When the caretaker needs care

Many of my blog articles talk about our dad’s progress since his stroke. However, today, I’m coming to you with a simple request not for our dad, but for our mom.…

Several weeks ago, my mom learned that she has breast cancer. It started out as quite a blow, but we have since learned that the type she has should be treatable and she, thankfully, is not going to need chemotherapy. That said, “cancer” is still a scary word, and we could definitely use your prayers.

She has just left for the hospital where she will have a lumpectomy. (Another praise that it won’t have to be a full mastectomy!) However, she has an ongoing condition, A-fib, where going under the anesthesia and the cut-back of her medication is somewhat of a risk. So, even though the surgery is straightforward, it is still a little concerning for all of us.

So, our simple request is that you would lift our mom up in prayer. That you would ask God to guide the doctor’s hands with perfect, precise accuracy. That the pathology report will come back and show us that radiation isn’t even necessary and that all the cancer cells will have been removed from her body.

Her faith is strong. She has complete trust in the Lord. But, she knows there is power in prayer, so will you join us? As always, thank you for your ongoing love and concern for the Horan Clan. What an amazing community my parents have built!

Greater Later

Tonight is the last night of my fifties. I still can’t believe it. I don’t say that because I feel young. Lord knows, between arthritis, my autoimmune disease, a fairly recent broken ankle and foot, and my new ridiculous ‘trigger thumb’ (what the heck?!), I’m definitely feeling my physical age! What makes it so hard to believe that I’ll be sixty tomorrow is merely knowing where I now fall on the life expectancy continuum. It seems impossible because there is still so much to do! And, yes, I’m blessed to be here. And, yes, I know not many are afforded the years I’ve been able to enjoy thus far. And, yes, I know it is just a number…. Still…. I’ve been feeling the presence and pressure of “time” in a way I never have before with this milestone birthday. And, today, I’ve come to realize that, just maybe, that is actually a good thing.

I was listening to Hoda Kotb’s podcast on the way home from my parents’ house this afternoon. It was an episode where she was celebrating her turning 60. She shared the mantra of “greater later.” She stole it from Bevy Smith, and now I’m stealing it from the two of them. I’m enjoying settling into that notion. — My life will be even greater later. I know this because I will be intentional to make it so. I’ve decided. I’ll do the things. I’ll make the effort. I’ll continue to choose joy. (Incidentally, JOY just happens to be my 2025 Word of the Year.)

Only God knows the numbers of our days, and He has a plan for each of us. He has a plan for me. I’d say that becoming a little more laser focused on what that plan may be is a good thing. It’s healthy. And, after a month or so of feeling pressure about it, I’ve finally turned a corner. Now, I’m just feel motivated about it. Curious, open, and very willing to follow.

So, here’s to this new and wonderful decade! Here’s to living with intention and prayerfully asking God regularly, “What do you have for me today, Lord?” Here’s to listening to His answer and taking action. Here’s to being grateful for the first half of my life, and excited about the second half! (I’m optimistic; my great grandmother lived to be 102!) I don’t know if sixty is the new forty, but I do know that turning sixty doesn’t feel as heavy as it used to. Life is good, and I am so very, very blessed. And the best part? I just know it’s going to be even greater later!

Birthday Celebration Reflections

The end of August is a special time for our family. We celebrate the births of both Dad and Mom. This year, Dad turned 83 and Mom enjoyed her milestone 80th. They didn’t want a lot of fanfare, so we elected to have a simple, family gathering with all their kids, most of their grandkids and their two great grandkids. The celebration was fun and loud and full of love.

Recently, my husband, Howard, shared how odd it is to think about the fact that we get to be a part of our grandchildren’s stories, but we won’t get to be here for their whole story. Their endings will, most likely, be written without us. Howard’s comment made me pause. Have we truly considered that the chapters we write while we’re here are not just our own, but they are also part of other people’s stories?

