My precious friend is broken. So broken. So broken in fact that she is picking up her leiblings and traveling all the way across the united states to stay with me for a while. Life has a way of knocking the wind out of us. Sometimes not just knocking the wind out of us but nearly smothering us in the process.
She does not feel amazing. Man I know that feeling. Today was the ugly cry face day. Broken. So broken she does not think she is fixable. Oh my how different it looks from my point of view. She is one of the strongest women I know. She too walked through the valley of the shadow of death. She too hiked out without her husband. Hers was an especially brutal journey. Cancer can be soooo ugly. I was lucky. But, she lived to tell about it. She has found happy places in this dark journey. She marked the road for me when I was sure I would not survive. She watched me cry my ugly face. She listened to countless phone calls when I could not speak, all she heard were the all familiar sobs. Countless texts when all I could say is "are you out there?". She knew that was the code for "I'm doing terrible, are you there for me?" She told me I would be ok even when I was sure I would not. Even when I did not want to live.
I have never met anyone who could stare down the devil like she can. There were dragons to slay and she took up her sword and said "bring it on". She did it with a fierceness I have never seen and I found so inspiring. She is just a baby. 29.
Today she does not feel amazing! I get that. However, I know who she really is. Today sweet friend you cannot see all that God has done. Today you cannot see how amazing you are but I can. Today all you see is pain and failure and shortcomings but I see. I see who you are. You are a dragon slayer. You may be wounded but you are not out. God is not done writing your story and we are here. Borrow my belief in you and the God we serve. This brokenness is a blessed thing. He longs to gather you under His wings and He will. He did not leave you before and He won't do it now. Rest in that you amazing girl! Rest!
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Saturday, September 8, 2012
I don't feel amazing
I know some of you think I am strong and courageous. Some of you even think I am amazing because I have lived through a nightmare and can still see the goodness of God even in this. Perhaps you are right but I feel anything but amazing.
There are days when I feel on top of the world again. Days when I am OK with this new life. Days when tomorrow holds promise. And then there are days.... I seem to still have a lot of those days. Days when I am freaking out trying to control the future. When I am cowering in a corner begging to go back to Egypt. Days when this life seems so completely unfair, and it is.
I miss having someone who knows my every nuance. Who knows the sound of MY feet on the stairs. Someone who knows that I am freaking out and that this is temporary and tomorrow I will be OK. I miss my history. We knew how to dance together. We walked in a steady cadence and knew what the other partner would do next. I miss that. Thirty years of history. Damn that is hard sometimes.
New is good too though. I love having someone who wants to learn to dance with me. I love learning a new dance. I love recognizing his footsteps on the stairs and the smell of him. But I freak out pretty regularly. We could be having a perfectly wonderful day and some scary thought crosses my mind and I am on the roller coaster again. What if we can't learn each other? What if the dance is just awkward and dorky? What if I don't like the smell of him tomorrow? What if I can't predict the future? What if he dies too?
All of these thoughts make a regular occurrence in my head and my knee jerk reaction is to run. If I feel insecure I want to run. If I feel afraid I want to run. I want to get out before I get hurt again. I do not feel strong or courageous. I feel scared. I want to control. I want predictable and safe and guaranteed. I don't want to be amazing I want to be safe.
Ahhh, but life is not safe and if we ever feel secure it is merely the misnomer of security. Our only real security is that somehow in all this chaos and pain that is this life, God is still on the throne. He's got the whole world in His hand.
I choose to live on this edge even when I don't like it. I choose to believe that God will NEVER leave me or forsake me, even if it sometimes feels that way. I choose to live as if He has good things planned for me if I would just get out of His way. I choose to let Him write my story even though this book is not going in the direction I surely thought it was. I choose to let Him give me a new history and to believe that someone knows the smell of my hair and the sound of my feet on the stairs even if it is not Tom anymore.
So for now, I will get up every morning, put on my big girl panties and try to slay these dragons that haunt my thoughts. Maybe I am strong and courageous even when I feel so very weak and timid.
Lord give me the strength to be weak. To let you work your perfect will in this very imperfect heart of mine. Help me to get out of your way and to do it gracefully and with love.
