Christmas Day

Images from our Christmas Eve and Christmas Day (once again, forgot to bring our camera to the Winchells, so our Christmas Day afternoon is not shown here).


Photos: The "Kerr sisters" on Christmas Eve at Debby's condo overlooking the Boston skyline. Also, Orilus and Jackson pose in new Red Sox hats from Grandma at Aunt Debby's house Christmas Eve afternoon.

















Photos: Christmas Eve, and the boys don new Christmas pajamas before heading off to bed. Christmas morning and the lighting of the Christ candle after breakfast.
































Photos: Orilus and Jackson pose proudly in front of our Christmas tree with their new, authentic Kansas cowboy hats from Grandpa and Grandma. The boys show off their gift from Jason and me--Celtics tickets for a January game!

our Christmas letter

Snow Day

Today was the first snow day of the school year. This morning Jason and I were awoken by our boys’ timid knocks at our bedroom door, and the subsequent bouncing of excited third- and fourth-grade bodies on our bed. We decided to observe a snow day in the purest sense of the word—by choosing to play and to connect instead of checking items off our weekend to-do list (I’m sure it looks a lot like yours: pay the bills, mail belated birthday cards, wrap some gifts, catch up on our Inboxes, clean the house). So we dug our snowshoes out of the attic and piled into the car for nearby Lynn Woods.
The day did not disappoint. We were greeted by a pristine world of white (“It looks like Narnia!” Jackson said), and absolute stillness. As we crested the first hill, I realized suddenly what the trek meant to our family—the first time our sons had been able to use the snowshoes we purchased at a sale so many years ago, evidence of how absolutely free Orilüs is now from his sickle cell disease, and any post-transplant effects. “Look at us!” I exclaimed, and found it appropriate that our celebration was heard only by squirrels, and each other, and God. So much of our journey this year has been like that—quiet moments of great celebration that give us pause, and time for thanks.
In the rush of life this year, we have worked hard to choose “snow days”—moments for each other, out of the rush of life. In May we celebrated the one-year anniversary of Orilüs’ bone marrow transplant, which was marked by the end of his at-home isolation and his return to school, church, and the soccer field. We spent the summer enjoying the benefits of a healthy life—we made two trips to Kansas (sadly, one unexpectedly for my dear grandmother’s passing), celebrated our ten-year wedding anniversary in Vermont, went on our first family camping trip, and experienced an expense-paid Make-a-Wish trip to Orlando (the boys remarked that Kansas was way more fun, perhaps a tribute to the slowness they truly need to thrive). I was especially grateful to Jason and the boys for allowing me to travel for nearly three weeks in July to South Africa, which marked for me the finale of a long transplant year and did much to restore my spirit.
The beginning of the new school year brought with it a true transition back to life post-transplant, the first school year the four of us have begun together, and intend to finish together, in a long time. The transition has been more difficult than we anticipated (complicated by a mandate that Jason take three education courses, and by my new and challenging teaching role at our high school). We long for more snow days, and less busy days. We try to make them, limiting the boys’ extra-curricular involvements to one each (for Jackson, continued success in gymnastics, for Orilüs a new experience in a hip hop class), and trying hard to observe family traditions—an electricity-reduced night once a week, a weekend “Sabbath” day for play and rest, weekly family nights spent mostly on games and more rarely on movies, evening musical worship and Psalter readings, more regular times with extended family. We also took a sabbatical from involvement with Ripple Effect, our non-profit, this year, in a wise attempt to give us more room for family and for thinking about our family’s future. Like many of you, we long for more community in our lives, deeper relationships with our children and with family and friends, and feel the angst of our culture, which lures us into busyness and away from relationship. We pray for a life that is lived more like a snow day and less like a dizzying tick of a to-do list.
And so today, we have given thanks by plodding along on snowshoes, and eating fistfuls of snow, and making snow angels, and laughing in the cold. If life really is a frenzy of urgency, we surely would have been left behind at our pace today. But if life is what we expect—an opportunity to create and make snow days, to honor moments for connection, to be silent long enough to experience God’s grace—then today, we have lived well.
Wishing you the pause of a “snow day” during this season of God’s quiet love,
Melissa for Team Winchell

recuperating

Today I spent recuperating from yesterday's surgery...yes, for those of you who knew I was having surgery, I'm fine. A little sore--I'm pretty sure that whichever way they had me positioned on the table yesterday was NOT natural, as I feel I got beat up entirely. My chest hurts. My throat hurts (intubation fun). My back hurts. My legs hurt. Oh, and yes, my bum hurts. Let's hear it for colon surgery!

However, the surgery went as well as can be expected, and I'm certainly glad, after 4 months of waiting, to have this phase 2 of 2 over and done with. Now my job is to lie low--lie, or sit--for a few weeks so that I can heal properly. Pray with me for complete healing--if I don't heal, then I would need another (and very major) surgery. NOT going to happen.

So the rest of the family were all back at school today (snow day on Monday, too, and then Jason had accompanied me to the hospital yesterday). Tomorrow the boys have early release for Christmas break, and Jason will finish the week at 2:30 on Friday. We're looking forward to it, and our Advent card, and magnets, and candles, are helping us to count down to Christmas. One of my favorite times of year.

The house is already quiet--the boys wanting to turn in early tonight. We are all feeling so tired. These dark nights sure make you feel like it's much later than it actually is. Which reminds me...winter solstice is coming this week, and the "longest night of the year." Some of my friends will be attending solstice services (held at many parishes and churches on that night) to grieve, and to find ways to express the loss of loved ones--a metaphor for the longest, darkest night gradually giving way to less darkness, and more light. This week, I, too, will mourn with and for my friends, and for my MeeMaw, who I still miss daily. Speaking of which, deleting her address from my Christmas card database was about the saddest part of my week this week. Certainly appropriate the solstice is followed by Christmas, a Reason for hope. My MeeMaw would agree with that life-rhythm entirely.

photos from last Friday's snow day!

Friday's snow day!

Our family spent hours in and around Lynn Woods...snowshoeing (doesn't Jackson look a little surprised by the experience? I think he was! Meanwhile, Orilus was running on snowshoes!) and sledding (Jackson, as usual, screaming his high-pitched bloodcurdling scream which he does even when he is NOT scared, and Orilus looking more timid by his descent to the bottom of a large hill, which left him spilled out of his sled).

thinking well of you

This morning I had one of the best swims ever--a 1.5 km swim that was rhythmic, and smooth, and strong. I think what made my day was the elderly gentleman I met while walking in to the YMCA this morning. He seemed like one of the down-and-out guys who might live in the Y residence, and again (you think by now I'd be used to this), I found that the blessings of Jesus are so often given me from people I might otherwise ignore. I held open the door for him while he crossed the icy sidewalk, and he broke into a smile, and said, "May the good Lord think well of you!" And I felt immediately like all of my recent musings on grace and love, and the scandalous acceptance of Christ, were being spoken through this man: God thinks well of me today. Is there anything more beautiful than that? I felt the grace of Jesus all around me today as I swam, and felt buoyed by love and surrounded by joy.

