It had been a long, emotional month for all of us. With dad's most recent scan revealing additional cancer and the doctor's lack of options, mom and dad are faced with an unknown future. Last weekend, along with my four siblings and their families, Sunil and I made a trip up to Minnesota to spend time with my parents. The house was loud and gloriously full with eleven grandkids (and two grand-puppies!) under foot, as the rest of us casually fell into conversations that varied from memories of our childhood, to questions about how mom and dad met and fell in love, to unhoped for but inevitable plans for the future which seems to loom large ahead of us. 

Being the photographer of the family, my heart longs to document each moment - happy or sad - to wrap up and hold forever. It's why I choose to carry my camera and photograph the surgeries, the pain, the chemo, the conversations, the radiation, and the tears that often accompany it all. With that in mind, I convinced my beautifully photogenic parents to allow me to document their love as it exists during this emotional season of life. 

In typical Minnesotan fashion, the weather was sunny and brisk - a mere 45 degrees. But it allowed me to convince them to snuggle close without complaint. 

My parent's property sits on a corner lot with barely an acre, but having spent 20 years of my life exploring our yard, we were able to find the perfect nooks with the mostly lovely sunset light. 

This is how I remember my parents best. Especially since photos of them curled up like this are my favorites from our last photo shoot together almost four years ago. Just look at how cute they are! 

My mother carries such strength in her eyes. Strength to keep fighting, to keep hoping, and to go on one more day....

And to look straight into the unknown future. 

If you follow me on Instagram, you may have seen a week ago that my dad had surgery to remove a cancerous tumor in his abdomen. This was his fourth abdominal surgery to remove tumors in that area since his cancer diagnosis in 2009. Mom and dad have a team of phenomenal doctors at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, MN and we knew that dad was in good hands. 

The surgery was scheduled last minute, but I made the drive up to MN the night before... not because they really needed me, but because living seven hours away from my parents as they struggle through the valley of cancer has made my heart long to help in any way I can. Surgery days are long days... not just for doctors, but also for family who wait anxiously - slowly and repeatedly imagining every worst possibility. I knew mom would appreciate the familiar hand to hold. I'm so glad I was there. 

Surgery days are pretty familiar to us, but each one is a little bit different. A different building, a different schedule, a different set of nurses, a different hallway, a different length of waiting. 

I always bring my camera on these trips, and force myself to document the day. Not because it's exquisitely beautiful or photo-worthy, but because these photographs are snapshots of God's grace to us as a family. Celebrating life is not just about remembering the good times, but also the times of hardship and anxiety that we made it through. Those moments are worth holding on to. 

Oftentimes raising my camera to my eye in the midst of a tender moment is awkward and uncomfortable, but other times they produce a humorous moment of sweet relief. A chance to be silly and acknowledge that this medical world they live in can seem quite odd to outside eyes. (Especially robes that puff up with air and make you look like Baymax!)

Other times my mom is NOT interested. :)

After hours of waiting, the moment comes to say goodbye and we linger in our embraces. This is the awkward moment when I wish I wasn't a photographer with a loud camera, but I push my shutter knowing that these images of my parents' tenderness will be cherished for many years. 

And somehow stepping into my photographer box makes it easier to hold back the tears. 

We wave goodbye with anxious hearts, but so thankful that the process has finally begun. 

We take one last look at the empty chair that is still warm from the man in the silly Baymax suit and we head out to distract ourselves for as long as we can. 

Distraction usually takes place in the form of walking for mom and I, and we set out to explore the beautiful campus. 

Mom is so cute. :)

After what seems an eternity, we hear that surgery was successful and we can see dad. 

He's alive and groggy, and after we enjoy a few moments of reunion, we settle into the familiar routine of fussing over dad. 

Mom puts on the hat of the Head Nurse who make All The Rules and you do not mess with her or else you will feel the wrath of Mama Bear. 

But don't be fooled. She's just so happy to see him. :)

The next day he's sitting up and walking down the hall and telling jokes to the nurses and I feel confident enough to head home... knowing that, once again, he's in good hands. 

Thankful for the courage and hope of my parents. :)

PS - If you want to stay updated with dad's progress, you can check out his CaringBridge page here. His cancer journey isn't over, but we're thankful that he's still healthy and still with us.