Giving Thanks

Tonight I went to a Thanksgiving service at my church where testimonies of thankfulness were shared. Here's what was on my heart and what I shared:

This has been the hardest year of my adult life… and the darkest year I’ve experienced since I believed in Jesus as my Savior. It was a year ago this very week that I began to experience what would become debilitating pelvic pain that eventually led to a diagnosis of stage 4 uterine cancer. What followed has been a near yearlong journey through chemotherapy, major surgery, and more chemotherapy with radiation soon to come.

Since last Thanksgiving, I’ve felt more sick than I’ve ever felt in my life and I’ve been more exhausted than I’ve ever been in my life. I learned that my doctor wasn’t sure I’d even make it when he saw how bad my cancer was in the beginning… and to add to that, I learned that statistically I face a mere 15-20% chance of even surviving the next 5 years. Needless to say, I’ve spent this year struggling with more questions and fears than I ever imagined I would in my lifetime… and I’ve wrestled with some very deep and dark emotions.

I certainly don’t feel like being thankful this Thanksgiving. Yet I find myself unable to deny that I still have a lot to be thankful for.

- I’m thankful that my church elders have even bothered to keep me on staff through all this.

- I’m thankful that God provided the best GYN oncologist in the northeast to care for me.

- I’m thankful that God has worked through medical advances and the prayer of his people to heal my body of cancer almost completely in less than a year.

- I’m thankful that I’ve been given the opportunity to share how I've experienced the love of God with people I never would have met if I hadn’t gotten cancer.

- I’m thankful that no matter how hard it is to face each day, God always gives me just the grace and strength I need to get through it.

- I’m thankful that I can see God using this tremendously difficult time in my life to transform me into something far different than I was before.

- But most of all, I’m thankful that I have come to see and know God in ways I never could have apart from such a long and difficult trial: He has proven his faithfulness to me over and over again… even when I’m not feeling so faithful myself. He has shown me how very deep the rivers of his comfort are when I am hurting in ways that I can’t even express. He has affirmed over and over that he has a purpose in everything that I’ve faced… and that if I woke up this morning, he has a purpose for me in this day.

- Most importantly, He has proven the promises of his Word to be a strong and true foundation to cling to. Isaiah 43:2-3, for example, has meant a lot to me over the past year - "When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze. For I am the Lord, your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior."

My Anchor

A dear friend sent me this today and it was a perfect expression of how God cares for me through the most difficult of times...

The anchor holds
though the ship is battered;
The anchor holds
though the sails are torn;
I have fallen on my knees
as I faced the raging seas;
The anchor holds
in spite of the storm.

Radiation Oncology Consultation

This has been an exceptionally difficult treatment cycle for me emotionally. Hence the radio silence... but I wanted to get at least something of an update posted before I go down from my last scheduled chemo. I'm writing from the infusion center... chemo #6 of phase 2... so let me try to update you before I'm drugged and incapable of focusing clearly.

Two weeks ago I had my radiation oncology consultation. I went into the appointment blissfully ignorant due to the fact that a number of people had told me that radiation is much easier than chemotherapy. I quickly learned that this will most likely not be the case for me. Because of the location of my radiation and the major extent of my surgery this past summer, radiation holds a very likely prospect that it will be just as difficult as chemo for me. The side effects will be a little different, though.

I won't bore you (or gross you out) with the details of the side effects. Suffice it to say - it's not going to be easy and there are some pretty daunting long term side effects, some of which are possible - pray that I don't suffer from life-long chronic lymph edema (a build up of fluid) in my legs - and some of which are definite - those I won't even mention here.

When I was receiving all this information, at first I felt like a deer caught in headlights. I was being inundated with so many details that were just so hard to accept! The longer the consultation went on, the more I felt like I had just slammed into a brick wall. It knocked me off my feet and it took me a good week or so just to shake off the shock and stand back up again. Now it's a matter of processing all that I learned. Brick by brick, I'm pulling apart that wall because there is no escape... I'm going to have to walk through it and get to the other side one way or another.

I won't have any definite answers on my schedule until the beginning of December, but for now it looks like I'll be in radiation for the better part of two to three months. I'll do external radiation every day (Monday through Friday) for about 5 1/2 to 6 weeks... maybe more. Then I'll do internal radiation once a week for about 3 weeks. I'm holding onto the good news that there's a good chance I'll be finishing treatment about a week before my mission trip to Haiti. It'll be rough, but I'm still hoping to be able to go.... We'll see!

