Final Zapping

Today was my 20th and final radiation treatment.

Thank you to everyone who has sent cards and gifts to the boys and me -- they love getting mail and  appreciated the encouragement. Thank you to my MIL who sent a "sunshine box" with different gifts for us to open on different days to give them something to look forward to. Thank you to those who have sent texts and messages letting me know you're praying for me. 

Thank you to my friend Georgia who made dinners for us when I was fatiguing and who stayed with the boys when they were off school and to Elizabeth who took the boys for a night of fun at Defy one evening. 

Thank you to Melody and Rick who kept the boys during the eLearning day when I had both a radiation treatment and oncology appointment. 

Thank you to my parents who came up for a week in the middle of October from warm, sunny Florida to stay with the boys during fall break. 

Thank you to my Aunt Karen who dealt with breast cancer herself and who texted me faithfully every day to let me know she was praying for me. 

Thank you to my friend Dan who also sent a note of encouragement each day. 

Today, Kieran wanted to know if they killed all the cancer cells. That's the idea, of course, but in order to further reduce the risk of occurrence, I'll be taking a hormone suppressant pill (Tamoxifen for the curious) for the next 5 to 10 years. I also have a cocktail of supplements that I'll be popping along with the pill (message me if you'd like to know what's on my counter).

As I read through the literature on the options available to minimize the risk of occurrence or the statistics on who gets breast cancer because of which cause, it strikes me how much of this is out my hands--how much seems to be so arbitrary and almost capricious. And I wonder if that's part of the curse God placed on sin--death, ultimately, is the reminder that we aren't in control of our destiny. I drink apple cider vinegar every day, I use natural, organic body and hair products, I try to buy organic when I can, I was off sugar for several years, I've taken immune-boosting supplements . . . and yet . . . and yet here I sit with a divot in my skin from where a cancerous lump was removed and a rash from where the radiation attempted to eradicate any remaining cancer. 

As much as we might like to think we can control what happens to our bodies, ultimately we can't. Yet as I peer through the seeming capriciousness, I choose to recognize the sovereignty of God in all of it--the cancer, the disability, the sickness, the people who cross my path. And I know it's not for nothing--that he's working all of this for my good and for his glory. And I'm driven to remember my dependence on my Creator for even my next breath. So as I lay on the table in the radiation room early in the morning, I chose to give thanks for the gift of another day of life. Another breath. Another new mercy. 

Someone recently posted a quote from Elizabeth Elliot that went along these lines but I can't remember where I saw it. I found these quotes, though, which point me toward that conclusion (from Suffering Is Never for Nothing).

“Just start thanking God in advance because no matter what is about to happen, you already know that God is in charge. You are not adrift in a sea of chaos.”

“You either believe God knows what He's doing or you believe He doesn't. You either believe He's worth trusting or you say He's not. And then, where are you? You're at the mercy of chaos not cosmos. Chaos is the Greek word for disorder. Cosmos is the word for order. We either live in an ordered universe or we are trying to create our own reality.” 

 Even as we work to minimize the risk of the cancer returning or spreading, I rest in God's sovereignty over my life and in the mercies he gives abundantly. He is good, all the time. 

The Wounds of a Friend or the Kisses of a Enemy

I've started and stopped this post several times over the past two weeks. It was a heavy time for me. 

On September 9, I met with the oncologist to go over the next phase of treatment. The mammography center is in the same building as the cancer center at our hospital. The last time I was there was for those initial pictures. At that time, I parked farther away and walked past the "Reserved for Oncology patients" signs, wondering what it was like for those who needed to use those reserved spaces. 

A few weeks later, and I had found out.  

