in three months she was gone...

I just typed the title and it still seems so surreal.

From the moment I got the call on August 11th... that moment when we were planning her trip to the Netherlands and looking for flights when it got so abruptly interrupted by shitty news. News that she likely had lymphoma. News that she had cancer. News that she would enter a medical rollercoaster. News that life would never ever be the same.
From the moment I got the call on August 11th, and called my parents to tell them the news. That their daughter was sick, real sick. That my sister had a disease that started with the c and ended in an r. That our little sister was about to fight a monster, a evil dark and stupid thing.
Just weeks later I sat in a plane and was on my way to see my sister. That was September. She'd already heard she had NUT Midline Carcinoma. Had already heard that it was serious. Had already heard that she had a lung tumour. And then a tumour in her abdomen, 13 cm... She'd already been hospitalized. Because it was so serious, because she was so ill.
Two weeks we sat beside her hospital bed in Calgary. Two weeks of caring for her and just being in her presence. Two weeks of fighting with her, and then she went home. Home because the hospital couldn't do anything for her. Home because that's where she wanted to be. Home because there she could get palliative care and rest. Home because that's where a person ought to be.

I spent almost three weeks in the Netherlands after she got home. Three long weeks of calling back to Canada. Three long weeks of lying awake at night and being shocked by every phone that rings. Three long weeks of sharing with the world how she was doing. Three long weeks of living in uncertainty, because we knew she was dying.
And then Fall break came. I booked a flight just days before, because I wasn't expecting she would actually be living that long. But Fall break came and I got to visit her in Canada again. I slept in her room almost every night. I rubbed her legs and massaged her feet, poured oils over her and combed her hair. I ran for vomit buckets and wiped it from her mouth. I filled her water cups and held her hand. I got up in the middle of the night to help her go pee and got icepacks at 3 am when she bumped her toe and it bruised all the way up her shin in an instant. We got tattoos and facials and cannolis from Sweet Capones and wraps at Tims. We drank tea with friends and cried endless tears. We read cards and books and laughed at stupid memes. We talked boys and dreams and plans and knew the whole time that this was the last time we would be together.
We lived it up, those 10 days even though she was hardly living. We did all kinds of things even though she was hardly able to do them. She was so strong, so courageous... She said: my sister is only here once and I am not gonna be here the next time!

I remember leaving the house at four in the morning that last Sunday. I remember telling her to be steadfast and strong in the Lord. And I wept the whole way to the airport. I wrote a blog post for her blog Detour to the Unknown with tears streaming down my cheeks. It helped to write and translate. Helped me process what was going on, helped me figure out how to tell others or something. It helped me help her maybe? I don't even know why it helped to write but it did.

I left Canada at the end of October knowing I'd never see my sister alive again. Knowing I couldn't go again and leave her again almost broken down completely. Knowing that if she lived much longer her suffering would also be much more terrible. Knowing that if she lived much longer her life would be so much more difficult. Knowing that I couldn't let that happen, didn't want it to happen, couldn't bear the thought of it or the weight and guilt of living life while she lay there dying.
The two weeks that I was in the Netherlands took forever and flew by. I struggled through a long and prolonged jetlag knowing it was because of the fear of losing her. I struggled through stupid lessons at school and had to give my five year plan and honestly couldn't care less. I struggled when my student was upset and told me he didn't do his homework and I told him I don't care... I struggled when people asked me how Lianne was doing because they never once asked me how I was doing... So many never asked how we were coping, how we were bearing that cross.

Those two weeks took forever, we were waiting for her to be with Jesus and hoping it would never come. Selfishly we wanted to keep her here but not like this. Selfishly I wanted cancer to be gone and Lianne to be back with us, didn't want her to go to Jesus.
And then she died. Her pain gone. The cancer no longer having a grip on her. Her at peace. Her in those golden gates and we with 'the golden picture' and all our memories of her. Her with Jesus and we down her with a big huge ravine in front of us.


November 13th.

She was 25.

Far too young. Far to precious. Far too loved. And yet she's gone. No longer here. No longer with us. And thats such a stupid, terrible, rude, awful, and sickening reality. I messaged a friend today how this weekend I have almost called her a couple of times, but she will never answer again...

In three months she was gone.

And our lives go on.

How? I've no clue. I cling to the gift of grace and know that even through the storm He is with us. Though I walk through death's dark vale, I don't fear because His rod and staff comfort me. And what if blessings come through raindrops and healing comes through tears? What if this it what it takes to bring me nearer, still nearer, close to Thy heart - draw me, my Saviour so precious Thou art...

I don't know or have the ability to comprehend right now.