“When I was a kid, our family…”
“My wife always…”
“One of my fondest memories of my Aunt is…”
“My dad was at every….”
“Remember that time we were in the kitchen …”
“My Grandma’s love was…”
“I can still hear my Grandpa saying …”
“I always called my Mom when…”
“My husband’s greatest passion was…”
“I once had a boss who…”
“I had a very dear friend who told me…”
“I could always count on my sister for…”
“That time we celebrated Mom and Dad’s birthday was so…

Core memories. We’re helping build them for those around us. We’re creating today what we will be remembered for long after we’re gone. There are no do-overs. We’re not only the main character in our own story, but we’ve got a supporting cast role in others’ stories. What kind of role are we playing? If there was a summary of their life’s book, what would be said about our part in it?

Big questions to think about, for sure, and I’m not certain I know the answers. But, as is often the theme in my blog, it makes me more and more determined to live more thoughtfully – with my family, my friends, my co-workers, even strangers I meet along the way. If I’m going to be a character in someone’s book, I want to be a good one!

So back to the birthday celebration – How truly blessed are we that Dad and Mom are still here and adding to the chapters of our stories? I am well aware that many haven’t been given that gift of time with their parents and grandparents, and I’m so very grateful we have. I don’t take it for granted at all. So, as I get ready for bed after celebrating Mom and Dad with the family I love so dearly, I just want to say, “Thank you, Lord. Thank you for my parents and the blessing they are to me and their grandchildren. Thank you for the story we are still writing together. You, Lord, are the most incredible master author. Amen.”

My heart on Father’s Day

I love you so much, Dad. I’m SO thankful you are still here with us after your life altering stroke. What a blessing to spend more time together and get to watch you meet your great grandson, Elijah and great granddaughter, Adeline.

I’d be lying, though, if I didn’t say I miss our conversations and our debates. I miss your wisdom and sound advice. I miss your sharing the love of God with me and others.

With that loss acknowledged, I am also so thankful for the laughter we are still able to enjoy together. For the knowing looks you give and your tight hugs and deep sighs when we pray before bed. Despite your limited ability to speak, we still have YOU, and I am so grateful for that. I am a blessed daughter to have you for a father. Still praying for a miracle, yet, accepting this new normal in our father-daughter relationship. The foundation you have built and continue to provide is so solid, so good, so so grounding to the person I have become.

Happy Father’s Day, Dad. May God bless you and see fit to breathe words into you. May you hear His voice regularly. In your quiet time with Him, may you have full blown conversations because He hears you, knows your heart, and understands everything you want to express. 💚

Learning to Be Intentional

My parents moved across country when they were a young married couple and raised us girls without the blessing of having family close by. The friends they made through our church community were the people with whom we celebrated holidays, went camping, and shared memories. The families in this group of friends became part of the foundation that supported us as we grew up. Last week, we learned the sad news of the passing of two of the men from this foundational friend group. It’s hard to grow older and lose friends and loved ones. No one really prepares you for the harsh reality of the stage of life my folks are in. Someday, I’ll probably write about that. We have plenty of books like, “What to Expect When You’re Expecting,” but few answer the question, “What to Expect When You’re Aging.” That’s a topic for another day. Today, I want to share about one of these men, Bob.

I just found out that Bob actually passed away back in December. Ugh. The thought that he had been suffering with a serious illness, and I had not reached out to offer my support because I was unaware, is crushing me. One of the main reasons I feel so badly about this, is that this man, whom I hadn’t seen in person in many, many years, has been one of my biggest supporters since my Dad’s stroke. Despite all the years that had passed since our families were last together, Bob reached out and continued to do so for years. It was as if he understood that I was missing my Dad’s voice, so he made the effort to be there for me to cheer me on since Dad couldn’t. He didn’t try to be him or take his place, but he offered that fatherly type of support that only a Dad can give, and that every kid needs to feel (even those kids who are getting up there in age with grandkids of our own!) After hearing of his death, I re-read the countless emails we exchanged. I now count them as treasured gifts. These were emails where he regularly encouraged me to write a book, or shared his thoughts about God and love, or spoke of how we deal with suffering. I take solace in knowing (because he told me so many times) that the Holy Spirit somehow used my posts to draw him closer to God. In simply sharing about his own aging process, he said he felt renewed comfort in what was in store for him someday. He was confident in all the glory that awaited when it was his time to go. He never shared that was likely right around the corner; I had no idea. But, I have no doubt where he is now. Praise God for that sweet assurance.