Needless to say, I am receiving all I can in these recent days, as there is so much threatening to steal the grace of Christ from my spirit each day. Ongoing struggles with our kids that are painful but a necessary part of their healing and growth. A painful decision by my school's administration to move 8 of my students to our other building, separating me from a group of Burmese refugees I have come to care for deeply. A friend struggling in a marriage relationship. Another friend devastated by news that her son is ill with a rare sickness. A surgery coming for me on Tuesday, followed by 2 weeks of home-rest, and 6 weeks of limited activity.

So today was my last swim for quite some time (February, probably). Since swimming is one of the ways I best care for myself, and my spirit, I am going to miss the water, and the silence of a 45-minute swim. It is meditation for me. And I guess that's why today's swim was a special gift; I felt that God gave me this swim to remember the nearness of His presence in the coming weeks, the rhythms of grace, the gentle breathings of Spirit, the quick turn-arounds at the hard walls of life that can send us swimming off in a new and lovely direction.

So thankful for a weekend of reminders...a snow day yesterday (a lovely time to re-connect as a family out in the winter weather), and a day today for swimming, and Christmas letter-writing (yes, friends, the letters are coming). We need your prayers in the coming weeks, as more of God's sweet presence is needed in our home, for the healing of my body, and the healing of our family's hearts. For our good Lord surely DOES think well of us, and will show up again tomorrow. Good Lord, we need you.

the start of Advent

So much I wish I had recorded here in the last weeks--so much fullness about life recently.

Thanksgiving Day was spent in a truly memorable fashion. My colleague and I (along with Jason and the boys) walked a handful of the refugee students to our high school football game. We spent the morning explaining (in broken English, no less) the rules of football and laughing at the antics of the mascots (trying explaining WHY we have a person dressed as a Ram pretend-fighting with a person dressed as a Bulldog to someone who doesn't understand much English yet). Man, it was truly good times. Afterwards, two of my colleagues and I visited some homes--in one morning/early afternoon, we sat in a Liberian home, a few Burmese homes (including one home church!), and a Muslim Burundi home. What a richness there is to life here in the city; I was so struck by the resource that these families are to our community...resources of wisdom, and contentment, and spirit, and resolve, and peace. I know I was particularly touched by the Burmese house church we stumbled upon. They sang (in English, we weren't sure if this was for our benefit) a familiar church chorus: "Let the weak say I am strong, let the poor say I am rich, because of what the Lord has done for us...give thanks." Looking around the 2 living rooms, over 50 Karen Burmese refugees seated on the floor in a makeshift, but strong, faith community, I realized again how little I know of true gratitude. I thought of this scene often through my own family Thanksgivings in the days that followed, where "richness" abounded (furniture, for one).

The Friday after Thanksgiving we spent at our house, hosting all my sisters, their husbands, my mom, my buddy Val, and a new friend from Camden Brent. It's always a great day when my sisters are around. Now that we are all scattering further and further apart, these days are fewer, and more precious. The highlight of the day for me was our Thanskgiving meal, a gourmet meal of my husband's grand design (pumpkin cheesecake...from REAL pumpkins, no less), and at the start of that meal, a family communion--the first communion for my sons. Really cool.

Saturday we shared Thanksgiving with the Winchell family at Mom and Dad's (by that time, I was so tired, I forgot our camera!)...a beautiful day together, which revived me from near-exhaustion (not sure why, since I did so little of Friday's cooking). :)

Sunday was my 31st birthday, which passed in a lovely way...church, and then out to lunch with some good friends. Very quiet, but marked nonetheless (and if you know me well, you know that marking time is important to me). The boys and Jason gave me a new suit (my work uniform of choice daily), and renewed my gym membership.

Last week continued to be a connective week for me. I was with Val on Tuesday (we went to see Rob Bell in Boston...such a summative time of this season of my life, actually), Wednesday with my good friend Audra (with whom tears are always in order, such a dear and lovely friendship we share), and Thursday a reunion with my long-lost friend Susanna. I survived the week with very little sleep, as you can tell, and was relieved that Saturday was my long-scheduled quarterly "retreat day." I spent it first at the gym (it felt like heaven after a couple months away...aahhh, the pool!), and then Barnes and Noble, journaling, reading, praying, meditating. Much more could be said about all I learned this week about this past quarter of my life (a very difficult season, but one from which I am harvesting much, in the true spirit of fall, I suppose).

Today we welcomed the first Sunday of Advent with a candle-lighting in our home, as well as in church with Mom and Dad Winchell. Our Christmas tree is up and lit as I write this at the dining room table. Our boys are long since asleep. Jason sits here with me, also typing (did I mention he continues to plug away at his three grad courses?). The smell of pine. The quietness of evening. The calm of family and togetherness. And yet my thoughts tonight are with one of our sons--for whom peace and togetherness seem so elusive lately. In this Advent season, may all of us experience again the wide grace of Jesus...but especially, this Christmas, I'm praying for those, like our children, who need His healing particularly much. It's a particular angst, to be loved by the God of the universe, and feel it not. Jesus, save us all this Advent from that mistrusting confusion!

"And He shall be called Prince of Peace."

portraits of a school day

I realize how little I write about school, and my students, and yet how much of my heart is in my work.

Today we had our first flurry of snow, a short-lived bought out the window during G period (ESL Biology). The students were already excited--we had just finished talking about our football rally tomorrow (try explaining THAT to students who don't speak much English), and one of them looked up and yelled, "Snow!" They were out of their seats like small children, and though we tried to stop them, it really was futile. "First! First!" a Spanish-speaking boy said to me, pointing wildly, and that's when I stopped trying to get them to sit, and simply let them enjoy the sight of this, their first snowfall.

I sat down in my office this morning to read student journals, and read these words from a Burmese refugee, a soft-spoken and gentle teenage girl: "Dear Mrs. Winchell, Greetings to you in the matchless name of Jesus...I want to thank you for encouraging me." I bet you're thinking I was touched by the comment; actually, I was amazed (and excited) she knew the word "encouraging." Small victories in ESL (English as a Second Language)-land. Another journal, and a student from Liberia talking about being beaten, and leaving a sister behind. So much joy, and so much sadness, too.

And a few moments ago, sending an email to colleagues to help to find foster homes for "unaccompanied refugee minors." Apparently refugee youth are arriving in our area soon, and are family-less, and need families. If you're a family who can love on a child (or teenager), let me know.