My next treatment phase was based on the oncotype score of the tumor. After the surgeon removed the tumor, she sent it to a lab for analysis. The lab analyzes the genes of the tumor itself and spits out a number that predicts the risk the cancer will reoccur if it's not treated with chemo in addition to hormone therapy. (For those who like to read, this site had more information on the oncotype tests.) On a scale of 1 to 100, my tumor returned a score of 25. Tumors with scores less than 20 didn't typically benefit from chemotherapy and weren't likely to reoccur. Tumors with 26 and higher scores definitely needed to be treated with chemotherapy as they are more aggressive and likely to come back. In addition, there was a small subset of pre-menopausal women under 50 with tumor scores between 20 and 25 who seemed to benefit more from chemotherapy to minimize the risk of recoccurence. So, my tumor sat right there on the border. 

The oncologist went through the risk analysis with me and seemed to settle on the need for chemotherapy as my next step in order to make sure the cancer didn't come back. That wasn't what I wanted to hear. He brought in a social worker who offered a variety of supports for women with breast cancer. And, after telling me to think about it over the weekend, he set up an appointment to begin chemotherapy two weeks later. It would be one infusion every three weeks, beginning on September 23. 

So, I went home and talked it over with Seth, researched the studies done on the oncotypes, researched chemotherapy, and began freaking out over losing my hair and all the other side effects of chemo. 

If I told you what was happening during that time, I likely said something like, "It seems like I'll need chemotherapy" because I just couldn't bring myself to actually surrender to needing it. How would I be able to mother my kids if I was sick in bed all the time? Who would help them with homework? Get them to sports? How would they react to seeing my hair fall out? ("Most women go ahead and shave their heads before they begin just to get it over with," the oncologist said.) How would I be able to deal with my job and all my other responsibilities? As much as I hated the thought of chemo, I tried to start getting my ducks in a row so that I didn't drop too many balls as I went through it. 

Of course many women, including my aunt who was diagnosed with triple-negative breast cancer, have been through chemo and survived. In fact, my aunt called me during that time to share her journey with me and pray with me. 

I just didn't know how I was going to survive it. I prayed and cried and and looked for a second opinion and tried to rehearse the promises that God's grace is sufficient for every situation and that his power is made perfect in my weakness. And then I also tried to think of other options . . . like having my ovaries taken out. (The tumor had estrogen-positive receptors, which meant it fed on estrogen produced by my body; take the ovaries out and no estrogen was my thinking.) Drastic, I know. Which is what Seth said when I brought it up him. And also the oncologist when I brought it up to him. And also my doctor when I brought it up her. And also my sister-in-law when I brought it up to her. 

In a conversation about my anxiety with my sister-in-law, she also let me know this, "My prayer is that you know the assurance of God's good hand and can always approach Him with confidence and gratitude. That you are always mindful that the One who made the world with His words is still speaking into your life. That you remember He has already worked the greater miracle of bringing you from death to life in your salvation and to know that as hard as it gets, God's work in and through you is not done yet! Our pastor mentioned the other day, "Could it possibly be that God knows what He is doing?" And we know He does, but I pray that you would absolutely be able to trust Him for direction, wisdom, peace and comfort in the midst of a hard road." There's something about praying specifically and also letting that person know how specifically you are praying, isn't there? 

And then she said, after listening to my laments about the toxins that would be dumped into my body, "And just maybe the "poisons" are the wounds of a friend, not the kisses of the enemy?" 

Those words helped shift the way I was thinking about chemo. So, I messaged the nurse and asked about setting up a time to have the port put in that would be used for the infusions (instead of digging in my veins each time). When I did, I mentioned that I was still struggling with the decision. 

Later that day, the doctor called and said he had "run the numbers" again and had discussed my case with other breast cancer specialists at the hospital and based on what they saw, they were comfortable with not doing chemotherapy and proceeding with radiation and, later, hormonal treatments. 

Praise God. 

So, instead of beginning chemotherapy today, I met with the oncologist to talk about treatment options for after I finish radiation. I begin that on Monday morning and will continue every weekday for four weeks. 

There were some bright spots in the middle of the turmoil. My friend Diane sent me this pillow she had made, after talking with another friend of hers who had been through breast cancer and had been blessed with someone making one for her. It has pockets for ice packs and wraps around like a hug. Thank you, friend.  