But the LORD is by my side, and His strength is perfected in my weakness.

To God be the glory.

calming His child

in this post the pictures are as much part of my writing as the writing itself.
Some of these pictures are my own posts from my social media account. 

That's where a lot of my thinking happens. 

Sometimes God calms the storm

Sometimes He lets the storm rage but calms the child

I can't remember who sent me that quote, can't remember when I heard it in the last couple of weeks, but it keeps coming back to me. Just like many other things do - quotes, scripture verses, song lyrics, and prayers. Prayers, prayers, prayers. So many prayers said by myself, cried out in the dark night, wept in the middle of the day, on bare knees or in shoe laced feet at the top of a mountain top. I cry out and ask God so many questions. Last week, while sitting in the hospital hallway my sister Helma and I wept - and I said I have so many questions for Jesus!

Calgary skyline from FMC

When life seemed tough last year I cried and felt alone and wasn't sure what kind of stupid decisions I had made. Who moves to the Netherlands alone and starts life in a new small city and knows nothing about teaching. There came the many moments of self-doubt, of depression, of hiding behind a mask of 'I can do this but I can't'. When others called me strong and indepedent I crumbled inside, more so than I would ever let on. I even repeated it myself 'Marieta, you're strong and indepedent' just to prove to myself I didn't need any help... Life seemed hard then. In January February of this year I had to make a tough decision. I had been offered a good position at a good school and knew I would have to worry about applying for jobs all over again (4 years in a row - no thank you!) if I didn't take the job... But I also had to choose if I wanted to stay in NL or move back to Canada. Anywho - I ended up deciding to stay in the Netherlands. About the months in between I may write some other time...

In July I came to Alberta - just for a quick visit because my nephew had been so ill and my brother had asked countless times to please be with family. Family needs to be together when life isn't easy.

Never in a million years had I expected those words to mean as much as they do now. Family needs to be together.

booking a flight

In my last blog post about my sister's recent diagnosis: NUT midline carcinoma. On her blog you can read all about it. September 8th, I called Helma to chat and she mentioned Lianne was going to come to her house to hang out and go garage saling together. A bit I get another phone call - Lianne has been taken to Red Deer hospital - her friends fear she's dehydrated. That evening Lianne gets sent to Foothills Medical Centre (FMC) in Calgary. On Sunday the doctor checks the CTscan results from the scan that had been taken on the Thursday. Dad calls to the Netherlands - mom and I were driving from church to my brother's place for dinner. Dad shares the news. Another tumour has been found - 13cm - in Lianne's abdomen.

I had already heard from Emily to start looking at flights. Then dad shares - you should come sooner than later. Mom asks me what I want to do. We arrive at Corné and Erika's place for dinner and start eating. Then share.  Within half an hour we have decided, checked online, and booked 5 flights to Canada.

Tuesday, September 11th. The day I remember so clearly - always will. Back in 2001 my parents went to the Canadian Embassy to start applying for our emigration. The day the Twin Towers crumbled. The day we remember as 9/11. Seventeen years later I stand on Schiphol International Airport to travel back to Canada. I shouldn't be going to Canada in the 3rd week of school. Shouldn't be going to Canada because I'd signed another contract. Shouldn't be going to Canada because it can't be. 

Along with the flight itinerary I sent: "Coming for a sleepover Tuesday night dude!"(I know I shouldn't call my sister dude but that's just what I do, okay?!)

booked. cleaned. packed.

check in. 

My sister can't be in the hospital. My sister can't be dying - can't be being attacked by cancer - can't be under the power of sin and darkness! I WhatsApped to Lianne: "I'm going to sleep finally... And girly guess what. When I wake up I'm leaving on a jet plane and coming your way!!! Soon and very soooon. Within 24hrs I'll be by your side." But we're there, AMS to YYC. It's simple, we're only a flight away. There were lots of troubles, and my brother doesn't get to come with us right away because of paperwork malfunctions. I don't get my luggage once we get to Calgary, and we're exhausted. For hours we've been waiting and now we had to wait longer. First things first. GO SEE LIANNE.

After arriving in Canada I stayed at the hospital overnight. Stayed with Lianne. 

I have spent countless hours in that hospital. Unit 61. In between many elderly people lies Lianne. At 25. Fighting hard. I hold her hand. Anoint and massage her feet. Straighten pillows. Put on and take off blankets. Run for water, a wet cloth or a bucket. She hurts, she aches, we cry. We pray, we joke, we weep. We reminisce and get annoyed at past memories. She bites her lips, curls her toes, pushes pains away. It's hard to see her in so much pain. 

