That night it was so lovely and needed though. It brought me some joy seeing my kids loving on each other in that way.<br />
<br />
Over the next few days, we weathered the storm of emotions and the list of things that needed to get done for Jordan's memorial service. I've done a pretty good job the last eleven months for reserving my ugly cries for moments when I'm alone. But now it appears the train is completely off the tracks. In the last few days, I've cried while checking the PO Box, while picking up glue at the hardware store, while on the phone with the dentist, while making breakfast, while eating breakfast, while parking my car, while talking to my neighbors, while driving and lots of other times.<br />
<br />
Then came Friday. Jordan's parents, my parents, my sister, the kids and I gathered at the funeral home in town to say another goodbye. Parker and I went first. Then everyone else trickled in and out of the room. Taking turns leaving pictures, notes, drawings and a few Gerber daisies with her. When everyone was finished I went back into the room and shut the door.<br />
<br />
Just the day before a friend shared a wonderful thought with me. She shared that she hoped that I would be able to acknowledge all of my senses and not ignore them or become numb. I didn't have to enjoy my senses but greeting and acknowledging what is happening in each moment is so powerful.<br />
<br />
So as I was standing with my wife one last time I took the opportunity that I was being given. I held Jordan's hands and I shared the warmth of my body with her. I touched her reddish/lobster colored nail polish that was still smooth on each finger. I rubbed her arms and legs one last time. You could feel the slight stiffness there. Her skin didn't bounce back the way it does when it is full of life. You could also feel the weakness in her muscles. The strength that the tumor robbed from Jordan's body showed in her legs the most. I put my hand on her chest expecting to feel the same rushed heartbeat that has been normal since her surgery last July. I ran my fingers through her hair, I kissed her on the forehead and I whispered into her ear just as I had done on Tuesday. I took her hand and put it on the back of my neck. I took her fingers and ran them along the stubble on my face and neck. Something that she used to always have the sweetest smile on her face while doing. For the first time in several months, Jordan looked tranquil. She wasn't struggling with a body that had given up on her anymore.<br />
<br />
The other night as I was staring at the ceiling and waiting for the kids to stop being silly so that we could try and sleep Parker said something profound (This is quickly becoming the norm from her). She said: "Daddy we don't have one anymore. But we have three, three is a good number". In her own little wonderful way after all the goodbyes we said this week she was choosing to say hello to a new beginning. I love that kid.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhayGLyGYeBGir9rgGCPdLPSMU-G1XA93vuLkh6ZCwdR27-Pjhh4OaCJCGhM7myMzssPO7ZfiGq4exp6sx-05-nCvqV3-BZ6_56tegDKPi7113u7iyZaqCSnEQcQzDc7fcHmj1ZfAMla7A/s1600/IMG_2695.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhayGLyGYeBGir9rgGCPdLPSMU-G1XA93vuLkh6ZCwdR27-Pjhh4OaCJCGhM7myMzssPO7ZfiGq4exp6sx-05-nCvqV3-BZ6_56tegDKPi7113u7iyZaqCSnEQcQzDc7fcHmj1ZfAMla7A/s320/IMG_2695.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A toast to Jordan with Parker and Gary.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5h1Rcq4B8jWpSQWliFWG34nHihqxJz4SZL9JLTLDGcYE27kaBKAij8H1aeBNEZOBiSFQpk9ODWhsPEZXMbhcoETEdWaRCvqKUseiAUJJGFBQUVM68dZyiD00emTJNqNOVAszWqNwB3Zo/s1600/IMG_7139.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5h1Rcq4B8jWpSQWliFWG34nHihqxJz4SZL9JLTLDGcYE27kaBKAij8H1aeBNEZOBiSFQpk9ODWhsPEZXMbhcoETEdWaRCvqKUseiAUJJGFBQUVM68dZyiD00emTJNqNOVAszWqNwB3Zo/s320/IMG_7139.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A beautiful ending to a long day on Tuesday.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9cVp38rLBtmqZbhPPymUBZpMDlaHqhczIImOhi2wl2NSoXTmnmcKGgrfINiJ2sLGUoIgmnu5i1Isq5Rw3_JvV0k30ivmqQUaKZ3Fz4sRiL81zvdV1SxXJMDFC0l3CxnIRhc1qjDPUXrc/s1600/IMG_7143.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9cVp38rLBtmqZbhPPymUBZpMDlaHqhczIImOhi2wl2NSoXTmnmcKGgrfINiJ2sLGUoIgmnu5i1Isq5Rw3_JvV0k30ivmqQUaKZ3Fz4sRiL81zvdV1SxXJMDFC0l3CxnIRhc1qjDPUXrc/s320/IMG_7143.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Donuts and hot chocolate!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp7pkrclA1nqu4hN2212t2Q3_Cequhvd4m92_4O6npvWpvqkNyhRReuWCeDSx7Zz55GwdzFSlbR1Q8aWe6YZJsLOd5Ggal0dTEYPYAjpG2c9JVOuphn9GBbzN1c3Q2yBJ1vdRyaeu7LEA/s1600/IMG_7145.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp7pkrclA1nqu4hN2212t2Q3_Cequhvd4m92_4O6npvWpvqkNyhRReuWCeDSx7Zz55GwdzFSlbR1Q8aWe6YZJsLOd5Ggal0dTEYPYAjpG2c9JVOuphn9GBbzN1c3Q2yBJ1vdRyaeu7LEA/s320/IMG_7145.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Acknowledging all her senses!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdZQASmbQxt0ASVOOSsW_1nr9vNfM5T4e6XW_xUjJYbA33yDsQjlyH3GJTGP9s88InulHVG5HJL2yNglLhbJSpjYFd3sF2mPPLQAjFESdMPlAJXyAqKpFa7FzF4-xib6yBMyiDtDmBiK0/s1600/IMG_7148.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdZQASmbQxt0ASVOOSsW_1nr9vNfM5T4e6XW_xUjJYbA33yDsQjlyH3GJTGP9s88InulHVG5HJL2yNglLhbJSpjYFd3sF2mPPLQAjFESdMPlAJXyAqKpFa7FzF4-xib6yBMyiDtDmBiK0/s320/IMG_7148.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm so glad I have these two to remind me that each day is a new one to be embraced.</td></tr>
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Jordanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03912718411718959401noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3438157559172438830.post-48083918896302528042018-05-30T23:09:00.002-04:002018-05-30T23:09:38.008-04:00"There's a party goin' on right here"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHYozkN_O0zUIRMk5lpITqv0Jgon7DF7fKcKi56wE4l5btQNQLC0UdWdu3B9Dggsr94q24QPJxZo8odLikPllE2-L1yhlfBcyXTovKymoziWzDbRR6xfDVXGja2nT5A-C5WcarF2QxWhw/s1600/jordan+service+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1478" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHYozkN_O0zUIRMk5lpITqv0Jgon7DF7fKcKi56wE4l5btQNQLC0UdWdu3B9Dggsr94q24QPJxZo8odLikPllE2-L1yhlfBcyXTovKymoziWzDbRR6xfDVXGja2nT5A-C5WcarF2QxWhw/s640/jordan+service+2.jpg" width="590" /></a></div>
<br />Jordanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03912718411718959401noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3438157559172438830.post-55005542204811195312018-05-30T07:02:00.003-04:002018-05-30T07:02:56.578-04:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggVuFqPTT4b65pE9OZsIdnK_EJkSU9WsOQCRQYcBalZRtm93u-cZ5YbZEjOS9QHSdess36oOHA9thnCgncfxVe9Alp_x5WhE0akjTtqOUvmsNFzIET2sGF4737ENi3d5oSePzWCJ61ALs/s1600/IMG_7140.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggVuFqPTT4b65pE9OZsIdnK_EJkSU9WsOQCRQYcBalZRtm93u-cZ5YbZEjOS9QHSdess36oOHA9thnCgncfxVe9Alp_x5WhE0akjTtqOUvmsNFzIET2sGF4737ENi3d5oSePzWCJ61ALs/s640/IMG_7140.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<br />Jordanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03912718411718959401noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3438157559172438830.post-54401628912665439142018-05-28T11:03:00.000-04:002018-05-28T11:03:11.542-04:00"Both feet on the floor, two hands on the wheel, May the winds take your troubles away"One week ago Jordan and I celebrated our thirteenth wedding anniversary. We kicked things off with breakfast in bed. Then we loaded up the van with the kiddos/Jordan's parents and headed to the coast for three days. Jordan has been asking to see the ocean for the last six weeks and I've dreaded the thought of making that trek with everything that has been going on. But I gave in and made the most untraditional anniversary excursion a reality. It took the full cooperation of everyone involved. All hands on deck for three days. We fed the seals at the aquarium, went to the arcade and had ice cream. Jordan and I shared the pull out sofa in our hotel room. So for the first time in a few months, I got to fall asleep next to my wife. A nice bonus I hadn't even considered in the chaos of planning the trip. We rented a special wheelchair and got Jordan down to the beach. The kids splashed in the water (shivering) and ran away from dead crabs (shrieking).<br />
<br />
I took Jordan's shoe off of her right foot (the one that she still has feeling in) and I rubbed cold wet sand all over it. I smeared it between her toes. I made a wet little pile on top of her foot and let the weight of it linger. I rolled her to the edge of the lazy small waves. I kneeled and washed the sand off of her foot. I made sure to take the time to rub the sand lightly into her skin one more time. I poured water from my hands onto her feet until Jordan gave me a small grimace.<br />
<br />
I did this for several reasons (only one being that I'm an annoying ass). I wanted there to be the connection. I wanted her to feel the cold and the grit. It can't be described fully and it can't be dreamt up. It has to be experienced. You are thinking about it right now and it isn't doing this simple act the justice it deserves. Cancer and a stupid beach wheelchair weren't going to steal that from Jordan. We shared that moment. It is ours forever (piss off Cancer).<br />
<br />
Getting ready to head back I couldn't help but gaze off into the water. If you haven't stared at the seemingly endless and always changing waters of the ocean and felt completely insignificant I sincerely question your humanity. There was tension tied to that moment. The tension of the present focus of what a single grain of sand feels like being rubbed onto your foot vs. the reality that life seems like nothing more than a few uncontrollable moments in time. Holy run-on sentence and existential crisis Batman! We wrapped up our beach trip and retreated back to our wonderful home in Parkdale. As we were unloading Jordan I couldn't help but think that might have been the last time we would leave our neighborhood as a family (existential crisis back on).<br />
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Just a couple of days later we celebrated Jordan's birthday. We had homemade chocolate cake (in bed), visits from a few friends, well wishes/cards from near/far and Jordan received an incredibly generous gift from our school co-workers. Most importantly we celebrated life. It was weird and it was a little chaotic. But we did all that we could. Continuing to lean into what we have before Cancer can take it away.<br />
<br />
The day after Jordan's birthday we cooked out with friends and roasted marshmallows. We drug Jordan to the backyard and made a huge mess eating smores and laughing. As Jordan went to bed she had trouble breathing. She coughed, snored and gargled her way through the night. This continued through breakfast the next day so I called hospice. A nurse came out, pumped her full of strong medicine and her breathing got better. She also shared that Jordan should not eat or drink anything for the rest of the day as there is a danger of aspiration. Little did the nurse know Jordan spent ten minutes trying to tell her that she wanted a Coke. I acted like I didn't know what she was saying and the nurse never caught on (I snuck her a sip of Coke when she left).<br />
<br />
As the nurse was leaving she gave me one of those "this is what death looks like" pamphlets and opened it to a section on breathing for me to read at my leisure. She shared that Jordan could be moving into the next stages and that could mean days or hours instead of months or weeks. The timeline continues to shrink. Cancer continues to take.<br />
<br />
This set our lazy Sunday ablaze. We called the kids back from the impromptu slip n' slide party going on up the street, closed the doors and tried to process. Jordan slipped in and out of sleep and moments of clarity. Singing along to songs, smiling at stupid stories and weeping. Pretty much a normal day in that regard. I spent lots of the day staring out our bedroom window. I watched a spider make a brave journey from the edge of our house to a nearby tree. It danced along its thin invisible string as the wind blew. I found myself rooting for the spider. I felt invested even though I won't hesitate to smash that thing into oblivion if it makes it inside our home (I hate spiders!!!). I also watched a cottonwood tree (I learned what a cottonwood tree was yesterday) create what appeared to be snow in May. This huge tree in our neighborhood was quickly shedding its seeds inside this white, fluffy cotton like snow. It flowed down in slow motion all day long. It was blown in circles by the wind and accumulated at the edge of the yard. I even got some in my mouth when I was running (not as pleasant as catching a real snowflake by the way). The "snow" was a very real anchor in the present moment. It kept pulling me back from the uncontrollable worry-filled thoughts of what could be next. It was a welcome reminder to remain in the present moment even if it was one filled with pain.<br />
<br />
Jordan slept well through the night thanks to tons of medication. We will spend our day staring at the Cottonwood snow and waiting for our next visit from hospice.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpqaKbJAUFAuNIJFLwbl9fhMb3QPoELlyYMyNeUazpIGn8lxYuIr5UzWNxmlAWSn8-0xIEJCmnpWU0zLe8y8oOs3Tbsksy5ADqPj9QIej60iUhE63FIvVJc0sBFjvruNP30KsNqKya6uA/s1600/IMG_7064.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpqaKbJAUFAuNIJFLwbl9fhMb3QPoELlyYMyNeUazpIGn8lxYuIr5UzWNxmlAWSn8-0xIEJCmnpWU0zLe8y8oOs3Tbsksy5ADqPj9QIej60iUhE63FIvVJc0sBFjvruNP30KsNqKya6uA/s320/IMG_7064.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The kids love the hot tub!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEincEYs4LOwibhN2xrP_dYEnLa15DIlsY3dBAHO2d_uLbg3eH7tAyFtfGchwHGWEYokf8EO05-0Tp-taDOzcFWwkWOJqKRJWMEIRajaCfdNkkt4z9vhFYJhoxs35bsGPOp_2mOEsEQQqPU/s1600/IMG_7067.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEincEYs4LOwibhN2xrP_dYEnLa15DIlsY3dBAHO2d_uLbg3eH7tAyFtfGchwHGWEYokf8EO05-0Tp-taDOzcFWwkWOJqKRJWMEIRajaCfdNkkt4z9vhFYJhoxs35bsGPOp_2mOEsEQQqPU/s320/IMG_7067.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Parker quietly plotting a way to steal a seal from the aquarium.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidwUlr-w6NJ2z7cng4Vqd-ym1yXKCnwf7VtKRFAqvGdOiZfxpl_3i0C1MzW4f1n9CwVCNWtQIxVeAGGMvhjDlfgSpwZr-7n9EYdPXA11i3XcMsgmWQVTu5BsJzVukDnXt4_nFKH0D4bZE/s1600/IMG_7136.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1427" data-original-width="1600" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidwUlr-w6NJ2z7cng4Vqd-ym1yXKCnwf7VtKRFAqvGdOiZfxpl_3i0C1MzW4f1n9CwVCNWtQIxVeAGGMvhjDlfgSpwZr-7n9EYdPXA11i3XcMsgmWQVTu5BsJzVukDnXt4_nFKH0D4bZE/s320/IMG_7136.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Do all kids love digging holes or are we secretly raising dogs?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRBe8lDu2EY3qxj85q8mn0hanzdV8pcb7NWZOZjSNH94Mj_HMKW98yJ4wsEpis3HXyN9KljGUoYQT0cChRSIhvrk05tWzPl8dNZBj4_JuJ3T1F9XkUjuhXKhSWOAwgyLTYiU-rpwpspmU/s1600/IMG_7072.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRBe8lDu2EY3qxj85q8mn0hanzdV8pcb7NWZOZjSNH94Mj_HMKW98yJ4wsEpis3HXyN9KljGUoYQT0cChRSIhvrk05tWzPl8dNZBj4_JuJ3T1F9XkUjuhXKhSWOAwgyLTYiU-rpwpspmU/s320/IMG_7072.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Seaside, Oregon. Right behind a statue commemorating the turnaround point of the Lewis and Clark expedition. Not in the right place by the way...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAaS2OVMzr6iRd3pLLWWqvBFb44vLY-UjjPVndeHrsKjm1oo-zbN9hW31zXFgTa4p0ta3Vyc7jqes7pDTGiQGl6yyLc4abmT99EuK605LGxmaGKwatnF90AdvcIs3QuMBRGXVq1_89kS4/s1600/IMG_7133.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAaS2OVMzr6iRd3pLLWWqvBFb44vLY-UjjPVndeHrsKjm1oo-zbN9hW31zXFgTa4p0ta3Vyc7jqes7pDTGiQGl6yyLc4abmT99EuK605LGxmaGKwatnF90AdvcIs3QuMBRGXVq1_89kS4/s320/IMG_7133.