Hops and Hopes

Every new journey we embark upon takes risk and is filled with uncertainty. If we forbid to face risk head on we lose ourselves to the fear of the unknown and the uncontrollable. We cease to feel. We cease to truly live. 

Risk

Around the same time I began writing this blog (April 2014), Mark began planning for the creation of a Hop Yard. I have to admit I was skeptical. My life is filled with enough uncertainty as is. The last thing I wanted was to add another element of risk. There's so much that could wrong. Most of all, however, this was completely uncharted territory for us. What if nothing grew? What if a storm wiped out all that hard work? What if we failed? But, I saw in Mark's eyes the power of this new endeavor. So, I stifled my engulfing uncertainty and tried my best to hide my fears; setting out on this new adventure. I smiled and listened, trying my best to be supportive. But, in my stomach there was a knot. A knot born of the fear associated with risk and uncertainty I knew all too well. 

Last summer was spent making this new adventure a reality. Mark immersed himself into the world of Hops: drinking in as much knowledge as he possibly could, both literally and figuratively. So, 150 hops rhizomes, a plot of land on the home farm, poles that stretched to the sky, and twine to guide each promising vine, a Hop Yard was born. The first year's focus was on establishing the yard and the root systems. Well, the first season was complete and successful. There were handfuls of beautiful and delicate green hop cones and a calming fragrance that would be hard to forget. I could put my worries away for the off-season. 

But then my own viscous monster of uncertainty awoke with a vengeance last Fall and Winter: Cystic Fibrosis. Reminding me of the realities and journey of risks that are my own life, forcing me to lock myself away from the world and any additional risks that could complicate things even more. A journey of risks that I willingly never wanted or asked to embark upon, but instead was given to endure and make the best of. It's true, CF has made me daring yet cautious. It's forced me to live for today and do my best not to fear the tomorrow. So, why do I not embrace the idea of everyone doing the same? 

A New Season

As the weather grew warmer this Spring, Mark's plans for the Hop Yard also began to bloom. There was that knot again in my stomach. Again, he devoured every book, article, studying the delicate science behind it all. He even took off on a few road trips for hop conferences. Ask any of our friends, there was a visible glimmer of excitement when he'd be asked about the hops. 

The ground thawed and he anxiously awaited any signs life bursting from beneath the ground. In his excitement for the coming growing season he ordered more plants to increase the size of the yard. Again, I suppressed my worries of embarking down this risky path. As the season of new life erupted, and the monster of CF loosened its deadly grip from around us, I began to boldly embrace the risks that surround our lives; the things that make us happy and make us feel most alive. 

This past weekend, as some dear friends, Mark and I made a trip to see the hops, my fears and unsettled anxieties were quieted by the shear beauty and magnificence of each towering hop. What filled me most with contented peace was seeing how much happiness filled Mark. To see that smile I hadn't seen in so long. To see that excitement in his eyes. Was the path always smooth this growing season? By no means, but I grew, Mark grew, and he created something incredible.  There was a great hope within those hops. 

The Hop Yard isn't just a place to grow hops. It signifies a lot more. It gave Mark a place to escape to when the unpredictable CF seemed too much to bear. It helped give him hope in the future. It was alive, both in spirit and in form. Wherever there was twine to climb, the hops raced skyward, never once looking back towards the ground. They just continued to climb upwards towards the stars no matter the risks around them, sharing beautiful delicate green cones as beacons of promise and hope. This past weekend was the first harvest. I have to say my heart was a bit heavy to see the vines cut down. Most of all, however, I was so very proud. Proud of both of us. Taking a life filled with imminent risk, facing it head on, and being grateful for every part of our journey: never giving into the fear of embarking on a path weaved together by the unknown.

Climb

The growing season is coming to an end, but I am taking much more away than I ever imagined from this season. I am thankful for those beautiful delicate hops and what they represent not only in Mark's life but my own. As I embark on my own new journey my steps are hesitant and filled with an uncertain fragility, yet I know in my heart that fulfillment of the journey far outweighs the risk. The twine is there, I simply need to start the climb towards the stars. Love to you all.

Are fears of uncertainty keeping you from truly living? 

Wishes

[Blog post written by Mark Bonnema]

Happy Anniversary, my Love.

August 9, 2008 Ashley and I pledged our love to each other - for better or worse… till death do us part. Only with Ashley as the object of my promise would I ever be so bold to make such a commitment. Now, seven years later, we celebrate our anniversary and I feel the same joy in that pledge that I did seven years ago. I get to spend my days, my joys, my life with my lovely and loving wife, Ashley.

