It was Wednesday, November 1st, 2017. Tired from a late night of watching cheesy Halloween movies with hubbs the night before, my Mom and I chatted on the phone. I had an itch in my armpit and felt a lump. It was only God that it happened during our conversation because otherwise I would have never called the doctor and I would still, unknowingly, be walking around with cancer. She, of course, all Mom-like told me I needed to call. It was round and hard, not painful at all and seemed to be the size of a gum ball or large marble. The next day, after pressure from Mom (again), I called my Primary Care Provider (PCP) and started Googling. It seemed to me like my lymph nodes might be enlarged because as usual, our house had been a Fall Festival of Germs and we had all been fighting colds.
I was given an appointment for the very next morning. Off I went, with my two-year old in tow. After a breast exam the doc seemed concerned. I was more worried about my two year old who was climbing around the room and messing with all things medical (and germy). As she did the exam I thought about my last breast exam. "When had it been? When was my last pap? 2 years ago. But I was nursing, so they didn’t do a breast exam. So maybe 4 or 5 years ago? I mean let’s be honest, I don’t need to do those self-exams. I’m still young." After asking me a bunch of family history questions about breast cancer (to which there was only one case in my family, my great Aunt who had it in her seventies), she told me I needed to get in for a screening…that day. I left to arrange care for my toddler and got the call to head to the Breast Imaging Center for a mammogram and ultrasound. While sitting in the next waiting room of the day, two memorable things happened: our wedding song was playing (Billy Joel, the Way You Are). This song has a way of playing when I need a sweet reminder that God gave me Kevin, my best friend, to walk through this crazy life with. Second, a woman walked out with a small plastic bag in her hand - like the kind you get at the dentist, but pink. Almost like a party favor bag from a party you didn’t want to get invited to. I wondered if she had just been diagnosed with breast cancer. Pretty much all I knew about breast cancer was that far too many women had it and that it was symbolized by all things pink. Ick. Maybe that was the first time I really thought that wow, this could actually be my road to walk, too. This probably marked the time when my mind began to shift from “it’s nothing” to “this could be something, really bad”. The mammogram was my first. An early “welcome to your forties” birthday gift. It wasn’t as bad as I had imagined. While I was waiting for the Radiologist to go over the results, the image was pulled up on a computer screen, so naturally I snapped some pics while no one was in the room. The ultrasound was just like baby belly ones – but with no reassuring “aww, there are his little feet” moments. I loved the Radiologist from the moment I met her. The perfect balance of bedside manner and being real and she laughed at my off sense of humor (which was a real plus). She noted two areas of concern: a mass on my left breast and a lymph node on the same side. She said she would need to biopsy both of them. That terrified me. I thought I hated needles (that was before I had a million and two needles and shots in less than a month). I continued on with my nonchalant attitude that it was probably just from mastitis I had while nursing (I had trouble with my kids latching but was determined, so I pumped for a little over a year with both of them. During that time I had my fair share of breast ailments – to which I was pretty sure caused the “calcifications” they were seeing in the images. Because I have a medical degree from the University of Google, I know these things.) In her experienced, yet gently, firm way she told me that yes, it could be nothing, but there was a 30% chance it could be breast cancer. This began my 13-day wait for an answer to that looming question. I fluctuated between sheer panic and nonchalant complacency – neither a good place to be. If I would allow my mind to think worst-case scenario thoughts, the roller coaster would begin. It’s easy to see how people have such physical responses to anxiety and fear. Where and how we set our mind truly controls our body’s response. It is scary. I chose to be pretty private about my thinking (aside from with Kevin and my parents), but God definitely laid it on my heart to share one day with a few special girls in a small group study I was part of. And from sharing came the blessing of great conversations that showed me the Love of the Father and the wisdom of friends who reminded me how important my perspective would be in all of this. One friend specifically, encouraged me to look for God’s Glory in this circumstance - a total perspective change. I began to think about the faith I claim and what it would look like for me to live it out in this situation. Game-changer. I cannot tell you the peace that washed over me. God began laying verses on my heart to cling to. I find that in most all, trying situations He provides an anchor verse. This is mine: I see that the Lord is always with me. I will not be shaken, For He is right beside me. No wonder my