In 5 days...

By Hannah Hottle

And just like that… my wedding is 5 days away. 

The past year has proved time can move so fast, yet so slow all at the same time. It seems like I just got engaged, yet so much has changed in my life since then. 

I am thrilled, beyond excited, to marry Keenan Cave. I think I am most excited to officially make him my family, a role that he has certainly played and played well for over 4 years. I am so incredibly thankful Mom got the chance to know Keenan. She loved him, loved his accent, loved having him around. She would always say, “Keenan is good for me.” She got a real kick out of the way he teases me and she loved the sound of him playing her dad’s old Gibson. As I walk down the aisle in 5 short days, I am completely assured that Mom is pleased that I will be walking toward Keenan. 

Anyone who knew my mom, knew she was the strongest, most faithful woman. Her positivity was contagious. It was really something to behold. I think about that now that it's all over--how hard it must have been to remain positive. Or, that maybe for her it just came naturally. She maintained a sense of peace in the darkest and most trying times. This is a characteristic I do not naturally possess, but I’m working on it. This wedding planning process has been difficult in so many ways. There was a period where I wallowed around, unable to think about what is about to happen in 5 short days. But with God and Mom’s help, I am heading into this day with the same positivity mom brought to her life. I am happy. And I am thankful. 

I think one of the hardest parts is knowing how badly she wanted to be there. My wedding Pinterest page is filled with things she's pinned. Her computer history was filled with weeks and weeks of searches for mother of the bride dresses. We passed the time at chemo, looking up dresses and flowers and decorations. I still have visions of her in my mind beaming with pride at my wedding, wearing a sparkly dress and rocking an awesome hairstyle. I looked forward to watching her and Dad dance together, just one day after their 33rd wedding anniversary. I've had to mentally unweave these images, these assumptions that she would be there, from my mind.

I think maybe there is a general belief that when a person has cancer, it is expected they will die. This is not true. I’m going to say this again…. when a person passes away from cancer, do not assume it was expected. Mom’s passing certainly was not something any of us saw coming. Maybe we were naive, maybe we had not been properly informed by her doctors, or maybe her smile masked the truth as to what was happening. 

When choosing a wedding date, June 3rd is what we decided upon. It seemed right for us for so many reasons. Mom wanted that too. Honestly, she wanted a few months after chemo had resumed to pull herself together-- to be able to eat without wanting to vomit, to have some hair on her head, to hopefully shake the immense fatigue that rendered her unable to stay awake past 8 o'clock. It was a discussion we had together. Now in hindsight, I wish it would have been different, but I wish a lot of things were different. 

So June 3rd. Here we come. 

I miss you, Mom. I would give anything to have you here, holding my hand as I start this new chapter of my life. I would give anything to be able to have you zip up my dress. I would give anything to bust a move with you out on the dance floor. I pray I feel you close on Saturday. I pray that God grants me the same peace he gave to you, the same joy and laughter and happiness.

You would want this to be a happy day. So it will be. 

You would want this day to be about Keenan and me. So it will be. 

You would want us all to continue and make this a special day. So we will. 

But, I want you to know you are never forgotten. I hope you know how great of a job you did here— that your strength and courage and scrappiness did not go unnoticed. You were the absolute greatest mom. You alone are my strength to get down the aisle on Saturday. I am tapping into some of your super woman strength and trying to be like you. I hope you know how much you are so incredibly loved, that I think of you every day, every hour, every minute. And I will continue on, even though it’s hard and even though sometimes I don’t want to, because that’s what you would want and that’s what you did. You picked yourself up, put your makeup and a smile on your face and continued. I hope I make you proud, as your daughter and as I take on this new role of a wife. 

I love you so much Mom. 

Finding good news in the dust

This is the first year I haven't exchanged ash selfies with my mom. This was one of her favorite Christian days. So this year I am thankful for the woman who always heard "dust to dust" as good news. She didn't need ashes to remind her of her mortality, her body did that well enough. For her, the ashes were a promise. Ash to ash, dust to dust. A mantra assuring her that she wasn't alone in this journey, that we are all traveling through the "to," even if hers was a faster journey.

She was upset last year when she was unable to go to church because she was sick. But she got her ashes anyway, by the hands of a friend who came over and marked her after worship. The promise is true. The dust is good news. We are traveling the same journey, and we don't have to do it alone.

We were going to have a party...

We were going to have a party.

It was going to be for you.

You didn't know about our plans. 

We were going to rent a space. And invite your friends to help. 

We were going to ask everyone to wear something sparkly. Something with sequins or glitter. But nothing pink. We're done with pink. 