For now, I have very mixed feelings. It is such a good thing to be so close to taking another step toward the end of my treatment. I've been unbelievably blessed since I was diagnosed last February. My cancer is so aggressive and advanced, it's a wonder (I would say a miracle) that I have responded so well to treatment. There are days when I'm amazed that I'm even looking at a realistic possibility that I'll be told I'm cancer-free someday.

Yet, I'm finding that it's almost as intimidating to face the prospect of transitioning back into "normal" life as it was to transition into treatment. On top of that, there are so many questions that swirl around my head every day. What will the next scan show? Will I stop responding to treatment so well at some point? Will the cancer begin to grow again? Will it come back after I'm in remission? How long will I live? Will I die a long and ugly death because of this disease? ...And so many more. It's difficult to live in this state of limbo all the time. Yet, in truth, nothing is guaranteed to any of us. We just fool ourselves into thinking that it's all going to be OK. We deny the reality that this life is merely a vapor (James 4:14).

I find myself being pushed into a new reality through all of this. I'm recognizing on a whole new level the pain and fragility of this life. I've gotten to a point where I'm totally burned out. I'm done. I'm done with feeling sick so often. I'm done with always feeling tired. I'm done with my body not working the way I want it to. I'm done with my hands and feet being numb. I'm done with struggling through all the many emotions that come with cancer and its treatment. I'm just done. I wish I didn't have to go any further in this life. I so long for heaven.... I long to realize the promises of no more tears, no more pain, and no more suffering. I'm done with this life! Yet, there are a few people precious to me whose eternity still hangs in the balance... they have become my motivation for hanging on still.

That said, let me be clear about one more thing, so you don't go worrying about me. God has very much so been holding me in place. Somehow by his mercy and grace, he has kept me from being completely washed away and drowned by these thoughts. He has given me a firm foundation and a keen sense of purpose in the midst of it all. I know that if I woke up today, God has a purpose for me in this day. I know that if I'm still here, there's a reason for it... and it is that truth to which I cling.

Still, my feelings are strong right now and I'm struggling in a big way... but this week I got a great reminder. I was reminded of Noah of all people! Like him, I feel as if I've been flooded and I'm floating adrift on a vast sea (Genesis 8:6-12). Noah was in need of a little hope when he released a dove from the ark and waited for it to return to him with a sign of dry land somewhere.... anywhere! He got that glimpse of hope when the dove finally returned with an olive leaf in its mouth. Like him, I'm looking out at a vast and stormy sea praying for a glimpse of hope from the Lord. I'm holding onto his promises and the faithfulness he's shown me, so that I may still have the eyes to see God through this very dark time. No matter how I happen to feel at the moment, he is still my stronghold and refuge (Psalm 18:2-6). That will never change.

If you're in your own dark time, feeling like you're on a stormy sea... let me encourage you with what encourages me, "Look to the horizon. You never know when a glimpse of hope may be coming you way!

Hold My Heart

I'm sitting in the infusion center staring once again down the long hill of the upcoming week. Even with seeing God answer prayer and work in such an amazing way with a large medical bill being written off just last week, I still find myself struggling to accept the path he has laid out ahead me.

I don't want to feel drugged. I don't want to feel sick. I don't want to feel sore and worn out. I don't want to spend the next couple weeks having to deal with my body not working the way it should!

My body is starting to really feel the cumulative effects of continued treatment and it's all just getting old. I'm tired and... as much as I know my God is right here wrapping his arms around me, carrying me through, answering prayer, and giving me grace and strength to face each day... I still get enveloped by the difficulty of treatment and I end up crying out to him because I don't feel his presence through the low times.

The following is a song that mirrors how I feel during these times:


Hold My Heart
by Tenth Avenue North

How long must I pray, must I pray to you?
How long must I wait, must I wait for you?
How long 'till I see Your face, see you shining through?
I'm on my knees begging you to notice me.
I'm on my knees, Father will you turn to me?

One tear in the driving rain
One voice in a sea of pain
Could the Maker of the stars
Hear the sound of my breaking heart?
One life is all I am
Right now, I can barely stand
If you're everything you say you are,
Would you come close and hold my heart?

I've been so afraid, afraid to close my eyes
So much can slip away before I say goodbye
But if there's no other way, I'm done asking why
Cause I'm on my knees begging you to turn to me
I'm on my knees, Father will You run to me?