I watched her get poked and prodded with needles and by all kinds of doctors, and she still does get that. I tried to stay strong and some  moments I totally can - I didn't cry in her room, in her presence, until Saturday. We stood there - Peter, Cindy, Helma and I. And what could we do?

I sat by her bed and she was in so much pain. I wept. And she told me not to cry. My mind recalled the beautiful account where it says that Jesus was moved with compassion. He also wept. He cried out and was full of sorrow for the state of His children, the hurt they experienced, the pain they were to bear. He was moved with compassion because He loves them. 

Helma's response to my post on Instagram

If you know Lianne as registered massage therapist you know she's strong. You wouldn't want to arm wrestle with her I think - well I definitely don't! I know how much of a fighter she is - from an early age we shared a room. Every Saturday we had the same chore: clean our room. It was awful but she was strong and I perhaps a bit too timid. She fought until her will was done. She fights for whats she wants and perseveres. Not only that, she's witty and has a great sense of humour - here verbal communication is super strong too (but sometimes a bit tough for me). I think her strength is a huge and super good positive trait. I don't let her run over me as easily as I did back in the day but I would still say that she's strong! But in this odd detour, her body is weakening. Yet she remains strong, solid Foundation under foot, fed by the Bread! She's peacefully bearing the cross God has put on her shoulders and drawing strength from her Father! She's strong, she's alive - because Christ is within her!

I've been overwhelmed and humbled by the hearts and words of others. Am in awe of a community that comes together. Am embraced by brothers and sisters I have never met before and feel so connected to. Am welcomed in a cold, cold province by warm, warm hearts. I stand amazed at the thoughtfulness of so many towards me, towards Lianne, our family, Lianne's people. I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart. Every WhatsApp and Facebook message, every InstaDirect and Instagram comment, every email, and every card - they don't go unnoticed! I read each word but just don't have the time to reply. 

We thank you for all your care and support. For your love and prayers. For all your encouragements! We are forever grateful. 

Time for an elfie when it's just van Iperens in the elevator

But really - what we're so grateful for is this: our hearts are overwhelmed by and our cups run over with God's grace that washes over us. His grace is sufficient. He pours it over His children. And in our weakness His power is perfected. I rest in the loving arms of the Father. Who carries me through this storm. Who calms this child. Who lets me dwell with Him because He abides right here with me  and I with Him. I'm called to His feet, into His presence - right here and now. Never before have I been so grieved and so overjoyed at the same time.

Lianne's still fighting. She's not one to follow the normalcy pattern and I have a feeling she won't now either. She continues to fight and we continue to support her, but we cannot do that without your support! Continue lifting her in prayer - storming His throne - and pleading for Him to be glorified and His will to be done. However He sees fit.

Meanwhile - head over to GoFundMe to support Lianne financially as she's been out of commission for over 2 weeks.

Or check out her blog where you can read about the detour she's on. 

going for a walk in the hospital last week

that storm

I'm sitting here, migraine and all, during a thunderstorm. It's not even noon and the rain has been pouring for quite some time. Still I see the light; when I look outside my eyes squint to protect from the bright. I look at the weather and wonder how that happens. How can the sun shine, the thunder roll, and the rain pour down all at the same time? Ah, let's look on the bright side  - embrace the sunshine...

4 years ago at my parents

I had planned a trip to Ontario this past summer because Aleida and Chris were getting married, a perfect reason to book a trip. But just weeks before my trip my nephew Alex got really sick, ended up on the ICU and was fighting big time. During those 16 or so days of his hospital stay I called with my family in Canada every spare moment I had. He seemed to recover pretty quickly, and was sent home before the schoolyear in the Netherlands was up. I talked to my brother Peter, Alex' father, a dozen times and almost every time I heard the question 'will you come home to see us?' between the lines. Peter never asked me, but I heard it. My trip itinerary changed, instead of 26 days in the GHA I would spend 10 days in ON, then 7 in Alberta, then 7 in ON with 2 and a half day of travel...

Lianne and I talk all the time. I don't think there have been any weeks where we didn't talk in our seven year long distance 'sistership'. I moved from Alberta in the fall of 2011 and have been away since; first in Ontario and now in the Netherlands. When I left Lianne had just graduated high school and she moved out quickly after I left. I think home became a bit unbearable without me there... ;) No, I'm kidding, but she did move to Calgary and started life there. It was weird for me to move to the other side of the country without my sister by my side. We had gone through a lot together before 2011, including a move across the world. Not that we always got along; I remember those first days - when she was 11 and I was 13. We hated being in Canada, tried to skip school wherever possible and 'accidentally' missed the bus, uhm, once or twice a week. On those days we were sort of stuck until mom would come home from work around 2pm. I haven't a clue what we did during those long hours but I remember there were quite a few rivalries. I remember being ridiculously mad at Lianne several years later. Lianne stormed down stairs and I ran after her; she quickly locked the bathroom door and I kicked it. The door didn't open but a hole about a foot from the floor still lives there. Every time I go home I am confronted, using your strength in anger does lasting damage. I am glad I didn't hurt her physically, that time.