At the same time, as I read all those emails to and from Bob, I have to take pause for some serious self-reflection. How had I let a year go by since I wrote him last? Why didn’t I think to check-in and make sure he was doing ok? What on earth was I so busy doing that I couldn’t take a few minutes to drop a line to someone who had been so incredibly supportive of me in my darkest days? It’s a vaguely familiar feeling of the words I shared at my Grandma’s funeral when she passed away. Gram wasn’t always easy. Sometimes it was hard to be patient. When she passed, I spoke at her funeral about how her death taught me what was important. It taught me to prioritize. Well, apparently, this student still has a lot to learn. Because, once again, I’m feeling like I fell short of being the kind of person I know God calls me to be – of the kind of person I want to be.

I don’t want to use this blog to be preachy to anyone else, but I do want to use it to explore what is important to me. I want to use it to challenge me to be intentional with my thoughts, words, and actions. Am I telling the people important to me that they are, indeed, important? If I see something beautiful or a gift in someone, do I freely share that compliment with them? Am I being fully present to others? Am I consistently practicing gratitude? Am I using my time wisely? Am I prioritizing my health, my relationships, my growth, my God? At the end of my life, will the deep sigh I let out be one of pleasure and satisfaction with how I showed up to others, or one of regret for all the missed opportunities to be who I was made to be?

Bob’s passing has brought all these and many more questions to light for me. It’s been a couple very deep days of reflection and tears and heartwarming, thought-provoking conversation with my incredible sister, Traci. (How blessed am I to have someone so dear to process all these emotions with!) I definitely don’t have all the answers, but I think I’m asking the right questions. And, for that, I am very thankful.

I’ll leave you with this – It’s the closing of the last email Bob ever wrote to me. I had shared with him that I was feeling sad about my Dad’s inability to converse and the void that absence caused in my heart. But at the same time, I felt silly complaining because so many people had it worse than we did. He wrote to me, “You feeling pain now at the loss of relationship is very understandable, regardless of the problems of others. We are, after all, feeling beings. Just know that in the real world, many are able to see you, and share your feelings with you, especially in your posts. You never know whom you may touch.” And, as always, he signed off with his well known sentiment, “Every day is an adventure.”

Bob, I’m eternally grateful that you chose to see me. That you gave me permission to feel all the feels. That you so often shared with me that my words touched you. And that you always reminded me that every day – every single day – is an adventure. I was blessed by your love and support and hope to become a better person by the lessons your passing has taught me. Until I see you again…

God speaks to us in many ways

Tossing and turning last night, I finally drifted off back to sleep at around 4:00 a.m. It was then that God gave me the sweetest gift. I had a dream that my dad, who suffered a life-altering stroke four years ago which took away his mobility and his ability to speak, was healed. I know many might say it was just dream or wishful thinking, but I’m not convinced. I’ve had the dream before, but this one was extra special because, buried in the dream, was a clear sign from God that he’s listening to my dad’s prayers.

The dream was simple, really. I was with dad and he just started speaking – clear words and sentences. Stunned by this, I got my mom and sisters to come closer and listen. He was also walking by just leaning on me, unassisted with his walker. What made this dream so different is what he said. It was something like, “I was talking with the Holy Father and He asked me, ‘So, what are we going to do?’” Between the lines, is the complete reassurance that dad is still talking to God and God is listening and speaking to him. Then, dad said something about God mentioning how he (Dad) was like “Stephen.”

When I awoke, I just knew that out of the blue reference to Stephen was a biblical character. I immediately looked him up. Ends up, that Stephen was the first deacon and the first martyr of the Christian church. For those that may not know, my dad was in the first class of Permanent Deacons in his church back in the 70’s. In Acts 6, Stephen is described as being a man full of “wisdom, faith and the Holy Spirit.” This, too, describes my dad.

After Stephen stood up to the high priests preaching the truth about Jesus (something my dad also loved to do), they turned on him and killed him. However, before his death, scripture says, “But Stephen, full of the Holy Spirit, looked up to heaven and saw the glory of God, and Jesus standing at the right hand of God. ‘Look, he said, I see heaven open and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God.’”

