“Those who sow with tears will reap with songs of joy.”

— -Psalm 126:5

Some mornings unfold in a fog, slowly, unwillingly letting go of the darkness. Heaviness weighs me down, reality is looming over my head, and it literally takes every ounce of energy I have to rise up and fight. Occasionally, the Countess of Cramming collects all the negative energy and shoves it right back down into deep hidden crevices. Then the Archduchess of Adrenaline tosses me up onto her mighty steed and together we steal away at a breakneck speed.

Today, I fell face first off that filly.

And the tears fell.

Don’t hold too tightly to your expectations in a process that is unpredictable and best taken
ONE DAY AT A TIME.

I had let my imagination create a safe future space for me to exist in while I avoided my current state of sorrow. So, when the dreamy yet-to-come drifted away - or should I say got stomped on - the dam broke. AGAIN. The pipe dream of avoiding radiation in Minnesota during the absolute worst month of the year had been crushed. I had let myself HOPE that I could go to Montana for the month of February, enjoying time with our kids and their friends, with my #1 guy and my precious pup, and then return for a quick surgery in March, returning to Montana for 4-6 weeks of daily radiation treatment.

Can you see it too? A quiet, leisurely jaunt to the local hospital, slip into a designer (ha!) grey cotton gown, 10 minutes of lying around, suit up again and head to Glacier for a few hours to inhale the scent of cedars, listen to the lapping of waves, hear the wind whisper through the evergreens. Aaahhh…are you with me?

NOPE.

No go.

Nada.

So, I cried. I SOBBED. It was not pretty J. was quick to hold me, try to comfort me, but I could sense this overwhelming feeling of helplessness on his part. I hadn’t noticed it before, but it was palpable. While I was mentally negotiating as a coping mechanism, my focus was all inward. I had not yet achieved that delicate balance of living through this diagnosis, allowing all the feelings to exist without judgement, and having the fortitude to loosely hold plans that inevitably changed.

Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ. -Galatians 6:2

The trial is not just for me. WE ARE ALL CONNECTED. When one part of the body is not performing optimally, the entire body feels it. This is true both physically and spiritually. My job, my purpose here on earth is to bring glory to God. IN EVERYTHING. I am learning how to accept what has landed on my path as an opportunity. I am being stretched. Refined. Broken. Rebuilt. Transformed. And just as others link arms with me, I am to reach a loving hand out in return.

Lord, thank you for showing me that others are on this journey with me, feeling grief and hope and fear and trepidation and powerlessness.

Lord, thank you for reminding me that I am not the only one suffering, and that all things in my life go through your mighty hands. You see the whole picture, the whole me, my whole existence.

I AM YOURS.

“In peace I will lie down and sleep, for you alone, O Lord, will keep me safe.” -Psalm 4:8

BEHOLDING

I was able to successfully orchestrate a Zoom call for my mom and her two sisters to celebrate her birthday, with the help of my cousin and my dad.
A friend, still recovering from breast cancer, bought my breakfast and provided several referrals for an oncologist.
I was able to bless our restaurant server with a set of photo scripture cards. When I gifted a set to my friend, she unexpectedly decided to buy two more sets to give to friends.
My small group insisted, graciously, to pray for me and J. and our family
Dr. Teal’s Coconut Oil Foaming Bath. Bubbles. LOTS of bubbles.
A long chat with my mom on her 83rd birthday. Thank you Lord that she is still here for me to talk to.
Falling asleep for awhile on the couch in the dark, being content in knowing our beautiful Timberframe home has blessed us beyond measure