That was all before we grew up. I think moving to Ontario and then moving to the Netherlands became a bit more possible because Lianne was always just a text, WhatsApp message or phone call away. I live 'ahead' of her by some time zones which makes it tricky at times, but I don't mind staying up late to give her a call. Messages get sent daily over various forms of social media and sometimes I can't keep track of what I sent her via which medium.
During my first few months in the Netherlands we called far more often. I had so many moments of shock and awe and confusion that I had to verbally process and Lianne just listens, or just talks depending. Really, she is always there to listen and I've spent many nights here in Leerdam laying on the couch or washing dishes or hanging laundry or emptying closets or reorganizing shelfs or painting watercolour while the free WhatsApp call just keeps going. Sorry for all those trying to reach me at night - if I wasn't available Lianne and I were likely chatting...
I haven't a clue when it was but I remember Lianne telling me in the winter last year that exercising wasn't really going so great because breathing hurt. I quickly responded that I also have terrible endurance and I can't breathe either and kind of shrugged it off. But this complaint didn't stop being a complaint. Being that I live far away I couldn't really tell if anything was going on. I trusted all was cool.

July 16th, I took the earliest and cheapest flight to Alberta and got to the airport, not knowing who would pick me up. It usually is somewhat a surprise who will pick me up, but I kind of expect Lianne. We hugged and she cried and it was the loveliest reunion. We quickly went to the car, where mom was. Ah, the rest of my family didn't know that I was coming so all three of us were giddy. Lianne filmed the moment Helma first saw me and the tight squeezes with all my nieces and nephews. It was wonderful to see each other again.
I spend a solid week in Alberta, filled with quality time, dates with mom, hang outs with Lianne (and Chris and Krystle too!), went for dinner at Peter's and Helma's place and had lots of niece and nephew times. It was amazing and so great and I am overwhelmed just thinking about all the good that happened in that short trip. I went back to Ontario on the 23rd and felt satisfied, full of sibling love and hugged too tight by some of my little nephews! (Thanks, sibs, for teaching them what hugging means and for keeping us connected even though they were all born after I left Alberta.) Once back in Ontario I continued visiting with incredible friends and went camping. On the 30th I flew home - to the Netherlands.
I came home to heat and drought and little green - something I've never really seen here before. There were almost 4 weeks left before the school year started so I ended up relaxing after a whirlwind Canada trip. I realized  that I hadn't really processed everything that I had experienced in Canada so I consciously did that.

My oma moved to a care home at the end of July and I went to visit her there at the beginning of August. I was an emotion wreck and was surprised.
On Lianne's 25th birthday, August 8th, I bought a piece of cake and actually celebrated with her from overseas. I knew that on that same day she has to go in for a CT-scan.

On Monday evening I am eating dinner when Lianne calls. She's looking at flights and we check my Fall break dates, and talk plans - places we want to visit, sights we want to see, people we want to meet. She is coming to the Netherlands and will buy the ticket at the end of the week...
And then her phone rings, I get put on hold - she's called in to see the doctor and we talk on the phone until she goes into the clinic. I tell her to give me a shout when her appointment is done. I remember doing something upstairs when I hear my phone ring downstairs. I run down and see it's Lianne. "hey" I say. I just hear sobbing.
I sit down. "They think I have lymphoma."
My laptop was on so I quickly Googled what it meant. A type of cancer starting in the lymphatic system. No way! That's not possible, that's not allowed! She's my sister, she needs to live. I can't even be there for her, this can't be happening...
She tells me more but I forget the details. I tell her to drink some water, to blow her nose, and get a cold wash cloth (dang I sound like my mom). I stay surprisingly calm and I can't really believe it myself. My sister just gets awful news and I don't even cry - what's wrong with me. I pray with her and then I weep too. I ask God why and what and how and to just carry us because we don't know what to do or what to say. I pray that God will heal her and that He will help her and us and everyone as we deal with this shit we don't want to be in. I ask her what else I can do for her and she asks me to call my parents.
Of course I agree but in my heart I sob and weep and feel empty and weak. How am I supposed to tell my parents this. I first try mom. And another time. And another time. I try to compose myself. Three minutes later I decide to call dad, and know that will be much harder. It's 11am where he is and it is a Monday. When he picks up the phone with 'how are you?' I tell him I am fine but I am sure he heard my voice shake. He walks outside and I tell him exactly what I heard from Lianne and I hear him stop in his tracks, see his face, watch him break. It was gut wrenching having to tell my dad my sister, his daughter likely has cancer. Shortly after I call mom. Then call Lianne. We play phone tag - me from NL and they in Central Alberta.
Until 8pm I call a bunch of people here and just wept. I wam emotional and angry. Then I clean my entire house, do laundry, wash walls and floors and iron a whack load of stuff. I clean for 3.5 hours and then sit down. It is good to do work and process things without weeping. I am exhausted but can't sleep that night.
The weeks in between then and now have kind of been a blur. I made sure I wasn't alone in Leerdam, spent time with family (thank you everyone for taking me in and adopting me as your own!), and tried to keep busy. Meanwhile Lianne had lots of appointments to go to and I really tried to support her from here.