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jackets and long sleeves on the beach.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6PhwCRUJDHBJDcR751t4WO5bUmiN-KB2ZSw8MFZ2p3zk-1_Ib470Y8vDoLiFLoXEIKKANU3Si05SIowfHahlaitKAothsjbaH7wIIuFaNj3UMsUt21Cj3HGHTpfM7jD0L7R4WFgyowRs/s1600/IMG_7082.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6PhwCRUJDHBJDcR751t4WO5bUmiN-KB2ZSw8MFZ2p3zk-1_Ib470Y8vDoLiFLoXEIKKANU3Si05SIowfHahlaitKAothsjbaH7wIIuFaNj3UMsUt21Cj3HGHTpfM7jD0L7R4WFgyowRs/s320/IMG_7082.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Getting that foot sandy and wet!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNFu4cYneSYs1FGVqUan4cl_f3sLyeYc-Q0bzasQoyETARJdW-KnLConvny99c_kiOBBSoq4_4sNpr2etW2X-9RrZcyaqNvejLsNvj2bpzK_eBkJUqXs9Yrb1StycYlqpVpFpeQHQJm1o/s1600/IMG_7123.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1440" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNFu4cYneSYs1FGVqUan4cl_f3sLyeYc-Q0bzasQoyETARJdW-KnLConvny99c_kiOBBSoq4_4sNpr2etW2X-9RrZcyaqNvejLsNvj2bpzK_eBkJUqXs9Yrb1StycYlqpVpFpeQHQJm1o/s320/IMG_7123.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The mountain remains the focus around here. Even with two studs in the foreground.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggmUNIWGKmvOeZU2sHF8ffukgLM4y6vmkyQUxgz4LWwrvxaHDF-1rC8BTmr7bZJEEsaG5vUPK_oLo6KZz5zc9nOx2INCLWzKIXxM6j7FCUJN37Nun94gFbpp3Q4mKqZUCAVIot0P6Pc7U/s1600/IMG_7131.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1140" data-original-width="1600" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggmUNIWGKmvOeZU2sHF8ffukgLM4y6vmkyQUxgz4LWwrvxaHDF-1rC8BTmr7bZJEEsaG5vUPK_oLo6KZz5zc9nOx2INCLWzKIXxM6j7FCUJN37Nun94gFbpp3Q4mKqZUCAVIot0P6Pc7U/s320/IMG_7131.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Birthday pedicure and drinks!</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5FvsKwcI5VmP69iGcajqzazP3wnVEVKHFraJnEBXhKTjS_PT732lybp_L0hJ0gQ2EQige8QievIJftUBnq_kRBu8FV10MBHLZBrcsRB3W8USaJ4N5ZTD87H5b4LP4j0ratw6qYgJHPig/s1600/IMG_7132.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1589" data-original-width="1600" height="317" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5FvsKwcI5VmP69iGcajqzazP3wnVEVKHFraJnEBXhKTjS_PT732lybp_L0hJ0gQ2EQige8QievIJftUBnq_kRBu8FV10MBHLZBrcsRB3W8USaJ4N5ZTD87H5b4LP4j0ratw6qYgJHPig/s320/IMG_7132.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Happy anniversary from the pull out.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZccD06ziFGzhy0mMBEBQUKBLQ_jVOZ2oQ9U0enTK2zkSYhp7aymso16czBr1ZYL_AJWXo-bBAiHB5yV1Ufs738BVuWDsIeL7TTDjfiMAvEDbr0fH2PxUT9hFZtnmEq_pgoiatqMxI_g0/s1600/IMG_7135.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZccD06ziFGzhy0mMBEBQUKBLQ_jVOZ2oQ9U0enTK2zkSYhp7aymso16czBr1ZYL_AJWXo-bBAiHB5yV1Ufs738BVuWDsIeL7TTDjfiMAvEDbr0fH2PxUT9hFZtnmEq_pgoiatqMxI_g0/s320/IMG_7135.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jordan is still finding a reason to smile every day.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFNnhR0svfwcURAy6IUsz8MjtA1BKHipF44Mxt1UbNHa3hTBtPhSRbXoyHiEN0_bV2R6Pgy1OnKOOpbPNa9_kTSYLW2Fxs5nBaNGouDpKKrQVOO0IZ7BHbVW4LfzEiFnm908RKrGW2p2w/s1600/IMG_7125.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFNnhR0svfwcURAy6IUsz8MjtA1BKHipF44Mxt1UbNHa3hTBtPhSRbXoyHiEN0_bV2R6Pgy1OnKOOpbPNa9_kTSYLW2Fxs5nBaNGouDpKKrQVOO0IZ7BHbVW4LfzEiFnm908RKrGW2p2w/s320/IMG_7125.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Smores and a campfire!<br />
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Jordanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03912718411718959401noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3438157559172438830.post-75881798100058444232018-05-14T00:30:00.000-04:002018-05-14T00:30:14.116-04:00"He was me, from a dimension torn free"The last two weeks or so have been odd for the Hassell family. I've been at home. I've temporarily stepped away from teaching to take better care of myself so that I can take better care of my family. The last few months have found me burning the candle at both ends and it has taken a toll. Trying to be a great husband, a great caretaker, a great dad and a great teacher have just not been sustainable. I gave it my best college try though. As a result, I was left a little worse for the wear. Recently knowing that my school year could be coming to an end I found myself feeling torn between home and work. Work wasn't the place of solace and safety that it once was. The overwhelming wave of emotions from home were beginning to spill into my work (Who knew watching your daughter juggle scarves could be so damn emotional?). I found myself leaving Jordan in tears every morning as she begged me not to go. It was time for me to step away. In all honesty, it was probably two weeks past time.<br />
<br />
The school district has been in our corner since day one and they have been so gracious in working with us. Both of my principals (because working for one principal just isn't enough) have been great and have only shown me support. A truly fortunate situation for me to be able to take a step back in order to fight for my own mental/physical health and to try and be there one hundred percent for my family.<br />
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Jordan's condition has stabilized somewhat over the last few weeks. Lots of days spent sleeping, watching American Idol and not leaving the bedroom. Still no pain to the astonishment of every medical professional involved. She is eating normally and trying her damndest to be in the middle of everything. We have pulled back our travel some and find ourselves loading up the wheelchair and hitting all the local spots that we can walk/roll to for bbq, ice cream, poutine (Jordan's favorite from an awesome food truck in our neighborhood) and beer as the weather continues to improve around here. Jordan has begun to experience focal seizures in her body. They are small, brief and she is fully conscious. The hospice team has prescribed a small dosage of a medication to try and help treat them. We are holding onto hope that they don't worsen. Jordan's speech hasn't improved but I've found that being around more this week has improved my ability to catch on quicker.<br />
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So I've found myself in a new space the last two weeks. With a break from school comes the responsibility of some of the things that I handed off to Jordan's parents for the last five months. This has given them a chance to slow down and breathe a bit. Stepping into the chaotic life of a loved one that has a terminal illness is overwhelming. Doing it day in and day out for five months is almost too much to ask of anyone. So I am happy that this new space will allow for some balance to return for everyone involved.<br />
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My balance looks a little like Mr. Mom/Uncle Buck. I've enjoyed getting the kids up in the mornings for school with piggyback rides down the stairs included. After dropping them off I have been watering my flowers/garden, drinking coffee and waving at my coworkers as they pass my house like a grumpy old man. Then I come in the house and make breakfast. Sitting quietly in our bedroom Jordan and I share a meal. We also share laughter, kisses, smiles, silence and tears that have been missing. The time is so valuable. It also happens to be the time when Jordan's speech is at its best. From there the day takes all sorts of twists and turns just like normal. Just at a slightly slower pace.<br />
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With the slower pace, I've had some time to try and grapple with all the things swirling around in my skull. I haven't made much progress, to be honest. The swirling is pretty intense at this point. Things haven't gotten easier. As the days pass the hard moments become harder, more urgent, heavier and more consuming. Some moments seem to stop time and bring me to my knees.<br />
<br />
Today was mother's day. We have a standing tradition in our family that I grill a steak (sometimes poorly) and fix all sorts of fattening sides for Jordan's special day. We also started a tradition five years ago to give Jordan the same simple gift every year. It is a little black notebook with the year written above a picture of the two kids and a note from the kids/me to Jordan. Simple, cheap and hard to screw up! I read the notebook to Jordan today. Pretty predictable messages from the kids: we like you because you are nice, you are pretty, you make good mac n cheese, etc... You know the things kids notice. Last year I wrote "I can't wait to see what the future holds__________<br />
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This naive thought was written roughly five weeks before our whole world was turned upside down. Not exactly the future I was thinking about last year with a majority of the notebook still blank.<br />
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We both wept as I read the words. I almost skipped them all together but at that moment it felt wrong to do so. During that good cry session, I realized something that has been tugging at my heart for the last few weeks. As Jordan spends more time stuck in our house and specifically our bedroom the world moves on at blazing speeds just outside our door. Each day you can hear the students at our school during recess from our bedroom window. Squeels, laughter and exclamations of youth float through the air. The valley here has exploded with life. Every organic space is covered in green and flowers. The mountain is out earlier each day. Even at night, it juts out over the horizon and just screams to be looked at. The main street in our tiny little town is starting to fill up with those dopey looking out of towners in their clean outdoor gear and shiny cars. The breeze and warmth each day beg you to come outside. Familiar faces are starting to tan and get the glow of spring. Days spent taking in all of this glory are ones that end in a satisfied exhaustion. When your head hits the pillow you can feel that your muscles and skin have been stretched by the season.<br />
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These feelings carry a richness that can't be understood unless experienced. Jordan doesn't get to experience them in the same way anymore. We try. We load her up and go for walks. We get her face into the warming sun. We eat dinner on the back porch. We bring her flowers. But it isn't the same. It is lacking a fullness. That breaks my heart. We moved here to recapture that fullness. This time a year ago we were looking forward to drinking in the richness together for a long long time.<br />
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Now we just hope for one more day, one more moment, one more chance. We hope while cancer diligently chips away at our fullness.<br />
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<style type="text/css"> p.p1 {margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 36.0px; text-indent: -36.0px; line-height: 24.0px; font: 11.0px 'Helvetica Neue'; color: #000000; -webkit-text-stroke: #000000; background-color: #ffffff} span.s1 {font-kerning: none} </style>Jordanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03912718411718959401noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3438157559172438830.post-29741656106111332062018-04-20T14:27:00.000-04:002018-04-20T14:27:12.757-04:00"Watch over us when my hands are tired"We celebrated Benton's eighth birthday recently. Jordan and I have been parents for eight years! What a blur. We haven't lost or permanently broken a child yet. I think we are doing pretty well for ourselves. We spent his birthday weekend making him feel special. He was taken to the movies, got to eat his favorite meal (multiple hot dogs), had cake/ice cream with his friends, got miscellaneous presents and went to the science museum in Portland. We celebrated at every turn. I mainly just held him lots and said: "holy crap you are eight". Each day he is getting more lanky and stanky. It is getting harder to scoop him up and just hold onto him (mainly because he never stops moving).<br />
<br />
This was my first birthday I was completely in charge of. Birthdays are a Jordan thing. I usually just take my orders. I pick up the cake and make lightsabers out of pool noodles. Whatever fancy thing she dreams up (thanks Pinterest). So hopefully I did a good job with Benton's birthday. Parker will be slightly more critical in June. If I'm being honest I can't ever remember if Parker's birthday is on June 23rd or 26th. I've got some work to do!<br />
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Jordan was right in there for the birthday celebration though and sure didn't miss her serving of cake. Jordan is in a bit of a lull right now. She isn't showing any new symptoms. Her energy levels are still bad. Trips out of the house are an all-out team effort. Everything is slow moving and her speech is holding up for a few hours in the morning before it just gets rough. Hospice is in the house regularly monitoring vitals and just checking in. We are thankful for the lull. We will hold onto the lull for as long as we can.<br />
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Throughout this whole process, our children have been along for the ride. One of the things Jordan and I have always strived for with our children is honesty. So it was natural for us to tell our children just a few days after we found out about Jordan's diagnosis last June. Even when our heads were absolutely swimming we thought it was important to tell them. We have always counted them as an equal part of our family. I think our transparency has deepened our children's trust in us and also allowed them to have a fighting chance at handling all that is going on.<br />
<br />
Things got a bit tricky though after our last round of news. Suddenly we were tasked with telling our children not only that Jordan's tumor was growing but that it would eventually take her life. The finality of this and the concept of time are something that are so fluid to our children. A vague pie in the sky idea that doesn't make much sense. Parker still asks me almost every Friday if she has school the next day. So how do you tell two beautiful little children that their mother is dying?<br />
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The task fell to me. That would have been a Jordan thing not too long ago. Jordan shared the initial news with the kids in our backyard. I held Jordan's hand and stared at the fire fighting back tears. I had no words. Ten short months later I was prepping for the day. I met with our children's therapist, I took the day off of work and I made sure the kids got to bed early so that they would be well rested.<br />
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I have told so many others the news and I was able to hold it together fairly well for them. The thought of looking my children in the eye and delivering this news just caused my whole body to tense up though. On my run that morning I couldn't get past the first sentence in my head. I cried through my shower and skipped breakfast. I got back in bed and waited for everyone to wake up. Parker uncharacteristically got up early. She climbed into the bed with me and I held my daughter close. She let me. In that moment I closed my eyes, smelled her hair and was so thankful for all the joy she brings to our home every single day. I hoped with everything in me that this news wouldn't eventually rob her of that joy. Benton eventually joined us in bed and after a few minutes, all the stirring around from the mattress on the floor woke Jordan as well.<br />
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We had the talk. I stuck to my talking points, I kept it brief and we all wept. After a few minutes, I took a deep breath and asked: "who wants breakfast?". The kids both chimed in, wiped their tears from their eyes and we carried on. We did what has become the Hassell way. Fall apart, put yourself back together, rinse and repeat. It is engrained in our beings at this point.<br />