There are days when I feel on top of the world again. Days when I am OK with this new life. Days when tomorrow holds promise. And then there are days.... I seem to still have a lot of those days. Days when I am freaking out trying to control the future. When I am cowering in a corner begging to go back to Egypt. Days when this life seems so completely unfair, and it is.
I miss having someone who knows my every nuance. Who knows the sound of MY feet on the stairs. Someone who knows that I am freaking out and that this is temporary and tomorrow I will be OK. I miss my history. We knew how to dance together. We walked in a steady cadence and knew what the other partner would do next. I miss that. Thirty years of history. Damn that is hard sometimes.
New is good too though. I love having someone who wants to learn to dance with me. I love learning a new dance. I love recognizing his footsteps on the stairs and the smell of him. But I freak out pretty regularly. We could be having a perfectly wonderful day and some scary thought crosses my mind and I am on the roller coaster again. What if we can't learn each other? What if the dance is just awkward and dorky? What if I don't like the smell of him tomorrow? What if I can't predict the future? What if he dies too?
All of these thoughts make a regular occurrence in my head and my knee jerk reaction is to run. If I feel insecure I want to run. If I feel afraid I want to run. I want to get out before I get hurt again. I do not feel strong or courageous. I feel scared. I want to control. I want predictable and safe and guaranteed. I don't want to be amazing I want to be safe.
Ahhh, but life is not safe and if we ever feel secure it is merely the misnomer of security. Our only real security is that somehow in all this chaos and pain that is this life, God is still on the throne. He's got the whole world in His hand.
I choose to live on this edge even when I don't like it. I choose to believe that God will NEVER leave me or forsake me, even if it sometimes feels that way. I choose to live as if He has good things planned for me if I would just get out of His way. I choose to let Him write my story even though this book is not going in the direction I surely thought it was. I choose to let Him give me a new history and to believe that someone knows the smell of my hair and the sound of my feet on the stairs even if it is not Tom anymore.
So for now, I will get up every morning, put on my big girl panties and try to slay these dragons that haunt my thoughts. Maybe I am strong and courageous even when I feel so very weak and timid.
Lord give me the strength to be weak. To let you work your perfect will in this very imperfect heart of mine. Help me to get out of your way and to do it gracefully and with love.
Friday, July 27, 2012
Safe or Exhilarating
Wow! Hard to believe that it has been a whole month since I have posted. This feels like it has been a month on a roller coaster ride for me. My mom pointed out that not only am I still dealing with some grief but I am also going into menopause. Yay! So exciting to be dealing with both at the same time! Can't wait!
July 10th was Kalebs second birthday and a new wave of grief engulfed me on the way down there. I love that boy soooo much and it grieves me that Tom does not get to experience all that I am getting to experience with him. Kaleb has a wonderful Papa in Kavin's dad but it also hurts when Kaleb is so overjoyed to see his papa. Kaleb thinks Dale hung the moon and I can't help but feel an ache that Tom is not here to get to experience that. Being grandparents was something that we really looked forward to and Tom handed over a great commission to both Kaleb's grandpa and Lexi's grandpa since he would not be here to have that role in their life. Fortunately both men have done a wonderful job of being that influence in the kids lives but it does hurt just a little.
Steve and I have reached a place in the relationship where we are doing some of the hard work. The honeymoon period of new love is waning and now we are doing that tough stuff and a part of me wants to run. I want to go back to Egypt where it's warm and secure. I want my old, familiar back. I feel too old to learn new tricks and to adapt to another persons quirks. I miss having someone know me the way you know someone after 3o years of marriage. I married at 19 so we learned to dance together. It may have been a funky dance but we did it so well and so in sync with each other and I just feel too old and tired to learn a new dance. Yuck! While in general I feel like I am doing pretty good, the grief comes in waves. Sometimes barely cresting and sometimes a sneaker wave that pulls me out to sea. You go through this process where you eventually have to grieve everything you have lost. Yes, I have grieved the person I have lost but sometimes you grieve the loss of the fact that they knew how you liked your coffee or they kept track of the gas in the car. Those are the things you don't think about until they sneak up on you.
Our little dance for yard work was I would weed the flower beds and toss the weeds on the lawn then he would come out and rake up my mess and put it in the yard debris bin. Now I have to rake up my own mess. I grieve the dance. Not deep grief, just a barely cresting wave.