I am certain this reference to Stephen was God’s way of whispering truth to me. He inserted “Stephen” into my dream – such a specific name with unbelievable similarities to my dad – to strengthen my own faith and remind me that God has not forgotten my dad or his struggle. It confirms for me that when the time is right, the Father will welcome my dad home. I have no idea if this dream was a revelation about a coming healing for my dad. While I sure hope it was, I understand it may not be this side of heaven. But, I do know, that it was confirmation that dad and God are having regular conversations and that God is listening and loving him. I take comfort in knowing what a personal relationship He has with my dad that He would liken him to Stephen. For dad to be seen in His eyes as a man of wisdom, faith and the Holy Spirit shows a life so well lived. How blessed am I to have had him as my example?

Recalling miracles and dreaming of heaven

I recently read a book called, “To Heaven and Back,” by Dr. Mary C. Neal, and I can’t stop thinking about it. It had such a profound impact on me that I finally decided I just had to share my thoughts with anyone who might be interested.

I don’t want to give too much away, but in a nutshell, the book is about a doctor who has a near death experience. She basically dies, goes to heaven and comes back to earth. It gives details about her experience – what she went through in dying, who and what she saw in heaven, what messages she received and how she lived after returning. It speaks of angels, offers hope and gives a glimpse into the beauty of eternal life in heaven with a God who loves us deeply and personally. It is the kind of book that changes one’s perspective on life now and life as it will be.

The gift of this book came at an interesting time. I had just attended three funerals in two weeks – my high school YoungLife leader, a childhood friend of my husband’s and a lifelong family friend. Shortly thereafter, a dear friend’s mom was diagnosed with stage four cancer. A high school acquaintance unexpectedly died of a heart attack. Another family friend took a bad turn with their Alzheimer’s disease. As I was considering whether to write a blog about the book another friend reached out to me who has lost both her first husband and daughter to unexpected, early deaths. Two of my dear college friends have recently lost their fathers, and if you follow me, you know about my own father’s strokes and the aftermath of his health challenges.

My point is this: my world felt suddenly flooded with death and illness, yet, after reading this book, the hope I was feeling for those who suffer and those who pass on was so profoundly deep, that I knew I had to share. I’ve believed in God for as long as I can recall. I have always had the hope of heaven and have certainly read about its’ splendor in the Bible. But, somehow, the account from Dr. Neal just made it all come alive in a new and different way for me.

It’s made me reflective of all the miracles, big and small, that I’ve experienced in my own life. Like the time in high school when doctors were convinced I had a brain tumor. I experienced the Anointing of the Sick. I prayed for peace alone in my hospital bed and received a solid answer when I opened my bible to Psalms 6. I was visited in the hospital by a man I didn’t know who “was being obedient to God to come to my room and tell me I was going to be healed” — only to stump all the doctors and, indeed, be completely healed with no logical explanation.

Or, like the time back in the 90’s when my husband and I were having marital problems. I walked into a Christian bookstore and prayed for answers. I was led directly to a book by Jimmy Evans called, “Marriage on the Rock; God’s Design for your Dream Marriage.” It was the first book I touched. I read the book cover-to-cover and realized that there was still hope for us if we decided to “do marriage God’s way.” And during that same time, a man who didn’t know of our troubles, out of the blue, proclaimed to Howard, “You don’t want to be divorced.” Hope was born for both of us because God chose to speak loudly to us, and we chose to listen. We just celebrated 33 years of marriage, and even when it is hard, I know God has a plan for us.

Or, the time my auto-immune disease was so severe that I was considering a serious life-altering surgery. I was so very sick. My daughter, Chelsea, was getting married, and I wanted nothing more than to be able to enjoy the celebration. I prayed in earnest to be well enough to get through the day. And, sure enough, I was completely symptom-free for the first time in years for the entire wedding and reception. From the beginning of the day until the time I got back to our hotel room – not a single symptom. What a praise!

These are just a few of the many miracles that I’ve experienced. There have been others, both big and small. And, sometimes it takes a book or a conversation with a friend or a knock upside the head to remember what I’ve already known. Our God is so personal. He’s so in love with us. He has a plan for each of us. If we pay attention, watch and listen, He shows up. I mean, He really shows up. How blessed are we to have been created by such a God?

