LIKE A LEAF—a reflection of FALL 2020

It’s fall, the season of colors and falling leaves. Fall is an apt name for it as it does kind of feel like we are falling, that I am falling into the darkness. The days shorten as we pass the equinox and head into the long nights on the dark side of our year. This year, with my breast cancer amidst the context of COVID isolation, I feel like I fell into the darkness long before fall came. My body’s functions are at the mercy of the poisons in the chemotherapy administered each week. From my bones to my organs and my skin; everything is working less well. The darkness has moved into my body and my spirit sometimes feels like a dried up leaf in the pile on the lawn. Once vibrant with the colors showing through, I am now just wrinkled and delicate brown wrapper close to crumbling into dust. And what is that dust but compost for the next life? At least I hope this is so.  I hope that dust settles into my roots and provides nourishment for a new life for me.

I’ve been watching the leaves closely this year and taking lots of pictures of them before, during and after that fall. My fascination with the process is endless. I notice things like how the whole tree doesn’t change all at once, how not even all the trees of the same species change at the exact same moment. The journey is specific to each one. In fact each leaf goes through a gradual process of changing color so that for awhile they are multi-colored with some on the tree being farther along then others. and I notice they hold their vibrant color for awhile even after they fall and before they turn brown and delicate. And all of it causes me to wonder how does the change happen in me. How do I fall? What is my process for change? Am I, like the leaf, part of the cycle of the season?

I have this impression that the leaves fall so gently from the tree, that it is a peaceful experience but my cancer has been a painful, sometimes lonely, struggle. It is not what I would  describe as peaceful. Rather I’d describe it as chaotic and sometimes painful. Perhaps this is more so because I fight it. I am doing all I can to hang on to the tree still, even as another and another leaf fall and another and another part of my body gets affected. Perhaps it is this clinging that causes my experience of the fall to be suffering. Maybe the leaf falls gently because it does not resist it just allows the process to happen. It has had a good life on the tree and even had a glorious moment of glowing with all the deep colors from within. So what am I to do? Cling to the life I know and show my colors or let go, allow the wind to carry me gently to the ground?  I feel the fight still to hang on but I want to be like a leaf, to allow the compost to fall and become the dust that will bring new life next year, the return of the greening and growth.

It brings to mind this song “When I Rise” that I learned in song circle. It is based on a quote by Wendell Berry. This is an aural tradition song so lyrics have been added over the years by different people and even two different tunes have been created. I apologize for not knowing who to give credit for these particular lyrics. These lyrics, and this song, speaks deeply to where I want to be in my soul as I fall even deeper into the darkness of this year 2020—deeper into fighting cancer, deeper into the isolation and worry of COVID 19 virus and deeper into the uncertainty of our country’s leadership. These are the words that I hope to live into. These are the experiences that I hope will carry me into the new life that waits for me next year, the new life that waits for us all.

HERE ARE VARIOUS LYRICS TO "WHEN I RISE" 

When I rise, Let me rise
Like a bird, Joyfully 

When I fall, Let me fall

Like a leaf, Gracefully

Without regret

While I live, Let me live

Like a river, Flowing free

When I pass on, To the next place

My love will be, Eternally

When I stand, let me stand,

Like a tree, strong and tall,

And when I lie, let me lie,

Like a lake, reflecting all.

When I resist, I will resist,
Like the sea, relentlessly.

And when I speak, I will speak,

like the wind, loud and free

If you'd like to hear one version of this song, CLICK ON THIS YOUTUBE VIDEO.

To see a photo album with more fall colors--CLICK HERE AND ENJOY THE LEAVES!

REMEMBERING HANS--20 YEARS LATER!

September 28, 2000, 7:45pm, our son Hans Peter Bonde, died from a glioblastoma multiforme (brain cancer) when he was 11 ½ years old. In an email I wrote these words to our family and friends: “God has answered our prayers and now Hans is truly healed….We give thanks to Hans for staying with us as long as he did. We give thanks to God for thinking to give him to us and for restoring him to wholeness now. We are sad to say goodbye.”

September 28, 2020--And now it is suddenly, or not so suddenly, 20 years later! Hans’ brothers are grown and on their own. Jacob is 36! He’s married to Beth and has a 5-year-old daughter, Solveig. Karl is soon 34! He’s married to Erica and has a 5-year-old son, Wendell and a 2-year-old daughter, Sophie. Luke is 28! All of them are doing well, with life, with work, with family! Pete and I still live in the same house we did back then but oh so many other things have changed. All three households live within a 20-minute drive from us. We are so grateful! What an amazing family they are!

My original plan was to have a huge party to celebrate and remember all the gifts of Hans 20 years later. We were going to have live music and have a great time. You my friends would have been invited. But COVID and my breast cancer took that plan and threw it in the garbage. So instead, we gathered with our boys and their families to have a time of remembrance. We did some of Hans’ favorite activities—watch the Vikings game and play Sequence (a favorite board game). We had good food, played some ball outside, and watched some old home movies. It was a lovely day and we couldn’t be more grateful to have Jacob, Karl and Luke living close by so we could do this.