Melody and Jenny, two friends from church, put together a care package to carry me through both chemo (should I have needed it) and radiation. They found a shirt that would allow easy access to the port for chemo . . . 

A wearable blanket . . . 

Coloring and devotional books for when I'm waiting for treatments or want to journal about the cancer journey . . . lotions to help with radiation . . . fuzzy socks to help with temperature regulation during treatments . . . 

Encouraging blankets . . .

Candles and bath salts . . . 

And so many other blessings such as snacks and head scarves. Things to make a hard journey that much easier and better. Thank you, friends. 

 At church a few Sundays ago, I taught the kids the account where the Israelites are fighting a battle and they win when Moses raises his hands. They lose when his hands fall. It was a long battle and Moses' arms grew tired, so Aaron and Hur stood beside him and held up his arms. Thank you to all of you who have been holding up my hands through prayer and also through other tangible gifts like these. 

God is good. All the time. 

An update. God is still good.

First, a very large and heart-felt thank you to everyone who has sent a card, brought a meal, offered to help with the boys, and called, texted, or messaged to find out how I'm doing. I'm so very grateful for praying, caring friends and family. 

Second, I know it's been awhile since I've updated so I'm doing that now. When last I left off, we were waiting for the pathology report, which finally arrived. The surgery was successful and the tumor was completely removed (the margins were clear) and the seven lymph nodes they took out were negative for cancer, which is a mercy. The scars are healing well and I'm recovering some feeling in my arm. I'll need to see a physical therapist to help get back the full range of motion, however. 

Today, the oncotype report on the tumor came back. The oncotype (genetic makeup of the tumor itself) helps to predict the chance of metastasis. Although my personal genetic makeup came back negative for all 84 cancer-associated genes (thanks, mom and dad!), this tumor apparently had a mind of its own. It registered a 26, which is on the very upper end of "intermediate"--not really the place we wanted to be. Because the tumor was positive for estrogen receptors, after radiation, I will likely need to take estrogen-blocking pills for several years in order to help prevent a recurrence. This oncotype indicates that chemotherapy may be helpful in making sure the cells haven't/won't metastasize elsewhere. So, I will meet with a medical oncologist to determine the next steps. I was hoping to avoid chemotherapy so we will see what the doctor suggests. 

Currently, I'm scheduled to meet with the radiologist on September 17 and then will have radiation treatments every weekday for four weeks. That could change depending on what the oncologist says. 

Third, since I know most of you haven't recently taken a tour of the new St. Elizabeth center, I thought I'd share some of the items that are given to those going through the cancer journey. They have a boutique in the cancer center that caters to women dealing with breast cancer. There are quite a few Christian ministries that help in various ways, including Chicks and Chucks. 

One of the first items they gave me was a small pillow to fit around my seat belt on the way home from surgery.  

There was also a Hope Scarf. 

When I showed it to Cael, he asked why they were providing these things. I told him they helped to encourage women who have cancer. And he asked, "But who will encourage me?" 

We've given them the information we think they should know and can handle at this point without hiding from them what is happening. Kieran is upset that I will have a laser pointed at me. He doesn't want me to be zapped (I may have used that word). He will likely also tell you, "My mom had surgery to get the cancer out" and he wonders if all the cancer really is out. Cael asks some deeper questions. We continue to talk with them, pray with them, and let them know that God is still good and he is still sovereign. 

And fourth, this verse has popped up several times since I was diagnosed. I've been meditating on it as the days wear on. 

"It is good for me that I was afflicted, that I might learn your statutes." (Psalm 119:71)

I don't enjoy pain and don't feel the need to "push myself" to "find out my limits." Unlike, say, Seth, who jumps at the chance to do a Tough Mudder whenever one is near and works out in between them to stay in shape for the next one, pushing himself to lift heavier weights and do more reps and bike more miles. Not me. My biggest "push" in the past few years has been running a 5K. Which I didn't enjoy, for the record. I like my comfortable life with my comfortable people. 