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Not one single time have we told our children that everything was going to be ok. We have avoided telling them that life would be normal again and that this would all go away. We simply didn't know that. We instead have chosen the narrow, steep, winding and rocky path of honesty.<br />
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-Brack<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Always a smile on Jordan's face whenever she sees the kiddos.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfhK9DxlcVN-4d1BAl1hhoc8C-uiJAL9LQUl1A5Pl-qhc9x6Ij8z0wDJteyOaTEnSuM4SkbB22Jr9n8d28Qa2MavGvyyU12JfQNIK5MgvlQI2Ge0RIbXg_l9NCVjCpkrMIXt0wFfn8pTQ/s1600/IMG_6855.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfhK9DxlcVN-4d1BAl1hhoc8C-uiJAL9LQUl1A5Pl-qhc9x6Ij8z0wDJteyOaTEnSuM4SkbB22Jr9n8d28Qa2MavGvyyU12JfQNIK5MgvlQI2Ge0RIbXg_l9NCVjCpkrMIXt0wFfn8pTQ/s320/IMG_6855.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Packing out Timberline Lodge for a little lunch.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjc_dSJ6KPW3m1_OpAjOSyPiF7RrcuV7ZIiHAubEKfwVoKx3s4AwIFO3yAKD6C0S-f65lBJlz0K4Xm5yexI17mnE4_nfENifoi8flcgTMqrj1PZnwWdXCzptrJlv1cbJpSV9v8IViMF7o/s1600/IMG_4174.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjc_dSJ6KPW3m1_OpAjOSyPiF7RrcuV7ZIiHAubEKfwVoKx3s4AwIFO3yAKD6C0S-f65lBJlz0K4Xm5yexI17mnE4_nfENifoi8flcgTMqrj1PZnwWdXCzptrJlv1cbJpSV9v8IViMF7o/s400/IMG_4174.jpeg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I think we know where Parker gets her smile from.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyJHFfDvA2Ev5Qr_oWlLVJXQfK4bQWyf8sz35n8vIR4AZ0g4OnGgssak9C8lkp6ZyPlGbp-AI61uq0wnW5wLKm8y0C3YqfKig82OCVQMky50bMp-lHWHaZIj_Isz8GoSOs7BLR4-0wN_o/s1600/Stanley+family+pic.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyJHFfDvA2Ev5Qr_oWlLVJXQfK4bQWyf8sz35n8vIR4AZ0g4OnGgssak9C8lkp6ZyPlGbp-AI61uq0wnW5wLKm8y0C3YqfKig82OCVQMky50bMp-lHWHaZIj_Isz8GoSOs7BLR4-0wN_o/s400/Stanley+family+pic.jpeg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The whole Stanley gang together in Parkdale.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrTh_EFV8Det1NwZZrI9Pf6tctPufu8O609E-9tbNdE5OigPvlE2NIqUwHRgkRfguWXSis2Om8YlU4v8QQcrLnIfOPnpX1x2xACj-nvhyQtPVY9jwaqkOh5RRA9dx4L7fFIkuYLonSZdE/s1600/IMG_8257.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrTh_EFV8Det1NwZZrI9Pf6tctPufu8O609E-9tbNdE5OigPvlE2NIqUwHRgkRfguWXSis2Om8YlU4v8QQcrLnIfOPnpX1x2xACj-nvhyQtPVY9jwaqkOh5RRA9dx4L7fFIkuYLonSZdE/s400/IMG_8257.jpeg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jordan's brother is such a pretty pretty princess.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifCZnoC1xi7cr9pu9fJpRCwzN1gTyE59POeBXY43La63SDTEdW7xTK2vAV60gUeVlt5_8F2BNY37oYLurwTv-iDmangkyXxsQyrU9cz6n3BzODC7FCDlkQTW04x7uXN7-XkBGqZWwMxqo/s1600/IMG_6824.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifCZnoC1xi7cr9pu9fJpRCwzN1gTyE59POeBXY43La63SDTEdW7xTK2vAV60gUeVlt5_8F2BNY37oYLurwTv-iDmangkyXxsQyrU9cz6n3BzODC7FCDlkQTW04x7uXN7-XkBGqZWwMxqo/s320/IMG_6824.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Carb loading on his eighth birthday.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBLupiET00BNLL_BQAoKVPxBc_cGuhyphenhyphentN9E8cbzHhGn5cHL6y4tpvLfgneWkm0-fQ70TUW707HxgnyYx0ahUO0GXaV0c6XfPuCbgO_iEgpiy5rq66TlyKFnm8J50DTI63HPlT9BSfabQI/s1600/IMG_8349.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBLupiET00BNLL_BQAoKVPxBc_cGuhyphenhyphentN9E8cbzHhGn5cHL6y4tpvLfgneWkm0-fQ70TUW707HxgnyYx0ahUO0GXaV0c6XfPuCbgO_iEgpiy5rq66TlyKFnm8J50DTI63HPlT9BSfabQI/s400/IMG_8349.jpeg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A little casual wine tasting.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7UrxBJ3G95rQXeoTxXzPkEB7nhXPPiq0JJ9HhPRWCSkWMhyBMMzPtdM07FdiQYCBYOGh4G22Rud5ZFGwBScmxPITrUK222ADfBLM2BxKEL01qcu5MyMZdKWsiuekrzSU1jJPFMFCfm6c/s1600/IMG_6852.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7UrxBJ3G95rQXeoTxXzPkEB7nhXPPiq0JJ9HhPRWCSkWMhyBMMzPtdM07FdiQYCBYOGh4G22Rud5ZFGwBScmxPITrUK222ADfBLM2BxKEL01qcu5MyMZdKWsiuekrzSU1jJPFMFCfm6c/s320/IMG_6852.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don't Step In It! A family game centered around playdough poop.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjETe2_jjcLaltMgHPJSPe2EXh-CRySQaVGmiFY35vtDvNTDYRHhL97btQA0YYDSO8RpgEMcvC17NgxAwIbIeFROh6_zKebZXAzwLgM_bNRQ38ipLmf7oVHbhISqZdLyUWnoJM-NJzG-M/s1600/IMG_6839.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjETe2_jjcLaltMgHPJSPe2EXh-CRySQaVGmiFY35vtDvNTDYRHhL97btQA0YYDSO8RpgEMcvC17NgxAwIbIeFROh6_zKebZXAzwLgM_bNRQ38ipLmf7oVHbhISqZdLyUWnoJM-NJzG-M/s320/IMG_6839.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lots of friends pouring in from the south!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw9Rxl7d08C0l-2ez8f78Tq7ETRk0TGKOCGVTbBmhUdnJx_ylru8Bv7gmp913jboAkIVugQIuzGwBQ0Vem1eCoQ-ukTzpLHRbI_y_qVvPpYlPWD2I4YHiA2m8vcVFHHJJ7xH8NyJ1gGyg/s1600/IMG_4158.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw9Rxl7d08C0l-2ez8f78Tq7ETRk0TGKOCGVTbBmhUdnJx_ylru8Bv7gmp913jboAkIVugQIuzGwBQ0Vem1eCoQ-ukTzpLHRbI_y_qVvPpYlPWD2I4YHiA2m8vcVFHHJJ7xH8NyJ1gGyg/s400/IMG_4158.jpeg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jordan and her grandfather.</td></tr>
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Jordanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03912718411718959401noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3438157559172438830.post-73572246629543102032018-04-03T10:22:00.000-04:002018-04-03T10:22:27.564-04:00"And we drove our stakes in the place so deep"Last week was spring break for the Hassells. The weather was warm enough to kick the kids out of the house some. A small tease of things to come around here. The valley is quickly coming alive, the days are getting longer, flowers are starting to poke their heads through the soil and the birds are busy doing bird things outside our bedroom window early in the morning. It was even warm enough to eat lunch out on the back porch the other day. Spring here is a constant reminder of beauty. There is something intoxicating about feeling the sun on your skin in Oregon. I swear it burns brighter here.<br />
<br />
Along with what seems like a turning point in the seasons in Oregon, we kicked off spring break with starting up hospice care for Jordan. We had a small insurance scare (all taken in stride at this point) but were able to get the intake process taken care of. So we spent the week meeting the team and having the same round of introductory conversations over and over again. Getting to know the people that will be responsible for walking alongside our family is pretty awkward. My general distrust at this point doesn't make things any easier for them I'm sure.<br />
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Jordan's symptoms have stabilized a bit in the last week or so. She is still sleeping and eating well. She doesn't have any pain. So there are things to be thankful for in this process. Our house has been filled with laughter and tears the last few weeks (usually with a seamless transition between the two). Jordan's siblings, aunt, grandfather and cousin have been in town. Visits, letters, phone calls and emails have started coming in from all over. People telling Jordan how much they love her and sharing how Jordan has had an impact on their lives. I've delegated most of the reading of letters to Jordan's mom. As I have a hard time reading them out loud without blubbering like a baby. What a privilege it has been to read these letters though. Seeing my wife through the eyes of someone else. Learning new things about the person that I know better than anyone else through small intimate details that have stuck with others.<br />
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I shared a quote about living with cancer several months ago. The quote was talking about when you have cancer it just seems like you are "giving up one damn thing after another". At the time Jordan had given up some small things. Her summer, some of her hair, her ability to walk without assistance. As we have continued this journey we have become more aware of the giving up of things.<br />
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There are times when we are fully aware of the giving up of things. With a passing thought of knowing this will be the last time for something. I remember this summer taking a small hike on a trail with Jordan to take in a sunset and thinking that it would be the last time due to her mobility.<br />
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Some things haven't been given away though. They were taken. Ripped from our hands while we fought like hell. Cancer is an unforgiving fickle bitch though and doesn't seem to mind the constant taking. In just the last few weeks we have been desperately having conversations knowing that we were giving up the ability to communicate in that way.<br />
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Sometimes things just slip through your fingertips though. You know they are coming to an end but you get too busy or too distracted to appreciate them for the last time. Last Monday during our Hospice intake the nurse recommended a hospital bed for Jordan. We both agreed that it would be a good idea. Flash forward about fifteen hours and the delivery person calls to let me know he is thirty minutes from the house. It takes Amazon Prime four days to deliver whatever random crap I order but a giant hospital bed shows up the next day from Hospice. These guys are quick.<br />
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I knew it was coming but it happened before I could steal one last moment for myself. One last deep breathe in a space and time that I would try to hold onto in my limited and terrible memory. I slept in the same incredibly awesome and wonderfully comfortable bed that was ours for the last time. Cancer doesn't even care about the comfort of a mattress.<br />
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I've realized in this last week that it wasn't the giving up of the mattress that was hard. I'll sleep anywhere and have slept in much worse places than on a twin mattress on the floor. It was what the mattress represented that was painful to give up. I've been occupying a bedroom with Jordan for almost thirteen years. We have shared that space with joy, openness and laughter in the same way we have shared the rest of our lives together. There is just something about being there together. Sharing the warmth of a space together. Sometimes out of necessity from the drafty places we have lived but most of the time from choice.<br />
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For most of our marriage, I would be the first one in the bed at night. The last ten months have changed that though. With Jordan needing rest she has been beating me into bed most nights. Leaving me up to ponder, listen and get nothing done. What typically happens is that my brain gets cranked up and it is hard for me to sleep. So when I finally get into bed I do something I've been doing for almost thirteen years. I rub my feet on Jordan's feet. It is this simple thing that means everything and nothing all at once. It slows me down and helps me slip off to sleep.<br />
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We have been doing it for as long as I can remember. Once very early on in our marriage, Jordan absolutely nailed me with a pillow when we were arguing. I remember thinking how silly it was that she was picking up a pillow during an argument. Well, it wasn't silly because she absolutely clocked me. A one hit pillow fight victory and argument stopper. After I drug myself back to bed and we lay back to back I distinctly remember Jordan extending a leg and lightly rubbing my feet with hers. It was sweeter than an olive branch. We have never been so mad at the other person that we couldn't share that simple act. I've been so angry plenty of times that I thought I would just slip out of the house after Jordan fell asleep and run off and join the circus just out of spite. Every time though as I would hover on the edge of my half of the bed thinking about if it would be harder to learn to juggle or get shot out of a canon here would come Jordan's foot. If it wasn't for that simple act I might be running around with the bearded lady right now. Jordan is pretty awesome but believe it or not she has been mad at me plenty of nights too. The foot has always saved me though!<br />
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It wasn't just a peace offering though. It was a way to let the other person know that we were home after being out on a late night adventure with friends. It was a way to say "hey babe I know you are puking, have a fever and are gross but I still love you". Rubbing our feet together was a conversation. A way to say I love you always without saying anything at all.<br />
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Appreciating the moment of sharing our own bed for the last time might have slipped past me. So I'll hold onto those foot rubbing moments instead. And I'll be damned if cancer is going to take those! Those foot rubbing moments sum Jordan and I up one hundred percent. Simple, playful, full of love and sometimes stinky.<br />
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-Brack<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie5gmdfaRy6u7AH6lTQqzMJykYvcXcneDAlTTKS0jY1sy3WepqcYctQCKrlcqpAtqNDx0PmqRO896Sh5-U7d63wSYgP1kyhPSGanMgDwCowCmariU3Z7avlQxmll96-GTb79zmj9UQEI0/s1600/IMG_6746.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie5gmdfaRy6u7AH6lTQqzMJykYvcXcneDAlTTKS0jY1sy3WepqcYctQCKrlcqpAtqNDx0PmqRO896Sh5-U7d63wSYgP1kyhPSGanMgDwCowCmariU3Z7avlQxmll96-GTb79zmj9UQEI0/s320/IMG_6746.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Obligatory #springbreak2k18 photo.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHyj72IpfBVYi-xcgcPdSkxYEumm0lIMqXA6lfmKBGHO7PucohZeS8jZE1LeZu5PR0mrGW5i6Ubf6qDgYsD6mF1oax6t1vRKQKM6oKp5JqXVpTjF1t-mUnzy5Eikm9MYbfOYwW8sNKxbo/s1600/IMG_6770.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHyj72IpfBVYi-xcgcPdSkxYEumm0lIMqXA6lfmKBGHO7PucohZeS8jZE1LeZu5PR0mrGW5i6Ubf6qDgYsD6mF1oax6t1vRKQKM6oKp5JqXVpTjF1t-mUnzy5Eikm9MYbfOYwW8sNKxbo/s320/IMG_6770.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New Easter tradition! A neighborhood Easter egg hunt put on by our friends.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNjSZIcif-XJx-iL_wtC9upw2x1wxyy9aniqnA6lFQwH68zHI2e9qrT6cGbI5wHZC5LfS500Jr7VUGF4TsVdwqJb7WaNdCY-fF_Of-p6Er59UaAImdV2fKdiROO48ZcT4oMU7SrCSOuQY/s1600/IMG_6765.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNjSZIcif-XJx-iL_wtC9upw2x1wxyy9aniqnA6lFQwH68zHI2e9qrT6cGbI5wHZC5LfS500Jr7VUGF4TsVdwqJb7WaNdCY-fF_Of-p6Er59UaAImdV2fKdiROO48ZcT4oMU7SrCSOuQY/s320/IMG_6765.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The boys in the neighborhood don't seem to mind the new bedroom set up.</td></tr>
