Ben and Lauren's First Short (movie)

With all the Oscar fever around town, it was a natch that Ben and Lauren would want to break into their own version of Hollywood. This is the short movie they made, Jeff's directorial debut, as well.

Much love to you all!
amy, jeff, ben and lauren

my brother and my nephew

I know I shared a few months ago that it was recently discovered that my brother had an 8 year old son, Justin. He lives in Bend and has been visited several times now by my mom, Rhonda, and step-dad, Matt. He resembles my brother in many ways, besides his hair, like his love for adventure and a large collection of scars and scrapes. Please keep him in your prayers - he is still in foster-care and was even removed from his second to last situation two days before Christmas. He seems to enjoy the visits from my mom and Matt and we are hopeful that his next foster care situation could be with them or my dad and his fiancee, Karen.

On the health front, I had appointments yesterday with my oncologist and neurologist and all seems to be okay -- I am hopeful to be done with all my meds by the summer. The anti-seizure medicine, Keppra, makes me very sleepy and slothful so I have to take Ritalin just to fulfill my duties as a mom and wife. The neurologist, Dr. Chow wants me to stay on the Keppra for a full year since my last seizure (June 4, 2007). Also, it looks like I only have two more months of chemo. In March, I will have an MRI and I'm sure I will learn at that time if more months of chemo treatments will be recommended. We will keep you updated.

Much love and blessings to you all!
love, amy

Brain Tumor, R.I.P.

One year ago today, something really awesome happened. A group of surgeons sawed off the top of Amy’s skull and scooped out chunks of tumor from her brain and then told us that she had an aggressive form of cancer that may or may not end her life in 27 months. Now: why was this awesome? I mean, getting your head ripped open with a bonesaw isn’t anyone’s idea of fun, except for maybe the guy wielding the bonesaw. And for all of us who love Amy, or just kinda like her, it was a day from hell. Her mother and I spent an agonizing day in the waiting room… waiting. At home, my Mom took care of the kids… waiting. In Seattle, my brother was at the keyboard, ready to blog the latest update… waiting. Around Los Angeles—and around the world—our family and friends were praying... and waiting. It was the definition of suspense, but not the kind of suspense we buy movie tickets to experience. The kind of suspense that engenders actual, real-life fear and terror and anger. No, one year ago today was not a fun day. It was an awful day. And I never want to experience another day like it.

So why was the Amy Jensen Horror Show so awesome? Because out of that event, we got to experience a blast of love more powerful and electrifying than any head-carving appliance could ever muster. Because out of that event, we got a first-hand demonstration of how God works in the world. I hope you saw it, too, because He did it through you. Thank you. Thank you for your heart. Thank you for your sacrifice. Thank you for laboring on our behalf. I know it wasn’t always easy. I know it wasn’t always something you wanted to do. We get that. The dirty little shameful secret of “helping our fellow man” is that sometimes, or even often times, it feels like work, and thankless, tedious, downright inconvenient work at that. But we are thankful. Even if we haven’t always shown it, we are grateful. I am reminded today that we (the Jensens of Lakewood) don’t always live out of gratefulness—which is why it is good to remember the days like the one we had last year, the one with the saw and the tumor chunks and the ambiguous news on the status of our mortality.

Amy has made a video of our cancer journey. The images tell an interesting story. You’ll see some horror, including the infamous pic of Amy’s brain that is not for the squeamish. You’ll see some terror, like the look on Amy’s lifesaver-covered face (those little round things are actually high-tech MRI thingies) moments before she went into the surgery. (It’s the one with that also features the goofy looking husband with the silly I’m-not-going-to-let-this-get-to-me smile on his face.) You’ll see some sadness, like Amy’s losing battle with hair loss from the chemo. But more than anything, you’ll see a reasonably happy family that experienced a lot of fun and a lot of happiness the past year—in other words, joy. Joy that your love and support purchased for us. Thank you for allowing us to be a happy, functioning little family that more often than not only has to struggle in all the normal, everyday ways. The song that Amy has chosen to accompany her selection of images is by the band Muse, known for dramatic soundscapes marked by epic narrative and catchy hooks. The song—from the album “Black Holes and Revelations” (which could also be the title of our past year)--starts eerie and builds in melody and culminates with a rock-pop flourish. But the refrain says it all: “Together, we’re invincible.”

With much love, The Jensens