Apparently, however, God has other plans for my comfort and other things for me to learn. And I think of this from a favorite woman of faith, "God permits what he hates to accomplish what he loves." 

As you pray for me and my family, please do pray that the Great Physician would grant healing (he is, after all, Jehovah Rapha--the Lord who heals). But pray, too, that we learn and grow through this and discover more of him as we walk yet another path that doesn't have a known destination. 

God is good. All the time. And whatever he does is good. 

Cancer Sucks. God is good.

Before Kieran was born, I wrote a book called, Why Is Keiko Sick?. A few weeks ago, someone asked me what my motivation was for writing the book. It does seem an odd concept for a children's book. And yet, I wrote it because I wanted to provide a way for parents to have conversations, based on biblical truth, with their kids about why bad things happen. Too often we focus on the "wonderful world" we live in -- skies of blue, clouds of white, trees of green, red roses, too -- and forget about the thorns in the roses, the poison ivy growing up the trees, the hawk that swoops down from the skies to grab a chicken, the hurricanes that bring violent clouds. If we don't continually talk with our kids about the ultimate reason behind the bad things that happen and point them to the solution, we risk building a faith in our kids that falls apart at the first sign of trouble. 

It may sound macabre, but we've talked about the reason we don't live in a very good world with the boys from the time they were young. We want them to know that God is good and that abundant life was his original intent for his creation. The junk we experience is a result of the just punishment God gave Adam after he sinned in the garden. Death is an ugly enemy that has intruded itself into that once perfectly beautiful creation. And it has brought so much with it -- sickness, addiction, disease, genetic conditions, relational problems, and the list goes on. In fact,  Kieran has taken to saying, "Thanks a lot, Adam," whenever we deal with sicknesses or chicken deaths or the like. 

And yet, we can't just blame Adam for the ugliness--each of us has chosen the path of death away from God when we choose to follow our own way, instead of his. I'm just as complicit in the groaning of this world, weighed down as it is from the curse, as Adam is. I hate what my sin has done--I hate death, I hate sickness, I hate cancer. But sometimes I wonder what I hate more--the sin itself or its consequences . . . . 

We've tried to be honest with the boys in all the "little" effects of the curse--chickens dying, dealing with pink eye or strep throat--so that they have a foundation for understanding when larger effects of the curse infiltrate theirs lives . . . like when their mom is diagnosed with breast cancer. 

Even typing those words seems surreal. Cancer is out there--it's circulating among my extended family and other friends--but you never expect it to land in your lap . . . or breast, as the case may be. 

In early July, I felt a lump. I called and scheduled a mammogram, which was followed by an ultrasound. After looking at the films, the radiologist came into the exam room, sat down, looked at me carefully, and said, "I'm concerned. This looks like cancer." 

When Kieran was diagnosed with Williams syndrome, it felt like we had been punched in the gut. That same feeling came back at the word cancer. A slow exhale of breath . . . a mad rushing of thoughts as you process what's being said . . . a quick, unintended, peek into the future -- am I still there where I thought I would be even next year? And the tears . . . . The fear of the unknown, of what might be, of being thrown onto yet another path that we hadn't anticipated. 

The ultrasound was followed by a core biopsy of the lump and then a phone call, "You have invasive ductal carcinoma, grade 2. You're scheduled to meet with the surgeon." An MRI happened and then last Tuesday the surgeon said, "We'll do a lumpectomy and radiation. I'm available this Friday for the surgery, how about you?" 

So, this past Friday I went under the knife. When I'm healed, I'll be visiting the radiologist for daily sessions for four weeks. Depending on the results of the pathology report of the tumor and the genetics testing, I may need chemo, although that's not on the horizon right now. From what the surgeon has said, we found it early, it's a common type of cancer that they know a lot about, and they are encouraging that we can move on from this. 