Here is the challenge in my life right now. It always comes down to control. I want control. I want to run so I feel like I have control. I want familiar so I feel like I have control. This is not the life I have chosen but am I really willing to go along for the ride. Sometimes that ride feels like The Tower of Terror when what I want is the Dumbo ride. When you ride The Tower of Terror you experience things you never get on Dumbo or on My Toads Wild Ride. What will I choose? Will I choose safe and predictable or exhilarating but kind of scary. Today I don't know the answer but I am asking the questions.
What will you choose today? Safe and predictable or a little scary and exhilarating? Choose wisely and let go of the need to control.
July 10th was Kalebs second birthday and a new wave of grief engulfed me on the way down there. I love that boy soooo much and it grieves me that Tom does not get to experience all that I am getting to experience with him. Kaleb has a wonderful Papa in Kavin's dad but it also hurts when Kaleb is so overjoyed to see his papa. Kaleb thinks Dale hung the moon and I can't help but feel an ache that Tom is not here to get to experience that. Being grandparents was something that we really looked forward to and Tom handed over a great commission to both Kaleb's grandpa and Lexi's grandpa since he would not be here to have that role in their life. Fortunately both men have done a wonderful job of being that influence in the kids lives but it does hurt just a little.
Steve and I have reached a place in the relationship where we are doing some of the hard work. The honeymoon period of new love is waning and now we are doing that tough stuff and a part of me wants to run. I want to go back to Egypt where it's warm and secure. I want my old, familiar back. I feel too old to learn new tricks and to adapt to another persons quirks. I miss having someone know me the way you know someone after 3o years of marriage. I married at 19 so we learned to dance together. It may have been a funky dance but we did it so well and so in sync with each other and I just feel too old and tired to learn a new dance. Yuck! While in general I feel like I am doing pretty good, the grief comes in waves. Sometimes barely cresting and sometimes a sneaker wave that pulls me out to sea. You go through this process where you eventually have to grieve everything you have lost. Yes, I have grieved the person I have lost but sometimes you grieve the loss of the fact that they knew how you liked your coffee or they kept track of the gas in the car. Those are the things you don't think about until they sneak up on you.
Our little dance for yard work was I would weed the flower beds and toss the weeds on the lawn then he would come out and rake up my mess and put it in the yard debris bin. Now I have to rake up my own mess. I grieve the dance. Not deep grief, just a barely cresting wave.
Here is the challenge in my life right now. It always comes down to control. I want control. I want to run so I feel like I have control. I want familiar so I feel like I have control. This is not the life I have chosen but am I really willing to go along for the ride. Sometimes that ride feels like The Tower of Terror when what I want is the Dumbo ride. When you ride The Tower of Terror you experience things you never get on Dumbo or on My Toads Wild Ride. What will I choose? Will I choose safe and predictable or exhilarating but kind of scary. Today I don't know the answer but I am asking the questions.
What will you choose today? Safe and predictable or a little scary and exhilarating? Choose wisely and let go of the need to control.
Monday, June 25, 2012
Family Vacation
Family Vacation
Last Friday we went to the beach for the weekend. All of us. The girls and their families, Jordan (Elisa had to work), Jesse and his girlfriend, also an Emily, and Steve and I. It was our first family retreat without Tom and oh, the missing crept in. I missed him as I packed. I missed the chaos that seemed to follow Tom wherever he went. The chaos that drove us all nuts but this weekend we missed so much. I could picture him sprawled out on the floor acting as a grand-baby jungle gym. I missed his infectious laughter. I was doing pretty well until I caught a glimpse of Jesse in the hot tub and at that moment he was the spittin image of his dad. It was surreal. I tried not to cry - never a wise decision for me as it almost always leads to a panic attack, which it did. When I retired to my room I started shaking uncontrollably - my pre-panic attack warning signal. Steve knows the signs and wrapped his arms around me and let me pour out my grief. My fears of not knowing who I am or how I fit into this family of mine. My grief over the fact that my life has not gone at all as I had planned. Tom and I were a team. This was supposed to be our team. These were supposed to be OUR golden years where we basked in the joy of our grandchildren. Life is just so unfair sometimes. He so would have loved those babies.
