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- Chris Fabry
- Married to Andrea since 1982. We have 9 children together and none apart. Our dog's name is Tebow.
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After finding and remediating mold twice in our Colorado home, we abandoned ship in October 2008. Because of the high levels of exposure, our entire family was affected. After months of seeing different specialists for all of the problems, we came to Arizona to begin comprehensive treatment to rid our bodies of the toxic buildup. In August 2009 we moved into a larger home, four bedrooms, south of Tucson, north of Mexico. I am doing my daily radio program/ writing from that location. Thanks for praying for us. We really feel it.
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Monday, July 18, 2011
It’s difficult to not live in the past. It’s tough to just look at today and not put a template of fear over your life.
My mind is spinning with memories from years ago when the first day of School was in August and fall was in the air in Colorado. Andrea would draw apples with chalk on our front porch, symbolizing the kids going back to school. Those were exciting days filled with new clothes and backpacks and anticipation of the year ahead. In 2008 those days came crashing to a close.
Today, July 18, 2011, the kids go back to school for the first time since 2008. They’ve been taught at home in our safe environment for the past two years. Safe in the sense of toxins, chemicals, and odors from the outside world. We created as perfect a bubble as we could.
Last night, Andrea drew three apples on the front porch. These are desert apples. It’s not even close to fall. It was above 100 degrees yesterday. But the feeling of anticipation and excitement is the same. The kids were up before 6 AM, getting ready, putting on their new clothes. Getting backpacks prepared.
I do not know if this will last. They may come home this afternoon with bloody noses. We’ve had an air purifier in the classrooms over the weekend and have done everything humanly possible to prepare the teachers and administration. Now we take a step into the unknown again.
There’s something about the 18th that feels right. Andrea and I were engaged on the 18th. We broke up on the 18th. We were married on the 18th. None of our children have been born on the 18th, but I think that’s an anomaly. Through our dating and married years, pivotal things happen on the 18th. An offer on a house. A book contract signed. Some milestone with the children. The 18th has held a special place for us, and it does so today.
At the same time I look at this beginning, this step of faith, I think of my father and a childhood friend who are slipping from our lives. There is no talk of going back to school for my friend, Mike, who is now in hospice. There is only talk of a pain-free life, that he is resting comfortably. How can life go on when his family is in such pain? And my father has come out of another hospitalization, confused, unsure of where home is.
Perhaps there are apples in each of our lives, drawn with chalk on the front porch of our lives, signaling something new, something good that feels terribly wrong. Seeing those drawings takes faith. Stepping across them takes will-power.
I don’t think we’re stepping across them alone.
My mind is spinning with memories from years ago when the first day of School was in August and fall was in the air in Colorado. Andrea would draw apples with chalk on our front porch, symbolizing the kids going back to school. Those were exciting days filled with new clothes and backpacks and anticipation of the year ahead. In 2008 those days came crashing to a close.
Today, July 18, 2011, the kids go back to school for the first time since 2008. They’ve been taught at home in our safe environment for the past two years. Safe in the sense of toxins, chemicals, and odors from the outside world. We created as perfect a bubble as we could.
Last night, Andrea drew three apples on the front porch. These are desert apples. It’s not even close to fall. It was above 100 degrees yesterday. But the feeling of anticipation and excitement is the same. The kids were up before 6 AM, getting ready, putting on their new clothes. Getting backpacks prepared.
I do not know if this will last. They may come home this afternoon with bloody noses. We’ve had an air purifier in the classrooms over the weekend and have done everything humanly possible to prepare the teachers and administration. Now we take a step into the unknown again.
There’s something about the 18th that feels right. Andrea and I were engaged on the 18th. We broke up on the 18th. We were married on the 18th. None of our children have been born on the 18th, but I think that’s an anomaly. Through our dating and married years, pivotal things happen on the 18th. An offer on a house. A book contract signed. Some milestone with the children. The 18th has held a special place for us, and it does so today.
At the same time I look at this beginning, this step of faith, I think of my father and a childhood friend who are slipping from our lives. There is no talk of going back to school for my friend, Mike, who is now in hospice. There is only talk of a pain-free life, that he is resting comfortably. How can life go on when his family is in such pain? And my father has come out of another hospitalization, confused, unsure of where home is.
Perhaps there are apples in each of our lives, drawn with chalk on the front porch of our lives, signaling something new, something good that feels terribly wrong. Seeing those drawings takes faith. Stepping across them takes will-power.
I don’t think we’re stepping across them alone.
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10 comments:
Thanks for sharing your heart, again. Your transparency tellls m that it's ok to feel...many things at the same time. Also, it's ok to step out in spite of my fear.
I don't get to the Flog as often as I'd like, but it always feels like a favorite old pair of jeans. : )
Encouraging words, Chris, as we begin this journey, and the proverbial light at the end seems so far away! We are so happy for where you all are today. May all go well!
And, yes, the thought of "life going on" is a heavy one to carry. It's all a matter of perspective - a perspective that we try to keep in mind as we walk this road.
Your family, especially your dear wife, has been such an encouragement to us!
You're such a great writer, Dad. Thanks for always being present at my mile-markers in life!
Love,
Megan
I was in a vehichle spinning out of control on a bridge in winter knowing there is a raven off both sides of the road and a voice spoke to me that I knew was from GOD I now ask myself if it was HIS angel or JESUS hisself but the VOICE reassured me and directed me to give over control and trust that I would be fine. Not to brake or stear or fight in anyway to change the outcome. When I went airborn and started dropping I keep believeing I would be fine. when the small truck landed in the concrete ridges at the bottom of a plus 30 ft drop was damaged surely but the airbag did not discharge. I opened the door and got out and there was a policeman on the top wanting to know how I was . I said I was fine and he yelled back help was on the way but he had to go to other accidents that had "sys mo tain iously" I later found out.
That is not something I have ever had anyone else tell about but I have a second similar thing that happened to me a couple years later almost exactly the same. I have not had multiple accidents in the past but the reoccurence of the VOICE was every bit as life altering and I walked away from a even more amazing situation unharmed. Your apples are not quite the same but it brought my wonderful saving Voice to mind!!!
Okay my friend keep us posted on how day 1 went and know your friends here in Chicago are walking with you and your family!
Thank you for your encouraging and uplifting words. My father is also slipping away from us, so I know how heavy that weighs on your heart. I hope things went well for the kids today. Take care.
Your last paragraph is an incredibly apt description of the way I'm also feeling this week. Your words brought tears to my eyes and encouragement to my heart. Thank you.
"Perhaps there are apples in each of our lives, drawn with chalk on the front porch of our lives, signaling something new, something good that feels terribly wrong. Seeing those drawings takes faith. Stepping across them takes will-power."
Apples have had significance for me since my younger years in Virginia growing up among the apple orchards of the Shenandoah Valley. I have an eclectic collection of vintage apple dinnerware. I am at a difficult juncture, needing to leave the place that's been home to our family (because of mold sensitivity), leaving things behind - including the beloved apple dishes. I needed you honest encouragement today, especially these words ...... Perhaps there are apples in each of our lives, drawn with chalk on the front porch of our lives, signaling something new, something good that feels terribly wrong. Seeing those drawings takes faith. Stepping across them takes will-power.
I don’t think we’re stepping across them alone
Absolutely amazing...riveting, and heart-gripping all at the same time...but then again, you alway are.