The Table

As I boarded the plane, I could feel it. The excitement of MONTHS, almost a YEAR of waiting was coming to an end. I knew that I was about to have an experience of a lifetime and deep down, I knew my life would never be the same. I had virtually met many of the ladies I was about to spend the weekend with, but only one of them had I met in person. I was nervous but the good kind of nervous. After switching planes for my final destination, I got settled in my window seat and put on my headphones. I had my Wonder Woman headphones, which seemed apropos given my last year and where I was headed. I tried to just relax, as I knew the flight was short and the weekend was about to be busy. As I leaned back in my seat, I took a deep breath.  I kept seeing the faces of friends I was about to meet and anticipating the news ones. How did I even get here? Was this really about to happen?

I suddenly became really emotional. I had already cried reading all the posts from other Cervivors headed to Florida and the ones who were too sick to make it. I didn’t expect to feel this way. I had gone back to work from my bladder/vaginal surgery only three weeks prior and had been so busy working. Sleeping. Working. Sleeping. That was pretty much what my body could handle and I had just allowed myself to compartmentalize, to get through the very next thing. Suddenly, the very next thing was Cervivor School.

I had accidentally fallen into advocacy during treatment, and accidentally found myself among this amazing group of women who were just like me. Normal women-with cervical cancer. This group that was committed to sharing stories so that there would eventually not be women like us. How could it be that I had even had cervical cancer, met these women through a hashtag, and was now on a plane to go sit with them for three days? The thing that had almost killed me, had torn my life apart, destroyed my body, the thing I feared daily, the thing I wanted to forget-THAT is what I was getting ready to talk about and share for the weekend.

I cried. I cried because I was tired. I cried because I was excited. I cried because part of me wants to forget, but I know I never can. I cried because there were friends I knew wouldn’t be there because they were too sick. I just cried. And when I was done, I felt better. I felt ready.

Cervivor School was complete freedom for me. I didn’t have to explain to anyone how I felt because they all felt the same way. They felt like me and they wanted to MAKE A DIFFERENCE! All of us had different stories, but all of us wanted our stories to matter. Each of us had the desire to learn as much as we could from experts and one another, so that other people wouldn’t have to experience what we have gone through. That alone was a powerful thing to witness. (Plus, it was awesome to spend time at the pool and not worry about your body because most everyone there had bulges in the same places due to surgeries and treatment. SO FREEING)!

I could not have had this experience without the help of many people. A lot of them have asked me about my experience, and like any life changing experience it’s hard to sum it up in a few sentences. I like to sum it up with, I found my “me too” people. I found my forever tribe. I found this sisterhood that I had felt online, but became about a bazillion times stronger in person.

I have this image in my head now that is always there, because the table is always there. Always ready. The image of amazing warrior women, from around the world, sitting at a table. An image of women at varying stages of this war we are waging against cervical cancer and HPV. It’s a personal war. We are in our own fight for life, but we link arms to fight for women everywhere. We come to this table to rest, to renew, to fill up, to learn new battle strategies. We come for comfort and we come for the peace in knowing we are not alone. It's always there and in a sense, we never leave.

The Walking Dead

We are well into March and as I prepare for my upcoming surgery, I can’t help but think of where I was one year ago. Time has just stood still for the past 13 months but yet so much has happened. I don’t know if that even makes sense, to most people. Surely those who have experienced some sort of trauma or life altering event, has felt the same?  In many ways my world completely stopped, yet a lifetime of crap just happened.

This time last year, I was getting ready to start chemotherapy and radiation. I was terrified but the thing I struggled with most was the fact that I may loose my hair. I was scared of dying and fighting death, while bald. Man. Looking back, I would take being temporarily bald over most of what has happened to me over the last year. I had no idea how much treatment would change my body and psyche and I certainly didn't expect infertility, sexual dysfunction, incontinence, bladder and bowel issues, just to name the major ones. Right now, I am cancer free but having such a hard time with post radiation side effects, that I am having to fight for the joy that I am “supposed” to feel about not having cancer. My counselor has talked to me a lot about these “supposed to” statements that I tell myself often. (I do this in almost every area of my life). If she were sitting here with me this morning, she would say, “Holly, why do you feel like you are supposed to feel a certain way? It’s not wrong to be mad that you’re dealing with this.” To which, I would say say through tears, “I know, but I feel like I should just be happy that I’m not dying anymore, what’s wrong with me?” And she would be her usually awesome self and tell me that nothing is wrong with me and it’s completely okay to be happy that I’m not dying AND mad that I’m facing another surgery and that each day, right now is hard and a fight.

