I remember as a kid the feeling of summer finally rolling around. The pressure of school, the schedules, the bus rides, the homework—all of it went away when the calendar turned to late May. That meant freedom, the chance to just walk out the door and into whatever the day held in store.
Usually that included riding my bike down trails, hanging out with my friends, playing basketball or some other improvised game, or occasionally going swimming at my aunt’s pool. Summer was packed with stuff to be done, to make up for those school days when you had to leave so much undone because homework, ball practice, Scouts, church, and other obligations ate up your time. The seemingly endless days begged to be filled.
I can’t say it’s the same for my kids.
True the seemingly endless days are still there, and there are still plenty of things to be done outside if that’s where you wish to go—we live on a golf course and have a neighborhood pool—but my children are so exhausted that most days they barely want to leave their rooms, much less the house. They would be the kind of kids that some older folks scoff at as lazy or pitiful simply because my kids are growing up in a different world than them. If nuance escapes them, then it’s their loss.
But my kids aren’t the lazy type.
I know how hard both of my children work during the school year. We have sent them to a challenging college preparatory school with rigorous academic standards; I mean, they have to be accepted to a college in order to graduate. Add in Ella’s commitment to dance, and the hours she spends training or rehearsing to be the best she can be, as well as the multiple performances she danced, and you can imagine how the child might be tired. And while Jon didn’t have Ella’s dance schedule, being a caretaker for your dad who has cancer takes its own toll. He’s faithful to check in with me and spend time at my side.
So if they want to sleep in and be homebodies, that’s fine by me. They do ask to get out of the house to do something; maybe we go get ice cream or do a little shopping somewhere. Or maybe they schedule some time with one of their friends. But those days aren’t every day; most days, it’s a quiet life around the Brooks household.
Candidly, it’s easier on me for them to be this way. I don’t have the stamina and strength to get out daily and do something, and even if I did my limitations from chemo make hauling me around a bit of a fuss. My skin is susceptible to easily burning, and I have to be very careful about staying hydrated. My days of splashing in the pool are pretty much on pause.
Both Ella and Jon understand this, and they temper their asks so it’s not too taxing on Rachel as the family driver or on me as the tagalong patient.
Missing out on some of the things I did as a kid isn’t the worst thing in the world. While I have memories of having fun during those days, I also remember how many days I would have preferred to stay at home and just chill out. But summertime meant you were out the door after breakfast and didn’t have to be home until the streetlight came on. You foraged for lunch on your own, popping into your house or the house of one of your friends to raid the fridge for something edible, and then it was back to the woods to find a new way to pass the time.
It took about two weeks of summer before you were bored with the routine. That’s when you started pestering your parents about Six Flags or Stone Mountain or White Water, or at the very least going somewhere with a pool. When those options didn’t pan out, you started pushing your boundaries just to add some spice to the day. We weren’t supposed to leave the neighborhood, but it wasn’t far to the Corner Store where they had cold drinks and cheap candy; so there were plenty of days that we braved the traffic on Annistown Road to make a snack run.
That came to end when Mr. Ron got his Coke machine. My best friend’s dad somehow secured a Coke vending machine which he stocked with cans of some of our favorite drinks: Coke, Sprite, Mr. Pibb, MelloYello, and Root Beer. An ice cold can of Coke was only $.35, and there were few things more refreshing than slipping a quarter and dime into that machine and getting a Coke that was so cold it had small flecks of ice in it. It made the hellish summer heat that much more bearable, especially since we were trapped outside in it from dawn to dusk.
Summer also meant the occasional camp out by the rocks on Mr. Ron’s property. We’d pitch our tents and build a fire and hang out and talk. It was nothing more than an extension of our usual day, except for the one time we decided to try and buy cigarettes underage. We walked several miles in the dark, through several different neighborhoods, hiding in the shadows as we went, just to get to a store where the clerk supposedly didn’t bother checking IDs.
A friend of a friend was with us, and the grand plan was for him to use my Learner’s Permit (why he didn’t use his own is a question I should have asked) and snag a pack of Camels for the guys to split. He was also going to buy me a bottle of Coke since I didn’t smoke and wasn’t interested in sharing the spoils.
Instead, he came racing out of the store only a few minutes after entering, shouting that he thought the clerk was going to call the cops and we needed to go. Everyone darted across the main road we’d crossed, but right as I was about to make it safely to the other side, a car that was driving with no headlights clipped my knee and spun me into a ditch. My friends picked me up and helped me stand, and we continued our escape back towards camp.
To this day, I still don’t understand how I didn’t notice that car. My knee swelled over the next couple of weeks, but I managed to hide it from my parents—or at least, they let me think I did. When the swelling went down, I was left with a nasty bruise to remind me of the general dangers of tomfoolery and juvenile delinquency.
