Sunday, September 18, 2011
Roadtrip!
In celebration of life and the end of my chemo treatments my roommate and I are going on a road trip to visit friends and family. I'm looking forward to quality time with people I love and spending many long hours outside enjoying our beautiful world!
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Here - A wonderful place to be!
When my oncologist said, "You're one of my favorite patients, you know," I laughed and wondered quietly if he tells all of his patients that or if it's simply because I'm still alive after all these months. And I wondered at the courage it takes to come into work every morning and fight grim odds when so many cancer patients die. So I thank him for his commitment. He tells me to keep praying.
But honestly I've never asked God for my life. Not because I don't believe in prayer, but because I trust His brains over my own. Ultimately the life and death decisions are His alone anyway. I know my perception of 'what is grace' can be warped by my desire for comfort and my idea of happiness. So I do not wish to fight His wisdom. The mystery of why I am here and others like my dear sweet cousin Valerie are not, is far too heavy for my very human heart. It is not for me to understand or carry. As C.S. Lewis wrote, each of us are told only our own story.
My own story has had surprising turns this year and now I have arrived at the end of a chapter: Diagnosis, surgery, and chemo. A place that was once very hard to imagine. With my first clear CT scan behind me and no more chemo scheduled there is a new horizon. Uncharted discoveries within the realm of time. A journey to regain strength, discover purpose, and live new chapters.
My courage for the future stems from His provision in the past. And His provision has been miraculous! The miracles of the hospital forgiving my bill of over $100,000 from the hospitalization in January before I had insurance. The gifts of kind hearts who carried me in their prayers and gave generously to keep other medical bills out of collections. Whether I have needed a ride to an appointment, a book to read, vitamins, a song, a meal, or a hug - I have never once lacked! Thank you! My gratitude spills over!
But honestly I've never asked God for my life. Not because I don't believe in prayer, but because I trust His brains over my own. Ultimately the life and death decisions are His alone anyway. I know my perception of 'what is grace' can be warped by my desire for comfort and my idea of happiness. So I do not wish to fight His wisdom. The mystery of why I am here and others like my dear sweet cousin Valerie are not, is far too heavy for my very human heart. It is not for me to understand or carry. As C.S. Lewis wrote, each of us are told only our own story.
My own story has had surprising turns this year and now I have arrived at the end of a chapter: Diagnosis, surgery, and chemo. A place that was once very hard to imagine. With my first clear CT scan behind me and no more chemo scheduled there is a new horizon. Uncharted discoveries within the realm of time. A journey to regain strength, discover purpose, and live new chapters.
My courage for the future stems from His provision in the past. And His provision has been miraculous! The miracles of the hospital forgiving my bill of over $100,000 from the hospitalization in January before I had insurance. The gifts of kind hearts who carried me in their prayers and gave generously to keep other medical bills out of collections. Whether I have needed a ride to an appointment, a book to read, vitamins, a song, a meal, or a hug - I have never once lacked! Thank you! My gratitude spills over!
Monday, August 22, 2011
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Shy smile. . .
"Oh - I remember you!"
Her face brightened from behind the tall counter. Twirling the sign-in pen I tried to match her face among the hundreds of other hospital employees that I've met during the past months of chemo and surgery. . . No results found.
"I drew your blood when you came into the ER! How are you doing? Did they figure out what was wrong?"
Her warm remembrance surprised me. An obscure late night over 8 months ago? Remembered among countless other patients on her shift? Shy shoe-scuffing bewilderment.
Briefly summarizing the past months I tried to show how much God has blessed. It is good to recount His provision. And today she is one of them - offering the gift of remembrance.
If humans can be so gracious - what then does it mean to be remembered by God's heart?
Her face brightened from behind the tall counter. Twirling the sign-in pen I tried to match her face among the hundreds of other hospital employees that I've met during the past months of chemo and surgery. . . No results found.
"I drew your blood when you came into the ER! How are you doing? Did they figure out what was wrong?"
Her warm remembrance surprised me. An obscure late night over 8 months ago? Remembered among countless other patients on her shift? Shy shoe-scuffing bewilderment.
Briefly summarizing the past months I tried to show how much God has blessed. It is good to recount His provision. And today she is one of them - offering the gift of remembrance.
If humans can be so gracious - what then does it mean to be remembered by God's heart?
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Monday, July 11, 2011
When Divinity Storms
The storm mist swirls into the porch and sparks little snowflake sensations on my face and bare arms. Clattering rain on the tin roof overhead nearly clouds out the background tympani of thunder. I inhale deeply. The moistened air heavy with the scent of life. Its as if the whole world has been given a breath mint and when the downpour subsides its eyes are wide open.