As for me I am often left to wonder who I am any more. Being these kids mom and Tom's wife was who I was. I never desired more. I was very content in that role and now everything has changed. They don't need me in the same way anymore and I am no longer Tom's wife. I was very thankful Steve came because I think my feeling of being lost in this crowd of mine would have been so much worse had I not brought this man who gives me hope that God is not done writing my story. Hope that God will give me new dreams in place of the ones that will never come true. Hope that there is love after loss even when it does not make the loss any less of a loss. I grieve the life I dreamed of. I grieve the lack of children in my home. I grieve getting old as Oma and Opa. Yet, I look forward to what God has in store with hopeful anticipation. He is not done writing my story and so far I like the way this story begins. There are days when I can't wait to turn the next page but still many days when I long for the last chapter to be just a little bit longer. Days when I long for the ending I thought I was going to have. Days when it feels like yesterday and when it feels like life is just so not fair.
God is a good God who is one step ahead of us all the time. He knows the plans He has for us. He plans to give us a hope and a future, even when it may feel like all your dreams have died. He is a dreamweaver. The ultimate imagineer. Oh, Walt Disney would have loved what God could dream up!
As for me I am often left to wonder who I am any more. Being these kids mom and Tom's wife was who I was. I never desired more. I was very content in that role and now everything has changed. They don't need me in the same way anymore and I am no longer Tom's wife. I was very thankful Steve came because I think my feeling of being lost in this crowd of mine would have been so much worse had I not brought this man who gives me hope that God is not done writing my story. Hope that God will give me new dreams in place of the ones that will never come true. Hope that there is love after loss even when it does not make the loss any less of a loss. I grieve the life I dreamed of. I grieve the lack of children in my home. I grieve getting old as Oma and Opa. Yet, I look forward to what God has in store with hopeful anticipation. He is not done writing my story and so far I like the way this story begins. There are days when I can't wait to turn the next page but still many days when I long for the last chapter to be just a little bit longer. Days when I long for the ending I thought I was going to have. Days when it feels like yesterday and when it feels like life is just so not fair.
God is a good God who is one step ahead of us all the time. He knows the plans He has for us. He plans to give us a hope and a future, even when it may feel like all your dreams have died. He is a dreamweaver. The ultimate imagineer. Oh, Walt Disney would have loved what God could dream up!
Monday, June 4, 2012
It's been a while
It's been a while since I posted. I have been very busy playing catch up. Since the quilt show where I won so many awards I have been swamped with orders and busy quilting nearly every day. I still wonder if this will be enough to live on or exactly what God's plan is for me. I also started working in the chemo infusion room at Providence on Thursdays and I simply love it. And, on top of that already busy-ness I am navigating a relationship so I don't have a lot of free time anymore but it feels so good to be happy again. So good.
If you know me at all, you know that I am a thinker. My brain rarely relaxes. I contemplate everything. Everything! I am constantly trying to stay one step ahead of God. To anticipate His next move. To be more prepared unless another hurricane strikes. Control. Oy, the bane of my existence. Will I ever truly just give it up? Will I ever relax and stop waiting for the other shoe to drop? This life is not an easy journey for a thinker.
I have told you before about my whisper from God on the plane when my life was dying right before my very eyes. In case I didn't, Tom and I were on the plane to fly back home after his last check up when we had been told that yes, he was dying and there was nothing more worth trying. Tom seemed a bit oblivious. The cancer? Denial? Brain damage? Not really sure, but I would have given anything to be oblivious at that moment. Instead my heart was being ripped from my chest. My life was imploding and all that I knew was being torn from my desperate grasp. And God, in His gentle way, took my face in His hands and breathed into my soul, "Your future is going to better than you could ever imagine." How could this possibly be true? My life was dying even as I breathed. The life I knew and dreamed of had been ripped away and I was lost. Who would I be without him? What dream could I possibly have that did not include him? What was going to happen to me? How could God be enough? How could life be better than I imagined when all I could see was pain and loss?