My mom came to the Netherlands last week Tuesday, the day my 2nd school year in the Netherlands started. It is so nice to have her here and I am super thankful.
Wednesday night Lianne and I talk for about 2 hours on the phone - the regular conversation about this, that and the other thing.
On Thursday we got another phone call, from Lianne.

A diagnosis. NUT Midline Carcinoma. A rare, aggressive, genetic type of cancer.

We've wept endless tears. They flow without asking. We've cried out to God and still do now. We storm God's throne even when our tongues can't utter prayers. We sing praise even through the storm because we believe in God - Jireh the Provider, Rapha the Healer, Abba the Father. We are carried by God through this storm, feel His loving embrace through the people around us. We're surrounded by people in communities around the world - brothers and sisters who pray and plea when we don't know how. We're drawn close to the Lord Himself and He never lets us go, He never leaves us nor forsakes us(Heb 13), He watches are coming and our going (Ps 121), He walks with us through the valleys (Ps 23), He strenghtens us and helps us (Is 41). Honestly, I have never felt God more near.

And that's the bright sunshine - God's presence and the hope we have in Him - in the midst of this storm.

Read Lianne's story on her blog. We will keep you updated there.

Support Lianne financially  on the GoFundMe page her friends and family have set up for her. Expenses for things like gas and parking passes at the hospital will be paid from this funds collected.

in it all

In the midst of commotion we're stopped in our tracks.
In the midst of the rush were silenced by the just.
The call to stop. To listen. To abide. 

In the tough.
In the emotion.
In the highs and in the lows.
In the warmth of summer and the chill of winter.
In the morning and even late at night. 

In the wandering wonder how and why.
In joy burst with laughter.
In pain break with tears.
In confusion look up high.

Through it all lift eyes are on Him.
From the depths cry out to Him and still praise His name for all He gives.

In it all, experience the strength of His embrace and live fully only because of grace.

It's puzzling

In front of me lies a puzzle, a jigsaw puzzle. I started it several weeks ago and slowly I add a few pieces here or there. Slowly the picture is coming together. Well, parts of it are coming together. Last time I could harldy lay down a piece at all. Today I worked on it for several minutes... Those same pieces I was so frustrated with a while back just found their home on their own it seemed. Slowly I see the woman's face and the basket on the wall, the curvature of her back and the apron around her waist, so small.

Slowly I see pieces fit and realize it all takes time. At one time, we may lose hope and focus. Other times our perspective changes and there we have it. It all makes sense. No matter the puzzle, the picture we are working on, I think we will never fully see. Yes, we will see parts of it, and move things around until perhaps they 'click' - but really, not until the last breath in our so-called puzzle is breathed, will the picture be complete. And even then - will we see it then?

There are things that appear to fit in one place and then do not make sense at all. There are things that appear to fit nowhere and then suddenly fall into place and it becomes so clear. Something I cannot wrap my head around is that just shedding a different light on this puzzle helps me see...

I have come a bit further than this...

What if in life I allowed the Light, the Thy Word is a Lamp, to shine more on my path. What if I let God in, allowed Him to shine on my life and let Him lead the way? What if I let God show me one piece at a time?
In the Light it is all revealed.

Will I allow it?



[Written Oct. 29, 2017]
[The puzzle still lies incomplete under a tablecloth on my kitchen table. I haven't touched it since the day I wrote this piece. Have I given up, you wonder? No, that isn't it. After I completed the colourful parts of this picture only greys and blacks remain. I find it difficult to deal with the dark stuff, it just can't seem to come together for me. The greys are better than the blacks - but still so difficult. I haven't given up - I won't give up. At one point I did think about putting it in the box again and bringing the puzzle to the thrift store. But that's not perseverance, that's giving up. And giving up is not something I do!]