I remember rain.
Dark rain coursing down sad windows.
Sun sparkled rain tickling the surface of lake waters above.
Cold European drizzles on narrow cobblestone streets.
Dashing into steamy Brazilian torrents to snatch the laundry from the lines.
Sharing an umbrella while selling books of hope to strangers.
Puddle jumping and all out mud fights.
Rain drenched skin and the joy of living.
Both funerals and weddings christened with graceful rain.
And the hope in Christmas lights is never so poignantly clear as on a bitter and blustery winter day.
It has been said by art instructors that "The shadow is as important as the light." The truth of this in two dimensions is ever more evident in our multidimensional existence. How quick I am to forget. Our tangible surroundings are always holding hands with spiritual truths. The truth of recognizing the shadows of God.
The warrior David describes the dark majesty of God rescuing him in Psalm 18. This psalm is a hymn of gratefulness penned on the day that the Lord delivered him from all his enemies and from the hand of Saul. Perhaps this is a poetic rendition of a specific event where God used a literal storm to protect him from his enemies.
"He bowed down the heavens also, and came down with darkness under His feet.
And He rode upon a cherub and flew; He flew upon the wings of the wind.
He made darkness His secret place; His canopy around Him was dark waters and thick clouds of the skies. . . ." (vs. 9-11)
"He sent from above, He took me. He drew me out of many waters.
He also brought me out into a broad place, He delivered me because He delighted in me." (vs. 16, 19)
This is no pastel portrait of divinity on a sunny picnic. It is a rich word palate with all the colors of a storm. Ripped strength and raw energy pulse forward to culminate in a miraculous rescue. A reminder that God is not just present in serene pastures but also in the shadows of death. That God himself is a warrior fighting for the defense and justice of those who trust Him. The stalwart truth about God in storms.
My God is not a placid God. His storms have purpose. His shadows are strength.
And even if I am not the one to witness the rescue,
His gift of rain cycles on.
I remember rain.
Dark rain coursing down sad windows.
Sun sparkled rain tickling the surface of lake waters above.
Cold European drizzles on narrow cobblestone streets.
Dashing into steamy Brazilian torrents to snatch the laundry from the lines.
Sharing an umbrella while selling books of hope to strangers.
Puddle jumping and all out mud fights.
Rain drenched skin and the joy of living.
Both funerals and weddings christened with graceful rain.
And the hope in Christmas lights is never so poignantly clear as on a bitter and blustery winter day.
It has been said by art instructors that "The shadow is as important as the light." The truth of this in two dimensions is ever more evident in our multidimensional existence. How quick I am to forget. Our tangible surroundings are always holding hands with spiritual truths. The truth of recognizing the shadows of God.
The warrior David describes the dark majesty of God rescuing him in Psalm 18. This psalm is a hymn of gratefulness penned on the day that the Lord delivered him from all his enemies and from the hand of Saul. Perhaps this is a poetic rendition of a specific event where God used a literal storm to protect him from his enemies.
"He bowed down the heavens also, and came down with darkness under His feet.
And He rode upon a cherub and flew; He flew upon the wings of the wind.
He made darkness His secret place; His canopy around Him was dark waters and thick clouds of the skies. . . ." (vs. 9-11)
"He sent from above, He took me. He drew me out of many waters.
He also brought me out into a broad place, He delivered me because He delighted in me." (vs. 16, 19)
This is no pastel portrait of divinity on a sunny picnic. It is a rich word palate with all the colors of a storm. Ripped strength and raw energy pulse forward to culminate in a miraculous rescue. A reminder that God is not just present in serene pastures but also in the shadows of death. That God himself is a warrior fighting for the defense and justice of those who trust Him. The stalwart truth about God in storms.
My God is not a placid God. His storms have purpose. His shadows are strength.
And even if I am not the one to witness the rescue,
His gift of rain cycles on.
Sunday, July 3, 2011
A Milestone
Today I made bread for the first time since early January! I absolutely love making bread, but I haven't had the energy to do it or much else in the cooking department. So taking advantage of a window of relative perkiness before my next round of chemo, I mixed and poured and smiled! I had to sit down and put the bowl on a chair in front of me to knead it. This method worked quite well - and the tall brown loaves turned out delicious! I forgot to take pictures of the end result - but you know what bread looks like :)
Grateful today for:
Serenades
Baby birds still learning to fly
Guitar music
Flour on my hands
Flax seed
Vacuumed carpet
Stationary
Books by Elizabeth Elliot
Crusty fresh slices of bread
Cold cantaloupe melting in my mouth
Soft hats
Scarves of color
Basil plants
New rootlets sprouting on cuttings
Brilliant zinnias on the table
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