From where we stand, we can't see whether it's something good or bad. All we can see is that God is sovereign and He is always good, working all things for good. "Farmer" Voscamp (Ann Voscamps husband)
Today my life is happy. I am dating I man I truly love. Someone I have known for 33 years. We dated for a year and a half back in 79-80. He is one of the kindest men I have ever known. He is steady and smart and strong and he loves me. This is a pretty easy relationship for me. Steve is an easy guy. I was lucky enough to be an adored wife for 30 years and I was afraid I would never find that a second time but Steve adores me. Tom would approve. Tom knew Steve and he would be so proud of the way Steve treats me. It is certainly better than I could have ever imagined that day on the plane. I still have a great sadness, maybe I always will. I have days when the loss is still very staggering. Days when the hole is gaping. Days when I wish Tom were here to share my new life. To share my victories. But, Steve accepts my sadness and my love for Tom. He understands that my love for him is not divided by my love for Tom. He is a good man. A wise man and Tom would be cheering us on.
Today my life is better than I could have imagined and God is good. We view our life through a tiny peephole in the door and we do not see the whole picture. God is sovereign and the pain and loss in our lives does not go unnoticed by God. He saves our tears in a bottle and uses them to water new dreams in our lives. He works all things for our good, even when we can not see it. He is a good God, even in our suffering. So much of it has to do with choosing to look for the good and when we cannot see, choosing to believe that He is still on the throne.
If you know me at all, you know that I am a thinker. My brain rarely relaxes. I contemplate everything. Everything! I am constantly trying to stay one step ahead of God. To anticipate His next move. To be more prepared unless another hurricane strikes. Control. Oy, the bane of my existence. Will I ever truly just give it up? Will I ever relax and stop waiting for the other shoe to drop? This life is not an easy journey for a thinker.
I have told you before about my whisper from God on the plane when my life was dying right before my very eyes. In case I didn't, Tom and I were on the plane to fly back home after his last check up when we had been told that yes, he was dying and there was nothing more worth trying. Tom seemed a bit oblivious. The cancer? Denial? Brain damage? Not really sure, but I would have given anything to be oblivious at that moment. Instead my heart was being ripped from my chest. My life was imploding and all that I knew was being torn from my desperate grasp. And God, in His gentle way, took my face in His hands and breathed into my soul, "Your future is going to better than you could ever imagine." How could this possibly be true? My life was dying even as I breathed. The life I knew and dreamed of had been ripped away and I was lost. Who would I be without him? What dream could I possibly have that did not include him? What was going to happen to me? How could God be enough? How could life be better than I imagined when all I could see was pain and loss?
From where we stand, we can't see whether it's something good or bad. All we can see is that God is sovereign and He is always good, working all things for good. "Farmer" Voscamp (Ann Voscamps husband)
Today my life is happy. I am dating I man I truly love. Someone I have known for 33 years. We dated for a year and a half back in 79-80. He is one of the kindest men I have ever known. He is steady and smart and strong and he loves me. This is a pretty easy relationship for me. Steve is an easy guy. I was lucky enough to be an adored wife for 30 years and I was afraid I would never find that a second time but Steve adores me. Tom would approve. Tom knew Steve and he would be so proud of the way Steve treats me. It is certainly better than I could have ever imagined that day on the plane. I still have a great sadness, maybe I always will. I have days when the loss is still very staggering. Days when the hole is gaping. Days when I wish Tom were here to share my new life. To share my victories. But, Steve accepts my sadness and my love for Tom. He understands that my love for him is not divided by my love for Tom. He is a good man. A wise man and Tom would be cheering us on.
Today my life is better than I could have imagined and God is good. We view our life through a tiny peephole in the door and we do not see the whole picture. God is sovereign and the pain and loss in our lives does not go unnoticed by God. He saves our tears in a bottle and uses them to water new dreams in our lives. He works all things for our good, even when we can not see it. He is a good God, even in our suffering. So much of it has to do with choosing to look for the good and when we cannot see, choosing to believe that He is still on the throne.
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Even In This
Sometimes I wonder what the point is to this life? What is the point to this suffering? Yes, yes, I know that suffering produces good fruit in our life but in the end we still die and eventually the memory of us fades so, why? Why can't we just get saved and go be with Jesus? Why can't we bypass all this pain? I don't know the answer. I do know though that pain is a great bridge builder to lost and hurting people. It is a golden gateway to their heart.