There is little that I would change about our life, but that being said, there are many things that I wish for my wife and for our marriage for the years to come. I wish for Ashley to stay out of the hospital and to see her lung function increase. I wish for Ashley to breathe easy. I wish for our life decisions to not be tempered or guided by the constraints and demands of life with cystic fibrosis. I wish for road trips and fun-filled spontaneous outings with our friends without worry of lung infection, missing a med dose, or getting back to do a treatment. I wish for Ashley to be able to hike in the mountains. And most of all, I wish to be able to keep wishing.

Cystic fibrosis is constantly trying to take wishes away from Ashley and from our relationship. I think that without Ashley’s boundless strength and determination, it likely would have succeeded. It can be a stressful and draining life. The fears of the unknown and tomorrow always loom large, and no measure of health or energy can be taken for granted.  Thus Ashley lives fully, each and every day - something about her for which I am truly grateful and love.

I wish that next year, and the year after that, and seven years after that, Ashley and I are still making wishes for each other and for our life together, that I am able to take joy in our relationship for all of my days and all of my life. It’s a tall order, it’s a big wish, but sometimes that all we have in the face of CF. Keep wishing, hoping, and praying for the cure to CF so that Ashley’s wishes and the wishes of 30,000 other person’s with CF can turn to something other than their health.

I can’t give you a cure this year, Love, but I promise to stay by your side and to keep fighting and working towards one until the day comes! I love you, and Happy Anniversary.

What is your wish?

Embraceable Reality

We live stagnantly, trying to get through the throughs of every day life: just merely existing. We become numb to the world around us and ourselves as we join the steady unthinking chaos around us.

But, then something sparks a fire, igniting those embers we thought we had snuffed out. Suddenly, our spirits are ablaze with disquiet emotion all set aflame by a single moment. It can be the smallest of things that fuels the tinderbox of our minds; sending it whirling, bringing us back to reality. A reality in which we have unconsciously tried to shield ourselves from. Striving to protect ourselves from the harsh realities, hurts, and pains in which life threatens to engulf us. 

Moments

It's a moment that catches me off guard. I look down and see my goddaughter holding onto my finger. I wasn't ready for the resurrection of emotion I had worked so carefully to bury these past months. I see my index finger tightly clutched within her tiny sweet fist. She doesn't notice how the hand in which she grips doesn't look like hers. She doesn't see CF. But, I see it: embraced within her perfect little pudgy fingers. 

It's a package with a return address of Switzerland and an announcement of a wedding in Spain next July. The pictures and handwritten note that accompany the exciting news set my mind racing and my heart pounding. I begin to feel my throat tighten and tears fighting to overtake my eyes. I remember those beautiful past worry-free expeditions and adventures abroad. I remember the timeless bond between friends that is unlike any other. The words of my dear friend resound in my mind, "...spending time with you is a treasure. That talking about the realities of CF could "wait..." And that it was "ok" to act as if we were two friends without worries." There's a tightness in my chest that sends a powerful reminder of CF's impact on any possible future rendezvous between two friends separated by an ocean. It's a moment filled with the heartache of CF, a powerful hope, and sincerest love.

It's an onset of laughter that makes my lungs grip onto each breath. 

It's a powerful hug that lingers for an extra second. 

It's a sharp pain suddenly in my chest.

 

It's an innocent conversation about the future.

It's a catch or crackle I can hear in my breathing. 

It's the burning in my oxygen deprived legs as I climb on my bicycle for the first time in a year.  

It's a glance in the mirror. 

It's a coughing fit.

It's the reflection of myself I see in someone's gaze. 

The Good. The Bad. The Realities.

It's moments like this that make me realize how numbly I've been living these past weeks. Forcing myself to become more and more distant from the true desperation, hurt, and deep seeded fears CF has buried deep within me. Allowing myself to be consumed in the chaos of the world, in hopes I might no longer feel any of it: unconsciously protecting myself and those I love. All in hopes that if I don't recognize time, it might just stop. That for a moment if I pretend CF doesn't exist in my life, it doesn't. But, by shielding myself from the realities of life I am also numbing myself from enjoying all the beauty and goodness that surround me as well. By protecting myself and becoming numb I begin to question myself, my purpose, and the good I so desperately strive to share. 

But then it's the same small moment that makes me realize how incredible my life is. I am grateful for those moments that catch me off guard, that remind of who I am and the life I am lucky to have. Today, I choose to embrace each reality that fills my life. They remind me to live fully, love deeply, dare more greatly, and be forever grateful for every beautiful breath. They make me realize that my reality has shaped who I am, my passion for life, and my dreams for the future I so fiercely seek. Those moments remind me to stop, take a breath, and recognize the beauty that fills my life. Love to you all. 

Embrace your reality.