These kind of rhythms are the rhythms of teaching, and of involving my life in the lives of refugees and immigrants here in my city. I'm really excited about our Thanksgiving Day, actually. A colleague and I are meeting about a dozen of our ESL students here at the high school in the morning and are walking them to our city's high school football game. We were able to find free tickets for our students so that they could attend ($3 per person is otherwise money they cannot spend). Jason, Orilus, and Jackson are coming, too. A simple way of helping our students to access a school community that would otherwise remain hidden, and probably unknown to them.

After the game, two of my colleagues and I will visit a few of our refugee students' homes. I think if Jesus were going to spend a holiday, this might be how he would do it...with strangers, extending welcome, a loaf of pumpkin bread, and a warm smile. In moments like first snowfalls and sitting on a student's floor surrounded by her family and drinking chai--I really, really love my job.

anniversary day

Today is the "official" one and half year anniversary of Orilus' transplant...from May 12, 2006 to November 12, 2007.

We couldn't have asked for a more beautiful weekend, a better celebration of our family. After Friday's happy visit to Jimmy Fund, we spent a fun morning together (in the freezing cold, 34-degree windy weather) at a nearby park with Orilus' classmates. Then, Orilus was off to his first sleepover at a friend's house--I have to say, I was a little choked up about it. From transplant to sleepovers in a year and a half...it's a lot for a mom to contemplate, I think. Jackson also had 2 friends spend the night here, and I enjoyed a yummy Indian dinner out with a friend. Sunday we had church and a quiet afternoon of LEGOs and cookie-baking and football on the street here at home. We were able to reconnect with some friends last night at their house for supper. It's strange, but after transplant, and after losing our best friends in Lynn (my sister and her husband, and the Brownes), we're just now re-building our lives socially, and remembering we can go out, and have people over. Today we had no plans, and so there was room for canning apple butter and baking fresh pumpkin (to freeze for us at Thanksgiving in pumpkin cheesecakes), and writing a letter or two, and hosting my in-laws for an impromptu early supper. A full, and happy weekend. Down time. Family time. Friends. Prayer and meaningful conversation together. I'm feeling centered on all that is important, and ready to start a week at school, gloves and hats in a big bag for all the refugee students I teach who are without.

Happy anniversary to us. Life is not easy, but there is beauty to behold in so many places. And now, I am off to close the evening with journaling, and prayer, and the opening pages of War and Peace (the new acclaimed translation). Emphasis on the Peace.

one-and-a-half years

That's right, friends, this month marks the one-and-a-half YEAR mark of Orilus' bone marrow transplant.

We commemorated this occassion with a visit to Jimmy Fund today. Though I well-remember the days in which Jimmy Fund filled me with dread (the long waits, the sick children, the nervousness of what-next), today I was filled instead with a glorious vision of all that God has done for our family. It was a take-a-step-back-and-SEE day. Being with doctors we have not seen (some of them, since pre-summer), and hearing them MARVEL at Orilus' progress...well, it made me wonder why I've not been marveling more.

Today, friends, Orilus is officially MEDICINE-FREE. He had continued to take a lone antibiotic these last many months, and he is totally done! For us, this is the ONLY time in Orilus' life since his adoption when he has been so free of medicines, and medical care (we don't report back to Jimmy Fund until our TWO-YEAR anniversary in May, and then probably just once a year thereafter). Wow. It's so hard to put into words what it means to see again the way our life used to be, and to bid it a joyful farewell. I told Dr. Lehmann and Dr. Trenor today that there are not really words to say "thank you" for getting a son with a new life, a life without 2 a.m. pain crises and visits to the ER. I got all teared up, though I've thanked them numerous times. How CAN I describe what that's like, to have a son who is pain-free, and HEALED? How is it that I so daily forget?

Dr. Lehmann shared with us about the progress in sickle cell medicine that Orilus' case is causing in the medical world. She has spoken in a LOT of places about his case, and the word is getting out that bone marrow transplants CAN CURE sickle cell disease. It's like she's on a new mission--to educate sickle cell parents that they DO have a choice. And to think that our son is the heart of that mission. To say it was a humbling experience--to reflect on all the pain of our son's life, and all the adjustments we have all had as a family, and the really dark times during transplant--and to SEE so clearly ONE of the MANY ways it is working good in another person's life. Completely humbling. Dr. Lehmann thinks that Orilus will have opportunities, if he wants them, to share his story with sickle cell groups in the area (his immediate response: "Really?!? When?!") How his magnamity filled me with joy! Purpose-filled lives, because our lives have been touched by others...a wonder of a ripple effect.

I really needed this reminder today, that God was at work in us, and is at work. We have been so often discouraged here at home in the last months--the boys both struggle in so many ways at times, and our parenting efforts are bumbling, and imperfect. Orilus and Jackson have so far to go. But today was a very clear reminder of HOW FAR they--and we--have come. How I wish I could see my children every day as clearly as I'm seeing them as I type these words!

We walked into Children's Hospital today, also, to return to 6 West to visit our nurse friends there. Walking through the doors, the familiar smell--Au Bon Pain croissants mingled with coats--and the tinkling sounds of the lobby...the transplant experience all came rushing back. How it used to be the smell of "home" for me, for 2 very long months, and how its smell could fill me with dread, or be a welcome relief from an isolated room. And I wanted to drop to my knees, and cry, and say, THANK YOU. Thank you to our doctors, for their wisdom, enthusiasm, and loving care. THANK YOU to our sons, for braving it all and giving me courage when I was lacking. An especially, especially THANK YOU to God, for answering the desire of my heart, and healing our little boy, and seeing us through.

It was as if a scar was re-opened on my heart today, and more completely, healed shut again.

One a half years. I really can't believe it. We have done a lot of living in one a half years. Praise be to our God, who has abounded in love and compassion, and shown us His grace. It's foolishness to me, how deep the healing love of God. I just know I have needed it, and am grateful to experience it again today. Good Father, thank You for remembering us in our very great weakness.

care for camden

I'd like to post this message from my sister, Becky, about the city in which they live (and work with vision and tenacity):

(from Becky) I wanted to spread the word: Tomorrow night (Friday, 11/9) at 10pm, Diane Sawyer will be airing her follow up 20/20 special on "Poverty in America". She focused on Camden, NJ and UrbanPromise Ministries, which is where my husband and I now live and where he works. Her efforts prompted "Extreme Makeover: Home Edition" to build a home for one of the Camden families featured. That show will air this Sunday, 11/11 at 8pm. I encourage all of you to take some time to watch (or DVR) both shows and ask you to add Camden to your prayer list. It's a city that is very dear to my heart and as Mike and I endeavour to spread the love of Christ here, we would covet your prayer covering.