It’s weird. It makes me think about The Walking Dead. I have this odd relationship with the TWD because last year when I started treatment, is when I started watching it. It was one of my “things” that got me through. I know that probably sounds completely ridiculous if you’ve never been sick and home-bound, but trust me, it was one of my “things” like Chick-Fil-A. (Chick Fil-A was one of the only things that tasted good to me on chemo, and every week I would go right after treatment. The radiation people even knew that I would be late on Thursdays because I had chemo and I WAS going to Chic-Fil-A, even if it meant that I would have to be worked in at radiation). BUT I digress.

In TWD world a lot of people don’t make it. It is a harsh world of daily survival. Some just don’t have the fight in them. Some opt out, deciding to take their own life. Some go down swinging. We all would like to think we would be a “Rick” and rise to the occasion,be a leader, and kick so much ass in the process. BUT as we have seen in season 7-even the toughest dudes are being challenged. In many ways, it would just be easier to die because living in that world is so incredibly hard. In the last part of the mid season finale, Michonne talks to Rick, who is wanting to give up. He feels like it would just be easier to give up on having a life that means anything, and just exist under Negan(who is basically an evil warlord). She gives this amazing monologue about how much they have been through, yet they are still there-together and alive. They are outnumbered and have lost so much. They shouldn’t have lived this long, but they have. How do they make being alive mean something?

That scene has resonated with me since October.

I have literally thought about it every day.

I feel like I live in TWD sometimes. Most days, it would just be easier to give up. I know there are people who have it much worse, and I “should” just exude only gratefulness and get over myself. My heart is grateful for my very life, but I am learning more and more each day, that having life and living are two completely different things. You can be alive but not living. How do you make being alive mean something than just existing? I could very well not be here. I could very well have died from cancer or complications from treatment. I didn’t. I could have died in the fall when my body was on the verge of sepsis, but I didn’t. Any day, cancer could come back and I could find myself deep in the fight again, but that hasn’t happened. It may never happen. Am I wounded and afraid of the next chapter?  Have I seen and experienced more in 13 months than many do in a life span? Yes. But I am here. And what I choose to do with being here-depends on me. What I choose.

I feel like almost every blog has just been repetitive of the last, with me beating the dead of horse of “choice.” BUT when I set out to share my story, I vowed to be honest and I feel like I am constantly having to learn and relearn this lesson.I just can’t reiterate enough that this is daily-at least for me. At least for this season. I have to constantly choose living and when I fail-retreat and stay at home because it's just too hard to make it for the day-either physically or emotionally- I have to then choose grace over guilt, mercy over shame. I can be really hard on myself when I fail at this or anything, really. BUT cancer and life after cancer is teaching me so much about grace and mercy,  for myself-even for others. I never expected for cancer to make me less judgmental.

My hope is, that by my being transparent in this whole process and things I am continuing to learn-that someone else might say, “me too!” to anything that I write about. Whether you are a cancer survivor or not. Maybe you find yourself struggling with the hand life has dealt you or maybe you are reading this and thinking, you’re good and have a decent grip on life. Maybe you struggle with self imposed guilt or silently being judgmental towards others. I don’t know. I do know there is strength in self reflecting and allowing yourself to be teachable. There is strength in asking yourself hard questions, especially when you know you’re not going to like the answer. Or maybe you have to sit with not knowing the answers, and that’s okay too.
Courage is digging for bravery in a world where living is the harder choice. Retreating and just existing is so much easier than flourishing, but where is the courage in that? Anyone can do that. And for what? I want to make my being here mean something.