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<br />Jordanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03912718411718959401noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3438157559172438830.post-70460746040577761072018-03-22T18:43:00.002-04:002018-03-22T18:43:51.861-04:00"Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story?"<style type="text/css"> p.p1 {margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px 'Helvetica Neue'; color: #000000; -webkit-text-stroke: #000000} span.s1 {font-kerning: none} </style>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">As if our appointment with OHSU yesterday wasn’t enough we had one thing on the calendar that absolutely hell or high water had to happen. It had been on the calendar in bold font, circled and starred for almost eighteen months. Hamilton in Portland! Jordan was determined to go and would have gotten out of her wheelchair and strangled me if I hadn’t taken her. So after our news from the doctor, Jordan squeezed in a nap, I made some phone calls and then we got all dolled up. Our friends drove us and helped me get Jordan to the door. I wasn’t sure how we were going to make our seats work because we didn’t have accessible seating. I called several months back when Jordan started using a wheelchair but the show was already completely sold out. So I did some smooth talking, we did some wiggling and I managed to get us into some regular seats. If you have seen how difficult it is for Jordan to move around right now you would really appreciate the beauty in that. I’m so glad we were able to make the show and we had a blast. We even scored the kids and Jordan some sweet Hamilton t-shirts (single-handedly paying Lin-Manuel Miranda's</span><span class="s1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> mortgage this month).</span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV9a4v6UzBEcmZzgw4OPi64JSPRELPIm0ORW53a1alNUEKy2_dxkBvgjR9k1S46_8oRMzdBr1cnL80gsfzbH73zH2XkwMgQudueO_NoHrCZDzr2AyMns2V-21-z5IvHQxxwxO5im6O3jU/s1600/IMG_7802.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV9a4v6UzBEcmZzgw4OPi64JSPRELPIm0ORW53a1alNUEKy2_dxkBvgjR9k1S46_8oRMzdBr1cnL80gsfzbH73zH2XkwMgQudueO_NoHrCZDzr2AyMns2V-21-z5IvHQxxwxO5im6O3jU/s320/IMG_7802.jpeg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A dress and the corduroy date night coat. Looking dapper!</td></tr>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">After a late night, the kids and I were on a plane at 6:00 this morning and headed to Orlando, FL for my sister’s wedding. It was with a heavy heart that we decided a week or so ago that Jordan would stay behind with her parents. We were looking forward to the family trip and had lots of things planned. But with a last minute audible (I made lots more phone calls as per my usual routine) we made the trip happen. The kids are excited to see a pool and a beach that you don’t have to wear your winter coat at. Oh and my family. Yeah, those guys too.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwjg0vOI3m4tc8v3PdlmkjBJcVirVcqwPKHP3fjjQ47GalSnzKvRI0QhW-6E4WMoAtJSx2BShMVLV6gOech0UMBXVwEoNQHDLQp0diLpS0P6E2x8TrdcBi4q_LN6j6vb78pyS7n1GJ1k0/s1600/IMG_6087.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="109" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwjg0vOI3m4tc8v3PdlmkjBJcVirVcqwPKHP3fjjQ47GalSnzKvRI0QhW-6E4WMoAtJSx2BShMVLV6gOech0UMBXVwEoNQHDLQp0diLpS0P6E2x8TrdcBi4q_LN6j6vb78pyS7n1GJ1k0/s320/IMG_6087.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What a typical afternoon of phone calls looks like at the Hassell house.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="s1">So I get to write my first blog post at 30,000 feet</span><span class="s1"> all while Benton farts every thirty seconds (gotta have a talk with him before the return flight) and Parker eats $48 worth of snacks from Trader Joe’s before we even leave the runway (second breakfast is the best breakfast). I’m lucky to have two wonderful and independent kids that know how to travel. We got to breeze through the PDX airport this morning. I never had to ask them to stop touching something or to keep up. Parker and I got to race Benton on the moving sidewalks too. It is like traveling with two really fun friends. Also, they are cute enough to get extra attention from the flight attendants (extra Biscoff cookies</span><span class="s1"> for everyone!).</span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ready for take off!</td></tr>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-size: small;">The flight is a perfect chance for me to reflect and process a little. Mainly because I’m strapped to a chair and can’t find anything else to keep my mind distracted. Just my thoughts and a little Wilco coming through the earbuds (and Benton’s odor).</span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">I recently met with Benton and Parker’s therapist to give her an update and to talk with her about what I can be doing to help the kids navigate everything that is going on. She said something that immediately stuck: “healing happens in the silence" and “growth happens in the awkward spaces”. Boy, are there some awkward spaces right now. Awkward is currently occupying all the space. Awkward is spread out, shoes off, taking up both the arm rests and asking me to bring it a beer. Awkward isn’t going away anytime soon and should probably be paying me rent. When awkward shuts up for a second it is all silence. There isn’t a ton of silence right now (Awkward is an attention whore). But silence is on the way. Silence is waiting patiently for its turn.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">I saw yesterday that in the awkward and in the silence there were people. Actual family and then friends that have become family. Just being present. Standing in that gap between us and what was going down. People struggled to do it over the phone and people struggled to find a way to try and let us know that they were wanting to do it from afar. But what I appreciated was that we had people. People in our corner. Good people. Some of the strongest, brightest and kindest people I’ve ever met. Standing there taking it with us. The full force of everything that was revealed to us. No words, mostly tears and the power of being fully present.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">I think there is beauty in that. In the willingness to say to someone that “your path is mine”. No matter how rocky, dangerous or where it leads. It is what Jordan and I signed up for with each other almost thirteen years ago. As a bonus, we have had several crazy people along the way that have been willing to jump on this bandwagon. It is so good to have you with us right now in that silent and awkward gap.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">Brack</span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First unplanned pit stop of the trip. Waffle House!!!</td></tr>
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Jordanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03912718411718959401noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3438157559172438830.post-59144036634507913742018-03-21T20:53:00.002-04:002018-03-21T20:53:24.872-04:00Meeting With OHSUWe were back at OHSU today. Another MRI, another blood draw and another appointment with the neuro-oncologist. I was able to navigate to and around OHSU today without any map or GPS assistance (we forgot the phone) which was a minor miracle. The neuro-oncologist was very brief today. He held both of Jordan's hands looked us both in the eye and shared that Jordan's tumor is growing despite the intense treatment. The doctor then shared that it is time to stop treatment. Stop treatment. Two words that didn't even begin to shock Jordan or myself in the moment. The doctor also shared that based on Jordan's diagnosis that she has between two and three months left to live. I asked a few awkward questions but mostly we just sat in silence. The doctors sat in silence. After some more awkward silence, I asked if we could have the room to ourselves for a bit before we left. The team said their goodbyes and moved on to their next appointment. I think they were waiting for some kind of crazy reaction from us. It never came. Like true professionals, we waited until they left before breaking down.<br />
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It felt weird to hear something said aloud that Jordan and I have been bracing for. Something that has lingered around in my head at night when I couldn't sleep or crept out from the shadows of the orchards when I am out running. It was hard to speak the phrase "stop treatment" and the word "hospice" out loud. But today I've spoken it several times. Sometimes while avoiding eye contact with friends that were present but mostly just awkwardly over the phone. My presentation was lacking and the responses were varied. Some shock, some tears, some deflection and lots of questions. Mostly you could hear that people didn't know what to say. It's ok. No one knows what to say lately. Including us.<br />
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Brack<br />
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Jordanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03912718411718959401noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3438157559172438830.post-28356299023718339772018-03-10T17:24:00.001-05:002018-03-10T17:25:35.758-05:00"Sometimes it feels like a heart is no place to be singin' from at all"It has been two weeks since we received news that Jordan's tumor has grown. During this time Jordan has continued to lose strength and feeling in the left side of her body. She struggles mightily to stand even with the full assistance of another person. It is a huge effort for her to go from her wheelchair to the bathroom or to the bedroom. These short transfers come with a racing heart, shortness of breath and a desperation for rest. It is hard for her to hold her head up for longer than a few seconds before it slumps down at a depressing angle. Sometimes you can hear the weakness in her voice as she whispers a thin thank you for helping her. Jordan is in rough shape. I don't know any other way to put it. I've avoided saying it for two weeks. There is an overwhelming sense that each passing day might be the best physical shape that Jordan gets to experience moving forward. It is a gut-wrenching process to watch each day.<br />
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Jordan and I had our worst date ever a couple of months ago. Which is saying something considering that our first date over fifteen years ago was sitting in a K-Mart food court that had closed for the day. This last December we snuck away from her visiting family and the kids for a night out at our favorite brewery. During the van ride, I asked Jordan if there was anything she wanted to talk about. Without hesitation, she said "my funeral". As we awkwardly made our way to the brewery we chatted about just that. What it should look like, who should speak, what the music should sound like. As we sat at dinner I did my best to just stare out the window at the darkened Columbia Gorge. I had trouble eating and drinking as I was using all focus to hold back tears.<br />
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Since that night we have started talking more and more about a funeral.<br />
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Jordan wants a friend from Portland to lead a service for her in our local community. It is a man that I love and respect with everything that I am. Someone that I have looked up to since the day I met him. He and his family have accepted Jordan and I since day one of our relationship with each other. He has encouraged us, pushed us, loved us and challenged us to have a life full of joy and full satisfaction. He has been someone that has been helping us navigate this whole mess. We went skiing recently. While riding the lifts we talked about a funeral. The strangers stuck sharing the lift with us quickly stared at the horizon or pretended to mess with their gear and not look in our direction. What a great way to cut through the awkward "where ya from?" small talk you have to have with everyone on the lift.<br />
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I've started listening to music in a different way. Songs that have meant so much to Jordan and I in the past take on new meaning. How do you find a song that honors and captures the essence of a person and conveys that to everyone else? I mean I'm leaning hard towards a Neil Young tune, just to be honest.<br />
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This week I went to a funeral home. I had a meeting with a very nice lady. Too nice really. I sat in this large room filled with funeral upgrades. For an extra grand, you can get an American flag carved into the corner of your casket. For just an extra hundred bucks you can get gold leaf trim on your funeral programs. She talked and I stared blankly just over her head at some book on the wall about how to deal with grief (complete with some bad pastel painted flowers on it). I had a hard time deciding if I should be angry, vomit or laugh at how ridiculous it all was. We filled out legally binding paperwork and I pre-paid for my wife to be cremated. Locking in the best rate to protect against rising inflation! They actually say shit like that. I left dazed, angry, broken and with a nice little packet of information (full color and super thick card stock) with a receipt stapled to it. I had a few extra beers that night with all the money I saved.<br />
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I've recently enrolled the help of a local friend. A new friend. A friend that had no idea what she was walking into nine months ago. A kind, loving, thoughtful weirdo with a knack for small and creative gestures. She even happens to have a mom that makes pottery and has agreed to make a tasteful urn that doesn't have "made in China" stamped into the bottom of it.<br />
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When we first found out about Jordan's diagnosis she had to force me into the hard conversations. I was in denial and I was angry (and I still am). Yet somehow I've become comfortable with wading into the uncomfortable. Jordan has said so many times that we are lucky to have the time to have these conversations about death, her final wishes, our fears and the future. So many sleep through the alarm of life and just don't wake up one day.<br />
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This funeral is a nail that I can pound on for a while. A problem to be fixed. Something that is broken and needs my attention. But in reality, it is a distraction. A distraction from watching my wife slowly lose a battle. In reality, a battle that we knew she would eventually lose when she was unwillingly recruited.<br />
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And right now she is losing hard. The most excruciating part is that neither of us knows if there is a tomorrow, next week, next month or next year in store for us. Even in that, the whole of the last nine months has been a perfect reflection of who Jordan is and always will be to me. A "rich, real and authentic" (borrowing a line from a recent letter to Jordan from a friend) human. Someone that despite the hell she is being drug through on a daily basis has found a way to remain true.<br />
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-BrackJordanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03912718411718959401noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3438157559172438830.post-24877087200437607492018-02-23T12:55:00.003-05:002018-02-23T12:55:51.306-05:00Hitting for the Cycle<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; text-size-adjust: auto;">
When a baseball player has a career day at the plate they hit for the cycle. That is a single, double, triple and a home run all in one game. It is an incredible accomplishment considering hitting a baseball is one of the hardest things to do in professional sports (if you get a hit 30% of the time you are making big bucks as a baseball player). Well, today Jordan hit a cycle for the OHSU billing department. An MRI, an ultrasound, a CT scan and a consult with a Neuro-oncologist all in one day. I’m just waiting on the call from Topps to find out what picture they are going to put on her trading card.</div>