So this is what has been on my mind lately, thinking about Hans, the incredible adventure before we lost him and the incredible adventure we’ve had since. Those home movies reminded me again of how much I loved being a full-time mom, how much Pete and I loved raising our four boys together, how much fun we had just living. The boys were always moving, playing, growing and we were always trying to keep up. We enjoyed road trips and camping, ball games, music and many joy-filled days just living our ordinary daily lives. When Hans got cancer, though we had challenges, our joy for each other did not stop. You can see it in the sparkle of Hans’ face. He was still living with us in joy. And then we lost him and had to move on. I am particularly proud of the amazing humans Jacob, Karl and Luke have become. They are three of the kindest and most loving people I know! Already, and still quite young, they have left a legacy of kindness behind them, both in their work and in their friendships! I heartily recommend getting to know them.

Pete and I have grown too, in ways we never expected and we’ve learned a lot, mostly to not take anything for granted. Life is precious. A family, of any kind, is a miracle. Friends are angels in disguise. Children are the best teachers on the planet. Music, color, poetry, the sparkle in my husband's eye...those are just are bonuses, generosity beyond measure from the Holy One. We’ve learned the ordinary is sacred and extraordinary is just that, extra. Over the years, gratitude and joy have helped us move on in so many ways to get through the waves. So, as it has been 20 years, and as Hans is still remembered as a joyful, enthusiastic soul, I thought I would share 20 things that bring me JOY and GRATITUDE.

20 THINGS I AM GRATEFUL FOR

1. Hans...forever a smile in his eyes.

2. Pete, Jacob, Karl, Hans, Luke...a feast of family

3. Beth, Erica…amazing daughter-in-laws.

4. My sister Vangie

5. The entire Bonde clan...really, everyone should have a Bonde in their life! I am so lucky they let me in the family.

6. My grandchildren: Solveig, Wendell and Sophie. They so generously give us their  curiosity, their trust and their wonder.

7. Madagascar, my birthplace…this precious treasure that gave me my childhood, my faith, my beginnings.

8. Sunrises, sunsets, wildflowers, fall...a feast of colors

9. Poetry...a feast of words

10. Work(paid or volunteer)..an invitation to be who I am, to help create healthy community. I especially love being a spiritual director/companion.

11. Kayaking...an adventure in every paddle

12. My camera...surprising discoveries everywhere

13. Rocks...something solid to hang on to (Pete is a rock too)

14. Bare feet...by some miracle all those tiny bones seem to hold me up and take me everywhere I need to go...so grateful

15. My singing communities: Nativity Church Choir, Morning Star Singers, Village Fire, Perfection Free Singing and Geralyn. Harmony and the beauty of community created through song.

16. The Dragonfly Project and all the dragonflies that have showed up for us over the last 20 years! They are always reminding us that we are never alone in our grief.

17. the most incredible girl friends…thank you Sally, Patsy, Rena, Amber, Kath, Geralyn, Nancy and Rhonda!

18. Nativity Lutheran Church Community…so grateful for the struggle, the wonder, the nurturing and the camaraderie over the last 39 years!

19. My parents, Laurel and Camilla Johnson, who started me off with so much love and care. They gave me the world and their hearts.

20. God’s never-ending and abundant love and grace!

If you feel like honoring our son on this 20^th Anniversary, here are some ideas:

• share something you are grateful for with us
• tell a child in your life how wonderful they are
• donate to The Dragonfly Project in memory of Hans, https://www.dragonflyproject.org/make-a-donation
• donate to the Hans Bonde Memorial Fund at Nativity Lutheran Church, https://www.nativitychurch.org/give/  [3312 Silver Lake Rd NE, St. Anthony, MN 55418]

With Gratitude and Tears we remember!

Taxol Treatment #6: Frustrating Side Effects and Hope

 September 23, 2020

So here I sit in the chemotherapy room. It’s a big place with 7 lazy boy chairs, each one with a patient plugged in to an IV tube, some through their arms, some of us through ports that have been surgically placed. I am very grateful for my port as it saves a lot of the pain of being poked in the arm each time. It is a great invention. And the reclining chairs are a nice to touch as I usually have to sit here for 3 hours each time. I took this picture of the room last week when it was not busy. 

Each session begins with some pre-meds to treat for side effects and reactions. Then the real stuff, the Taxol, takes an hour to drip in. I’m usually here a total of 3 hours. I do what writing I can at the beginning because during the Taxol treatment I have to have my hands and feet on ice. The ice is to help prevent nerve damage from the Taxol and since I already have some numbness in my toes and fingers, I am inclined to do what I can to help prevent more.