Hope you'll tune in...Jason and the boys and I saw the house while we were visiting Camden a few weeks ago, and it's amazing. Amazing to see what people can do for one another. Hope you'll tune in to learn more about poverty right here in our own States (Camden is the poorest city in our nation), and to be inspired1

happy halloween

Last night our boys ventured out in the semi-darkness of 6 p.m. here in Lynn to trick or treat. Always an interesting experience in an urban setting, but we are near a beautiful waterfront neigborhood, and in the good ol' New England tradition, many adults were waiting near their doorways to ooh and aah over every costume. My favorite was an elderly gentleman down the street who promptly asked, "what trick will you do to me if I don't give you a treat?" and when the kids were too stunned to answer, showed them his own magic trick! Really fun.

The boys filled two of those cheese-y plastic jack-o-lanterns FULL with candy, and we hobbled home (Mom and Dad more tired than Orilus and Jackson, of course) a little after 7.

On a serious note, please remember the Oughton family as they have funeral services for Grace tomorrow. I called one of their friends in Viriginia tonight, and they think there were over 800-1000 people at the wake tonight. Wow. The influence of one very young, and very bright, life. That our own lives could cast such a lingering, and powerful, glow.

good-bye to Grace

Just wanted you all to know that yesterday, Grace's family bid her good-bye. As we say in the cancer world, Grace earned her angel's wings.

In her family's words:

Dear Friends and Family,
We can not believe that, after all the fighting Grace has done over the last two years, we must write what follows.
At 6:23 this morning, October 29th 2007, Grace Lindsay Oughton earned her wings and is at peace in the arms of the Lord. She fought much harder than we could have and we are so very proud of her. She was an inspiration to us and to so many others. She is our princess and our hero.
Fly Butterfly...Fly.



Please visit http://www.savegrace.com/ to show your support for this amazing family. Thank you to the many who have prayed with us for Grace this past year and a half; we are sorry to see her fight end in this way, and our hearts are with the Oughton family this week.

thanks for eating for eddie

We want to officially thank the MANY of you who came out Wednesday night to "Eat for Eddie." A colleague of mine commented on the beautiful, hopeful spirit of the evening; together, we created an atmosphere of JOY. Afterwards, Kori (Eddie's mom) and I talked around my kitchen table about the synergy of working with others, about how much good is accomplished when people come together. Thank you once again for being people, and friends, who care, even for people you do not know. Kori was truly touched, and I'm pleased that the event, and the donations many of you made without coming, raised nearly $2,500 for Eddie and his family. We're so grateful, as this will see the family through the holiday time and into the spring...and we hope by then for Eddie's return to school, and a healthy and normal life for them all.

Kori told me that the highlight of her evening were the 13 people who registered as bone marrow donors. THANK YOU for registering to save a life. For Kori and I, that alone made our event completely worth it.

Special thanks also to Tony Gallo Group, who added musical FUN to the night, and to Tatiana's, for hosting us.

We have spent a weekend recuperating from the event, and from a busy week. Friday night Jason and I went to see a movie, which we have had no desire to do in quite a while...we went to see "Dan in Real Life," which was a completely sweet and feel-good movie, just what I needed. Yesterday we spent a lovely afternoon at the Winchells house (Jason's folks), where we gathered to take a professional family portrait and to celebrate our 2 nephew's 4th birthdays. And today, after church, Orilus and Jackson were invited to a birthday party...and we ended up alone! How strange, this beginning of separation between us and our children, when they have their own schedules, and friends! But we shared a lovely afternoon together at Barnes and Noble as Jason worked on graduate work and grading, and I at journaling and reading. I truly needed a weekend like this to re-orient and rest, and I am grateful for it. Jason and I laughed so much this afternoon...laughed till we cried. It's so funny how an afternoon into our 11th year of marriage can feel rather like an afternoon in our 1st...and yet so much more history to it, so much more fullness.

I didn't get a chance to comment on last weekend, which was also awesome. Every year my sisters and I try to gather for our annual "sister retreat," and we had a BALL last weekend at Debby's condo in Cambridge. We took a professional portrait, and hung out at a mall, and did a Duck Tour, and talked and laughed. I really, really miss my sisters lately, with Becky living in New Jersey and Ginny in Vermont, and it was such a joy to be together with them. I wish we could do sister retreat every weekend. There is simply nothing like having a sister, and being loved by a sister. Man, do I love them.

So after weeks of tiredness, and some sickness, and much overwhelming, I think I'm on an upswing, and more ready to move into whatever this new season of life is, with school in full-swing, and my boys growing up, and Jason taking classes. It's been a harder adjustment than I thought, and though it's taken me until nearly November, I'm finally ready to embrace this school year, and the changes it has already brought. I'm re-affirming my faith that whatever life brings, God is here, and we are okay.

Much hope and peace to you all.
Missy

sweet grace

It's been a while since we've last written; I've been struggling with exhaustion and not feeling well. But today I read something that puts life back into perspective.

Some of you remember Grace, the beautiful little girl who lived next door to our room on the transplant floor. Sadly, her parents have taken her home to die; she is very unwell, and her disease (a very rare cancer) has spread and is beyond treatment. Please keep Grace and her family in your prayers this week as they find ways to say good-bye and to grieve. My heart goes out to them completely.

Others (and this seems so random at times) are bettering. Eddie, for example, is making some progress, very slow, but progress nonetheless. He's certainly excited for his event tomorrow--though he won't be there, he's been working hard to contribute to it, baking for the bake sale, and painting a work of art for our auction. :) We hope many of you will come out to Tatiana's tomorrow night to support him and his family. We're especially excited at the way our community of transplant friends is coming together tomorrow--a few families who've had bone marrow transplants will be there, as well as Eddie's nurse from 6 West. How cool.

And others are completely well. Orilus and Jackson are thriving (with the usual hiccups of misbehaviors common to 4th and 3rd graders). :) Both plan to attend tomorrow night, and are looking forward to celebrating with many of you a complete recovery, and hope for Eddie's complete recovery.

Looking forward to seeing you tomorrow night. As we celebrate, we will remember Grace, and remember again how much we are, all of us, in need of the gifts only God can give.

Grace of Jesus be with us all,
Melissa

eat for eddie

Dear Family and Friends,

Our family would like to invite you to come and eat with us. Join us in our Eat for Eddie event!On Wednesday, October 24th from 5 - 9 p.m., our family will join with Eddie's family at Tatiana's Restaurant (70 Market Street in Lynn) to raise money for Eddie's Fund. Tickets are $25 per adult ($5 for children) and include a meal (you'll get to choose from a varied and yummy event menu), a soft drink, and gratuity.

You'll also be treated to live jazz and pop music from Tony Gallo Group! Finally, our evening will include...
...a bone marrow donor registry...your chance to register as a potential bone marrow donor and save a life!
...a silent auction!
...a bake sale (featuring Eddie and Orilus' baking skills)!

We hope you'll consider coming to Tatiana's on the evening of the 24th; tickets will be available at the door. Proceeds from the event will benefit Eddie's Fund, established by our family to support Eddie, a seven-year-old North Shore boy we met while on the bone marrow transplant floor last year. Eddie continues to fight for good health, and Eddie's Fund provides the financial support and hope he needs to do just that. So come and eat...Eat for Eddie...and help to heal a young life.

