LOOK UP
“Do you not yet understand?”
Growing up in the late 70s, cancer was terrifying, and outcomes were much different than they are today. The first MRIs happened in the early 1980s but cancer mortality rates didn’t begin to decline until the 1990s. In early adulthood, I once visited my 15-year old first cousin as she battled leukemia. I have vivid memories of standing outside her hospital room while a bone marrow biopsy was taken. She screamed and wailed and my heart shook and broke. Her frail, tiny body endured SO MUCH PAIN. This was cancer, and she didn’t survive. It is no surprise that I wrestle with my brain knowing my cancer is likely very treatable while feeling my heart turn upside down at remembering how terrifying it was to have cancer decades ago.
I’m going to copy Hector* and share my observations.
Trust God requires letting go of certainty. It might mean only seeing the next step,
Patience is walking with God at His pace.
Faith is not the complete absence of fear.
Appearances are deceiving.
Humility is found in low places.
Many of us avoid engaging in topics that make us uncomfortable or that we can’t fix.
Maintaining balance and a positive outlook is accomplished by regularly using my support resources.
No one likes navigating the unknown. Especially ME.
When experiencing trials, it is important to look for the opportunities.
Having cancer will always be a part of me.
A beneficial, supportive thing to communicate: #IAmHere.
There is no right way to process this. I talk, write and reflect, but some of my loved ones are processing this differently.
Worshipping through tears is a ritual worth practicing.
Vulnerability can often lead to life-giving relationships and experiences.
Hoping for a better future doesn’t mean skipping over the hard emotions of the moment.
It is okay to laugh in the midst of pain and fear.
Inner critics go silent when you ignore them.
In general, people want to be helpful. Let them help.
Being an amateur at navigating a new obstacle is OK.
Knowing my Creator and personally walking with Him is the greatest gift I know.
GOD IS TEACHING ME PATIENCE AND TRUST.
I acknowledge that each day I must spend energy to set aside the anxious feeling that cancer is growing inside me. AT THIS VERY MOMENT. I do not believe I am dying from cancer. But I still carry some unknowns that lurk in the shadows and wave their arms frantically trying to grab my attention. It may look like I am never afraid. (I am) It may appear that I never worry about having cancer, or it returning someday. (I do). Answers continue to elude me.
Planning and organization used to be two pillars of my being. Not anymore. Since my diagnosis, I have tried to manage unmet expectations that varied from those slightly altered to others devastatingly smashed into smithereens. My ability to tolerate this waxes and wanes. I sometimes fall into the trap of trying to force a decision or circumstance, just so I can have the feeling of control and predictability. The inability to schedule anything past my surgery date has me spitting nails.
I try to remind myself to just look to the next footfall, and not rush ahead. BUT THIS IS HARD.
In Mark 8, Jesus overhears his disciples fretting about not having any food. They had just witnessed Jesus multiply a few loaves of bread and fish into more than enough food for 4000 people. When I read the words, they seem a bit harsh as Jesus asks several questions about their lack of faith. Yet, I can totally understand his frustration at their repeated disbelief and worry.
And I see myself in those faithful, sometimes forgetful followers.
Salvation seems a long way off. I know who I belong to. I do not fear death. But in my limited vision, I, like the disciples, can focus on the wrong thing.
I suffer from miracle amnesia. Gratitude is the best remedy.
Look up, daughter. He is faithful. He is holy. He is providing, protecting, pursuing. He is patient, peaceful, perfect.
Take my life, I’m letting go, I lift it up, to You who’s throned.
Only You.
“In the face of darkness light is near.”
BEHOLDING
Seeing Northern Lights over the mountains with A., K. & J. in the wee hours of the morning
A family snowmobiling adventure
A. recommending a helpful book on breast cancer
Celebrating 33 years with a faithful, loving, capable, generous, hilarious, strong Christian husband
Kids who cook scrumptious meals
A short trip to Yellowstone to see amazing wildlife and stunning scenery
Encouraging friends and family who continually pray for me
Laughing with J. & A. about art that looks like cancer cells
New friends in new places
Amazing pink alpenglow on the mountains
Fat, fluffy snowflakes slowing falling
A warm, lavender neck wrap on a chilly morning
Hugs. SO MANY HUGS. ❤️
* From the movie Hector and the Search For Happiness.
"Only You" by David Crowder Band
(click to listen)
Take my heart, I lay it down
At the feet of you whose crowned
Take my life, I'm letting go
I lift it up to you who's throned
And I will worship You, Lord
Only You, Lord
And I will bow down before You
Only You Lord
Take my fret, take my fear
All I have, I'm leaving here
Be all my hopes, be all my dreams
Be all my delights, be my everything
And It's just you and me here now
Only you and me here now