We were going to have food. Probably pizza and salads, because that's what you've liked best this year. And we were going to have mocktails. Something fizzy, and pretty, without the booze that might hurt your fragile liver. 

We were going to have a party, and it was going to be tonight.

We weren't going to tell you. Let it be a surprise. One year ago you stayed with Hallie, on an air mattress, in her new home in Kansas City after helping her to move. You were sick, and Hallie stayed up all night listening to your cough and praying it didn't mean what she thought it meant. And the next day, on January 1, you got onto a train that took you straight to the emergency room, and told us the news that verified what we knew and had prayed against. 

So it would only be appropriate that after this year, this hard year, this beautiful year, that you be celebrated. You, for your bravery, and your strength, and your smile that didn't cease - even when it should have. 

We were going to have a party. Like all those you threw for us. With matching decorations and a theme of glitter. 

And so we're going to have a party. And we're going to toast to you. For your bravery. And your strength. And your smile that still didn't cease as you left us to go home. We wish that you could be here, and know that you will be, but differently.

We are going to have a party. It's going to be for you. 

Our cup runneth over...

In December of 2009 Buff painted his shoes pink, we all donned shirts that stated "I wear pink for my mom/sister/daughter/friend...," and we gathered with many of you all at the American Legion for a benefit for Tammi.

It was a hard thing for her to do, but those were the days before the Affordable Care Act, where parts of her life-sustaining treatment could be and were denied by her insurance. Facing an enormous medical debt, she consented to one of her greatest cheerleaders, Angela, who wanted to throw a party for her. And party we did!

In the days after the event, I remember Tammi quoting Psalm 23 over and over again. She kept saying, "my cup runneth over...my cup runneth over..." She was overcome with emotion seeing so many people coming to celebrate her, to love on her, to give to her. Tammi was much more comfortable as the giver of care, than being the receiver. 

So I know that this week Tammi would have been completely overwhelmed by the sight of so many of you, accessorized in sparkle, at Faith Church to celebrate her life.  I can even hear her amused, slightly embarrassed, giddy laugh as the pews filled. And echoing in my mind are the words she used those years ago, "my cup runneth over." 

We wish it didn't. We wish there were no cards stacked on the table, and no flowers to fill the house. We wish we weren't still pulling glitter out of our hair from bedazzling her urn and sparkling her photo frames. We wish that tonight we were throwing the party we had planned, to celebrate Tammi's one year anniversary of living with this diagnosis. 

But this is where we are instead. And if we have to walk through this valley, we are incredibly grateful we aren't doing it alone. We are grateful that the woman who loved you all so much is being celebrated and remembered in love herself. We are incredibly grateful for your generosity, your love, your stories of Saint Tammi. 

Thank you's will come eventually, and until then, we pray you know how incredibly grateful we are. So throw some extra sparkle around tonight, and cheers the coming of a new year. And while you do, give thanks for those you love, knowing we're giving thanks for you. 

Accessorize with Sparkle

Our mom taught us many things. But chief among them, especially over this past year, is that you can never have to much glitter. It's as if while the darkness grew stronger, she reached for light in any way she could. And if you're trying to shine, why not sparkle too?

Over this past week we found mom's glitter stock pile, and added some of our own, and did the things she would want us to do - covered everything we could in the sparkling mess. 

So today for mom's memorial service, we invite you to wear something glittery. Black for our mourning is appropriate, but accessorize with sparkle as we bear witness to the light. 

Fellowship Hall will be filled photos of mom's life after her service. Stay a while to look, write down some of your own memories with her, eat, and comfort one another. 

Today will be hard for us, but not for her. So we enter today grateful her pain is gone, and her eternal sparkle is obtained.

Goodbye

She fought the fight. She finished the race. She kept the faith. From now on, she has reserved for her the crown of righteousness, surely covered in glitter, and rests in God until the day of resurrection. 

After eight years of gracefully and bravely living with cancer, Tammi completed her journey on December 16th, at 1 am, surrounded by her parents, her sister, her three children and their spouses, and held by her husband until she took her last breath. She endured every treatment possible, facing pain with a smile, all in order to buy some extra days with her family and friends, the thing she valued most. And when medicine was no longer an option, her family chose mercy, allowing her to rest while she ventured to her Lord. 

In her last hours her kids found her phone, and turned on her favorite playlist. The music that sung her to sleep in these last weeks did so again for the last time. Her phone sang of Amazing Grace, and wondered How Great Is Our God, and begged Don't Cry For Me Down Here, and promised Emmanuel would come. Even in her death, she managed to care for us, assuring us that she knew where she was going, and would be okay. 