Cancer sucks. I don't have to ask the "why me?" questions because I know why -- it's part of the world we live in, part of the world we told God we wanted when we turned our backs on his good plans for us. Although this particular cancer isn't the result of a specific sin, it's still the result of the punishment for sin that we're all living under. 

God is still good. If he weren't, I wouldn't be able to hate death and cancer and call it an enemy (1 Corinthians 15:26). At VBS this past summer, we taught the kids a few of the attributes of God and this was one of the sayings I wanted to impress on them, "God is good, all the time. All the time, God is good." Because it's true. 

And God is also sovereign. This diagnosis whacks us upside the head--it's unwelcome and unexpected. And yet, it's not a surprise to God. He's in control and in his omnipresence, he is here with us--he has gone before us and he is present with us as we experience it. The dark thoughts crowd closer especially at night and I've had to repeatedly take those thoughts captive and focus on what we know is true, rather than wandering down the paths of "what ifs?" We fight to rest in his goodness and sovereignty and to live with his peace rather than drown in anxiety.

We rest, too, on the salvation that Jesus has purchased for us, securing our eternal destiny with him. We know that our sin separates us from God and we are thankful that Jesus has paid that death penalty on our behalf, dying on the cross--the perfect sinless Son of God suffering the ugliness of death, the very curse he placed on his creation--and rising from the dead, showing that he accomplished what he set out to do. We've received the gift of eternal life that he offers through repentance and faith in him and, although we hate death, we look beyond it to eternal life with God. 

We've seen God's mercy in the prognosis--this seems to be a treatable cancer--and in the discovery at an early stage. We're thankful for his grace in giving us good doctors and family and friends who pray for us and offer help. 

Cancer sucks. But it has an end. "He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away" (Revelation 21:4). God is good. 

DNA School Presentation

May is Williams syndrome awareness month and, today I went into both boys' classes to talk to them about Williams syndrome. I wanted to focus more on letting the kids know how special and unique each one of them is, instead of just talking about Kieran the entire time. 

I put together a PowerPoint presentation and afterward, we made "DNA" out of Twizzlers, marshmallows, and toothpicks (today was pajama day at school so the boys are wearing their pajamas). The kids seemed to enjoy it, and they also seem to remember stuff from previous years when I've gone into their classes. It was fun! 

This is a transcript of what we talked about (I'm not including all photos I used due to copyright restrictions). We were able to answer questions and discuss throughout a little bit more, but this is the gist of what we talked about.

So, today, we are going to talk about something that is inside the cells of all living things. It’s called deoxyribonucleic acid. Or DNA for short.

So, our bodies are made up of trillions of tiny cells all working together. Take a look at your skin. If we were to take just a little bit of your skin and put it under a microscope, this is what it would look like. Check out all those cells stuck together! They are all working together to keep your covered and keep you safe from things outside your body. 

And this is photo of just one of the cells in your body. Now, these cells are so tiny that we can’t see them just by looking at our skin, but when we put them under a microscope and blow them up really big, this is what it looks like. It’s an amazingly designed piece of machinery. Right here in the middle, is where the DNA lives.

Now, there is SO much DNA in each cell of your body that if you were take the DNA out of just one cell and stretch it out, it would be six feet long! Imagine all of that squished into each cell in your body! That means, if we took all the DNA from all of the cells of your body and put it end-to-end, it would stretch over 12 billion miles. That’s like going to the sun and back many times! Your body is filled with DNA!

Now, here’s an illustration of what scientists have figured out DNA looks like. It’s this amazing twisted molecule that in an amazing way tells you who you are. We get our special combination of DNA from our mom and our dad.

Let’s think about some of the things your DNA says about you. (I let the kids discuss eye color, hair color, how tall you could grow to be, nose shape, ear lobes, handedness, dimples, freckles, curly or straight hair, hand clasping, hairline (widow’s peak), skin shade, eye shape, food preferences, allergies, etc.) Each person is special and unique. Even identical twins have differences due to environmental effects and such. You are each one of a kind. There’s no one else exactly like you! You are special. Look at the person sitting next to you and say, “You are amazing and one-of-a-kind!”

