Multiple sclerosis can do strange things to a girl’s brain. Like, for example, mess with her sense of balance.
 
I often feel dizzy. I frequently stumble and trip or sway and stagger (especially when I’m tired). I accidentally bump into people when I walk through a crowd. It’s kind of embarrassing actually. Sometimes I feel like a drunken sailor – minus the colorful language, of course.  
 
There’s nothing like a chronic illness to put a marriage to the test.
 
Shortly after my diagnosis, I found myself reflecting on a promise Curt and I made a couple of decades ago. At the time, I didn’t give it much thought.  
 
“And do you Sheri; promise to love Curtis in sickness and in health?”
 
Man, he looks good in a tux … Oh sure, sickness and health … This dress is itchy…

Sickness. I knew we’d face that someday, but not for a long time. You know, like after retirement and dozens of great-grandchildren.     
                                                                                                            
So who could’ve guessed that in February of 2016 my husband and I would sit in a neurologist’s office and learn that I have an unpredictable and potentially disabling chronic disease?    
 
Like I said, MS can do strange things to a girl’s brain – and I can’t always blame the scar tissue.
 
The more I heard about MS, the more my insecurities crept in. How was Curt feeling about all of this? More importantly, how was he feeling about me?
 
Curt is an energetic guy. He loves to play sports. He likes to travel and have fun. And then there’s me. I’m often tired. I can’t walk a great distance. It’s frustrating when your body doesn’t allow you to do what you want. But I knew one thing.  
 
My husband didn’t sign up for this.
 
One morning Curt was heading out the door when my emotions got the best of me.
 
“Let’s be honest,” I said, a bit over-dramatic. “We don’t know about my future. There are people with MS that can’t even walk. What if that happens to me? What if I end up in a wheelchair?”
 
Curt set his work bag down and looked me in the eye.
 
“You’re right,” he said. “I don’t know about the future. Except whatever you go through, I’ll be going through it with you.”
 
Recently, a friend asked me, “So how has Curt been through all of this?” One word came to mind.
 
Unshaken.
 
Yes, he is concerned about my health. But he isn’t flustered or freaked out. He loves me just the same. He is simply unshaken.
 
When you think about it, “In sickness and in health” is a pretty broad statement. If I had to re-write our vows to specifically reflect our marriage today, it would sound more like:
                                                        
“I Curtis, take the Sheri to be my wife. I promise to run the girls to softball and volleyball when you’re feeling extra tired and take time off work to go with you to doctor’s appointments. I will drop you off at the door so you don’t have to walk, and I will still honor and keep you – even when you stumble through a crowd like a poor drunken sailor. 

I may feel off-balance, but my husband is rock-solid and steady. That's what “in sickness” means to me. No matter how shaky life gets, you've always got someone to lean on.  

THE FINAL SCORE ...
​The energy and excitement is almost tangible. Fans cheer. Buzzers echo throughout the arena. Shoes squeak against the hardwood. It’s the second quarter and the Rockets are tied: 24-24. They’re playing tough, hoping to bring home a state basketball trophy.
 
I notice the student section is full of teenagers. There are so many familiar faces. Some I’ve taught in my math classes. Some are friends with my kids. Others I recognize from the hallway. But there’s one boy missing from the crowd.
 
My boy. 

​No doubt he’d be in the midst of it all. He loved hanging with his friends and cheering on the Rockets. My heart aches as I remember that tragic day, almost three months ago. 
 
It was Christmas Eve. Our family was ready to leave for lunch at my in-laws. They lived just up the road, within walking distance.
 
Our oldest son, Drake, had already left the house. This didn’t surprise me. It was a beautiful day, and Drake took advantage of every opportunity to be outdoors. He especially loved our back woods. He spent hours exploring, climbing and building forts. He was my carefree, adventurous boy. I assumed he had gone for a walk and would meet us at Grandma’s.
                    
However, when we walked through the door, my mother-in-law looked confused. She glanced at each grandchild, as if conducting a head-count.
 