Part of my flourishing in pain, is telling my story. I had the opportunity to do this for the first time, at the end of February at the NCCC-Fort Worth Chapter fundraiser. Here I am with several new friends, and cervical cancer survivors.

**I designed a t-shirt to help begin conversations about cervical cancer and prevention. All proceeds will go to help me with past and current medical expenses/unpaid leave. Please consider purchasing a shirt or making a donation. THANK YOU!
www.bonfire.com/start-the-conversation/

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Leaning into the Storm of Cancer

You may have read them-the “What Not to Say to People with Cancer” articles. I used to skim over them, thinking I was all good. Me? I would NEVER say anything to offend someone with cancer! I am a thoughtful person-I’m the person who won’t even tell someone I’m praying for them unless I can actively remember to do so, so yeah...I was good I didn’t need to read such articles.

WRONG!!

‘Cause guess what? When you’re on the other side and actually HAVE cancer and a gynecological one at that-AND one that is caused by a virus. Guess what? People say some crazy shit. Stuff you would never imagine would cross the lips of someone who is supposed to care about you. Now, as I stated, I see myself as a reasonable person-so most of this crap I worked really hard to brush off and tell myself, “Well, they are well intended. They didn’t mean it the way it sounded.” My counselor even worked with me on phrases to shut people down in person. She encourages me to tell people they are being jerks, but I am still trying to find that voice. Perhaps this is it, through this blog post. I usually just tell myself that people don’t mean it really,  and then later call my absolute closest people to vent or screenshot messages from people and type in all caps to my best friend. I have found lots of articles on this subject, yet when meeting other survivors it is often a main topic of conversation. It’s hard enough having freaking cancer, and managing the feelings of those who are the very closest. Much less managing idiots on the fringe, who think they “have to say something.” Why is that? I think it’s because no one really cares until it’s them or someone they love. Like really love. So if you’re reading this and think you don’t need to, then you’re the exact person who does. If you're gonna lean into this storm, be prepared to be uncomfortable and teachable.

Here are some common mistakes that I have personally experienced MORE than once.