Now, If we were to take out the DNA and sort it out and check it out under a really powerful microscope, this is what we find. Your DNA is bundled into structures called chromosomes. And, although we are all special and unique, we share a lot in common. What are some things we have in common? Two eyes, mouth, breathe air, ears, hair, body shape, arms, legs . . .  In fact, we are more alike than we are different!

So, we all share this number of chromosomes in our bodies. Now, sometimes, something can happen to our DNA so that it is missing a part or maybe there’s an extra piece than most other people have.

So, someone who was created with an extra 21st chromosome has what we call Down syndrome. Can you find the 21^st chromosome?

And our friend Kieran here was created amazingly with a small part of his seventh chromosome missing, and we call this arrangement Williams syndrome (it was named after the scientist who discovered it). It’s very rare that this happens and there just 30,000 people with Williams syndrome in the United States. Who can find the 7^th chromosome?

 With just that small part of DNA missing, that changes some things with people with Williams syndrome. Now remember, we are all more alike than we are different. But some differences that Kieran has, that you’ve probably already noticed are that he is sensitive to sounds. So, what does he do when he hears something that is loud, like the fire alarm? Yes, he puts his hands over his ears. He can also hear things that we can't because his hearing is more sensitive. So, when someone is using a lawnmower outside, Kieran would be able to hear it, even if you can't. And it may distract him.

People with Williams syndrome can also have heart problems. So Kieran has a heart issue called supra-valvular aortic stenosis. And he has to go to the doctor every few years to get it checked. We need to monitor it to make sure it doesn't get any worse. Sometimes people with WS need to have surgery on their heart to fix it. 

But, so far, Kieran's heart has been ok. 

People who have Williams syndrome can have some difficulties with learning. So where maybe math might be really easy for you, it's more difficult for Kieran to learn and remember math facts and things about time and abstract concepts like that.

Everyone who knows Kieran knows that he is what? Yes, he's super friendly. People with Williams syndrome are very friendly. He says hi to everyone! And whenever we go anywhere, he says hi to people he doesn't even know! 

Another thing about people with Williams syndrome is that they tent to love music! Kieran loves listening to music and playing music on different instruments. He has a didgeridoo and a nose flute!

And, when someone is a bit different from us, what can we remember? Each person is special and unique and created just the way they are supposed to be. And we are all more alike than we are different! We can focus on what we have in common, we can help where we might be able to, and we can look for ways to show that everyone is an amazingly designed person! There are no mistakes when it comes to who your are and your DNA. Each person is special and unique and you are just the way you are supposed to be! 

Lessons Learned from Teaching

One of the strategies taught in education courses is to tell the student what to do rather than just saying what not to do. For instance, instead of saying, “Don’t run,” it is better to say “Walk.” Once this lesson is internalized, the teacher automatically looks for what the student should do and tries to articulate it. It’s not that we would eliminate the negative from our vocabulary; it’s just that we would take it a step further to make sure the student knew what the correct thing to do was.

So when walking down the hallway, a teacher wouldn’t want the child leaning against the wall and breaking up all the bulletin board displays or ruining the threads in the shirt because of rubbing the rough surface. I would teach my students to look at the linoleum squares on the floor, count over three, and try to stay in that row all the way down in the hallway. I’d encourage them to stand up straight instead of leaning on the wall, telling them that the wall had stayed up without their help for thirty years and they really didn’t need to support it. And I’d remind them to walk on their own feet and not on the feet of the person in front.

In the classroom, instead of stopping with “That’s not a complete sentence,” it was “Remember to tell me who did what,” and “What is missing in this sentence?”

This strategy comes in handy as a parent (or grandparent) as well. One of our grandchildren has difficulty remembering to place his cup where it won’t easily be spilled. Admonishing him not to spill his milk wasn’t enough to produce the desired result. So GrandBob gave him a coaster on which to place the cup, and then reminded him to place the cup on it.