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We had an appointment with Jordan’s Neuro-oncologist this afternoon to look at the results of today's MRI. The doctor shared that the tumor has grown and that there is also an increase in swelling around the tumor. Both are causing the symptoms that Jordan is experiencing recently (loss of strength/feeling on the left side of her body). As a result, the doctor is going to reintroduce a drug called Avastin that she has taken previously. It will be taken by an IV next week (along with the continuation of her clinical trial Keytruda). There was some success with Avastin treating the swelling the last time it was used. The danger with Avastin are the side effects from long-term usage. The doctor wants Jordan to take two doses over the next month and then reevaluate with another MRI in March to see if the swelling has gone down. At that time Jordan will also be ready for another dose of Chemo. The doctor is leaning toward another type of Chemo because he feels that the current type is not being effective when looking at the balance of treatment vs. side effects.</div>
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As we were wrapping up the appointment the doctor also shared that he wanted to have an ultrasound performed on Jordan’s legs and a CT scan on her lungs to rule out blood clots. Since Jordan’s pulse and blood pressure were high today he decided to have her admitted to the ER to speed up the process. So before our consultation was over we were being escorted to the ER. Jordan was admitted immediately, put through triage and taken to a broom closet to have her tests taken care of. Jordan spent the next seven hours surviving being poked, scanned, IVed, asked a battery of questions, peeing in a cup, watching the Winter Olympics and weathering sarcastic remarks (from me). All of the tests (and sarcasm) came back negative. Luckily we stayed in Portland with friends for the night. We arrived bloodied, tired, stinky and beaten down at the next cairn (as predicted). With only a seven-hour detour to get there.</div>
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We haven’t had time to process the news from the doctor yet. I’ve found that news and information takes a few days to really settle in around here. Thank you to everyone that has reached out to us in the last several days with hugs, well wishes, cards, texts, meals and helping to take care of my family. Jordan and I are so thankful.</div>
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-Brack</div>
Jordanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03912718411718959401noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3438157559172438830.post-75737244738904495062018-02-19T00:34:00.001-05:002018-02-19T00:34:44.571-05:00"We'll find a way regardless To make some sense out of this mess"Jordan has an MRI scan at OHSU and a meeting with the doctor that is coordinating her treatment on Thursday. It is hard to believe that it has been two months since the last time we headed there not knowing what to expect.<br />
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Jordan is currently in the middle of a five-day dose of chemo. Which means late night babbling (last night she called me Brooke (hey sister-in-law)) and a few extra bathroom breaks. Jordan has been losing some feeling in her left foot and hand. Her fine motor skills are pretty rough on their own but are especially bad on her left side right now. I like to scratch her right foot, ask her if she can feel it and when she responds yes, I fake scratch her left foot and ask her if she can feel it. I haven't been able to fool her yet but I will keep trying. Jordan's mom and I have been taking turns feeding her most of her meals. Feeding another person is a humbling experience. An exercise in patience and love. Jordan's speech seems to have stabilized over the last few weeks. At night it can be a bit rough and there is a difference for sure during her chemo doses. Jordan isn't experiencing any pain and is still able to rest and sleep well.<br />
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Overall we have spent the last two months trying to feel normal. Or maybe I should say making this our new normal. Plugging along the best we can each day. Keeping things simple, focusing on our family, clinging to the little things that are good and occasionally having those difficult conversations.<br />
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We might get some good/bad/great news on Thursday. We might get another "see you in two months" speech. We simply don't know. What we do know is that we made it to here.<br />
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There is a feature of the Oregon landscape that I never got in the South: the treeline. It occurs around 5000'-6000'. When you are out in the wilderness it just sort of happens. One minute you are in the trees and the next thing you know you aren't. The landscape changes completely in a matter of minutes. A great thing about being below the treeline is that it is usually easy to find which direction to go. A trail is typically cut, sometimes well traveled and in some cases blazed with markings on the trees. You can turn off your brain and just go. However, when you get above the treeline you don't have that luxury. Every direction is open to travel and the best path isn't always apparent. Thankfully there are cairns. Manmade piles of rocks delicately balanced on top of each other that are meant to be landmarks to those traveling along. Using what the barren landscape has given to mark a way for others.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfW0uORwOPrTo-AFkK60e0PMpQQItFdKYQOtw1LwUOz77aHYujaW9zvolUjWfbpDau4lCKx1VuGAkg8pPNGMcVtK3UAJHs4CTW3Zie3gD5dko52CIDqQJAlQgvb0Es3eJ3D5eDVR8d-pY/s1600/IMG_2870.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfW0uORwOPrTo-AFkK60e0PMpQQItFdKYQOtw1LwUOz77aHYujaW9zvolUjWfbpDau4lCKx1VuGAkg8pPNGMcVtK3UAJHs4CTW3Zie3gD5dko52CIDqQJAlQgvb0Es3eJ3D5eDVR8d-pY/s320/IMG_2870.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A cairn on the trail to Mt. Defiance in the Gorge.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJWmD14FjwljzHrYWgtbydaw79XF4a7Jd-cKIRg5-yilHbiW8dByGuJ56UEirfbSIEBaqva2WLikN9D9zr73N5ovESHTQrcLgTL6ihf1JhIx3VmGW7FKLb5vZInpD8r_P-rgMQDdPN-a0/s1600/IMG_2871.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJWmD14FjwljzHrYWgtbydaw79XF4a7Jd-cKIRg5-yilHbiW8dByGuJ56UEirfbSIEBaqva2WLikN9D9zr73N5ovESHTQrcLgTL6ihf1JhIx3VmGW7FKLb5vZInpD8r_P-rgMQDdPN-a0/s320/IMG_2871.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Such a relief to be able to find the next landmark on the trail.</td></tr>
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I first came across these several years ago when I was traversing Mt. Hood on our first visit to Oregon. I quickly learned after wandering off the trail and busting my butt thinking that you could run on hard packed snow (silly southerner) how important these markers are. There is a technique and skill to navigating with cairns. I've found that to be successful it requires patience. It is a process of going from cairn to cairn. When standing at one cairn you have to survey the landscape to find the next one. Once found a straight line is not always the best approach. Sometimes you have to travel a bit and then reaccess all while keeping an eye on where you are going. Also, the right direction to go is usually up or at least over that one crazy looking section of rocks.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM1mctlEJwsys-TIIsdtv3HkYuFa2_-KnqFUt7-XFtfkd4Mk2fQILH-6nJI5xjlYayzARiU9tmEVZthCJUA6HomYGqSsZh0-O6KyBTaL5FNmfwtqv8Pv27okmZ71cQxRs_MQoVdTwScYY/s1600/IMG_2861.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM1mctlEJwsys-TIIsdtv3HkYuFa2_-KnqFUt7-XFtfkd4Mk2fQILH-6nJI5xjlYayzARiU9tmEVZthCJUA6HomYGqSsZh0-O6KyBTaL5FNmfwtqv8Pv27okmZ71cQxRs_MQoVdTwScYY/s320/IMG_2861.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The trail is somewhere over there I think.</td></tr>
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Of course, the weather doesn't always cooperate. Fog, rain and snow can kill your visibility. Sometimes you leave a cairn without seeing the next one. Before you know it you can't see the one you just left.<br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7ZIiZsFauE-OYYqKFLpLsGhtqqTkfPwV6TApXPtXp29KV1NuW9CdKSplFkiVP-RyWueyp-txT9LH-nuhrI1w9GeTun5MSgIaAony-BEJjwsos1wVNxi8lnTMjnp8BUjNLs5eqDwUkgx4/s1600/IMG_2859.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7ZIiZsFauE-OYYqKFLpLsGhtqqTkfPwV6TApXPtXp29KV1NuW9CdKSplFkiVP-RyWueyp-txT9LH-nuhrI1w9GeTun5MSgIaAony-BEJjwsos1wVNxi8lnTMjnp8BUjNLs5eqDwUkgx4/s320/IMG_2859.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">Another well-marked trail in Oregon.</td></tr>
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It hit me this morning while I was running in the snow with terrible visibility that this is where Jordan and I are in our lives. We are living from MRI to MRI. Cairn to cairn. On Thursday we will stand sweaty, exhausted, beaten and relieved to have made it to the next cairn. It is tough to remember what the cairn we left two months ago looked like. It is even tougher to imagine what lies on the trail ahead. Because the visibility is so damn bad here.</div>
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-Brack-</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKxPFZM_7qKlSWSWLNwfV-6z-bO8HB8Yh555P2uG_EFU9QXmg6EamGSac1VX1MYzgdfcGIImJoKBnt2Uz_4dGu9gTCo-rFM3_O77qOCSDVi8VH41-Aj5LKqH_zqlm6pDtlIE5668b_AMI/s1600/IMG_6477.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKxPFZM_7qKlSWSWLNwfV-6z-bO8HB8Yh555P2uG_EFU9QXmg6EamGSac1VX1MYzgdfcGIImJoKBnt2Uz_4dGu9gTCo-rFM3_O77qOCSDVi8VH41-Aj5LKqH_zqlm6pDtlIE5668b_AMI/s320/IMG_6477.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Benton texted me this selfie from our local brewery.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpeGtl4GiKvkNx3d6L-C0sQlGlskdY2pGWKckvJXx9iZIMYXvWpUN613aXrWF6T8zFELyeS565KLluuOrlG918-0IFavIOQ3CokT0NPvzsrg0BXeSQnUISQrliK0XclWe4RqPW-jObI-o/s1600/IMG_6551.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpeGtl4GiKvkNx3d6L-C0sQlGlskdY2pGWKckvJXx9iZIMYXvWpUN613aXrWF6T8zFELyeS565KLluuOrlG918-0IFavIOQ3CokT0NPvzsrg0BXeSQnUISQrliK0XclWe4RqPW-jObI-o/s320/IMG_6551.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The kids had a babysitter the other night and made her create a board game. These really are Jordan's kids.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZsy685DK3pqZGRdn_xg6-TVrBEycdxYu82PMLtl-pwrKLdqmfKJYNXHgELsqnO7LYToK5dn8coUgBXh0OuWQsYBlGcRCGOlrWy8tnngHgm3X7Q_Y9-j20pXWljrBoOtuYqfwI1zfax1Y/s1600/IMG_6572.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZsy685DK3pqZGRdn_xg6-TVrBEycdxYu82PMLtl-pwrKLdqmfKJYNXHgELsqnO7LYToK5dn8coUgBXh0OuWQsYBlGcRCGOlrWy8tnngHgm3X7Q_Y9-j20pXWljrBoOtuYqfwI1zfax1Y/s320/IMG_6572.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I took Parker to the Daddy/Daughter Dance this weekend.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioMt8xo_JVXZ8kAD1JOKLZsc0LnQhhBL8SpyImZR09EH_GGEbCVQPQ7Ravt8QtXEV36uSxm6j6DgN5kfMFAMgpuTYljIkKwK_GySbRS_p_t46o29CmKkJXUru0lxW93e2a87pjauufBFg/s1600/IMG_6554.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioMt8xo_JVXZ8kAD1JOKLZsc0LnQhhBL8SpyImZR09EH_GGEbCVQPQ7Ravt8QtXEV36uSxm6j6DgN5kfMFAMgpuTYljIkKwK_GySbRS_p_t46o29CmKkJXUru0lxW93e2a87pjauufBFg/s320/IMG_6554.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Any day skiing is better than no day skiing. Even if your buff freezes to your beard.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTjuEslFmIfTEOS5NGPqnoDDIeLDWFJsLcd_p9bVgJ-sbWhQIq0DL6jNYGvJIIME4AIW2XRww5g-zEHKX0W0yZ4CuIc8GRFm8GjxdAOGcT0ZP47EW5KM2ct1JIg6RNCA6O8_43J1-I0LQ/s1600/IMG_6557.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTjuEslFmIfTEOS5NGPqnoDDIeLDWFJsLcd_p9bVgJ-sbWhQIq0DL6jNYGvJIIME4AIW2XRww5g-zEHKX0W0yZ4CuIc8GRFm8GjxdAOGcT0ZP47EW5KM2ct1JIg6RNCA6O8_43J1-I0LQ/s320/IMG_6557.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">When everyone sleeps in Parker fixes her own breakfast. Goldfish, pepperoni and shredded cheese. Breakfast of champions!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeLzLhp-fn8zL7B7kzDbnfbbw6W8APGZrvkehr8nxjlFyowZ7rO1CCQUNkKmNScS4XxK_8YFvfSplrgzN60JFSmCtUxsUKzrWqJ3y27t2LCvk3kkXzsecw9KmcrBuEeuRBIMOjoUua-B8/s1600/IMG_6560.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeLzLhp-fn8zL7B7kzDbnfbbw6W8APGZrvkehr8nxjlFyowZ7rO1CCQUNkKmNScS4XxK_8YFvfSplrgzN60JFSmCtUxsUKzrWqJ3y27t2LCvk3kkXzsecw9KmcrBuEeuRBIMOjoUua-B8/s320/IMG_6560.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Benton's favorite restaurant is Taco Bell. Good or bad parenting here?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc00btJTu0uFluX7VYr5lrEh9bUSvRRvpTGmYuB-8h7lKHrdApJquQ7KwLVbBTJrbDB8K0qPlYFcWAIUuNUX19n-iyiabHskRfmA5t4KHCIvUFw0psUYO8yFipiCgp5pUK5oBffaxTew0/s1600/IMG_6545.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc00btJTu0uFluX7VYr5lrEh9bUSvRRvpTGmYuB-8h7lKHrdApJquQ7KwLVbBTJrbDB8K0qPlYFcWAIUuNUX19n-iyiabHskRfmA5t4KHCIvUFw0psUYO8yFipiCgp5pUK5oBffaxTew0/s320/IMG_6545.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Parker was all smiles after her ski lesson.</td></tr>
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Jordanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03912718411718959401noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3438157559172438830.post-27024896330631087492018-02-04T01:49:00.002-05:002018-02-04T01:49:40.193-05:00Eyes wide open, naked as we cameIt has been a lazy Saturday here. Everyone slept in and I was able to wait until the sun (THE SUN!) was peaking through the blinds before I got out of bed. I enjoyed a daylight run and pushing the kids out the door to play outside. Since I was back into sweatpants before noon and had no plans I decided to dig into the Hassell archives. A giant blue Rubbermaid tub that Jordan has drug to all the places we have lived. It is filled with memories. There are actual physical pictures from our youth (not backed up on the cloud), letters from me, weird academic awards, half-ass filled out baby books and newspaper clippings. There are pretty much no contributions in that tub that I physically put in there.<br />
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I have a confession to make...<br />
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I'm constantly throwing things away. This has been a cat and mouse game that Jordan and I have played all our marriage. She can't find something, she asks me where it is, I act like I don't know (while remembering the exact moment I threw it away) and then I start squirming until she corners me with an interrogation. There have been a few rare times when months later the missing item was located. Jordan never apologizes because I have already falsely confessed. I know why innocent people confess to crimes they never committed. The pressure!<br />
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Parker has even taken up Jordan's watchful eye of my special filing cabinet (the garbage can). She is always asking me where her homework (sorry Ms. Welland) and that one picture of an octopus with only seven legs is. To throw her off my trail I usually hide it under the leftovers. I can share my secret with you because she is only five and doesn't read this blog yet.<br />