1. If someone you know gets a diagnosis and you find yourself overwhelmed with not knowing what to say-figure that out before opening your mouth. What I mean is, if you’re not comfortable saying something, just wait. That’s okay. You don’t have to say anything right away and perhaps you’re in shock yourself and need sometime to gather your own emotions and thoughts. That is better than getting in front of the person, fumbling, and saying something trite. Survivors are fighting. Really fighting, real things-life and death stuff at any given moment. REAL. We don’t want to hear trite empty sayings-we know to hang in there, we know to keep our head up. Perhaps instead of throwing out a “chicken soup for the soul” comment you could say, “I’m thinking of you.” or “I’m here for you.” or something I personally appreciated was someone acknowledging my pain by saying something like “I’m so sorry you’re having to deal with this. This sucks.” or “I know things are really hard right now, I can’t imagine.” THOSE seem more real and do not minimize the person’s cancer. The prior ones, that are more of a “hang in there” often make the survivor feel like cancer is not a big deal, and that you’re equating it with having a bad week or day. If you are really close with the survivor just being WITH them can make a difference.
2. If someone you know gets a diagnosis of a gynecological cancer or oral cancer that is caused by HPV, they already feel the very real stigma of that. You turning up your nose and saying, “Isn’t that caused by an STD?” Or “Isn’t that preventable?” Yeah, that doesn’t help the survivor, makes them feel shame, guilt, and again minimizes the pain and fear they are feeling with a cancer diagnosis.
3. In my personal case, I had not had a pap in several years. They were a few people who said things like, “WHY?? Oh I bet your oncologist got all over you for that!!” To which I had to say(after picking my jaw up off the floor), “Actually no she didn’t. She encouraged me that I can’t change the past but can change the future. She didn’t shame me for choices I have already made.” Y’all, I would say this was one of the most hurtful. If your friend or loved one missed paps and abnormal cells have grown and she gets a full blown cancer diagnosis, the LAST thing she needs is YOU making her feel guilty for not staying on top of check ups. I personally have reasons why I didn’t go, which will need to be another post, but listen to me; while there may be truth in those words, when you’re facing CANCER, you do not need people in your life making you feel worse about ANYTHING.
4. If you are someone who is into alternative/preventive medicine, great. I am super into nutrition, highly believe in it and there is a place and time for that conversation. But only if the opportunity presents itself, or you are very close with the survivor, and you feel they are open. Walk lightly.  I had two people, independent from the other, tell me in the height of treatment, that I needed to eat more mushrooms and the other was pushing cloves. Again, I feel these people were well intended but honestly I am not super close with either of these people-one came in the form of a message and the person had not said boo to me the entire time, and the other was from someone who said this definitively, in passing. Y’ALL!!! Seriously?? Again, it  minimizes cancer and invalidates the survivors treatment. I understand that there are cases where the survivor has been in constant treatment for months/ years and there may be an opportunity for someone to say, “Hey, have you talked your doctor or thought about___?” But most of the time that is just not going to be your place unless you are walking very closely with the survivor.
5. If the loved one is diagnosed with a cancer that will or has the potential to make the survivor infertile, PLEASE don’t say “Well, there’s always adoption. Lots of kids out there need a home.” It’s not that this, among the other things are not true-it’s that when you are in the throws of cancer AND you’re losing fertility, it sucks. It’s painful. It’s so overwhelming and can make you feel sorrow on a level you weren’t sure even existed. To hear someone say, “Well, you can always adopt…” makes the survivor feel like their feelings and emotions of grief and sadness are not warranted and again, minimizes what they are facing. We KNOW there is adoption. We aren’t stupid, we are grieving a loss, a death of a dream that has been inside since we were little girls playing with baby dolls. Yes, there is adoption and it is oh so beautiful, but let us grieve and feel what we are losing.
6. Lastly, try to steer away from the, “If you need anything, let me know.” I know, you’re probably thinking, what is wrong with that?? Well, you see when you get a cancer diagnosis you are completely overwhelmed and your brain is in a thousand different places from-What am I going to do about work? How am I going to take care of my kids? How much is this going to cost? How long is this going to take? Am I going to die? For myself, I am already the person who is notorious for not asking for help and trying to do everything on my own, so I have grown a lot during this time. After talking with other survivors though, I have concluded that when someone is specific it is waay more helpful. For example, “I’m coming over on Tuesday to bring you food and will do any errands you need.” or “I am coordinating a dog walking schedule for you or a meal schedule for you.” or “I’m coming to take the kids on Friday night to a movie and dinner, so you don’t have to worry about that.” THOSE things are so helpful and takes the thinking responsibility from the survivor. The survivor doesn’t need something else to think about. Even the smallest gesture can go long way. Think about times when you yourself have been sick with something like the flu-what were some things that were hard for you to get done? Think about your survivor feeling like that long term, and get creative in some specific things you may be able to help with.

I guess my overall advice would be to be more quiet than not, if you’re feeling unsure. Be present for your survivor but don’t feel like you always have to have the “right words.” Sometimes not saying anything and just being-is the very best. I would even go as far to say, if you feel like you need to “say” something and you’re not sure...say THAT. I found so much comfort when people close and not that close to me said things like, “Holly, I’m sorry. I just don’t know what to say.”

A cancer diagnosis of any kind or stage is hard. If you’re feeling overwhelmed, think about how much more the person you love with cancer feels. I have found for myself and other survivors, you really find out who is legit and who’s not. It surprised me who leaned in and who steered away. If you’re gonna lean in-be thoughtful and present. Your survivor may not have the ability to say it, but she needs you.

I have had an army of support and don't have pictures of everyone, but here are several of my people who chose to lean in. 