Interestingly enough, the Bible is full of examples of this principle. Paul didn't just say, "don't lie," he encouraged truth-telling. Instead of stealing, work with your hands and give to others. Instead of worrying, cast your concerns on Him. Instead of complaining, give thanks.

This is not a new principle. The Bible says in 2 Timothy 3:16 “All Scripture is God-breathed and is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting, and training in righteousness, so that the man (person) of God may be thoroughly equipped for every good work.”

Teaching: Telling me what the path is

Rebuking: Showing where I strayed from the path

Correcting:  Showing me how to get back on the path

Training: Continuing to do the above three to make it my lifestyle

I’ll be the first to admit that I tend to be more negative when I am tired or frustrated. But I try to remind myself to continue on to the positive and give specific steps for correcting the situation. There are many examples of ways we can teach by showing what it is we expect without always focusing on the negative. 

Apis Adventures

If you've been around here for awhile, then you'll know that a long time ago (seven years, to be more precise), I decided to look into adding beekeeping to our Holler adventures. I attended a workshop and then have done nothing more about it since then. Interestingly, the guy (and his family) who taught the workshop is now our neighbor--they live on the ridge; we live in the Holler. Our families have become good friends, and they have a few hives on their property.

Earlier this year, I had once again asked Seth if we could think about beekeeping and if I could go ahead and order a Flow Hive. Much to my surprise (since he had repeatedly said "no" in the past), he said yes. So I immediately placed an order and it arrived rather quickly.

Seth and the boys worked on putting it together.

After it was built, I put some tung oil on it, as per the suggestion that came with the hive.

So, we had a hive. Now we just needed bees.

I wasn't quite sure how to accomplish that. Should we order a colony of bees and have them delivered via UPS? Should I put signs up around the neighborhood, "This way to rent-free, clean, new apartment living designed especially for bees"? Should I stand outside and yell, "Here, bees! Here, bees!" It was a bit perplexing trying to figure out our next course of action.

Remember the guy who had hives that lived up the road from us? A few weeks ago, I was at their house for a Bible study on a Friday afternoon, and Tina had again offered to "catch a swarm" for us if the opportunity arose. Soon after that conversation, her oldest son walked into the house and said, "Did you know there's a swarm of bees down at the end our lane?"

Not wanting to deny that bit of providence, we quickly concluded the Bible study, I rushed home to get the brood box and lid, and Tina suited up (and also suited up one of her sons and Kieran).

We met up at the end of their lane, near the tree where the bees were swarming.  From what I've learned, bee swarms don't stay in one place for very long, so we just had a small window of time to catch them (just a few hours).

Tina got in position and proceeded to catch the swarm, with the help of her son Elijah (who was not suited but only suffered one sting in the process).

 

After the bees were in the box, Tina put the lid on, and then told me to return that evening to pick it up and bring it home. Really? I just put the box in my car and drive it home? Doesn't that seem . . . um . . . dangerous, fool-hardy, and like a really, really bad idea?



But, since they are the bee experts, I trusted them and returned later that evening, after it was dark. Sure enough, all the bees were in the box, and I very carefully placed a strip of tape across the opening. Then somehow I maneuvered it up and into the back of my car. I very carefully closed the door, drove back to our place, and very carefully maneuvered the box into the spot we had fixed for it, inside the chicken fence.

We put it in there because we thought the chickens could keep the grass around it short, so we wouldn't need to weed whack around it. And also so that they could eat any of the hive beetle larva that may fall out of the hive in the future, thus providing a nice symbiotic relationship.

As I look at it now, the set up seems a little rickety.
We may need to fix that in the future. 

For a few reasons, I've opened the hive and worked in it a couple times. It was actually much less stressful than I thought it would be. This bee suit makes me brave. I feel like I should start naming the bees.

And so now we wait. Let the Apis Adventures begin!