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While I was digging through the archives I pulled out all sorts of odd pictures from the past. If you have only recently met Jordan and I you have missed out on some special haircuts and hair colors (not sharing those pictures). It was fun to relive some of those moments. I spent the afternoon doing my best to put some of the pictures in chronological order. As soon as I started showing them to Jordan she would recall each moment with perfect clarity and suddenly my timeline was falling apart like a criminal about to confess to a crime. We laughed, we cried and we cringed at some of our fashion choices.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx51_8PTsBsG8lWO1Dl8r5Pzot1ryAJF8MRDdvZayBGtPkM9ZKzNjmNGhhOyxtlEXsmC-M7ekRAwDpLuC8V29Q6qPtdosEeX1ExRd_dNZIt2UkpdxGF-g2goj4h0qSaTa9lTCdQySfRLs/s1600/IMG_6514.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx51_8PTsBsG8lWO1Dl8r5Pzot1ryAJF8MRDdvZayBGtPkM9ZKzNjmNGhhOyxtlEXsmC-M7ekRAwDpLuC8V29Q6qPtdosEeX1ExRd_dNZIt2UkpdxGF-g2goj4h0qSaTa9lTCdQySfRLs/s320/IMG_6514.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Check out the eyebrow ring. Jordan's parents were thrilled!</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB_qvxMSypzUK5BVGBbONw4FtJ4pCY7Bgx9VBypPb8hwMFKao_ktFT2PzQqQ8RUAOIPcVtXxVUUURuaF6cAn5rnTSExBGcIsFyYcDaTTph8QyrA9ZyULreU7uzaFGDUkQvHsSM3FZO9k8/s1600/IMG_6513.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB_qvxMSypzUK5BVGBbONw4FtJ4pCY7Bgx9VBypPb8hwMFKao_ktFT2PzQqQ8RUAOIPcVtXxVUUURuaF6cAn5rnTSExBGcIsFyYcDaTTph8QyrA9ZyULreU7uzaFGDUkQvHsSM3FZO9k8/s320/IMG_6513.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Baby-faced and mostly innocent.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT0JPzUExeTdrKfyFq_EJ7OOnO2Vy6Q_xIAc2Wx_FmIThsumAJ2n68vxi_zdsLRlmtyxEeJR6x9WwvHn6BLemCr-PJ4dI6teMxZkYvmcADFmdjVzWEZdjm-UQ6kXUuXVV76CWz8JZ1HvI/s1600/IMG_6512.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT0JPzUExeTdrKfyFq_EJ7OOnO2Vy6Q_xIAc2Wx_FmIThsumAJ2n68vxi_zdsLRlmtyxEeJR6x9WwvHn6BLemCr-PJ4dI6teMxZkYvmcADFmdjVzWEZdjm-UQ6kXUuXVV76CWz8JZ1HvI/s320/IMG_6512.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Where is the beard?</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEdYhm6ChdzJxo0wocVQl67l3V89GeYX_L628OjUpf1M8XlTkpByTA4dn0PPrn6buqKvhPSOuQyLBMEDZOBQ9iAJEIdbqZLxl-Hs2I1JZqeZ9vpF-ZxXGw8npeC3aEFayxSeyJMZEjvps/s1600/IMG_6515.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="307" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEdYhm6ChdzJxo0wocVQl67l3V89GeYX_L628OjUpf1M8XlTkpByTA4dn0PPrn6buqKvhPSOuQyLBMEDZOBQ9iAJEIdbqZLxl-Hs2I1JZqeZ9vpF-ZxXGw8npeC3aEFayxSeyJMZEjvps/s320/IMG_6515.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Look at that pre-child glow!</td></tr>
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I also pulled a bunch of the letters that I wrote to Jordan out of various envelopes and bags. I've spent most of the day reading through my end of the correspondence that helped to shape our relationship. I've never taken the time to slow down and read these before. My grammar has improved greatly and apparently, my humor pretty much hasn't changed at all in the last fifteen years.<br />
<br />
As I started sifting through these innocent confessions of love, happiness and life I realized that everything and nothing has changed. I never could have dreamed when writing those letters that I would be sitting here in this moment (in my green chair) reflecting on the whirlwind of the last fifteen years. Jordan and I have grown so much. We are different in so many great ways since that time. Things in us have been planted, cultivated and grown through our marriage and our relationships with others. We have stripped away some immature things (and desperately clung to others).<br />
<br />
I read the words of a young man completely fascinated with someone that could match his wits and keep him on his toes. Promises made with no way of knowing what tomorrow would bring. Confessions of fears and doubts. Logic full of holes. There was one constant in each letter though (besides the incredible humor). The love that was growing stronger with time between two people that were meant to be together. As I sat surrounded by the evidence of our story I realized the way that we are still exactly the same. We are still desperately in love.<br />
<br />
I read Jordan one of the letters tonight before she went to bed. We cried a snot-filled sobbing cry. I decided that I'm going to hide this massive pile of letters (not in the garbage) and read one to Jordan each day for the foreseeable future. As a reminder of who we still are.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhRsSErlhK9jFhiaACbJGF9EScCmJgOQN1P3Rm7-HBlu3LVLoBYHKnAL_a_b4F5Z938PSPvCQ0Qc6cdUsW2nGfQtd13_qjkv0b49EoaUBHOmnOwkiloD1kyTeX5LgBRc_FUjpEp3eIbUU/s1600/IMG_6516.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="171" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhRsSErlhK9jFhiaACbJGF9EScCmJgOQN1P3Rm7-HBlu3LVLoBYHKnAL_a_b4F5Z938PSPvCQ0Qc6cdUsW2nGfQtd13_qjkv0b49EoaUBHOmnOwkiloD1kyTeX5LgBRc_FUjpEp3eIbUU/s320/IMG_6516.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">When Stamps were only 37 cents and gas was less than a dollar a gallon.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGZ9rbOF5aunxcN0ccerS4hDgCunQw5icXc5UsVi1Hmo9Y4qDKTM0ZxstBPL_jnaOTWZaoa2N1YpLfqkzAeAg9nlQrXg-HoSSIcF5tfQFpgcibazZsj4AXr7rVq_tAdJETew_vTMr3NaQ/s1600/IMG_6517.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="128" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGZ9rbOF5aunxcN0ccerS4hDgCunQw5icXc5UsVi1Hmo9Y4qDKTM0ZxstBPL_jnaOTWZaoa2N1YpLfqkzAeAg9nlQrXg-HoSSIcF5tfQFpgcibazZsj4AXr7rVq_tAdJETew_vTMr3NaQ/s640/IMG_6517.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"I am one day closer to getting to spend the rest of my life with the most beautiful, smart, funny, insert a word here ______ girl ever. I hope that I never get over the fact that we have each other."</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
-Brack<br />
<br />Jordanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03912718411718959401noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3438157559172438830.post-75731258548866706102018-01-28T16:39:00.001-05:002018-01-28T16:39:56.533-05:00The Feeling of FeelingNick Chopper made his living felling timber. It was a family trade. Nick had a simple life and a sweetheart that he wanted to marry. He was a good looking dude. Square jaw, stubble, smelled like cedar and probably a red/black plaid shirt. You know the lumberjack type. The story gets a little complicated here. Nick's axe gets enchanted by a witch and the axe begins chopping off Nick's limbs in a murderous twist to prevent his marriage. Fortunately, Nick was friends with a tinsmith that was able to provide some prosthetic limbs for his buddy. Also, Nick was the full package. So even with a few bum limbs his sweetheart Nimmie was still down for this marriage thing. Then the axe deals the final blow robbing Nick of the one thing Nimmie can't live without. His kind and loving heart. Nimmie eventually loses interest and moves on. Nick is now just a sad dude made of tin. He becomes known as The Tin Woodman of Oz (Tin Man for short) and that is where things really started getting weird for Nick.<br />
<br />
I'll save you the boring details but he hooks up with this ruby-slippered chick, a scarecrow and a lion. They go on this philosophical journey with flying monkeys, an oddly synced Pink Floyd soundtrack (mind blown) and dropping a house on a witch. The chick is constantly faced with the classic head vs. heart debate. Luckily she doesn't have to choose because she has both sides accompanying her for the entire journey. A constant undercurrent where neither side convinces the other. A truly wild ride. If I can think of the name of the movie I'll get back with you.<br />
<br />
Lately, I've felt like the old Tin Man. I haven't seen any flying monkeys (yet) but the journey to find a heart capable of living this life seems oddly familiar.<br />
<br />
I've always prided myself in the past on being even-keeled. Almost to a fault I've never soared too high or dipped too low with my emotions. Incredibly frustrating for people that have bought me thoughtful gifts and are looking for a big reaction. Great for sad movies and gut-wrenching social situations though! That was before. This is now.<br />
<br />
For months Jordan and I have been on this roller coaster of emotions. This roller coaster was designed by a sadistic creep. It has these huge ups. The ones where the roller coaster makes that odd sound (tick, tick, tick) and jerks you back and forth as you climb. Climbing high with no end in sight. We have these big dumb grins on our faces, high fiving each other thinking this is our life now. Then boom. A down. A screaming down with twists, g-force turns and loops.<br />
<br />
The weirdest thing about this roller coaster ride though is that there isn't that nice flat breezy coast to the finish. We haven't been able to hop off, go buy a corndog and wander around the park. This damn thing just keeps going. All ups and all downs! Where are the flat straightaways that I've become so emotionally comfortable with over the years?<br />
<br />
When you ride the same roller coaster for too long your neck gets sore, your gut just isn't right (not the corndogs fault) and you just get exhausted. The ups and downs are still there but you start running out of smiles and tears.<br />
<br />
I have these moments where I feel like I'm outside of myself. Like life is happening to me and around me but I'm not participating. I go from being fully engaged in a conversation that I am so happy to be having to Charlie Brown teacher zone out mode in the blink of an eye. Wah-wah-wah-wah is all I'm hearing over here. Some moments I'm just a shell of myself. I hate typing that. It is the exact opposite of being present and mindful. This is a constant battle for those on this twisted and sick roller coaster.<br />
<br />
The Avett Brothers took a break from writing songs about all the pretty girls in North Carolina to craft a gem that inspired me to talk about this. I'll end things with a few lines from their song Tin Man:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>"I used to fill the sky around</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>With happiness and joy</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I had news to give the wind</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>To keep my sails and heart employed</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I felt people move around me</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I felt loneliness and shame</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Back then every day was different</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Now each moment is the same"</i></div>
<br />
-Brack<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwMF93zx0MrVW2ETzyzYMF0AH1-1kehtyHKk9ALPlRM0h8AZ8FkRURw87XAfD1SUtQ-48JAmgYWRb9KUk6amk64iNgTkZHIh95lA7iIqGByyxwMiTGVW3W7N3cfw71dgQLe1bH9Iay50U/s1600/Hassell-35.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwMF93zx0MrVW2ETzyzYMF0AH1-1kehtyHKk9ALPlRM0h8AZ8FkRURw87XAfD1SUtQ-48JAmgYWRb9KUk6amk64iNgTkZHIh95lA7iIqGByyxwMiTGVW3W7N3cfw71dgQLe1bH9Iay50U/s400/Hassell-35.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We recently had some awesome family photos taken and this is one of my favorites!</td></tr>
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<br />Jordanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03912718411718959401noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3438157559172438830.post-90276953799037541722018-01-13T02:21:00.000-05:002018-01-13T02:21:10.792-05:00"Darker Than a Georgia Night With a Heavy Heart"The Hassells have spent the last week getting back to it. Back to school, back to work, back to medical appointments, back to gymnastics and back to attempting to go to bed at a decent hour. The first week back after a break is always an adjustment for a teacher's family.<br />
<br />
Jordan started chemo again yesterday after having some positive results with her recent blood work. Her spirit seems to be in a good place. She is laughing and arguing with me as usual, giving the kids a hard time and shopping at Target. Pretty pedestrian and welcomed here.<br />
<br />
Jordan had a routine appointment this week at OHSU. It was super early in the morning so Jordan and her mom stayed in Portland the night before. That left me with the kids for the afternoon/evening. Someone made a beautiful meal for us that I didn't think my children would touch with a ten-foot pole (just to prove me wrong they ate it and loved it the next night). So being the good dad that I am I improvised. The kids and I picked up a pizza, polished off our afternoon routines and had a movie night. Pizza, an Adam Sandler movie (the kids picked) and they still went to bed on time. I know it is only January but I'm expecting my dad of the year award to arrive in the mail any day now.<br />
<br />
I was looking forward to a long evening in my green chair with a recently purchased Wilco album and Anne Lamott book. I settled in, spun the record and cracked the book. I read all of one paragraph and barely got through the first verse of Misunderstood before I completely zoned. I came back to reality when the needle finished off the record. I drug myself out of the chair into a silent and empty bedroom. I slid into a cold bed and covered myself with a mountain of pillows and blankets. I basically just gave up on the day. A day that had been great up until that moment. A fun day at work followed by a wonderful evening with my kiddos. I let that final moment rob me.<br />
<br />
That happens (a more appropriate phrase might be "something else happens" but my grandmother reads this blog). I have those moments. Or those moments have me. I'm not sure. A day is going great and then BAM. Floored. Sometimes it is an innocent interaction I notice between two people or it is something my kids say in passing. Sometimes it is just my soul catching up with my body that always seems to be busy and in motion.<br />
<br />
Waking up the next morning I was kind of still in that moment. I got out of bed as I've done a thousand times and put on my smelly running shoes and snuck out into the dark. Don't tell anyone the kids were still asleep at the house by themselves (dad of the year award revoked?). The run was half habit and half an attempt to put my worn out body back in motion.<br />
<br />
Oregon winter mornings can be dark. Especially where we live. There are no street lights here outside of "town" and I don't carry a light or wear any of the appropriate clothing (sorry mom). So it was dark and vast. As I ran along a long straight road all I could hear was my breathing and my shoes hitting the wet gravel covered pavement. It smelled wet and clean and like nothing at all. It is a void that I have become familiar and comfortable in. My description is so poor and doesn't do it justice. If you haven't snuck out into a cold dark morning before the world wakes up there is nothing like it.<br />
<br />
As I hit the halfway point in my run I did something really odd for a runner. I stopped. I stood still. I stared up at the black sky and I was just there. For a few moments that was it. Then I got cold and ran home.<br />
<br />
As I went through with the rest of my day I realized that what brought on my moment(s) was an absence. Jordan wasn't there. For the first time in a long time, there was a night when we were apart. It wasn't familiar. It was painful. It was real. It was and is too much for me to face. A new cold dark void that I hope like hell I don't ever have to try and be comfortable with.<br />
<br />
-BrackJordanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03912718411718959401noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3438157559172438830.post-52809192632627227782018-01-05T00:13:00.001-05:002018-01-05T00:13:42.386-05:00"So This is the New Year. And I Don't Feel Any Different."The Hassells survived the holidays! A whirlwind of family, playing cards, friends, crashing in hotels, staying up late and trips to the airport. We had a blast and it only took me about eighteen hours of cleaning to get our house back to pre-holiday normalcy. We are spending the last few days of the break basking in the glory of Parkdale. Walking to the post office, staying in pajamas all day and being lazy are the only things on the schedule.<br />
<br />
Jordan is getting ready to crank out her next round of Chemo. We have had a few weird transactions with blood draws and transfusions recently. All in the name of learning more about the thyroid (totally underrated), white blood cells, red blood cells and several big words I can't remember right now. I wish the nurses from OHSU could see the confused look on my face when I am on the phone and I say things like "Oh great! Glad that such and such is up from 27 and almost at a 100". We are also in the process of navigating home health care. Juggling a nurse, a bath aid, physical therapist, occupational therapist, speech therapist and trying to find a person to help care for Jordan during the day is a blast. At least they call you six to seven hours before they want to come into your home.<br />