So while we can't help the tears, we are also trying hard to remember all that Tammi taught us in life and in her death. To not be worried. To not let go of one another. To know that God is bigger than all trouble we may face. And to always know that the light shines in the darkness, and if you can see it, even sparkles in the darkness, and the darkness can't overcome it. 

Friends, Tammi loved you all, so very much. Mourn her in all the ways you must. But never stop looking for the light, and helping to be part of it's sparkling in all that you do. That is how St. Tammi would want it to be. Amen. 

Happy Birthday, Mom!

Tammi Hottle, turning 57 and making it look good, 11.7.16.

We made it. We made it to November 7th, the day we can never remember because Dalton's birthday is on the 6th and it's easy to confuse. We made it. And we all tried to help you make it here, but mostly, you helped us. 

You made it here by waking up every morning, or sometimes every afternoon, and moving at least from your bed to the chair. By eating when you didn't want to eat. By swallowing the pills you didn't feel like taking. By visiting with friends you don't remember conversations with (chemo brain), but remember the love of.

You made it here by shaving your head without any fanfare this time. By finding a way to make sweat pants look good. By allowing yourself to succumb to the hard things, to avoid the worse things. 

You made it here by dragging yourself to the truck, with dad's help, every Tuesday for those appointments. By letting the chemo do what chemo does, and finding some thankfulness in the pain. 

You made it here by visiting your kids with oxygen tanks and bags of pills and drain-emptying medical equipment in tow. By modeling for the world that life, even at its hardest, must be lived.

You made it here by noticing when you were having a "good day," and rejoicing in that. By taking walks to the park that at first seemed impossible, and now seem inevitable. By reminding us all that days cannot be taken for granted, and that when good days are too distant, good moments will do.

You made it here by waking from much needed sleep, when you didn't need to, to greet your children after their long drives home to be with you. By pretending with minimal success to feel better than you did. By being honest in your fear, and in your faith.

You made it here by greeting each morning acknowledging, "I'm not dying today!" And letting that be enough. 

You made it here with big salads, and an adventure with eye lashes, and heartache, and Mumble, and with more faith than you knew you had, and with more power than you knew you had, and with medicine, and with mercy. And by your making it here, you've brought us along too, and have taught us things we wish we didn't have to learn all together, but are forever indebted to you for. 

So mom, this year for your birthday, we are celebrating your re-birth-day too. We hope you know how grateful we are that you were born, and born again, and again. We hope you know that we see how much you've overcome, and that we stand in awe. We hope you feel like the superwoman we know you to be. And we hope you continue to sparkle in the face of darkness, having taught us always to do the same.

Happy birthday, mom. You've earned this one. And we are so glad. 

Send Tammi a birthday note below! 

Celebration as Protest

I have come to believe that the greatest protest to the evil of our world is simply the undeterred celebration of what is good. The darkness has no chance of success when the light insists on shining.

So perhaps the greatest "buzz off" to cancer comes in the celebration of birthdays that remained unpredictable months ago. 

Continue to run and to speak and to pray and to donate. Continue to lobby for healthcare that is fair and research that is good. 

But always and often, celebrate the birthdays of those you love. May the balloons be plentiful, and the cake be too big, may the gifts come in the form of friends and extra days granted, and may the words "Happy Birthday" stand in defiance of those who wondered if birth was possible again. 

Friends, celebrate the birthdays of those you love, and be grateful.

The Tree Blooms...

We weren't sure this last January whether or not this tree would bloom again. It was pretty bare. 

Today, the tree is blooming again. The leaves aren't as full as they used to be. But they're there. Life continues. Life flourishes. We're so grateful.

We would not be rejoicing today with the grace of doctors who have worked diligently. And without God who has been present mercifully. There is no doubt that both have been present in order to get us here. 

There is no way for us to appropriately say "thank you" for praying and supporting Tammi through these past 207 days. So we say THANK YOU as loud as we can. And we keep you in our prayers. If there is something in particular we can pray for you for, please write and let us know. Prayer is powerful. Resurrection is possible. Even bare trees can grow new leaves again. Friends, God, Thank you.

Hallie's Installation

Hallie started her new call at Village Presbyterian Church in Kansas City, MO on the same day Tammi was diagnosed. Hallie was supposed to be "installed" to be made official in her call, but wanted to wait until Tammi was maybe healthy enough to come and participate. At the end of June, she was able to do just that!

All the family was able to travel to Kansas City for the weekend. Since Tammi is a Ruling Elder in her presbyterian church in Monmouth, she was able to be part of Hallie's Installation Commission.

This moment when Hallie was prayed for by all the attending elders and deacons, holding the hand of her mom who has held her in prayer since the day she was born was the most holy of the night. 