One tear in the driving rain
One voice in a sea of pain
Could the Maker of the stars
Hear the sound of my breaking heart?
One life is all I am
Right now, I can barely stand
If you're everything you say you are,
Would you come close and hold my heart?

So many questions without answers; Your promises remain
I can't see but I'll take my chances, to hear you call my name
To hear you call my name

One tear in the driving rain
One voice in a sea of pain
Could the Maker of the stars
Hear the sound of my breaking heart?
One life is all I am
Right now, I can barely stand
If you're everything you say you are,
Would you come close and hold my heart?

Hold my heart, could you hold my heart?
Hold my heart.


Thank you, God, that even when I don't feel it, I know you are right here with me. I know that through the clouds of doubt and difficulty, your promises remain. Thank you. They are all I have to cling to this week...

I'll post again when I'm feeling better.

My God Provides!

I just had to write to fill you in on what God has done for me...

I called St. Luke's billing department last week because I had received a bill in the mail this month saying that I owed $10,704.14 on my PET/CT scan from back in May. That amount is the final figure after both my insurance and medical assistance had made their payments. I was calling to ask some questions because I thought there might have been an error in what was covered and then I knew I was going to have to set up a payment plan for that large of an amount.

When I gave the account number I was informed that there is a zero balance on the account... St. Luke's wrote off the balance!!! Can you believe it?!?

I was so heavy-hearted about incurring this debt, but I was trying to keep a positive attitude knowing that in the big picture it's a small price to pay for my health. I knew that God would provide for me even if it meant paying it off little by little over the years, but he is so gracious and good to me beyond what I could ever imagine and definitely beyond what I deserve! I can't believe that the whole amount was just wiped clean!!!

I'm sure I'll incur more debt, so keep an ear open over the coming months - I have some wonderful friends who want to eventually hold a benefit to help me out. But for now... I'm speechless over this!

Motherhood

I think generally I'm a pretty sane person (relatively speaking). I've had my share of ups and downs, but overall I think I handle most things pretty well. However, going into my surgery, I wasn't so sure what to expect of my reaction afterwards. What is a young woman supposed to do when she's never been married, never had kids, and faces the prospect of a radical hysterectomy? How is she supposed to feel?

Prior to surgery, I wasn't upset about the prospect of losing my uterus. In fact, the very first day I met my oncologist, I was on a mission to make sure he knew that I was not attached to my reproductive system. I told him in no uncertain terms that he was free to remove whatever needed to be removed if it meant I'd be that much closer to becoming cancer-free. You see, I'm in my mid-thirties with no immediate prospects of getting married and even if I were looking at marriage now, I'm really not interested in having kids at this stage of my life anyway. Besides, I had always thought that if I had gotten married earlier in my life that I would've wanted to adopt anyway. So, for several valid reasons, I was not concerned in the least before surgery about retaining my ability to have children. I hoped, of course, that I wouldn't somehow wake up from surgery with a changed mind.

Even though I normally handle most things pretty logically (or at least I think I do) and I don't usually change my mind on things, I was concerned that somehow in the wake of major surgery and with the sudden onset of menopause, I'd find myself being unnaturally emotional about losing a key part of myself that, at least physically, makes me uniquely feminine. Though I told no one, I had a secret fear that I would wake up mourning over some new-found longing to bear children of my own. Would I somehow feel like less of a woman?

Well, I didn't... and today I came to the clear realization that I won't!

In my women's Bible study group, we're reading through a book called Captivating by John and Stasi Eldredge. Women, if you haven't read this book, I highly recommend it. This is my second time going through it and I'm still gleaning much from it. It's had a huge impact on how I see myself (more to come on that later). Anyway, we're going through this book and today we read a chapter on Mothers, Daughters, and Sisters. My knee-jerk inclination was to groan when I read that... but as it turns out I was feeling really uplifted by the end of our time together. A portion of this chapter put in a nutshell all that's been swirling around in my mind these past months regarding motherhood. Check it out -

"All women are called to mother. And all women are called to give birth. Women give birth to ideas, to creative expressions, to ministries. We birth life in others by inviting them into deeper realms of healing, to deeper walks with God, to deeper intimacy with Jesus. A woman is not less of a woman because she is not a wife or has not physically borne a child. The heart and life of a woman is much more vast than that. All women are made in the image of God in that we bring forth life. When we enter into our world and into the lives of those we love and offer our tender and strong feminine hearts, we cannot help but mother them."