Dry Shampoo and Coffee

It’s Saturday morning and as I sit with coffee in hand, my mind is still on a reel from the past several weeks. The only thing that keeps coming to my mind is “How did I do that?” This month comes in, in at least the top three most stressful eras I have faced. I teach at what is considered a satellite campus for the district. The first week of school was a MONSTER. Did I mention the internet being down and parents impatiently making requests for registration that I could not grant and administrators frantically demanding paper work?  As a PreK teacher the first day is very chaotic and stressful as there are tears and often blood curdling screams from students and sometimes parents, who are emotional leaving their babies for the first time. This year was no different. Thankfully by day two internet had been restored and we were able to continue with enrollment (notice I said enrollment and not teaching…somehow I was expected to do both. I’m good but not that good). The building had flooded two weeks prior, so we had gotten in with JUST enough time to set up. Documents were damaged in the flood and paper work was missing that had to be redone for registration. I have many English language learners and really cannot explain to you how extremely stressful it is to walk refugee parents with limited language, through online registration. Yet, all of the above, oddly enough, are reasons I love my job. I love the population I serve in a Title 1 program. My heart is there. It thrives there. In the midst of the crazy and the stress, I was beginning to feel like me again. Not the cancer patient. Not that one teacher who had cancer and was out last spring. But me. The old me.'

In the middle of first week chaos, I had an oncology follow-up and results from the biopsies taken the week prior. Unfortunately, the news was not good. Cancer remains. Right now the treatment will be surgery and depending on how surgery goes maybe another round of chemotherapy. My heart is so thankful for an oncologist who will sit and talk to me. Who will shoot straight with me, who I feel has my best interest at heart. I am beyond thankful for a plan forward. I trust her with my very life.

Yet…I am so sick of being sick. Wasn’t I JUST starting to gain some energy? Wasn’t I JUST feeling like me again? And now major surgery?? I am tired of this. I long for normalcy, but I don’t even know what that is. I was looking through photos last night and can’t even pinpoint when things changed. I can kind of get it within a few months, but not really. Part of me wants things to go back to how it was before cancer, but I know I never can. And would I really choose that anyway?  I am not the same person. I don’t even feel like I look like the same woman and on a realistic note, it has aged the hell out of me. Inside, I am changed beyond what I can fully explain. Perspective shift is an understatement. I see absolutely nothing the way I did before. Nothing. Even the, “Oh wait, you still have cancer” thing looks and feels completely different on this side.  Before, cancer was unknown. I didn’t even want to say the word. I was completely fearful, and unsure. I am still those things to an extent, but it feels more familiar. I have been around it a lot, which is the part that makes me feel comfortable yet afraid because I have watched with my eyes what it can do. The fact that mine is still hanging around is unnerving and yes, I am afraid. Yet there IS a plan forward and reasons to be thankful.

Which leads me to lay out the constant conversation I have been having with myself the past few weeks….Can you be afraid and unsettled YET still thankful there is a plan? Can you admit fear and still have faith in the One who holds your very life? Can you admit your weakness, weariness, and frustration and STILL be thankful there is a plan forward in treatment? 

Every single one of those feels like they are in opposition to one another but I feel every single one of those-at any given moment. At any point during my recent days I have been on the verge of either tears of fatigue, tears of fear, tears of frustration, tears of thankfulness and humility, OR cursing out of frustration because people want to either act like I’m their hero (which can feel very uncomfortable) OR like NOTHING has happened, or cursing out of frustration that I have been feeling more like me and now I am getting my legs kicked in again. Now, you tell me….does THAT sound like someone who trusts in God’s plan for her life? Does that look like someone who has it together and is holding fast to her faith?

How beautiful and amazing, that the answer to those questions is a big fat NO…..yet a big fat YES at the same time? See, God is showing me that admitting my weakness is actually strength. Y’all, I’m talking about the kind of weakness where you cry out in tears, throw up your hands, and yell out some F bombs because you got nothing. I’m talking about admitting that you are terrified that cancer will not ever fully go away and you’re bound to a life of treatment. I’m talking about admitting that you don’t understand why God chose you to carry this burden, even if just for a season. I’m talking about weakness, where you say “I’m confused by God’s choice for ME to not have biological kids, but I see first-hand, every day, selfish adults who appear to be baby factories.” I’m talking about asking God why He asked me to do this for a little bit longer.