One of the things Dr. Neal suggests in her second book is to write out a simple chronology of our life that highlights the significant events we’ve experienced thus far. She then encourages us to sit back and reflect on those times. She asks us to become aware of when and how our loving, active and present God may have touched our lives in ways we may not have noticed at the time. I started this exercise last night. It’s been a pretty cool process to put my life in bullet format and just take the time to remember. What I know for certain is that God has ordained my steps and brought me some of the most incredible people to know, love and learn from. And He has been there with me every step of the way. I highly recommend you give this exercise a go. You just may be surprised at what the process unveils for you.

Sisters by birth, friends by choice

My sister, Traci, is celebrating her birthday today. My little sister, Lori, celebrates hers at the end of the month. In honor of these two incredible humans, I thought I’d share a bit about what it means to me to have these amazing sisters.

Let me start by saying that we are all very different. I’m the oldest. Probably the most serious. Certainly the most pragmatic. Traci, two years behind me, is waaay nicer than me. She never says a bad word about anyone. She is loyal and kind and passionate. Lori, nine years my junior, is totally different than both of us. Her bold, hip fashion sense, zest for life and listening ear to everyone she meets is unparalleled. Everywhere we go someone knows and loves Lori. These two women are beautiful inside and out, and I am so very thankful I get to call them mine.

Different as we may be, the things that bind us together, the things that make us family are rock solid and foundational to who we are. My sisters are my biggest fans – absolute, always supportive, raving fans. When I decided to start this blog, both excitedly exclaimed how proud they were of me. I think they are proud because they know me. They know my heart. They know what makes me tick. They know my desires and my fears and insecurities. So, they understood what taking this leap of faith meant to me, and they supported me with an enthusiasm that only my sisters would have. I can’t even begin to express how much their support means.

What I’ve learned as I have gotten older is that not all families work like ours. We are so close and care about each other dearly. But, we are also blunt and opinionated with each other. We tell each other what we think and get into each other’s business if we think it’s warranted. We often give unsolicited advice, step on each others’ toes occasionally, and probably drive each other nuts from time-to-time. It’s a level of “realness” that I’ve found not all sisters share. But this realness, this ability to be honest and open with each other, is what makes our bond so special. It is a bond built on mutual trust and respect and honest-to-goodness unconditional love.

So, when Dad suffered his strokes three and a half years ago, when the rubber hit the road and it was time to show up or go home, we showed up. We showed up as a family, and our sisterly bond allowed us to face this huge challenge head-on, together. We’ve each provided support to Mom and Dad in our own, unique style and manner. We’ve depended on each other to pull the weight required to make a difference for our parents.

Traci, the patient teacher has focused on speech therapy and bringing Mom and Dad to church. Lori, the confident caretaker has handled trips to physical therapy and showering. I, the more business-minded one have helped with bills, insurance, trusts and banking. (I’m also pretty well-versed at calling DoorDash or picking up take-out – unlike Lori who actually cooks creative meals or Traci who brings “special treats” from her and Mom’s favorite store, Grocery Store Outlet.)

All this is to say that we’ve sort of found our rhythm of support, and it works because we can depend on each other. We know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that we’ll be there for one another and for Mom and Dad. I understand that the confidence I have in my sisters, and that I hope they have in me, is not something that all siblings share. It is special. They are special. I know what a gift I’ve been given, and I thank God daily for that gift.

“But the love of sisters needs no words. It does not depend on memories, or mementos, or proof. It runs as deep as a heartbeat. It is as ever-present as a pulse.” — Lisa Wingate, author

Lori, me and Traci – sisters by birth, friends by choice

When the blogging really began

Three and a half years ago, on March 6, 2019, my dad suffered several embolic strokes. To say that this was life changing and a family crisis would be an understatement. Larger than life, a fantastic communicator and big presence in our family and his church and community, my dad was the ultimate patriarch. He was who we turned to for advice and strength and confidence; he was our rock.

In the days following Dad’s strokes I began to keep the the community who cared so much about him updated on his progress by writing journal entries on CaringBridge. I found the practice of writing to be helpful for me to process my pain as well as a good way to share specific prayer requests. Friends near and far offered their love for dad, and our family has continued to be so very touched by their ongoing support.