Miracles abound, if we have eyes to see. We are grateful for the miracles. God, we see. 

Happy Mother's Day!

Full disclosure: We, Tammi's kids, are not great at Mother's Day. We never forget it, but we don't always fully embrace the day as perhaps Tammi would like. One year, our gifts all arrived late and we didn't even call her on Mother's Day morning, and she was none too happy with us. (Which is always kind of funny, because she's rarely unhappy with us...you know, Saint Tammi.)

But these days, these silly days that we celebrate out of love but also obligation, these days become more important when you begin to count how many of them you will have. We expect many more. But the weight of the counting is great. 

And so this year we celebrated. With a combined 13 hours of driving to get home, with 6 dogs and too much pizza, we celebrated. With gifts of hats and stick on eyebrows, we celebrated. In complete gratitude, we celebrated. 

Happy Mother's Day mom, we love you.

Happy Mother's Day grandma, we would be lost without you.

Happy Mother's Day aunt Vicki, we need your laughter and levity. 

Happy Mother's Day to our mom who has been and is still being the best mom ever, whose strength we can only hope for, whose resilience we pray to own a piece of, whose empathy we couldn't be us without. And Happy Mother's Day to the women who hold her up through this time. We are greater because of you. And the world is greater because of you. And our gratitude overflows. 

Happy Mother's Day, mom. Thanks for being ours.

Thank you Miami Shores Presbyterian!

When Tammi and Buff arrived in Kansas City on Maundy Thursday, a package arrived too. It came from Miami, addressed to Hallie, but meant for Tammi. They couldn't have known Tammi was arriving that day. But that's just how God works sometimes.

So we opened the package to find a beautifully knitted prayer shawl, from the women of MSPC. 

For this woman who is now always freezing, there couldn't be a more thoughtful gift. It came with cards and notes from staff and church members, praying and caring for Hallie and Tammi through this time.

For a church family that spans Monmouth, Kansas City, Miami, and beyond, we are grateful.

Thank you MSPC!!

Tammi Travels, again!

She got a taste of taking a road trip, and now we can't keep her home!

The week after Tammi and Buff visited Hallie and Nick for Easter, they traveled the other direction to stay with Hannah and Keenan while they watched Dalton play baseball in Indianapolis. 

Nothing can keep Tammi from watching her boy play baseball! 

For all the years she embarrassingly yelled "All balls out!" as motivation to Hannah and Dalton's sports teams, she's following her own advice and giving her all to keep up with her kids.

For that, we are endlessly grateful

The Easter Bunny came!

We know that our mom loves and misses all of us. But she REALLY misses Dalton.

Dalton is her baby, and while she's super proud of everything he's doing in college, she misses him.

So Dalton and Hallie conspired a few weeks ago to see if we could get Dalton to Kansas City for Easter. He had games all Easter weekend (baseball teams, it's Easter, give it a rest...), and wouldn't be done until Saturday evening. 

As the day approached, Hallie got nervous and told Dalton maybe he shouldn't come. It was an eight hour drive, at night, after two days of baseball games. Not the best conditions for driving.

But Dalton knew his mom missed him, and he misses her too. So he jumped in his truck after his last baseball game, and drove to KC. 

Before Tammi went to bad that night she called Dalton. He skillfully (perhaps too skillfully...) told her he was in his dorm room, getting ready for bed. Tammi was almost in tears thinking about her boy alone on Easter. 

He arrived at Hallie's just after 1 a.m. 

Below is the video of Tammi seeing him on Sunday morning as she got ready for church. Warning: it's a tear jerker.

We're grateful for a mom who always went the extra mile for us, so we don't mind going the extra mile for her. And we're grateful we finally got to surprise the people who always surprised us on Easter morning. The Easter Bunny really came!

Tammi Travels!

Tammi wanted to travel to Kansas City for Easter to see Hallie and her new church.

So she did.

Her doctor supported the trip and made sure she had the needed immune boosting shots before she left. Buff drove and kept her comfortable in the passenger seat. She felt good, and when she didn't, she faked it really well.

We celebrated Holy Week, ate BBQ, and found Jesus on the loose. 

The only bummer in the entire weekend was our discovery that Kansas City's famous "12th and Vine" doesn't actually exist, and has been paved over by a housing complex. (What?!)

For doctors who help patients to live their life, and husbands that work to make wishes happen, and laughter that persists in spite of the "ick," we are grateful.

Co-work, co-family

Tammi's motivation board from her coworkers at the YMCA.

I remember mom first talking about a potential job opening at the YMCA, and being excited about it. She loved the idea of working in the place that she had loved going for so long. 