The beauty of it is that when our hearts get to that point and we are stripped naked with nothing left to hold on to-and we admit out weakness, we have a choice. We can either continue to wallow in those questions and live in limbo and anger OR we can choose to lay them at the feet of the One who made us. Think about it. He made me. He knows I am pissed. He knows I am scared and afraid. He knows I am wondering how in the world He will redeem this? The absolute beauty of the gospel is that I can be honest with Him, He can hold me in my weakness and that I am may NEVER understand any of this….but He will hold me. AND in my weakness, I may crawl out of His lap several times a day, thinking “I got this” “I can do this now”….. and when I finally start seeing how very much “I don’t have it” and how “I can’t do it, “ He scoops me right back up and I bury my head in His lap and weep.

The truth is, I am no one’s hero. I am weak. I do not have it together in any way. I just admitted to you that I am basically on the verge of either tears or cursing, at any given moment. I am not “doing great” and I feel like I hobble home every day and hobble around my house and then fall into bed. I really am mostly dry shampoo and coffee.

The only thing I know for sure, is that my heart desires to stay in His lap. I fail miserably at this daily, sometime multiple times. Maybe you do too? Is that okay? Does that make your faith weak? Does asking questions make you weak? I have personally never felt so close to God than I do now. It’s funny how that is. I have not been able to attend church regularly since February, I have said more F bombs in the last 8 months than I ever have in my life, I am admitting that there is a lot I do not understand and a lot that I want to go away, I am admitting that I am weak and want this cup to pass, and yet….He is with me. Daily I feel Him more than ever. As I hobble around my life, every moment I am aware of His presence and that only by His provision and goodness, am I here. He is here.

A flower I found on a walk this week.

Luna keeping me company after biopsy surgery.

New Girl Confessional

North Texas is known for many things, weird weather patterns on a regular basis, among them. A couple of weeks ago, we had pop up showers all day. While they are called “pop ups” you can usually look at the sky and use some common sense, to see it’s about to rain. I had been out earlier in the day and had experienced one of these showers, from the car. You know the kind, where it comes on suddenly and just down pours for like 10-15 min and then the sun is out?

Later in the evening, Luna needed to go for a walk. I looked out quickly to assess the weather situation and it was fine. Sun was shining-there were clouds but more sun, so Luna and I set out on our walk. We got about half a mile from home and I felt a drizzle. In my head, I thought it was no big deal-on days like this that happens sometimes and it’s SUPER SUNNY at this point, so I’m good. Man, before I could even figure out if we should turn around, the bottom dropped out. It started coming down so fast and every which a way-like sideways rain. My initial thought, was to take off running. So I did. That quickly turned into a not so great idea, as I felt every muscle in my lower half yelling at me-(this was around the time I started back running intervals and I was sore from running earlier in the day PLUS this time I was in flip flops). I slowed down because my thighs were on fire and I was just soaked. I noticed how wet my clothes were. They were feeling heavy and my hair had gotten so wet in just these quick moments that it was dripping. It didn’t matter if I ran, I was in a down pour and I was drenched already. I wasn’t stuck, like I could move-but in a sense, I was stuck. Because, it didn’t matter how quickly I ran to get home to shelter-I was already wet. There was nothing I could do about it. I looked down at Luna-and she was tongue out, ears perky happy. She was getting soaked but it didn’t matter to her-she was lovin' it. There was an extra spring in her step, as she must have felt so cool and refreshed. Luna wasn’t trying to get out of the situation, she totally embraced it. I wanted to be her.

In these moments (and they were quick mind you), I asked myself why couldn’t I be like her? As we walked back home, I resigned myself to the fact that yes, I was drenched from head to toe and that upon getting home, I would need to strip down and find us towels. After I accepted where I was in that, I intentionally let myself feel the rain coming down-the coolness of it and the sensation of it washing me. It felt pretty amazing. But it felt even better to let go of being frustrated that I was wet. I even started to smile. 