Orilus and our family would LOVE to see you there!

If you cannot come but would like to donate to Eddie's Fund, send a check made out to Eddie's Fund to:
Eastern Bank
405 Paradise Road, B337
Swampscott, MA 01907

Thanks for supporting Eddie's Fund!
Melissa on behalf of Team Winchell and our buddy Eddie

when a 5K doesn't hurt

Some of you remember my attempts over a year ago to train for a half-marathon. While isolated on the transplant floor in May and June of 2006, I had decided to take up running--and did, in fact, run a (very painful) 3.5-mile race in Boston in June. But the race--and over-training--led to a serious injury that put me in physical therapy all last summer. I was pretty sure I would never run again (the ortho told me never over a mile, at least), and to cement my decision, I went back to swimming.

Well, kids change things. While I was training for that first race last June, Orilus was stuck in bed, or at least in his teeny room, on 6 West. He couldn't go outside. He couldn't run. He wasn't even usually free of a towering IV pole connected almost always to his chest. But watching me lace up my sneakers every day, he decided that he, too, wanted to run.

So what? Most kids want to run, right? But here's the thing: Orilus has never really run before, not in his entire life. Sickle cell disease prevented him from running for more than a couple minutes. Even these minutes left him breathless, his heart pounding uncontrollably, his body starved for oxygen its blood could not deliver. So for Orilus, running wasn't just a cute idea, it was a dream--a dream that his body could do what it had never done before.

I spent a lot of early mornings throughout last school year walking with Orilus, up and down our beach's boardwalk. I couldn't run, and at first, neither could he, so tired he was from chemotherapy still. But this summer, we both started running, just once or twice a week, in between my swim sessions, so as not to overdo it. He told me, and he told his Aunt Debby, that he wanted to run in a "real" race, and Aunt Debby (a much more experienced runner than me) promised to help us find him one.

And then one day in August, we saw an advertisement in our Lynn city paper for our city's "first annual" 5K. We decided to go for it, the three of us--Orilus, Aunt Debby, and me.

On Thursday night, we did just that. Along with my friend, Val, we ran the entire 5K without stopping. And despite recent injuries and sore muscles, the race didn't hurt. It didn't hurt one bit.

And now I know the runner's secret. If you want to feel as if you can run forever, then simply run next to an 11-year-old who believes he really can. Run next to an 11-year-old who went from unable-to-run to running-effortlessly-for-3.1-miles. Run next to an 11-year-old who chatted, and laughed, and practiced his Latin-root vocabulary words, and gave high 5's to onlookers, and waved at cars. Instead of counting the distance, and feeling every step, SEE the finish line, and ENJOY the pace.

What can I say? Both Debby and I decided afterwards that we had never had an experience like that one before. To run and feel so blessed, so full, so happy...to run and to know, really know, how much good health means, and how thankful we are for it.

You can see from the photo that Orilus took 2nd place in the 19-and-under category (he was 1 of only 2 runners under 19 years old, but he doesn't know that). You would have thought he won Olympic gold, he was so proud, holding up his arms in front of the entire crowd. I laughed, but really, I wanted to cry. Victory. He is well. Thanks be to God.

We visited his hematologist at Mass General on Friday, the day after the race (his hematologist, the one who saw him always at his sickest, and only when he was sick, and usually doped-out on morphine and STILL moaning for days in a hospital bed, the one we called frequently panicked at wee hours of the morning when a pain crisis would suddenly erupt). Orilus brought her his race trophy, and wore his race shirt for her to see, and she gaped at me, open-mouthed. "It's a miracle," this woman of science said. "Yes," I told her, "it is."

How not to feel pain while running? Witness a miracle while your legs move, and you won't feel a thing. Except joy, and thankfulness, and a deep humility for being able to keep up with a miracle-child.

back to school

Last Tuesday Team Winchell went back to school!

For the first time since their adoption, neither Orilus nor Jackson were excited to begin school this year. It's true that we are definitely a spoiled family in the summertimes--we are all home together, all summer, and we enjoy a togetherness and a level of bonding that many families don't get to experience in summertime. And, since this summer was so extraordinarily "over the top" (our Make-a-Wish trip, 2 trips to Kansas, time for camping in Vermont), I think we were ALL feeling sadness at seeing our first healthy summer come to a close.

Nevertheless, we all faced our first days of school. The boys experienced a half day on Tuesday, and full days Wednesday through Friday. They are third and fourth graders now, and with Jackson's tenth birthday at the end of this month, Jason and I are suddenly feeling like we have two much-older boys on our hands. Both boys enjoyed their teachers and friends, despite complaints that school is "a lot of work," and Orilus' comment after the first half day that he "needs a day off." Amusing. I think that both boys still struggle at times to understand why children in this country are required to spend so much time, and energy, on school. But they're adjusting. As Jackson told me last night in the car as we left his grandparents' house, he doesn't like the ending of things. And I think that goes especially for the ending of summer.

I explained to Jackson last night that endings bring beginnings, and much has begun in our lives in the last week. Jason is now taking three (!) graduate classes this semester in a rushed attempt to conform to our state's Department of Education, who decided that they were not, after all, happy with his MDiv degree. He's at class now Mondays, Tuesdays, and (most) Wednesdays. Orilus has decided to take hip hop dance classes, which begin this week. And Jackson is starting at a "real" gymnastics school this week, too, and is hoping to be doing back handsprings shortly (he's pretty close!). As for me, I've started me new job as a Curriculum Instruction Teacher (CIT) at the freshmen Academy of our high school (the freshmen were moved out to make room in our new building for the many repairs that are needed to keep it from sinking). It's been an interesting (read: rough, but by faith, I'm trying to anticipate many good things to come) adjustment to my new position, the new (actually, our old, building), and to my role as a co-teacher in 3 ESL content classrooms (math, science, and social studies). It's definitely a challenge, as many of my students are refugees from Burma, Thailand, Burundi, and Liberia, and our beginners this year are VERY beginning in English. But I love a challenge, and it's true that a part of my personality is to run quickly TOWARD challenge, to avoid boredom. I certainly won't be bored this year.

We have been trying hard to make more "room" in our lives for our increasingly busy schedule (Jason's classes, our boys lessons and schooling), and to that end, we have decided not to run Ripple Effect this year. We're taking a year-long "sabatical," partly, too, in an attempt to have time to pray, think, and talk about the many issues concerning us lately (how to create simplicity in our life, how to be mortgage-free, how to raise our kids more intentionaly, how to incorporate service in our family...). This year definitely marks a new season for us, then, in many ways.