<br />
I've been mulling over a blog post for a week or so. Honestly trying to avoid talking about the new year and resolutions. I've never been the type of person to waste the first six to seven days of January to these militaristic pledges. If lots of people are doing something I tend to not do that. Mainly because I'm still a little bit of an angsty teenager. Plus I've already broken my new year's resolution to stop being so handsome.<br />
<br />
As I've spent the last few days reflecting on 2017, I also wanted to avoid the bashing. You know the why am I still fat, my job sucks, Greg Allman died, the Star Wars movie wasn't that great and all the normal crap that people blame on the actual year as it passes. Instead, I've been just trying to wrap my head around 2017. When I get deep in thought about it I feel like someone in an action movie that was really close to an explosion. My ears are ringing, I'm disoriented, my clothes are dirty (more than usual) and the things close to me have been blown up.<br />
<br />
I asked Jordan today what was the best year of her life and she instantly responded "2016". Jordan just kind of looked at me because she knew what I was going to ask next. "2017" was her easy response for worst year ever. She then said, "sucks that they were right next to each other".<br />
<br />
2016 was a wildly awesome year for the Hassells. 2017 was a wildly horrible year for the Hassells. Such stark contrast in a short amount of time. I jokingly asked Jordan what her resolution was for 2018 and she said, "to not die from brain cancer". So don't feel too bad when you eat that entire carton of ice cream at 11:00 PM in a few weeks.<br />
<br />
So how should Jordan and I approach 2018 when it looks like it might be another hearty spoonful of 2017 coming our way? My plan is to continue clinging to the good.<br />
<br />
I took my kids to get their haircut today. I enjoyed sitting on the other side of the wall and listening to both my kids chat up the complete strangers cutting their hair. Yesterday Benton was eating lunch at the counter with his head in his hands (he stays up late reading) and for a split second, I saw him as a grumpy teenager. It was great! Today Parker took a present that someone left for Benton on his bed and wrote a note that said "Frum Parke-r (r was on another line all by itself)". I mean I would totally do that. I ran this morning and there is nothing like the cold crisp winter air filling your lungs and stinging your face as you get moving. It is a simple reminder that I'm alive. I've been cooking breakfast and sharing meals with my family the last few days. An act that I've always cherished. I've been holding Jordan's hand, kissing her on the forehead and just staring at the woman I fell for long ago. I've also enjoyed saying absurd things and making Jordan laugh. Yesterday I asked Jordan how things would be different if I had never been funny and she said, "well I wouldn't have married you". These are just the things from the last twenty-four hours or so that I have been clinging to.<br />
<br />
So my deep hope for 2018 is that I continue to see, recognize and cling dearly to the things that are simple, good and true in my life.<br />
<br />
BrackJordanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03912718411718959401noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3438157559172438830.post-8247941776687154652017-12-24T15:56:00.001-05:002017-12-24T15:56:45.562-05:00See You in Two Months...Sorry for the delay in updating everyone. Jordan's family is in town, it is Christmas, I'm lazy and it is snowing here. Pick one of those excuses please.<br />
<br />
We rolled back to OHSU on Wednesday for the first time in two months. The place is wildly confusing. Elevators that only go to certain floors and three different "B" elevators are just some of the highlights. "Can't get there from here" is basically the unspoken mantra of the person that designed the hospital. This is probably some great analogy for the whole journey we are on but I'm honestly too drained to try and put that together right now.<br />
<br />
As Jordan was getting her MRI on Wednesday I wandered down to the cafeteria. I sat at the same table I sat at in July as Jordan was having brain surgery. In July I sat at the table with friends. We all sat there nervously with no clue as to what to say. Yesterday I sat there by myself. I wasn't by myself because no one offered to be there. Several people had offered. Jordan and I told them all we were ok to be there by ourselves. I realized in that moment why I chose to sit at the same table and why I was oddly ok with being by myself. It was because all this has become familiar. That was super strange and confusing to me. After a few minutes of staring at my burrito, I realized I was angry (they overcooked the eggs). Angry because OHSU shouldn't be familiar. Angry because I didn't and don't have any control. Angry because it won't be my last trip to that table in that cafeteria. Too angry to think or process anything in a rational way. Everyone that works in the OHSU cafeteria knows not to make eye contact with someone blankly staring at their breakfast burrito. They've seen that look before...<br />
<br />
After all of Jordan's scans, bloodwork and a quick trip to Portland to get harassed by a crazy person while trying to enjoy lunch we were back at OHSU for the results.<br />
<br />
Jordan's tumor hasn't grown or shrank in size. The swelling in her brain has gone down significantly as a result of the risky treatment that she was taking. The MRI revealed some tissue damage around the tumor from the radiation treatments. This is normal and the tissue has the possibility of recovering. Her blood work revealed yesterday that her platelets (keeps you from bleeding to death) are super low (think less than 20% of normal levels). This is something that typically happens when you are taking chemo. Jordan will hold off on her next round of chemo until the platelets return to normal. This could take a few weeks and several transfusions. A friend told me she hoped the platelet donor was a Brit so that Jordan picks up a cool new accent. Not sure that is how that works but fingers crossed. So while Jordan's symptoms haven't improved (they have gotten slightly worse in the last few weeks) it looks like things are going slightly better in her brain. The doctor shared that her weakness, slurred speech and lack of coordination could be a combined result from the treatment, the steroids she has been taking (currently working on taking her off!) and just general apathy.<br />
<br />
As we were receiving all of this information on Wednesday and asking awkward clarification questions I finally asked: "Is this good news?". The doctor shared that this is about the best possible news that we could have realistically gotten. He then shared that we will continue treatment as normal and check back in at the end of February.<br />
<br />
Jordan has bought us all two more months. We will take it.<br />
<br />
BrackJordanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03912718411718959401noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3438157559172438830.post-23833238344973336992017-12-10T17:41:00.001-05:002017-12-10T17:41:38.629-05:00"Sick in the Head"<br />
My memories are a little fuzzy. I don't do so well with remembering the name of my fifth-grade teacher or what I got for my birthday two years ago. I recently told someone that a mutual friend used to sing Opera and that was completely wrong. Details aren't my strong suit. I've got some super strong memories though that are tied to these anchors. The anchors being songs, melodies, lyrics, a beat or the distinct sound of a weathered folk singer. Music has always transported me to another place and some of my most distinct memories are entangled in music.<br />
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This is weird because I have the musical talent of a rock. I clap on the wrong beat (drives Jordan mad), I can't match pitch and I absolutely stink at drums, piano and guitar (I know because I've tried). Music has always been a companion though on all my strange journeys in life.<br />
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My first cassette tape I remember owning was Tom Petty's (RIP) Full Moon Fever ("<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xUmWiO7hAm8" target="_blank">Zombie Zoo</a>" is a total sleeper track). I absolutely wore it out. My first CD purchases were Stone Temple Pilot's (RIP Scott Weiland) Plush and Blind Melon's (RIP Shannon Hoon) self-titled debut. I bought them at the mall! Do those even exist anymore? My first vinyl album was Pearl Jam's (Eddie Vedder still going strong baby) Vitalogy and was a gift from my uncle. I could go on for days how tracks from those albums instantly transport me back to a place long gone. Sweet sweet teenage angst and the awkwardness of youth are forever wrapped in the songs from those albums.<br />
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It isn't just music to me. There have always been raw and real emotions tied to it. It means something. I think it is a big reason why I like talking/sharing music so much. I love seeing someones face light up when they enjoy a song that is already tucked away in the back of my head. I love it when I'm sharing an experience with someone and a great song comes on. I know that moment will forever be saved for me and cued up the next time I hear that song. A new anchor. Some of my favorite anchors are ones that tie me to others that I care about.<br />
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I've had two big, rusty, salty and barnacle covered anchors dropped into my memory in the last year or so that I will share.<br />
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I first heard the song "<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v4pi1LxuDHc" target="_blank">Sleep on the Floor</a>" by the Lumineers in April of 2016. I was in my kitchen making dinner after a long day at work. I was completely disillusioned with myself at the time. I had lost my zeal for teaching. Something that I was certain I wanted to do and knew that I loved deep down. I hated getting out of bed in the morning. My family suffered from my misery. I had already resigned from my position in Georgia with no job lined up and this hair-brained idea that I was going to move my family to Oregon. I had no real plans but knew something had to change for my own sanity and for my family. I heard "Sleep on the Floor", shared it with Jordan and it immediately became our theme song. We sang it a hundred times over the next couple of months. The very first time we ever drove into the Gorge we blasted that song and I instantly knew we were home. Something that has been confirmed over and over again.<br />
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The song came on Pandora recently. I was in the shower and getting ready for work. I wept uncontrollably. After the song finished I turned off the music and just sat in the hot shower. I couldn't even stand as I thought about what that song has meant to Jordan and I and all that has happened since we landed in our new home. That was a fun day at work!<br />
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Pearl Jam's "<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6kV8g2av2nQ" target="_blank">Better Man</a>" has been swimming around in my head since I was a teenager. It is on the B side of that vinyl album my uncle bought me. I remember singing along with two college buddies after we snuck down to the nice seats at their concert in Atlanta. When you sing along with Pearl Jam there is usually some mumbling because Eddie Vedder doesn't even always know what he is saying. The song has popped up in all sorts of places in my life and is tied to all sorts of anchors.<br />
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Those Pearl Jam anchors were smashed by another really large bully anchor in June. Jordan, I and the kids were camping in the backyard of our new home in Parkdale. We had abandoned our real camping trip that we were on because of mosquitos and were making it up to the kids in the backyard. We also didn't own any furniture at the time so camping in the backyard seemed pretty logical. It was a beautiful crisp and clear night. We had a fire going and were roasting marshmallows for the kiddos. As the evening wound down Jordan had decided that she wanted to tell the kids about her tumor. We had just found out a few days before and had been debating on how to tell them. Jordan had to be the one because I was a complete coward and wouldn't have been able to. I sat there under this perfect sky as Jordan and my kids began to process what would be our new reality. I floated in and out of this conversation because it felt like a dream. I viciously fought back tears (which seems completely ridiculous now) and all I could manage was to let a kid sit in my lap and bitterly stare at the sky. As we sat there "Better Man" played faintly in the background.<br />
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If I'm being honest I forgot about this moment. It had been pushed out of my head by all the other craziness of the last six months. That is until I heard "Better Man" last week in my car. I was instantly in the backyard again. I could smell the campfire and taste my salty tears. I had to pull over. I just sat there like an idiot on the side of the road. The song finished, I deleted it off of my iPod and continued my drive home from work with misty eyes and complete silence from the car stereo.<br />
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On December 20th, Jordan and I return to OHSU for her next MRI scan and results. We will spend the day sitting, waiting, hoping and wishing. We will have an awkward lunch in between appointments. The day will be clunky. We will make small talk and I'll make stupid jokes in an attempt to make myself feel better. Neither one of us will know what to truly say or think. There will be lots of heavy sighs. I'll bring a book and not open it. We will have to ask the Dr. to repeat himself at least once. We will get news. We will struggle in our heads to process it as good, bad or just news.<br />
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There is one other thing I know for certain about December 20th though. I'm going to turn the music off in the car before we get to OHSU. I don't need another anchor right now.<br />
<br />