This is Taxol treatment #6 out of 12, so I am used to the routine. So many people wonder how I am on the day of treatment and I have to say that the day of treatment is usually pretty comfortable and smooth. It isn’t until I am home, about 4 hours later, that I start to get a fuzzy, tingling feeling in my face and neck. That feeling travels down my back and arms and lasts until I have fallen asleep. It is always gone by the time I wake up the next morning, for which I am grateful. It’s not a painful experience but it is very annoying….so I am glad it only lasts about 5  or 6 hours.

Then it is a couple days later that the fatigue kicks in and that takes 2 or 3 days to ride out. Whew! In addition, I often have digestive issues on these fatiguing days. My taste came back and my appetite is better but with the digestive issues I still have to very careful what I eat. I also have had rash on my arms and legs for 8 to 10 weeks now. It got better for awhile and then worse again. The rash feels like a sunburn. Basically it feels to me like there isn’t any part of my body that I get to be in charge of. Chemotherapy is running the show. Suffice it to say, I’m very tired of this routine but my tumor seems to be shrinking so I hope this is all worth it.

So how am I? That depends on what day you ask. Some days are better and I have a little kick of energy. On those days it feels good to dig into life a little more and I find hope. Then I have days where I just lay on the couch and try to distract myself from the discomfort. On those days I’m not even motivated to ask to talk to someone. So it depends on what day you ask.

So where do I draw my energy from to keep going? Where do I find hope?

I do have some hope now in September. I am back to working teaching distance students as part of the spiritual direction training program at Christos Center for Spiritual Formation called Tending  the Holy. This is the beginning of my 9^th year (my 5^th group) working with distance students in Tending the Holy! I LOVE this work of coaching and companioning those who are stepping into this practice of spiritual direction. It also looks like I might get to teach a small group of students at Bethel College, the same thing. Cool! This work calls me to my best and higher self and that is the gift of it. I draw closer to the Spirit and to my true self as I show up for those who want to learn. What a treat!

Also, I have found tremendous hope and inspiration from the seasonal changing colors on the trees in my neighborhood. These colors inspire me to pay attention and the way that they change causes me to ask how change happens in me and how we might allow God to change us. If you want to see my FALL PHOTO ALBUM, CLICK HERE

And then I take hope from you my friends, those who are praying for me, those who are singing (at a safe distance), those who are doing their part to help heal this world and the people in it. You give me hope. Thank you! I so appreciate the deep friendships I have that remind me of my true self, my best self. Chemo can’t take that away from me! I am so grateful.

So that’s my update on the day of my 6^th Taxol treatment (out of 12 total). I had 4 AC Treatments before the Taxol so I’ve been at this since the end of June and will finish the first week of November. After that I will be re-scanned and tested and see what is next.

Thanks for reading! Thanks for praying! Thanks for allowing yourself to think of our friendship! Thanks for all you do to bring LOVE into the world!

Love to you all, Jules

SONGS & PRAYERS & PAPER HUGS

9/3/2020

 Hi all you beautiful people! I am so grateful to all of you!

 I started this breast cancer journey way back at the end of May. The end of June I started my AC Chemo treatments. Then on August 26^th, I started my Taxol chemo treatments and have had 3 so far. I have 9 weekly treatments left of Taxol. Following that, I will have scans and discover with the doctor, what, if any surgery is needed.

 Some of you know that I had a pretty rough go of it with the AC Chemo, with August being the worst month. In addition to multiple side effects, I had about 4 weeks where I just couldn’t shake a bladder infection. As of today, I have been without a bladder infection and antibiotics for a week! This helps immensely with my ability to eat and digest as the antibiotics caused a lot of diarrhea. Also, my taste buds are finally recovering so the food is starting to taste good again! And that means I have more energy for living. Pete & I have started going for daily walk again! I am actually quite excited about this progress and hopeful that the rest of the 9 weeks will be easier.

 Meantime, I’m acutely aware that I’ve been held by your prayers, your songs and your notes of encouragement. Some of those notes came in the form of cards or as I like to call them now, paper hugs. Some of those notes came through texts or emails. And some I got directly from phone calls and chats on Zoom or Facebook. This week on Monday evening, I got an extra dose of love and support from my beloved Morning Star Singers as they gathered on Zoom to sing to me and also to another member, Bill. What a sweet hour of encouragement and love that was. I cried tears of love and joy for the gift of these sweet people who have given so much of their voices to encourage healing in others. Thank you, Morning Star Singers! And thank you to each and everyone of you who have offered me prayers and notes of encouragement. I couldn’t do this without you!

 There is still a long way to go. So please keep praying that this chemotherapy process shrinks the tumor down to nothing. It’s a lot of fuss to go through so I am praying it works! And please keep praying for my husband, Pete, who offers me so much love and support and sometimes gets weary of my struggle.

 Thanks again to all you beautiful people!

Sending my love,

jules

Here are some photos of all the paper hugs I’ve gotten.