This weekend we've spend trying to recuperate...to say that we were tired at the close of last week is an understatement. We've caught up on some sleep, spent some family time together, re-instated our date night "swaps" with another Lynn family, gone to church, and spent time with the extended Winchell family. I appreciate these slower-paced weekends when we connect with each other, with family, and with friends.

Tomorrow we're up again in the early morning hours for a new day of commuting (trying to figure out Jason's class schedule, and the boys' bus schedule, and lessons, with ONE car has been a challenge, but I think we've got it figured out), schooling, and homework-ing. Our first full week of school year 2007-2008 is upon us!

3-year anniversary

Though we returned from Kansas a week ago tomorrow, it's taken me a lot longer to "get back to life" here at home than I anticipated. I spent a couple days exhausted, and was completely obsessed for the first couple days with "settling" all things MeeMaw-related. This included unpacking the things I had shipped from her house to mine (mostly cosmetic jewelry and other very MeeMaw things), and creating a binder of ALL the letters I have sent to her since high school, all of which we found in MeeMaw's house. So strange to see my life in my own words, a chronicle of time....this was a particular gift that MeeMaw left to me.

There were other gifts, too, and it seems every day since I've returned home I've realized a new one. Time to spend re-connecting with family, including long-lost relatives in Kansas. A renewed relationship with my youngest sister. A time to re-connect with our sons after a too-commercialized and money-crazed previous week in Orlando. Some reminders about what Jason and I value, and some lengthy discussions since our time there about whether we are really livng out those values, and how that can happen in a very un-Kansas world like Lynn (how DOES a person model simplicity, or balance, or intention, or neighbor love, here?). Even in her death, MeeMaw gave to me. I miss her.

So we spent much of our weekend trying to slow down and be HOME. Saturday was actually the 3-year anniversary of our sons' homecoming, their adoption anniversary! We spent the day at the beach, and took the boys out for supper, and observed other traditions, such as reading the photo album/story of their homecoming that I had created for them years ago. Mostly I feel like, it's ONLY been 3 years?! When has my life NOT included Orilus and Jackson? But then when I read writing from back then (such as the letters I wrote to MeeMaw during the first very difficult months of their adjustment), I remember how far we have come. I feel very grateful.

This week we're continuing to collect our bearings...finally went grocery shopping, and still have yet to clean our house since ??? ...and beginning the rhythms of back-to-school (I'm doing some teacher training this week, and we're helping the boys to complete summer reading projects, and filling out school paperwork). Familiar rhythms, and yet the fact that we have done this--ALL prepared for a September start of school--only ONCE in 3 previous school-year starts, is meaningful. The boys are home, and adjusted. And they are healthy. And for only the second time, we are all ready to begin at the beginning of a school year.

Just got home moments ago from a bike ride with the boys, and as we biked the length of Nahant Beach, I thought, "here is what we did not have last summer...freedom." It's been JOY to explore the world this summer, but mostly it's been joy to see Oriluls and Jackson living a summer as boys should--free of central lines, and medications, and restrictions.

We all begin school on Tuesday, and we do so with thankful and happy hearts.

Happy 3-year (and countless life experiences) anniversary to Team Winchell.

for MeeMaw

(a re-written obituary which I read at the funeral on Saturday)

MeeMaw Kerr Wilcox, 92 years old, of Pratt, Kansas, died August 13, 2007. She was born a long time ago (what is 2007 minus 92 again?), but to her grandchildren, she was young at heart. Remembered for her stories of tomboyish childhood adventures (including tree climbing and horseback riding), she was nevertheless a fan of feminine pink, Avon perfume, and beaded costume necklaces. An avid reader and word puzzler, she loved raisin cream pie, spaghetti, Pizza Hut pizza, and hot dogs. While other grandmothers are known for being a bit out of touch, MeeMaw will be remembered for the way she leaned forward with a twinkle in her eyes to inquire after a granddaughter’s newest boyfriend, or latest trip abroad, or most recent career change. A good listener and her grandaughters’ greatest cheerleader, she encouraged them with phrases such as “my little sunshine” and “God’s been so good to us, hasn’t He?”

Receiving her education in the School of Hard Knocks, MeeMaw passed on to her granddaughters an iron will. A single mom for a part of her life, she imparted to her girls the values of hard work, financial independence, and a trust—actually, a desperate need—for Jesus. And she taught them, too, to never, ever give up on earthly love, proving that deep friendship, spiritual partnerships, and romance were possible until one’s dying day.

Lacking academic degrees, she encouraged her granddaughters to appreciate and seize opportunities she never had, including college, missions trips, musical education, and leadership opportunities. And she modeled a truer meaning of success, storing up for herself honors in heaven, including a belief in the goodness of God and a spiritual gift of service. She was an intercessor, spending hours in prayer as a guardian angel to each of her granddaughters. A lover of Jesus, she hoped for heaven, talking often of her joyful anticipation of her homecoming. “As a girl,” she told her granddaughter, “I used to get in trouble with my dad a lot for running outside and climbing trees when I was supposed to be helping my mother and sisters with the chores. ‘Get back in here,’ he would say, ‘you can play when your work is finished.’ That is what heaven will be. The Father will tell me, ‘Pearl, your work is finished. Your chores are done. Now come on outside, climb a tree, and play.”

And so MeeMaw leaves survivors, among them four granddaughters who miss her terribly today, and can’t see missing her any less on any other. But they comfort themselves with this hope—someday, they will hear MeeMaw’s Heavenly Father say, “Come outside and play,” and they will look up and see a big leafy tree in heaven, with MeeMaw perched way up near the top, grinning and winking mischievously down at them. “Girls,” she’ll say, “it’s real nice to see you. We’re not in Kansas anymore.”

home again...sort of

A quick post to let you know that last night we arrived home safely from our Make-A-Wish trip to Florida. We enjoyed a FUN time there, and are very grateful to the Make-A-Wish foundation for our all-expenses-paid week in the theme parks (Disney, Sea World, AND Universal...whew!)and at their resort. I hope to post more about that in future posts, and to share our silly photos with you.

In sad news, though, we woke up this morning to news that my MeeMaw (my dad's mom, in Kansas) passed away very early this morning. The news was expected, but very sad nonetheless. So Team Winchell will take to the skies (again) to return to Kansas for my grandmother's funeral, the cleaning of her house, and time with my dad and other family. When we visited there in early July, my grandmother spoke often of being "ready to go," and so her passing is not without a sense of relief, too, and a certain joy at her faith and the willing attitude with which she approached all of her life, and her death. My MeeMaw had a very special place in my own heart, as I spoke with her frequently on the phone and wrote to her often over the years, and I will miss her greatly as a woman who was committed to encouraging me since my birth in prayer and in frequent conversation.

Thanks for your continued prayers for our family. This week, we celebrate life--Orilus' new health, and our pain-free journey to Disney (such a contrast to our trip a year and a half ago, when he was wheelchair bound)--and are also reminded of the eventual and inevitable failure of our mortal bodies.