heart is glad, And my tongue shouts His praises! My body rests in hope… …You have shown me the way of life, And You will fill me with The joy of Your Presence. -Acts 2:26-28 Walking into that biopsy I really had peace beyond measure. (I was honestly more afraid of the procedure than the results because needles frighten me.) But in this, I asked boldly. Not just for peace but for the joy of His Presence. As usual, He delivered. My doctor and technician were literally the joy of His Presence in that room. The doc mentioned that in her devotional that morning she had read about the healing touch of a hand, so the amazing tech (I'll call her "S") took my hand. The whole experience was anything but frightening thanks to those two Lights of joy. We laughed and joked throughout the entire procedure and I hardly even felt the needles! S and I talked about our daughters and our faith and how our hope has to be in Him. That was Friday, November 10th. I have had peace ever since. Crazy, unbelievable peace. That day during my quiet time the name of God that “happened” to be on the calendar for the 13th was Jehovah-Rophe (Rapha), the God who Heals. What I realized is a different aspect of His healing – that the remedy in all situations is the Gospel. The Gospel always makes a way. Then the Psalm I read (currently I’m praying a Psalm a day) was Psalm 16 the EXACT words of David that were quoted in Acts 2, my anchor Scripture. The gist of this, the beginning of my cancer journey, is that I’ve been reminded of a few key lessons. (The teacher in me speaks.) 1. We aren’t guaranteed tomorrow on this side of Heaven. While I was hopeful that the results would be just fine, the experience thus far was a good reality check. A time to take inventory of how I’m spending my days. To remember my priorities, my purpose and my posture towards Christ. “Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.” Psalm 90:12 I’m realizing that this kind of check should be like a routine oil change: to keep the wheels turning and headed in the Right direction, even when the road is smooth. Because life’s too short to wait for the bumps in the road. 2. God always heals. Always. I believe that healing comes in many shapes and forms and it’s not always physical. But His guarantee is that He will not let us journey alone. You light a lamp for me. The Lord, my God, lights up my darkness. In your strength I can crush an army; With my God I can scale a wall. God’s way is perfect. All the Lord’s promises prove true. He is a shield for all who look to Him for protection. Psalm 18:28-30
I’ve seen such proof of that in this experience. My heart has been healed (reoriented) in so many ways. Ways I didn’t even know needed attention. He’s so Good that way. I knew that whatever the results, He had plan and would work it out for my good and His Glory. I’m not saying, by any means, that the challenges we face are easy because they aren’t. But we always have the choice to remain in the dark, or to lean into Him and allow Him to Light up our darkness.
3. In addition to recalibrating my heart, He’s readjusted my eyes. He gently cupped my face with His hands and lifted my gaze a few inches higher. So that my focus would no longer be on the circumstance, instead it would be on Him. (Like when I hold my babies’ faces and look into their big, blue eyes and just think, “wow – you have no idea how much I love you”). What a difference a few inches makes! When I’m tempted to zoom in on the what-if’s, I remember to lift my chin ever so slightly and take hold of the Promise that the God who holds the universe, also holds my heart.
“But You, O Lord, are a shield around me;
You are my Glory, the One who holds my head high. I cried out to the Lord, And He answered me from His holy mountain.” Psalm 4:3-4 There is hard (uncomfortable) and Holy work that He’s doing in my heart through this circumstance. I share all this because I don’t want to waste a single ounce of this experience. I encourage you to share your story of that same work He’s doing in your life. You never know, that story – even if it’s still a work-in-progress (because aren’t they all?), just might be the Light someone in your world desperately needs to see. And so I wait… But like my wise friend reminded me: Don’t miss the Glory of God in these moments. She was right. It’s way too good to miss. One last Scripture... “My thoughts are nothing like your thoughts,” says the Lord. “And my ways are far beyond anything you could imagine. For just as the heavens are higher than the earth, so my ways are higher than your ways and my thoughts higher than your thoughts. “The rain and snow come down from the heavens and stay on the ground to water the earth. They cause the grain to grow, producing seed for the farmer and bread for the hungry. It is the same with my word. I send it out, and it always produces fruit. It will accomplish all I want it to, and it will prosper everywhere I send it. You will live in joy and peace. The mountains and hills will burst into song, and the trees of the field will clap their hands! Where once there were thorns, cypress trees will grow. Where nettles grew, myrtles will sprout up. These events will bring great honor to the Lord’s name; they will be an everlasting sign of his power and love.”