See, that whole incident helped me to see something in myself that I didn’t like. At first, I was mad that I was wet and wanted to get out of that situation as quickly as possible. I wanted so badly for the circumstances to be different and while the moments were quick, I had a choice to make. I could either A-be really mad that I was inconvenienced by getting wet and let that small snippet ruin the rest of my afternoon or B-embrace the fact that it was happening and accept that I could not change the circumstances, and even be intentional about finding joy.

All too often in life, I choose A. Like all the time I choose A, from small things to huge things. You know what A does? It makes you anxious, it makes you feel like a loser because you are pressuring yourself to change an impossible situation, it makes you bitter because things are out of your control, it makes you angry because you’re inconvenienced, and honestly it makes you selfish because you have an attitude that everything is about you. A is poisonous.

I am striving to choose B. I am working to accept the things in this life that I cannot change, the people I cannot change, and the circumstances that I long were different. AND to always, always, always find the most joy in the hand that I have been dealt-no matter how great or small. I could lie and say I only struggle in relinquishing control in the big things, because that would sound better, right? Like if I said, I’m striving to accept my infertility, people would be so understanding of that. Sadly, this is also a struggle for me in the small things too-like getting caught in a down pour, to Kroger being out of the Chobani I want, to people not being who I expect them to be, to traffic causing me stress or tardiness. You name it and I got issues if it’s not going my way. I struggle when things don’t go as planned, but the sad thing is-things RARELY do.

Thankfully I have had some amazing people speaking truth into my life and I understand the importance of striving to be gracious with myself in this, as B is NOT where my heart goes first most of the time. I am determined to not RUN from the difficulties at all and certainly not ignore the fact that they are hard, but to be intentional in my purpose of unearthing joy in the midst. Choosing B isn’t about ignoring reality, it’s about relinquishing control and finding rest.

Some people feel the rain others just get wet.

Bob Marely 

Unexpected Freedom

I just came from lunch with a close friend. We have known one another for a few years now, and there is much comfort in knowing that someone knows your junk and chooses to stick around. As usual our lunch turned into 2 and half hours of us sharing life and all the craziness it brings.

One of the ideas we camped around today, was sometimes our heart truly desires things that are good, yet we may or may not ever get said thing. I’m not even talking about actual things. Without throwing my friend under the bus, I’ll just use myself as an example. I am 37. The last person that I actually dated(until recently), I got engaged to. He was incredible. We started planning our wedding, going to pre-marital counseling, discussing how our lives would merge as a married couple, making plans to start a family etc. He made me feel like I was the only woman on the planet. He knew what he wanted, and he wanted me…until suddenly he didn’t. And he dumped me. I won’t say “clear out of the blue” because there was some discord there for about a week, prior, but who doesn’t argue? Arguing doesn’t mean you quit. To me if felt out of the blue, because it was nothing that couldn’t be addressed and dealt with-if you love someone. But alas, he broke our engagement and contact with me, without a lot of answers and I have had to learn to deal with not understanding what happened. To let go of trying to fill in the giant gaps and to accept the apology that I never got and probably never will. Fast forward about 9 months and I get a cancer diagnosis. I am single and having to make decisions about my reproductive health, alone.

So, I say all of that to say-my heart desires to be married. That is a not a bad thing. I don’t even desire it above all. Trust me-after the last go around (and some full on jokers in between who wanted to jerk me around), I really would be more than okay. I can do my Netflix and hang out with Luna-and run lots of miles. I can serve others and find so much joy in my job. I realize that happiness is not found in finding a spouse and that I can live a fulfilling life that is God honoring, without a husband. Totally get that. BUT I sure would like one. My heart desires it. On super practical levels, it’s hard getting the groceries in when I buy dog food. I want a man to help me. Sometimes I forget that I need gas and its 9pm on Sunday-I have to choose to either go out again, or get up earlier. I want a man to help me. I also hate taking the dog out in the rain and giant bugs. I could totes use a man, y’all. Haha! AND I realize what all of this actually communicates is that it’s hard being alone. I CAN be alone. I am more than capable, but I don’t necessarily WANT to be alone. My heart desires marriage (and for more than help with the dog food). J For whatever reason, this has not happened for me yet and may not happen for me. I remember going to a wedding a couple of years ago, on my birthday. These friends were amazing and made for one another. I really was so very happy for them. What I didn’t tell them, or anyone else I was there with, was that I had been dumped a year to the day (on my birthday), by a guy I dated for over a decade, who decided that “he just wasn’t sure about me being the one anymore, and he really wanted to date other people.” I remember feeling like my heart was literally broken and sick. There I sat, a year later at the wedding of two, fantastic people. I was happy for them, but it was hard to be there. Inside my heart still hurt and questioned why it had not happened for me yet.