You can probably understand now why I’m not too upset with my kids choosing to stay indoors and around family.
Plus, I enjoy seeing them every day, watching them bounce around the house to whatever magical music fuels their joy. They remind me of God’s goodness, his presence that surrounds me at all times. I look at them and feel an immediate lift in my soul, a sense of peace and blessing that I cannot explain. It is the joy of having raised children who choose to be good people, who choose to bless others with their lives.
While this week has been full of side effects that haven’t been pleasant—the ascites fluid seems to be building back up even faster, and there have been some other issues that wouldn’t be polite to discuss—my condition has been pretty good overall.
I have a lot of appointments this week prior to our vacation, but I anticipate things continuing to trend upward until my next chemo treatment when I get back. So our slow summer days won’t be as slow this week, but we’ll get at least a couple of them where the kids sleep in and Rachel and I get to tend to things we need done.
I’m going to enjoy every minute of it.
After all, these are the days that make life so beautiful.
Prayer requests for this week:
For Jason—check ins with oncologist and counselor; sleep study with pulmonologist on Wednesday night; removal of stitch from paracentesis site; continued relief from side effects, especially those that impact my digestive system; build up of strength to be able to enjoy vacation and 20th anniversary with Rachel (on June 16).
For Rachel—stamina and patience as she ferries Ella to ballet intensives; peace as we pack and prepare for vacation; for the tires we ordered for her car to arrive and be installed in time for our trip; for God’s blessings on her.
For Ella—for rest and recovery after a long year of school; for strength and safety as she participates in her ballet intensive camp; for her to continue spending time with new and healthy friends.
For Jon—for rest and recovery; for him to enjoy his time learning new things; for him to develop a reading habit; for his growth spurt to continue painlessly.
If you’d like to share this post, click on the button below:
If you’d like to send me a comment, you can click on this button instead:
I’ve spent time this week learning about the practice of contemplation; it’s a spiritual practice that some Christians adhere to, especially in Catholicism. It’s all about letting go of the mindsets that crowd out our awareness of God’s omnipresence and becoming fully aware of his being around and within us at all times. It’s part of my deepening spiritual journey, and I’ve found it to be more than beneficial—I’ve found it to be true.
For those who profess to be Christians, the faith is supposed to be more than just following rules and behaving correctly. In fact, it’s supposed to be more than just a life of right and wrong; it’s the ability to embrace the paradoxes that comprise all of life, to live with the tension that so often accompanies our lived in experiences. The longer I’ve lived, the more I’ve learned to embrace that reality, especially as we’ve experienced suffering and setbacks despite our faithful rule following.
This perspective is part of what fuels my approach to cancer. Rachel and I have experienced some dark times in our marriage: the loss of a child, struggles with work and calling, sickness and death within our family, and now my own battle with cancer. You don’t go through things like that unscathed, and one of the first things to go is a simple belief in right/wrong being the key to everything.
You learn instead that God operates on a different wavelength, speaks in a different tongue, and moves in a different way than some of the simple ways we assume. And to find that wavelength, to speak that language, you have to calm your mind down and set aside what you think you know in order to experience God. You still read your Bible, but it reads differently. You still pray, but it’s a changed experience. You still worship and praise him, but the place from which it comes from inside you is deeper than you realized.
You no longer feel the need to be right all the time, to fight with people who don’t agree with your perspective. You understand that there’s no merit badge to be earned, or trophy to be claimed for behaving like a good boy or girl. Instead, you learn that God loves you intensely, deeply, and is present for everything that happens in your life. You are never alone, never unseen, never unloved. He is with you and he cares for you.
I share this because it’s changed my life.
I don’t know that it will change yours; that’s up to you. But what I can tell you is that God is more real to me, more present, than at any other time in my life. When I cry, he’s there to catch the tears. When I feel afraid, he whispers peace into my heart. When the reality of cancer and what it could mean threatens to swallow me in darkness, he surrounds me and I can feel his light burn away the fear.
This is what I want for everyone: to experience God in this way, to know his nearness and generosity instead of knowing him as a cosmic judge or disappointed father. Hopefully, you’ll come to this kind of understanding in your own walk with God.
Regardless, as I’ve practiced contemplative prayer, I’ve had many of you come to mind, your words of kindness and encouragement flowing into my heart when I think of the goodness that’s kept me afloat during this battle. As always, I am thankful for you and for the prayers you send.
May you have a fantastic week. Thanks for reading!
Best,
Jason
Be blessed Jason
Prescott worked for Coca-Cola USA for 15 years. We had a fountain drink machine in the basement. As you can guess, we always had neighborhood children (and adults) coming over frequently. Sometimes the children came over when our boys were not home. They asked if Mr. Prescott could come out and play. He was like the Pied Piper.