“Lexi. Douglas. Alayna. Did you forget somebody?”
 
I looked around. “Drake’s not here?”
 
That kid, I thought. He’s still messing around in the woods. I turned to my husband. “Call his cell phone. He probably lost track of time.” 

​Dana tried his number, but Drake didn’t answer. I thought of his friend who lived across the field. “Maybe he went to Brady’s.”
 
Dana swiped his finger across his phone, searching for the location of Drake’s cell phone. “Looks like he’s still in the woods.” Dana shoved his phone back in his pocket. “I’ll go get him.”
 
The rest of the day was a heartbreaking blur. Drake had experienced a terrible accident – and my world stopped. 
 
Drake’s visitation was also a blur. We spent six hours greeting a continuous line of friends, family, teachers, classmates, neighbors, and teammates. The basketball team came as a group. I knew it was especially tough for them. They had been scheduled to play in a holiday tournament that night. They paid their respects and with heavy hearts, headed to the tournament.
 
I was glad to hear that Rockridge won that tournament, and I was deeply touched when I heard what transpired after the game. The entire team had gathered together, held up the trophy and shouted, “We did it for Drake.”
 
At that point, the varsity basketball team dedicated the rest of the season to Drake’s memory. “Do it for Drake” became their motto.
 
Instead of a funeral home, we held Drake’s funeral in the high school gym. We wanted his friends and classmates to feel more comfortable. The entire gym was packed.
 
Both Dana and I spoke at the funeral. People thought we were strong, but we knew better. They didn’t see the private moments. Yes it was difficult, but we had no choice. We needed to do it for Drake. We wanted to talk to the kids.
 
“This pain hurts,” I said, looking into the eyes of Drake’s best friends. “And we know you’re hurting too. God feels our pain.”
 
The first home game after Drake’s death was an emotional one. The entire basketball team presented our family with the first-place trophy from the holiday tournament. Engraved on the trophy, “We did it for Drake.” The cheerleaders carried a huge banner which said, “Do it for Drake – A Great Friend and Teammate.” This would hang on the gym wall for the rest of the season.
 
We were overwhelmed by the love and support of our small community. Dana took the microphone and spoke to the crowd.
 
“Three weeks ago our world turned upside down. Day by day, minute by minute, we’ve been trying to put it all back together.” He took a deep breath. “You’ve put a big piece of our hearts back together, because of everything you’ve done for us.”
 
The first day back to school after break was especially tough. Drake normally rode to school with me. I walked in without him and passed by his locker. I had hung a poster with his picture on his locker over break. It was still there, exactly as I'd hung it. I felt so touched. I knew how teenagers could be. But no one had messed with it. Not one scribble. Not one mark. I appreciated the students being respectful.  
 
That first day back, everyone – from teachers and students to bus drivers and lunch ladies – wore Under Armour (Drake's favorite kind of shirt) to show their support.

Weeks passed and the “Do it for Drake” motto gained momentum. The cheerleaders dedicated their season to Drake. And then the wrestlers.
 
Meanwhile, the basketball team was having a phenomenal season. We loved watching them. They gave us something to look forward to every week. Their support comforted us, and their determination strengthened us. While the Rockets fought hard on the court, our family fought our own battle with grief.  
 
One night was particularly tough for our son, Douglas. He missed his big brother. He plopped down next to me with a heavy sigh. “I wish we could make one phone call or send just one text message to heaven.”
 
“I know,” I said, hugging him close. “I miss Drake too.”
 
Suddenly, Douglas brightened a bit. “Drake could send us a selfie with Jesus!”
 
I laughed, but inside my heart ached. Truth was, I’d take anything if it came from Drake. A phone call. A text message. A selfie. Anything. Didn’t matter what it was. I missed my boy. 
 
By March, our basketball team had a seventeen-game winning streak. For the first time in school history, the Rockridge Rockets were headed to state! I knew Drake was watching and smiling down. He always liked to see people happy. He loved to make them smile. And during that final game of the season, I found a great reason to smile. 