Today I'm remembering my MeeMaw's words to me on the subject of death: When all our work on earth is done, God calls us to "come outside and play," and we leave the house of our work laughing and with great joy.

Honored to have known a woman who loved God's work--and understood His laughing joy--for all of her nearly 93 years,
Melissa

home from South Africa

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(I'm still trying to figure out how to put photos into the blog; not sure why they are all at the top...will figure this out next time. In any case, the photos are: Val and I at the Indian Ocean, a view of the Drakensberg Mountains bordering Lesotho, Val and I riding in the back of a "bakkie" leaving the Tribal Council building of a rural village)

Dear Family and Friends,

I arrived home from South Africa on Tuesday afternoon, and after a day spent doing laundry and getting caught up on all my family's news and plans, I'm finding time this morning to (finally) update you all.

Thank you so much for your prayers for me while I was away! Val, Mary (her mom), and I enjoyed good health and many blessed moments during our last week of our trip. We did fly


successfully from Durban to Cape Town last Monday, coming in after a cold front settled on the area. The duration of our trip in Cape Town and in the Paarl Valley was cold (down to freezing temperatures at night!) and rainy--it rained from Monday until our departure a week later. Talk about challenging ALL our pre-conceptions of "Africa."

In fact, the trip was exactly that--an opening of the mind, and a study in contrasts. The weather (warm and sunny in one city, cold and rainy in another), the land (grassland, mountains, beaches), the people (so many cultures--Zulu, white Afrikans-speaking, Indian), the neighborhoods (rural villages, booming cities, expansive townships). I am so thankful that we had the opportunity to see so many parts of the country, to experience so many cultures and ways of living and thinking.

Our final week in Cape Town and the Paarl Valley was lovely, despite the rain. We visited with the University of Cape Town from Monday through Wednesday (of last week), and had a lot of time on our own (which we spent, since it was raining so heavily....in the MALL, of all places...I kept telling Val that I had been in more malls in South Africa then in the entire last year of my life here in the States...one benefit, though, was that we were able to see an extraordinary documentary on HIV/AIDS in South Africa, which we enjoyed). On Wednesday we went about an hour outside of Cape Town to the Paarl Valley, a beautiful wineland area dotted with quaint small towns. There, we stayed in a gorgeous bed and breakfast owned by some of Val's friends, missioners with an NGO called Monte Cristo Ministries. We had five days or so to meet the staff of MCM--adults from the United States supporting South African staff from a variety of communities (a black township, a colored neighborhood, a white Afrikanner farm). MCM is involved in the Paarl community in a number of ways--food distribution, sports mentoring programs, youth leadership development, hospice care for HIV-infected children--it was extraordinary to see such a young organization doing so much, and building so many relationships in the community. As was Val's hope, there are some possibilities there for a partnership between Gordon College and MCM, so that was an exciting discovery, too.

We left from the Cape Town airport on Monday evening, flew all night to London, endured a 4-hour layover, and came on home to Boston by 1:45 pm (Boston time)--over 30 hours of travel time total. Val and I came home with sore backs (we're getting old!), but otherwise in good spirits. I can't tell you what a JOY it was to see my family...I missed them terribly, especially in the last few days of our trip.

What's next? Probably the highlight of Orilus and Jackson's summer. On Monday we're off (in a limo to the airport, no less) for a Make-a-Wish trip to Disney World! Orilus received a "wish" following his transplant, and this was it, and we are so thankful for this free and well-deserved vacation together. We have a LOT to celebrate!

In other news...I want you to know that we have continued to follow Eddie and his family, and continue to use the money you donated to Eddie's Fund to help his family pay for monthy bills. I talked with Kori yesterday and Eddie continues to be home, but with a LOT of trips to Jimmy Fund, and he's really wrestling with GVH (rejection disease) and other complications. Please pray for a full recovery for him, and encouragement for them all. And THANK YOU for donating to Eddie's Fund....as their process continues to go on longer than anyone anticipated, we may do some fundraisers for the Fund as well, to try to continue to support them as they press on. Keep them all in your prayers!

Also, be praying for my grandma in Kansas, my MeeMaw. She's quite unwell this past month, and I'm very concerned for her.

Finally, Jason is riding to raise money for Jimmy Fund this Sunday! If you'd like to donate to his ride (and to Jimmy Fund), you can do so at http://www.pmc.org/ ID number 52547-5 We're all going to cheer him on Sunday morning!

We're all well (Jason did a FANTASTIC job as "dad" while I was gone, and the boys are well). Blessings to each of you for your love for our family, and continued care.

Love to you all,
Missy

from Durban

Dear Family and Friends,

Hello again from South Africa! As you can tell, we don't have a lot of opportunity here to get on a computer, and I have but a few short minutes before my time runs out at the Internet cafe. I'm now in Durban, a beach city along the Indian Ocean, and want you all to know that I am safe, healthy, and well.

We just spent an extraordinary five days in the Drakensberg Mountaings (between here and Joberg, near Losotho), observing community initiatives in Zulu villages there. We were able to meet many extraordinary missioners and members of the Zulu community, working together in all kinds of situations--youth empowerment through microfinance, HIV home hospice care, a beading industry for local women. It was extraordinary, really, and inspiring. I was particularly blessed by our hosts, the Borgmans, who shared their beautiful home and awe-inspiring view of the mountains with us, as well as their lives and faith. As a particular treat, we were also able to go horseback riding through a game park; amazing to be so near to herds of zebras and giraffes!

Tomorrow morning we leave Durban by airplane for Cape Town, a 2-hour flight west to the Atlantic side of the country. There, we will observe the work of a non-profit run out of the University of Cape Town, and then travel with Val's friends a bit outside the city to Paarl (wine country) to observe a ministry there that works with youth through sports and camp. Next Monday, we'll begin the long trek home to Boston!

Thanks for your continued prayers for us. I've been a bit more homesick this weekend than before, but am greatly encouraged in God and in the many here for whom reconcliliation and hope are practical, and intentional.

I miss you all, especially my husband and boys (and my sisters...congrats on your job, Bex!). Prayers for you all.

Love to you from Durban,
Missy

greetings from Africa

Dear Family and Friends,

I've made it to South Africa! We arrived yesterday at 9:30 am South African time (which is 6 hours ahead of those of you on the East Cost of the U.S.). After a lengthy line through immigration and customs, we were greeted very warmly by Val's friend, Lena, and her friend, Robin. They drove us out of Johannesberg abuot 30 minutes to a smaller city just north, Pretoria. We're staying now in Robin's lovely home (Lena and her husband, Moses, are just up the street) in Pretoria. I hadn't slept even one minutes one minute on either of our flights yesterday (I don't sleep well when travelling), so I was quite tired, but awake enough to appreciate the hospitality we received from Robin, who had never met any of us before. It was like meeting long-time friends.