I couldn't have stated it any better myself. I don't mourn the fact that I'll never bear children of my own physically. I've just never been that girl! I look at my life and realize simply that my calling is different than that. Even though I'll never be able to do the one thing that most women long for with every fiber of their being... even though that's not even a part of the fabric of who I am, I know in my heart of hearts that I still have a similar calling... and one that's just as valuable, too! Like so many women of Scripture (Naomi, Ruth, Esther, Mary, Lois, Eunice... and so many more), I want to be a woman who brings life with her wherever she goes. I want people to feel uplifted after they've been with me... not because of me really, but because of the Life-Giver that lives within me. I want to be the kind of woman who imparts something of value into this world - a woman who changes people's lives for the better and leaves an indelible imprint of the Lord on them after she's gone.

Giving life is so much more than bearing children. Motherhood extends beyond bloodlines. I envision a day, if I'm around long enough, that I can say I have many sons and daughters... a day when I will be remembered fondly as someone who imparted life to many... in spite of the fact that I don't have a uterus! I want to be like my Savior who came saying, "I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full" (John 10:10).

Christianese

"But whatever was to my profit I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them rubbish, that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ—the righteousness that comes from God and is by faith. I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead." ~ Philippians 3:7-11

As I'm studying through the book of Philippians, I've found myself standing squarely in the face of this passage. I knew it was coming. It's a passage that has somehow found its way into my reading a lot lately and I've got to be honest... I haven't been thrilled about it. It's one that at first I felt very akin to. Truly, as I have gone through the processes that naturally happen when you receive a major diagnosis like mine, I have learned to count a lot of things as loss and I have learned to desire knowing Christ all the more. At the end of the day, there's not really much more to hold onto.

Yet, I now find myself wincing at this once comforting passage. As I've said so many times before, treatment is a long and difficult process. There is no getting out of it. You just have to bear down and get through the many days of sickness, pain, and misery. I thought that having gone through these trials these past months would have made me love this passage all the more as I cling to my Savior to get me through. Not so.... Instead, as I wade through the weeks and months, I am coming to realize something about myself - about many Christians - that I'm not so fond of.

You see, often I have thrown these words around... "I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of his sufferings," but do I really? I'm fast coming to a place where I'm realizing that I want to know Christ, but I really don't want to know his suffering. Why would I? Sure, I want to know Jesus more and more. Sure, I want to be close to him and as much like him as I can be... but at what cost? What price am I really willing to pay to be like my Savior? I'm afraid I'm learning that my cost is a lot cheaper than I thought it was. It seems the longer I go in treatment, the less I want to go through it... even if it means that I forfeit the lessons God has planned for me to learn. I'm just tired of the struggle.

Don't get me wrong - I do want to know Jesus and be like him, but in all honesty, I'm realizing that I still want life to be easy. I don't want to face hardship or pain - not at all! There's one problem with this, though... one nagging question: Can I ever truly know him or be like him without suffering? I don't think so.

So here I sit... realizing once again that my heart is failing and my faith is weak. So often I throw around Scripture quotations and boast of my great desires to make a difference in this world for the Lord. So often, however, I'm not even thinking of what my words really mean. So often, I don't think of the cost. So often, I forget the tremendous price my Savior was willing to pay for me and I make promises to him that are no more lasting than the air on which they're breathed... promises that in the end, I may never be willing to actually keep. In the end, it's all just "Christianese." It sounds good, but it really doesn't mean a whole lot.

I think a lot of us do that. We talk big, but when we're really pressed with hardship, we crack and we fold. When things get rough, we want out. I think there are a lot of people out there just like me.... If we're really honest with ourselves, we'd have to admit that we want the blessings of the Lord, but we want things to be easy, too. What a shame! How will we see real transformation in our lives? How will we ever make a difference for the Lord if we're not willing to suffer in some way as our Messiah did for us? It seems there is no other way. The ways of the Lord are backwards to this world. Death brings life, trials bring growth, and suffering brings joy....

At least, that's what he's promised us. For those of us who go through the long nights of trials and tribulations, we are offered a tremendous hope in the Lord. It's not necessarily the hope of getting out of the difficulty immediately. It's the promise of deep joy and lasting growth for the one who perseveres (James 1:2-3; 12). I so long to be that person.... May I not fail under this long test! I don't want my promises to the Lord to be empty words. I want my life to mirror his and make a difference for him! So, I reconsider and realign my thinking (yet once again)...