I have a friend who has led a pretty charmed life. Great parents, great marriage, lot's of money and ease. I am sincerely happy for her and often wish I could just live a year of that life, but.. she is not who I would go to with my pain. It is like speaking a foreign language to her. She doesn't know what to do with it. She squirms and looks for opportunities to get back to the shallow, less painful. I don't want to be that girl.
It is an incredibly satisfying feeling to be able to tell those chemo patients, "I have been where you are". When I share some of my pain from past hurts and struggles, deep depressions and panic attacks, people open their hearts and feel free to share their own pain. In a way that makes my own suffering worth it. Perhaps that is part of the plan. Perhaps that is why we don't get our ticket straight to a life where pain does not exist. Perhaps people need us and our life experiences, painful as they may be.
I know this much is true - I appreciate this life so much more. I see a wonderful world most days. I cherish my friendships and family like never before. I don't care if the toilet paper gets put on the right direction or if my son doesn't do the dishes the first time I ask. My material stuff is just stuff to me now. Yes, I have pain and it shows up at the most inopportune times, in the most unlikely circumstances, and often without warning or announcement. Yes, it is painful and unfair and inconvenient. Yes, I wish it were not so. But, it is what it is and I am who I am because of it. I am a deep well that has been dug out with a pick and a shovel but there is living water in here. I wish it had been easier. I wish happiness did not come at such a price. But I want to be a deep well. I want to be the person who "gets it". I want to be able to lend hope and sooth anxiety and love the broken. Somehow I don't think it is possible to do that well without a good dose of pain and suffering in our own lives. It gives us legitimacy. Embrace it. Suck the lifeblood out of it. Soak it in knowing that it is producing something wonderful in you. If you don't embrace it, it will consume you.
You are so loved, even in this!
I have a friend who has led a pretty charmed life. Great parents, great marriage, lot's of money and ease. I am sincerely happy for her and often wish I could just live a year of that life, but.. she is not who I would go to with my pain. It is like speaking a foreign language to her. She doesn't know what to do with it. She squirms and looks for opportunities to get back to the shallow, less painful. I don't want to be that girl.
It is an incredibly satisfying feeling to be able to tell those chemo patients, "I have been where you are". When I share some of my pain from past hurts and struggles, deep depressions and panic attacks, people open their hearts and feel free to share their own pain. In a way that makes my own suffering worth it. Perhaps that is part of the plan. Perhaps that is why we don't get our ticket straight to a life where pain does not exist. Perhaps people need us and our life experiences, painful as they may be.
I know this much is true - I appreciate this life so much more. I see a wonderful world most days. I cherish my friendships and family like never before. I don't care if the toilet paper gets put on the right direction or if my son doesn't do the dishes the first time I ask. My material stuff is just stuff to me now. Yes, I have pain and it shows up at the most inopportune times, in the most unlikely circumstances, and often without warning or announcement. Yes, it is painful and unfair and inconvenient. Yes, I wish it were not so. But, it is what it is and I am who I am because of it. I am a deep well that has been dug out with a pick and a shovel but there is living water in here. I wish it had been easier. I wish happiness did not come at such a price. But I want to be a deep well. I want to be the person who "gets it". I want to be able to lend hope and sooth anxiety and love the broken. Somehow I don't think it is possible to do that well without a good dose of pain and suffering in our own lives. It gives us legitimacy. Embrace it. Suck the lifeblood out of it. Soak it in knowing that it is producing something wonderful in you. If you don't embrace it, it will consume you.
You are so loved, even in this!
Friday, April 13, 2012
I have hope to lend!
About a month ago I began volunteering in the chemo infusion room at Providence hospital. This is a place that became near and dear to my heart while Tom was sick. It is a place that you might think was full of gloom and doom. Certainly heartache is a constant undercurrent here. But, it is really a wonderful place. The nurses are incredible and very caring. There is a camaraderie here like no other.
We were in the trenches together. We ARE in the trenches together. It is work I find extremely satisfying even if all I am doing is handing out warm blankets.