After a much-needed one-hour nap yesterday, we set out to see some of Pretoria. Our first stop? The mall! Talk about destroying any pre-conceptions of "Africa" I may have had! :) We exchanged our dolalrs for rand there (1 dollar=7 rand), shopped a bit, and then drove to the top of the valley in which Pretoria sets to visit the gardens around the legislative building for the entire country. Beautiful, and breathtaking views of the city. After a dinner of chicken curry, we headed quickly to bed, as we were all tired--I had only 1 hour of sleep in almost 36 hours, so it was getting painful to stay awake at that point.

Today we've spent a lovely day seeing more of Pretoria. Lena, Moses, and Robin took us to a township nearby; those of you unfamiliar with SA history should know that during apartheid (late 1940's - 1994), African blacks were forced to live in townships away from African whites. Much has changed in South Africa in just the last decade or so, but townships remain (though they are no longer mandated by law), as do squatter settlements, which we also passed. There is rich history here, friends, and to hear our hosts (Lena and Moses are black, and Robin is white) talking openly about race, about reconciliation, and about hope for the country is a humblinh experience that is certainly broadening my faith and perspective. We visited a market and stopped for lunch (spicy chicken and rice for me!), and we are preparing in a few moments to attend a traditional South African braai (prounounced "brie"), a barbeque, at the home of another friend of Val's.

So I should get going. But I wanted to thank you for your prayers--the flight here WAS long, and sleepless, and last night I awoke at 3 am feeling panicked and not knowing why. But I was grateful again to be able to pray, and to experience as I have so many times this year, the peace of Christ, and to rest knowing that others, too, were praying for me. Tomorrow we will attend church with our new friends, and Monday we will take an early morning bus (6 a.m.) for six hours to Ubuntu Partners, a ministry between here and Durban that is involved in all kinds of community development, including an AIDS orphanage and micro-enterprises. At times I struggle to comprehened how I am here, and to tink about my family so far away, and at other times am so excited to think of the all the people we will meet, and the opportunities to learn I will have. Already, in just 24 hours here, I have learned so much.

Please continue to pray for our safety and protection. And pray, also, that I will have moments for connecting with God, and finding again a deep rest and solace in Him. I hope my life, and my faith, will be very much stretched and encouraged by my time here.

I will post again when I can. Love to you all, from Africa, and especially to Jason and my boys. I really miss you.

Blessings,
Missy

moving forward

Dear Family and Friends,

Welcome to the Team Winchell blog! Our blog is an attempt to stay connected with many of you who have followed our family's unfolding transplant story this past year, and to remain in touch especially with family and dear friends who live far away from us. But the blog is also a celebration, a rite of passage, a sign that we, as a family, are moving on. We are leaving behind transplant year and moving into a new year, a new beginning. We are leaving behind our Care Page, and leaving behind the medical updates. We are casting off the fears of last year, and the stresses, and the worries...and we are celebrating with thankful hearts ALL that our good God has done for us.

I have thought often of Lot's wife in the last two months. Many of you know the biblical narrative--she was turned to a pillar of salt for looking back at her city after she was told to flee its destruction. I always felt sympathy for her, honestly; I doubt in her shoes that I would have had strength to do differently but to look longingly at my home and my history. But lately the story has been a challenge to me, a calling to leave the year behind. To surrender. For a while I struggled to get my mind around the year, and sometimes the scarier moments--moments that were too terrifying to write down, even in my journal--would flash back and leave me in tears or haunt my sleep. Then I thought of Lot's wife, of the terror that was befalling her home, and the terror she must have felt--the way her mind, too, must have been struggling to try to make sense of it all. And she made a crucial choice, I think, a choice I didn't understand until this last month, when I had to make it for myself. And the choice is: do I try to make sense of the senseless on my own, or to trust that God is working all things together for good, just as He said He would? Will I look, with frightened eyes, or will I SEE, with faith? Will I turn around to bask in fear, or will I walk forward, in love?

And so, my friends, Team Winchell is moving on. A year of great pain is behind us, though it was not without wonders of grace and miracles of provision. And so we rejoice, for all that God did for us, and for all we can trust Him still to do on our behalf. How we are deserving of such amazing love I cannot grasp. And so I just walk on.

So far our summer has been full of movings-ons. We traveled as a family to Kansas two weeks ago to visit with my dad, his wife, and my grandmother. What a JOY it was to re-connect with family, and to re-connect with family history there; we don't get to see my Kansas family often enough, and we had a lot of fun together with them (though I'm afraid we may have tired them out!). We visited Wal-mart and Sonic a lot (not a whole lot to do in Kansas!), visited a raptor center about which the boys are still talking, and spent some quality time with family, and my very special MeeMaw. I can only pray that I live long enough to see my great-grandchildren, as she has. It was a special joy to reconnect with her again after 2 1/2 years.

After one day of recuperating (on July 4th), we ventured north to Burlington, Vermont to camp with my sister, Ginny, her husband, Matt, and my mom. What a fun time we had! It rained a ton, but we fit in a kayaking expedition (though Jason and I were worn out a bit paddling tandem kayaks with novice children in them!), some time at the beach, and LOTS of time huddled around a campfire (mmmm, S'mores). It was particularly special for Jason and me to share our love of camping and the outdoors with our sons (finally!). Previously, when Orilus had sickle cell, he couldn't sleep outside, swim in lakes or the ocean, kayak....it was a CELEBRATION to be together, and to have fun together, after our hard-fought year back to health! Special thanks to my mom and my sister for feeding us and organizing things.

We returned from Vermont on Sunday and have spent the days putting away our camping stuff (everything was soggy, and I must have done 8 loads of laundry Sunday night) and getting outside together. Today we played hours of baseball near the beach with Orilus and Jackson's friend, Joseph...the boys are trying to teach Mum (that's me) to throw in a way other than "like a girl" (which involves a silly wrist action I still struggle to overcome). sigh. Always time for learning new things. We also biked today, and got some sun (despite the clouds).

On Thursday, as many of you know, I leave for South Africa! If I can, I will post from there and update you on my travels. I'll be going with my friend, Val, and her mom, visiting a number of organizations, ministries, and a university in the hopes of designing a summer service learning experience for Gordon College students, beginning next summer. Please keep me in your prayers as I travel, observe, serve, and learn; and pray for the rest of Team Winchell as they stay home (and go to a summer day camp, and visit the beach almost daily, and go to gymnastics lessons, which they are both now taking, and...)

Celebrate with us, friends! A new beginning! Summer is Team Winchell break-out time, it feels. :)

Our warmest love to all of you who have seen us through this year, and sent gifts and messages and your love. We are so grateful, and we step forward only because you kept us walking until we crossed the transplant "finish line." Thanks, dudes.

Love to you all,
Missy