What are some of your anchors?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWPZfPxourw4p9GH7dO-d2EpNHYFb1CEQYyqmitc8FMnqVJIeT9-sQ_MikpNM0ERCziqWRl4fJ2sm_gUPLAT-dsu3dsN-gXHYvPtvZRL7SGUdwGMEVjmajRAuhW1HsDrz2J0_nGzb3s9Y/s1600/IMG_6237.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="171" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWPZfPxourw4p9GH7dO-d2EpNHYFb1CEQYyqmitc8FMnqVJIeT9-sQ_MikpNM0ERCziqWRl4fJ2sm_gUPLAT-dsu3dsN-gXHYvPtvZRL7SGUdwGMEVjmajRAuhW1HsDrz2J0_nGzb3s9Y/s320/IMG_6237.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Christmas Season is rolling along here. Parker's teacher hosted a Carols and Cocoa night at her house. We had a blast!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0PC6oYgNhMCX7LtjuqVVCBAEz0oVtILs9-7mCxAvZNjSmb2oq1GniSowWoH_Ym8EpuMgRizQuJbfzhyphenhyphenB7R0ltMHdSy0J-b6B37yZeOBtc-tqKhHiSe9LqMxVvMaGkSJ66tHsuWx12a5U/s1600/IMG_6249.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="304" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0PC6oYgNhMCX7LtjuqVVCBAEz0oVtILs9-7mCxAvZNjSmb2oq1GniSowWoH_Ym8EpuMgRizQuJbfzhyphenhyphenB7R0ltMHdSy0J-b6B37yZeOBtc-tqKhHiSe9LqMxVvMaGkSJ66tHsuWx12a5U/s320/IMG_6249.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The students at Parkdale are always so kind to Jordan when she visits in the afternoon to pick up the kiddos.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg493EnZApVYdOwj0HqVoAjWFGMKYv_8xpGaTbbgXyl-UA2acfznrvxUwXaDfiW4aZPvpGEoM1kmUS66JP6yX7yofRAGL9XrFFu2UN6_BcTXQTAYzwTQGi5Lohh_IngC-is2Xlp2_K_PLE/s1600/IMG_6223.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg493EnZApVYdOwj0HqVoAjWFGMKYv_8xpGaTbbgXyl-UA2acfznrvxUwXaDfiW4aZPvpGEoM1kmUS66JP6yX7yofRAGL9XrFFu2UN6_BcTXQTAYzwTQGi5Lohh_IngC-is2Xlp2_K_PLE/s320/IMG_6223.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Decorating the tree for the kid's room after a great dinner with a friend.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFlM8JnO14r8pl5YVN2XSbBq0Fk2lZVVSMRCPvIE_VL_nlELaY-Al8LEDPsh0kIQih_wsS7vB9jyw-5Z0PHW4k-fm9gei2-ddVCuYgpz20uM0ZjxrN_Wg9UE2rcdYpxJhgwnkCNcVsWJU/s1600/IMG_6247.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFlM8JnO14r8pl5YVN2XSbBq0Fk2lZVVSMRCPvIE_VL_nlELaY-Al8LEDPsh0kIQih_wsS7vB9jyw-5Z0PHW4k-fm9gei2-ddVCuYgpz20uM0ZjxrN_Wg9UE2rcdYpxJhgwnkCNcVsWJU/s320/IMG_6247.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We had some awesome Parkdale Elves (co-workers from the school one of which is of elf stature) come and decorate the outside and inside of the house. Benton, Parker and Jordan absolutely loved it. It was fun to follow the kids around the house as they found little surprises left behind by the elves.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzi-pyX06HX7yF4JR14CmTIgLtSE4gWRYxHqtNIhgEkS7VYCnx2eEePRAQPwE2EkfrDsP8fPA3_1GIhRv4bU_tY5rfDwNUpXu8ne2eL4DcO7KX30qBWgZAMpQCjSN2nkZSQLmWmhAkvUI/s1600/IMG_6246.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzi-pyX06HX7yF4JR14CmTIgLtSE4gWRYxHqtNIhgEkS7VYCnx2eEePRAQPwE2EkfrDsP8fPA3_1GIhRv4bU_tY5rfDwNUpXu8ne2eL4DcO7KX30qBWgZAMpQCjSN2nkZSQLmWmhAkvUI/s320/IMG_6246.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Benton and Parker reading their notes that the Elves of Parkdale left.</td></tr>
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Jordanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03912718411718959401noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3438157559172438830.post-5284773307087164022017-12-03T22:58:00.000-05:002017-12-03T22:58:33.837-05:00Let That Be EnoughI recently read an article about a person's struggle with their cancer diagnosis and treatment decisions. What stuck with me was that with cancer in their lives it felt as if they "were just giving up one damn thing after another". The author explained that treatment comes at a cost and deciding against treatment comes at a cost too. Reading it almost made me feel like there are no right decisions.<br />
<br />
I've learned that there is a delicate balance the doctors are taking in treating Jordan's tumor. By delicate balance I mean let's see how much poison they can pump into her body without killing her. They are constantly checking her blood looking for some sign that the chaos inside her body is too much for her to handle. The reports keep coming back good so that means more infusions and more pills. It is crazy what you can talk a desperate couple into thinking is ok when it comes to modern medicine! All for the possibility of some progress.<br />
<br />
Last week Jordan completed her last infusion (she can't take more because it causes internal bleeding) that was supposed to alleviate some of her symptoms. Jordan still takes a steroid she has had every day since her surgery in July. It is dangerous to just stop taking it. She is also continuing a clinical trial that she receives by infusion every ten to twelve days which is completely paid for by the company that manufactures the drug (I assure you their hearts are in the right place). What they didn't mention was that getting that drug into Jordan's body cost $185 each time (what was I saying about their cold black hearts?). Yesterday she finished her second real round of chemo. A five-day cycle of just getting her butt handed to her by these four little pills. A pill that robs her of all strength. This week she has struggled to make the three steps from the wheelchair to the bed without her knees buckling. A pill that robs her of all energy. A pill that also robs her of the ability to properly rest. A pill that causes pain in her arms and legs. A pill that makes it impossible for her to sit up without support. A pill that takes her already battered speech and makes it faint and unrecognizable.<br />
<br />
I saw a video this week of Jordan and Benton from five years ago. Jordan was manning the camera and having a conversation with a chubby Benton. I heard a voice that I haven't heard in so long (and it wasn't Benton's voice because the kid never stops talking). It was the voice of a caring and loving mother. One that had little inflections of pride and joy as she interacted with her son. In full honesty, I questioned who it was. Then I was immediately hit with a flood of emotions as I heard the voice that I fell in love with. Playful laughter and this soft soothing tone. Then I turned it off because I couldn't watch it again and possibly hold it together.<br />
<br />
Giving up one DAMN thing after another. What's next?<br />
<br />
Jordan and I have been crying lots lately at night. One of the times was because we realized we didn't have any more episodes of Stranger Things to watch. The rest of the times were because we just didn't know what else to do. There aren't many words right now that capture what we feel.<br />
<br />
As we were crying it out the other night I managed an "I love you" followed by "I don't know what else to say". Jordan responded, "That's enough". Since she kept holding my hand and didn't make me take my crying to the couch I think she meant that was all she needed to hear in that moment. As I thought about that interaction a few days later a chorus from a song I haven't heard in fifteen years popped into my head:<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Let me know that you hear me</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Let me know your touch</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Let me know that you love me</i></div>
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<i>Let that be enough</i><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBAAUaE-lp0uKYrxP4xklJxlDS7S0mMur_5Iht2LzX0Qua9CypeMEyiWO_0yaTMyE3dcwVWFidKWY0Y4VFLl4_MJtlt6m71oBkTkhCk4cs6JuACqBEOxmEly4iZNkaEiUkvz-jUFAlYco/s1600/IMG_7386.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBAAUaE-lp0uKYrxP4xklJxlDS7S0mMur_5Iht2LzX0Qua9CypeMEyiWO_0yaTMyE3dcwVWFidKWY0Y4VFLl4_MJtlt6m71oBkTkhCk4cs6JuACqBEOxmEly4iZNkaEiUkvz-jUFAlYco/s320/IMG_7386.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hunting for a Christmas tree with Nana and Parker's teacher.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikfJOMO_ras9VqJ6tFbJG6tZ7DoeiKsyoivX-XtG1qzGPLhYdrenCJ9i8b-y4XGJuvbksfBDFr6e3tGc2mqniCnYfnPdblyib4uMFJdK6NdTc-hwYJ9cxEjSA4LAqspCXDawMBkoqrr_0/s1600/IMG_7426.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikfJOMO_ras9VqJ6tFbJG6tZ7DoeiKsyoivX-XtG1qzGPLhYdrenCJ9i8b-y4XGJuvbksfBDFr6e3tGc2mqniCnYfnPdblyib4uMFJdK6NdTc-hwYJ9cxEjSA4LAqspCXDawMBkoqrr_0/s320/IMG_7426.JPG" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Score!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxJsudJ3cl0NusKlC0lUSBztLYRFW9qEoK5v5tJsIOeqF692JPexRv8RQEWNJiUC4VupflwUmJCu-nYPMYCo6lDZw9DNAhSc3WP7iyEM0SIhw635BQ0hN4d9O30PesPastEgdyz94QV0A/s1600/IMG_7409.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxJsudJ3cl0NusKlC0lUSBztLYRFW9qEoK5v5tJsIOeqF692JPexRv8RQEWNJiUC4VupflwUmJCu-nYPMYCo6lDZw9DNAhSc3WP7iyEM0SIhw635BQ0hN4d9O30PesPastEgdyz94QV0A/s320/IMG_7409.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Decorating cookies at the local town hall.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiSjbKBJNYL92HyaLvfwdo8Fpgv18ExWWSPWLs92dYAlMuAOy7ykIOw8eQrh6muEQzlhyphenhyphenc0AAJ3p9pM2tezYiFZl_PVzJVVonr8dnB7hrmqGHyrSNRSIezZpOafxir04mtgb0lNmCmJBo/s1600/IMG_7404.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiSjbKBJNYL92HyaLvfwdo8Fpgv18ExWWSPWLs92dYAlMuAOy7ykIOw8eQrh6muEQzlhyphenhyphenc0AAJ3p9pM2tezYiFZl_PVzJVVonr8dnB7hrmqGHyrSNRSIezZpOafxir04mtgb0lNmCmJBo/s320/IMG_7404.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Benton was thrilled to be wearing a shirt with buttons.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitJUfgrcsrYR1GpPvVg-3w9BSDcgsKnEddo3tSFSMdbNi_LlUmjZNZP0RKNhfin1EYnaWaHw4l4GnFPIwSoh6Uwp6MCi4I7vA_irGCAuagfqLH3wZ-xIZysVkqn0z6WQkYC9ECAJ3cAWw/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitJUfgrcsrYR1GpPvVg-3w9BSDcgsKnEddo3tSFSMdbNi_LlUmjZNZP0RKNhfin1EYnaWaHw4l4GnFPIwSoh6Uwp6MCi4I7vA_irGCAuagfqLH3wZ-xIZysVkqn0z6WQkYC9ECAJ3cAWw/s320/FullSizeRender.jpg" width="244" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Parker asked Santa for a puzzle and Benton asked for a bb gun.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaWa_yXqUviRNCcYEYNd_vhCSiYihxKOMOWPif3h8IxWMpkjisPUGl_t7qBbRUxqfqUt3CuoqKEDfTTc_ZlyTZwD3-ZSG8QkcrxH-7dFEa8sL_41bk-bOxVRRAOX4Wvc5jMu64B0ffpMo/s1600/IMG_7419.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaWa_yXqUviRNCcYEYNd_vhCSiYihxKOMOWPif3h8IxWMpkjisPUGl_t7qBbRUxqfqUt3CuoqKEDfTTc_ZlyTZwD3-ZSG8QkcrxH-7dFEa8sL_41bk-bOxVRRAOX4Wvc5jMu64B0ffpMo/s320/IMG_7419.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Decorating the tree!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeXUBDUhqWnr3NrpENYxcird4hpfCORtGx5pQwpZGeigGzxSCh4GvNoFTGRBzVXqv2HR4Q1uMGH28VP6Q1q0jeEoDqG4bRDl1jNbv-s1o3oyyxVEG1OcUiNzdDvSpoD2BhDw-hzMfV2UE/s1600/IMG_6205.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeXUBDUhqWnr3NrpENYxcird4hpfCORtGx5pQwpZGeigGzxSCh4GvNoFTGRBzVXqv2HR4Q1uMGH28VP6Q1q0jeEoDqG4bRDl1jNbv-s1o3oyyxVEG1OcUiNzdDvSpoD2BhDw-hzMfV2UE/s320/IMG_6205.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Locally sourced, organic, vegan, cage-free and gluten-free!</td></tr>
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</div>
Jordanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03912718411718959401noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3438157559172438830.post-17130790673027744312017-11-28T00:07:00.001-05:002017-11-28T00:07:10.956-05:00Box Full of Letters<div style="margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;">
I used to write letters. Letters to friends. Letters to Jordan. Letters to the editor (seriously I've got those old copies of the campus newspaper somewhere). Jordan has a box full of letters I wrote her in college. Love letters, silly letters, serious letters and letters of intent.<br />
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I'm always jealous when you read about a great historical figure and there is this wealth of handwritten correspondence. It is such a beautiful thing to read. Let me get on my digital soapbox here and hypocritically say that I think we have lost touch with the power of a handwritten letter. Don't get me wrong I love instant communication and I'm the first to appreciate a good GIF as a response to a text message. The sad part though is that if someone wrote your (or my) biography based off of today's correspondence it would be a bunch of facebook pokes, boring work emails, bad pictures of food/babies and Reddit comments. Meh.<br />
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There is just something about a letter. It is real and tangible. The ink, the weight of the paper and the smell. They all say something. When was the last time you put your hands on an awesome piece of stationery? You have to be able to spell and punctuate all by yourself to write a letter. Handwriting is a beautiful thing (well mine isn't) too. It can reveal the emotion and so many other layers to what is being written. Handwritten letters seem permanent. It takes time and patience to craft one. You actually have to think about what you are wanting to say. There is no delete key. No one wants a love letter covered in white out (what a great way to confuse someone though.) Then when you finish writing one you have to physically deliver it or God forbid find a stamp and mail it.<br />
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I've lost touch with the practice though. Blogging has awakened the desire a bit and is slowly turning the ship back to personal communication through writing. Capturing my feelings and moments preserved through something personal. Who doesn't want that waiting for them in their mailbox? Trust me if you want to make someone's week mail them a letter for no reason and tell them how you feel about them. So many of you have taken the time to do so with Jordan and I. It is something we are so grateful for.<br />
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I'm talking about correspondence today because Jordan and I had another gut-wrenching conversation this weekend. I asked Jordan to write some letters to our children (immediately followed by both of us crying.) Jordan can't physically write a letter right now. Her typing is bad too. So composing a letter is going to be physically demanding. It will probably require some help from another person to get it transcribed. Not only will it be physically demanding but also a herculean emotional undertaking as well. I want these letters to be a glimpse into who Jordan is and what our children mean to her. Because if it isn't said now it could be lost forever.<br />
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So what do you say as a parent writing to their child in this situation? Something they can physically hold in their hands as a testament to what you want them to know for the rest of their finite existence. I'm not talking mushy I love yous and hugs/kisses. I'm talking character and reminding your children of who they are to you. As a dad, I've started that letter in my head to Benton fifty times since this weekend. I haven't gotten past the comma that comes after Benton. I don't even know where to start. So it is a tough thing to ask someone else to do it. I think it is crucial though for our children to hear from Jordan. To be reminded.<br />
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I just hope like hell that Jordan gets to hand deliver those letters to our children one day.<br />
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What would you say to your husband/wife/spouse/partner? What about to your children? To your family? Your best friend? Whatever it is you should write it down. Today.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our box full of letters from you.</td></tr>
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-Brack-</div>
Jordanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03912718411718959401noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3438157559172438830.post-55383488191384561782017-11-23T19:22:00.000-05:002017-11-23T19:22:08.800-05:00Turkey and Sweet Potato Pie, Sammy Davis Jr. Only Had One Eye...I initially resisted a Thanksgiving post. I hate the ooeey gooey holiday stereotypical stuff. You know the Hallmark card, Lifetime Movie Network and generic children's holiday art project thankfulness crap.<br />
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For all the ups and downs that this journey has brought our family, there are little moments each and every day where we can't help but smile. So we as a family are thankful. Like soul-stirring, teary-eyed thankfulness. We experience thankfulness every single day. Sometimes these little moments are what give my family the grace and strength to face life. Thank you for being a part of that.<br />
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So from our family to yours (whatever that might look like), we hope that you are able to rest in the peace, love and goodness of life today!<br />
<br />
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Jordanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03912718411718959401noreply@blogger.com0