Today at lunch, those are the kinds of “things” my friend and I were discussing and questions we were asking ourselves. See, I think true friends do their best to hold up mirrors to one another, in love, and have hard conversations. So today, we asked ourselves is it okay to be around others who have what we want and acknowledge the pain that may be caused by our heart’s desire not being fulfilled? Or is that comparing? Is that coveting what someone else has? Shouldn’t I NOT be comparing myself? Shouldn't I just trust God?

I’m going to tell you what I told my friend today-and just like I told her, I am open to being wrong, but here is what I think. I think it’s absolutely okay to acknowledge the pain in our heart’s due to an unfulfilled desire. The person I was a year ago, would not have said that. I would have been afraid to admit that I was even mad at Him for not giving me what everyone else seem to have, with such ease. BUT, I am learning that God created us with all of these desires and emotions and its okay to lament.  There is a whole book in the Bible on it…and it’s there on purpose. It’s okay to say to God-why not me? Why is this happening? Have you forgotten me?  How cool that in Psalm 57 David hid in a cave, yelling at God, afraid for us life, because people he loved had turned their backs on him-he wondered if God had left him, didn’t see him? And yet God called him a “man after My own heart.” Y’all that’s cool and gives me freedom and hope. Now, it doesn’t give us freedom to hate or resent other people who have what our heart desires, but it does give us permission to feel the hurt and pain, and ask our questions.

As a church goer my entire life I often missed the point. I used to be so caught up in the “is this a sin?” question that I would gloss over pain sometimes in fear that it’s wrong to feel hurt by God. Or get so legalistic in my head, that I would drive myself nuts in trying to figure out if I was wrong to have certain “feelings” like He had abandoned me. I found the safest place to yell at Him and pitch a fit, is in His arms. I found healing in throwing out f-bombs, shaking my fists in furry, while wallowing in His lap. The truth is He hasn’t abandoned any of us, but sometimes it sure feels like it. I don’t know why He allows what He does. I think of my friends who have lost spouses and children. I think of people I met at chemo who are not getting better. I think of agonizing horrible experiences people have had like rape and abuse.  I consider myself and not able to conceive because of stupid cancer. My mind cannot wrap itself around some things, like a soldier seeing entire villages burned to the ground or watching a brother die by his side. Y’all life can be hard, messy, and confusing. It can hurt badly. It can feel like He has turned His face. It’s okay to say that. It’s okay to be a Christian and say that. The absolute beauty to me, is that He knows, and continues to extend Himself to us-which makes it entirely okay to allow yourself to feel and grieve. After this year, I can say with embarrassment, that it has taken a broken engagement and cancer to pry some of these things out of my hands. So I understand that it’s not easy. Cancer put things in perspective rather quickly and has a tendency to shed light on all the bull shit, on all the levels.  It’s crazy that something so scary can make you STOP, and feel His grace and mercy. How a doctor looking in your face, saying you have three years without treatment, gives you freedom to experience that grace and mercy in your life.-sans legalism. I hate to make every conversation about cancer, but it’s kind of a big deal and has completely shifted my world view for life. Pain, abandonment, and cancer has lead me to MORE hope and freedom. Weird. 

Amy gave me this stone at Valentine's Day ,the week I found out the cancer had spread to tissue surrounding the tumor.
Surgery was no longer an option. Conceiving was no longer an option. Yet there is Hope.