I looked up at the scoreboard. Rockridge was tied: 24-24. I called to my daughter. She always had her phone handy.
 
“Lexi, grab your camera! Look at the score!”
 
Lexi knew the significance of that number. Twenty-four was special to our family. For years, Dana and I have been Nascar – and more specifically – Jeff Gordon (#24) fans. When our kids started playing sports, they all chose jersey number twenty-four. Drake had been number twenty-four since tee-ball. These days, I always notice the 24th of every month. The day Drake passed away.
 
Lexi snapped the picture. Just then, Rockridge came down the court, shot a perfect three-pointer and broke the tie. The crowd roared as the ball swished through the net.
 
Dana and I were stunned. Of all players; Rockridge number 24 had broken the tie.
 
Later, when we looked at the picture, Dana noticed one more thing.
 
“Angie,” he said, “Look at the sign at the top of the scoreboard.” It was an advertisement for PAR-A-DICE Casino.
 
“Paradise,” I said with a smile. Drake was waiting patiently for us in paradise.

​That night, the Rockets brought home a state trophy. The final score: 52-47. Without a doubt, I knew Drake was watching (and smiling down at his friends and family) from paradise.

To see Angie's story in Mysterious Ways Magazine, check it out on Facebook.HERE.  

Aww ... Just look at her. My sweet baby girl. Wasn't she cute? 

Sure, she was cute. 

But don't let those pigtails fool 'ya. She was also a handful.

This week I'm dedicating my blog to all of you mommas out there with little ones. Because I know ... it 'aint always easy. 

Oh the stories I could tell ... 

But wait!

I am telling those stories! Check out my post, IF YOU TAKE A TODDLER TO T-BALL, over at the Quad City Moms Blog. You won't believe what this girl put me through. Thinking back, I've got one thing to say ...   

It's a good thing she was cute. 

Things are changing at the Zeck house. Well at least they're changing in the kitchen. It’s actually my neurologist’s fault. I remember the first thing he said after confirming my MS diagnosis.
 
“I highly recommend you change your diet.”
 
What? The nerve of that guy. What’s wrong with my diet?
 
I only ate fast food when the kids had activities and there was no time for dinner. And it’s not my fault that concession stand food is limited to hot dogs and nachos or walking tacos. But you can’t mess with my sweets, mister. Afternoon cookies were a necessity. How else would I stay awake?  
 
The look on my face must’ve said it all.
 
“You need to eat real food,” he said. “Eat like it’s the 1800’s.”
 
So what did people eat in the 1800’s? Nuts and berries? Molasses from an old tree in the backyard?
 
I only knew one family from that time period and I hadn’t heard from them in years. As a kid, I loved the Little House on the Prairie books. One Christmas I got the entire box set.
 
I tried to remember. What did Ma make for dinner? Sadly, the only foods that came to mind were a pig’s bladder (which made a great balloon for Laura) and a hearty bowl of rabbit stew.  

​Unlike Ma, I do have an advantage. Google. Over the past few weeks I’ve been trying lots of healthy new recipes. But it's been a learning experience. Like one day at the grocery store.
 
“Um, excuse me. Where is your kale?”
 
Now don’t judge me, but I honestly didn’t know what kale looked like.
 
“Right over here, ma’am.” The kid walked with me to the organic aisle.
 
“Oh it kind of looks like lettuce!” I said, intrigued.   
 
At one time, my pantry was full of chips, Mac ‘n cheese and fruit snacks. Today, the pantry is empty, but my fridge is full. And I have hope for a healthy future. 
 
Now don’t worry. I allow myself a little treat every once in awhile. After all, I remember one Christmas when Mr. Edwards crossed a raging creek in the bitter cold, just to give Laura and Mary a peppermint stick and some store-bought sugar for Ma.
 
I mean, let’s be realistic. If it was good enough for the Ingalls, then it’s good enough for me.