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For our present troubles are small and won’t last very long. Yet they produce for us a glory that vastly outweighs them and will last forever! So we don’t look at the troubles we can see now; rather, (thoughts from March 2018) Today is the start of a new thing: Spring. I’m embracing the spirit of the season – the sunshine on my face and the call to new life. We’ve been housing a caterpillar over the past few weeks- the kids watching her undergo the transformation from tiny caterpillar to lifeless chrysalis to vibrant butterfly. On Easter Sunday they released her. This little creature reminded me of the ever-changing seasons we experience in our own lives – some productive, some painful, but each an opportunity to grow and learn. Life during cancer treatment is no different. As I move from chemo to surgery to radiation, I know that the path to healing will bring cycles and stages. When I taught second grade, I schooled kids on the science of life cycles. Now, I get to look at this concept through the lens of a life lesson – carefully considering how I can remain in a posture that allows for growth even through the challenges. Inspired by a caterpillar and influenced by the cyclical nature of chemotherapy, the following thoughts and questions came to mind… Birth. The beginning of something. A new stage in our lives is coming to fruition. An egg of possibility. Encapsulated in this egg is hope, fear or a little bit of both. Abundant anticipation for what lies ahead. What do you hope for? What do you fear? What areas of your life are actually dead and in need of the Breath of Life? What are you waiting for? Life with Legs. The caterpillar gets fatter and fatter as she prepares for what’s next. The season of movement and preparation that leads to growth. The worker ants carrying the seemingly huge crumbs on their backs. We fill our minds, bodies and souls. Building ourselves up for the challenges that lie ahead. During chemo, when the side effects wane, you have “feel good” days. These are the days I would try to accomplish all the things. Kind of like that “nesting” urge during pregnancy. Preparation. Productivity. What are you moving towards? What (or Who) are you working for? Is there something you need to stop putting off and do today? Chrysalis. Time is up. We begin to withdraw - putting all of our energy inward. This season appears still and lifeless from the outside, but... Change is happening. The work of change is often slow and hard, but necessary. For me these were the days I was too sick to move. On the first evening of a chemo treatment, my husband would say that he saw the color drain from my face – literally turning to grey. It went straight downhill from there: nausea, dry heaving, dizziness, exhaustion. I would lie in bed and pray that the room would stop spinning or that I could just throw up and feel better. I would literally cocoon myself in the covers of my bed for days. This was difficult (especially for my husband juggling work and two kids). But it was also the perfect time of allowing God to just do His thing. I had no choice. I had to remain still. And in that stillness He literally enveloped me with His love and let me rest. While my body was recovering from the poison it has just been filled with, my heart was being reoriented – to a position of receiving. And the truth is that this resting (of body and mind) has been God’s design all along. Not chemo-induced rest, but rather the Sabbath concept: not a day to fall into rest from exhaustion, but a day to be filled with rest to be rejuvenated for the week ahead. There’s a big difference. True rest is a treasure. When was the last time you were still? What does rest look like for you? What is your Sabbath? What are areas, attitudes or appetites in your life that you need to take the pressure off or step away from entirely? (Ex. Things you are obsessing over like weight loss, finances, etc.) What is God teaching you in your struggle? Your pain? Do you need to transition from “pressing into” God to a season of simply “leaning” on Him? Wings. I’ve never actually seen a butterfly emerge from a chrysalis. It’s one of those things that sort of just happens when no one is looking. Until this time. The caterpillar jar caught my eye and I saw the cocoon shaking. It turns out that sometimes they do this to ward off predators. Interesting. Maybe I need such a strategy to ward off all those things that threaten to stop me from living into who I’m called to be. There’s another interesting thing that happens as the butterfly emerges – it secretes red liquid. It’s not blood, but rather meconium – the “leftover part of the caterpillar that is no longer needed to make the butterfly”. I love that. A reminder that it’s ok to shed the things we no longer need. That little butterfly was ready to be free. I was so ready to be free of the heaviness of the treatment I was undergoing. There was one small blessing in the chemo process – the side effects would always end. There was always a little light at the end of the tunnel – a few days of feeling somewhat normal. One day I would wake up and crave coffee and that was my queue – today’s the day. Wing time. Have you got your wings today? How can you live out this season of freedom and flight in a way that celebrates & honors God? Who can you reach out to that needs to know his or her moment is on the way? What “predators” do you need to ward off or things do you need to “shed”(you know, the things, habits, and/or people that hold you back from doing what you need to do…)? Life is a cycle of seasons and change. Whatever season you are in, whether pain or bliss, it won’t last forever. This too shall pass. But the beauty in it is that there are so many good things to grasp in this very moment. Fight the urge to wait for your wings. Embrace the season you are in right now and learn the lessons you can’t learn anywhere but here. One of my all-time favorite books on this topic is Spiritual Rhythm: Being with Jesus Every Season of Your Soul by Mark Buchanan. It provides practical ways to live fully in each season of life.
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