Here is a place where people are desperate for hope. "Pleeeease tell me I will be ok!" Oh how well I know that look. How familiar the despondency. Yes, you will be ok. You may not win this battle but you will be ok. Death need not be scary. There is so much more to this life than this life. I know you don't have hope today but I will let you borrow mine for now.
Yesterday I saw 2 different men with the tell tale scar of Glioblastoma brain cancer. A scar from brain surgery, no hair and the drug Avastin. How familiar. I am often faced with the dilemma of whether to share my story when asked or not. I usually choose to share because people are desperate to hear. However, I am well aware that I am their worst nightmare. We did not win. We did not beat the odds. Somewhere deep in the recesses of their heart they know that they will not beat the odds either. Right now it is an un-winable fight. So, where is the hope?
There is hope because someday, somewhere, someone will beat these odds and it might as well be you. Someday something will work and it might as well be you. There is hope because for every month we keep you alive there is a chance for a new study or new clinical trial. There is hope because a cancer diagnosis, especially a terminal cancer diagnosis, strips away all the un-important crap of our lives. It no longer matters whether he brushes his teeth in a way that drives you nuts or that she continues to nag about the right way to fold a towel. It just no longer matters. This is a gift. The gift of living in today. The gift of now. Sure, it is scary. I have never been so scared in my life. I was facing my worst nightmare. However, I am still here. I was not consumed. I lived and even though Tom did not, he is doing great right now.
So, to the 6th floor chemo patients, please look past the fact that we did not win. Please look past the fact that this may be your fate too. Let me love on you. Let me encourage you that even though you can't see the forest for the trees, there is a forest and for today you can borrow my faith that there will come a day when you look back on all this yuck and you will see beauty.
It is the quiet crucible of your personal, private sufferings that your noblest dreams are born and God's greatest gifts are given.
Wintley Phipps
God continue to give me dreams even as my old ones died. He showed me that my life did not end when Tom's did and that He has a plan for my future. I have hope to lend. When it feels like you can't go on try to remember that there are many of us who have suffered much greater losses and lived to be happy. To thrive. To have hope. I have hope to lend!
We were in the trenches together. We ARE in the trenches together. It is work I find extremely satisfying even if all I am doing is handing out warm blankets.
Here is a place where people are desperate for hope. "Pleeeease tell me I will be ok!" Oh how well I know that look. How familiar the despondency. Yes, you will be ok. You may not win this battle but you will be ok. Death need not be scary. There is so much more to this life than this life. I know you don't have hope today but I will let you borrow mine for now.
Yesterday I saw 2 different men with the tell tale scar of Glioblastoma brain cancer. A scar from brain surgery, no hair and the drug Avastin. How familiar. I am often faced with the dilemma of whether to share my story when asked or not. I usually choose to share because people are desperate to hear. However, I am well aware that I am their worst nightmare. We did not win. We did not beat the odds. Somewhere deep in the recesses of their heart they know that they will not beat the odds either. Right now it is an un-winable fight. So, where is the hope?
There is hope because someday, somewhere, someone will beat these odds and it might as well be you. Someday something will work and it might as well be you. There is hope because for every month we keep you alive there is a chance for a new study or new clinical trial. There is hope because a cancer diagnosis, especially a terminal cancer diagnosis, strips away all the un-important crap of our lives. It no longer matters whether he brushes his teeth in a way that drives you nuts or that she continues to nag about the right way to fold a towel. It just no longer matters. This is a gift. The gift of living in today. The gift of now. Sure, it is scary. I have never been so scared in my life. I was facing my worst nightmare. However, I am still here. I was not consumed. I lived and even though Tom did not, he is doing great right now.
So, to the 6th floor chemo patients, please look past the fact that we did not win. Please look past the fact that this may be your fate too. Let me love on you. Let me encourage you that even though you can't see the forest for the trees, there is a forest and for today you can borrow my faith that there will come a day when you look back on all this yuck and you will see beauty.
It is the quiet crucible of your personal, private sufferings that your noblest dreams are born and God's greatest gifts are given.
Wintley Phipps
God continue to give me dreams even as my old ones died. He showed me that my life did not end when Tom's did and that He has a plan for my future. I have hope to lend. When it feels like you can't go on try to remember that there are many of us who have suffered much greater losses and lived to be happy. To thrive. To have hope. I have hope to lend!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)