And so she interviewed for the job to work the front desk at the local YMCA, and met Sam and Andi, her bosses. When she found out she got the job, she was giddy. (Mom is giddy often, so we'll say that in this instance she was extra giddy...)

She has loved every moment she spends at the "Y." She loves talking to ya'll as you come in. She loves the older people she makes coffee for. She loves Andi's kids she gets to color with when they come over after school.

She loves working for Sam, who's quick to reference God and encourages staff to pray. And she loves (perhaps as much as she loves us) Andi, who makes her laugh with foul language and cry with the devotionals she sends to mom every - single - morning. 

God is doing such cool things through the Warren County YMCA for our mom. And we're grateful. It's coming back to this job that keeps her getting better every day. She'll see you all, as soon as she can.

Mark and Gwen

For as long as we can remember, we've known Mark and Gwen. They "copied" us when we were little, and got two beagles like ours also named Maggie and Mollie. They've been at Christmas parties and family game nights. They even traveled all the way to Miami for Hallie's wedding last year.

It was Mark who helped move Grandma Omy when she needed extra care before she passed away. And it was Gwen who helped us figure out where she should go. The park by our house dons a small stone dedicated to our grandma, thanks to Mark's work on the park board.

So it should be no surprise that it's Mark and Gwen again who show up in moments of need, to translate doctor-talk, bring food, re-gravel the driveway, and move dad's 37 years worth of "work" from his studio. 

We don't know what we'd do without Mark and Gwen. For these quiet, steady angels, we are grateful.

Thanks, Dad.

For 37 years, our dad has taken your photographs. He’s been at your weddings, your first communions, your school photo days. He’s been the one to capture your last moments with grandparents, husbands, wives. He’s been the one to capture your first moments with new babies. He’s covered your kids in bunnies, and even got Santa into his studio. He’s captured your awkward moments in high school sports, and at your best for senior photos. He’s told you to poop your pants, and made you think you have a booger, and made your young selves giggle until you were purple with the tickle stick. 

He’s going to keep doing these things for a while longer. He’ll still be taking photographs. But it’s going to be different. Now dad will be running Portraits by Buff out of our home, to care for our mom full time in between photo-taking. Yesterday, he officially sold that building that has stood on Main Street for 37 years.

And so we wanted to pause for a moment to tell dad, good job. For in the midst of the greatest darkness our family has ever experienced, he has done one of the hardest things a person can ever do. To close a piece of his life’s work. 

It’s that work that has allowed our dad to focus these last 37 years on his favorite job, being our dad and mom’s husband. And we want him to know how grateful we are.

For our entire lifetimes, we cannot remember a softball game, a baseball game, a cross country meet, even a cheerleading performance that dad missed. 

He was our Art Presenter in grade school, and would bring art from the Buchanan Center into our classrooms with stories and lessons, and even fruit and vegetables because he didn’t think young students were eating enough. 

He would show up to our schools with a welder’s mask when there was a lunar eclipse and insist all the students be able to go outside to see.

We’d go camping in the summer down at the river, and beg to stay an extra day, and another extra day, and he’d always say okay.

Dad’s business hasn’t been a fortune maker. There are questions and worries about money that our parents enter this next chapter with. But the way he operated his business led him to raise a pastor, a doctor of physical therapy, and a baseball playing airplane pilot. He’s led his business in such a way that when mom has needed him to be home to care for her, he can. And these things can’t be measured with money. For these uncountable things, we are most grateful.

Dad, you’ve done a good job. We are proud of you. Thank you for being our dad.

Movie Matinee Mercy

Our prayers for an easier week seem to have been heard. Mom is feeling like herself. Still resting a lot, but she's been able to get up and move, and the other day even felt like getting out of the house!

If there's anything to be grateful for in a small town, it's an empty matinee movie theatre. No people = no germs. So Hannah and mom were able to enjoy a movie. A small thing, that is a big thing. And we are grateful.

Protein, please!

Mom's weight is down. I think it's been down for a while, but now that the chemo is really fighting and the cancer cells are losing ground, she's able to see how much weight she's been losing. This is not a diet ya'll want to try.

Her protein is low, so she needs to eat to stay strong, and needs protein to actually keep her able to keep receiving treatment.

But nausea plus fatigue plus general "ick" makes it hard to eat. So, do we have any creative cooks out there?

If anyone wants to bring mom some food, she needs, NEEDS, high protein, delicious meals. The trick? She doesn't eat beef or pork. So chicken and fish it is. We needs foods that are delicious enough she can't deny them. 

Let's get creative friends. send us your favorite high protein recipes (in the home page "send Tammi a message" section here), or bring something over! Let's get this woman eating!