For those that don’t know the story, Dad is still severely impacted by the strokes. He is paralyzed on his right side and has both apraxia and aphasia (which basically means he can’t really converse or find the words he wants to use). Nevertheless, we are so thankful to God for sparing his life, and we still have faith that he’ll improve. Every day we find things to be thankful for, but the journey hasn’t been an easy one.

What I learned through writing all the CaringBridge updates was that so many people are going through their own battles, and people seem to find comfort in knowing they are not alone in their struggle to find joy and keep the faith when things feel so grim. And, somehow, writing about my hurts and hopes just helped me. It was sort of like allowing myself to be known at a guttural level. It was often raw and always real.

So, while this blog isn’t just about Dad and his recovery, I posted some of those old CaringBridge updates (with the date they were written) to have them included in my journey of discovery. A lot of water has passed under the bridge since those early days post-stroke. But, it is a good reminder to be able to look back and recall how far God has brought Dad, our family, and my broken-daughter heart.

April 13, 2019 – The day Dad came home from rehab

Learning to change with the seasons

Today my youngest turns twenty-eight. I’m up early to start preparations for the brunch we’re going to have to celebrate him, and the stillness of the morning has me thinking. How is it possible that my baby is now a grown man?

When you are a young mom, everyone tells you to cherish the moments because they fly by. But, try as you may, you really just don’t understand. You’re busy figuring out sleep patterns and feedings and play dates and daycare. You’re focused on PTA meetings and weekend soccer and basketball games and planning fun birthday parties. You’re helping find the perfect outfit for Homecoming and Senior Ball and exploring college options. You’re packing them up and sending the off to college, crying because they are leaving but also because you are so darn proud of them.

And then one day, you wake up and realize that they, indeed, really have grown up, left the house and made their own way in the world. Your role has shifted and the ground you are standing on is unchartered and unfamiliar.

You’ve spent so many years in the hustle and bustle of being an active parent that when this transition first happens you kind of ignore the heaviness of its truth. Your purpose has changed and, frankly, it takes awhile to figure out how to change with it.

You’ve become more of an observer, an admirer a prayer warrior. You’re no longer the center of your kids’ worlds. No longer the booboo kisser, book reader, or taxi driver. No longer the sideline coach or physical shoulder to cry on. You’re part of what helped build them, mold them, make them – but make no mistake, they are their own grown adult selves. And, you, while still incredibly important in their lives, are more like the roots of their tree. You realize the tree has it’s own place in the forest, and you watch from a close distance as its’ branches grow and flower and reach for the beauty of all the world has to offer.

So, you pray. You pray that the roots that grew the tree are deep and strong. You pray the foundation you’ve provided is solid and the soil it’s planted in remains rich and nourishing. You pray that though they, most certainly, will face storms and be shaken, that your love and God’s great grace and strength will carry them through into a productive, happy, fulfilled adult life.

And you learn to accept the fact that the days of “molding and shaping” really flew by in the blink of an eye. You realize the people that told you to “cherish these moments” were 100% right, and “these moments” have passed by and there are no do-overs. There is a heaviness in that reality that is hard to describe, hard to accept.

The Book of Ecclesiastes says, “There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens.” I’m learning to get comfortable with this truth and figuring out how to gracefully embrace the change. For me, it is now time for the new season of embracing adult children, helping aging parents, enjoying grand-parenting, figuring out life post-menopause and planning for future retirement. This season is proving to bring its own weather – sometimes bright and sunny and sometimes stormy and uncertain. But, now, a little older and wiser, I will do everything I can to really cherish the moments, because I truly do understand how quickly the seasons change.

Post note – I had every intention to post the above article as soon as I got home from our family gathering. Can’t help but smile and share this… At the end of the day, as my husband and I drove along the beautiful river road with the late afternoon sun shining, I remarked to him how it seemed so unbelievable that Zack was twenty-eight. A few minutes later the song, “Sweet Baby James” came across the radio. Sure enough, that was the lullaby Howard used to sing to the kids when they were little. Together, we took a deep breath, shared a knowing smile and got lost in the tender memories of our beautiful now, grown-up children. We are truly blessed.