This year has truly been one for the books for all of us, and one that is difficult to wrap our heads around. Yet, for me, this has been somewhat of a déjà vu moment. Nine, seemingly long years ago, I was in my very own quarantine, secluded away from my infant daughter and most visitors. Masks, gowns and gloves were my constant companions along with the illustrious odor of creamed corn.😬 Major shopping and eating out were all but forbidden until 45-100 days post transplant. Bottles of hand sanitizer littered every room along with Clorox wipes to be used after every person... Sound familiar? It was definitely a weird moment for me when I realized I was feeling some very similar things all over again. After my BMT in 2011, it took a LONG time after that whole ordeal not to fear living my life. For so long, I had lived in fear about so many things that could possibly make me sick because I had ZERO immunity. I was not able to thrive because all attention was on me being able to just survive. I had to pay attention to everything I did and ate and who I came into contact with. Along the way, those fears became oddly routine and had started to really inhibit the new life I had been given. The gratitude of being a survivor x2 was being swallowed whole by the lingering fears of "What If?". Even now, some of the roots of those old fears like to rear their ugly heads at the most inopportune moments. Thankfully, I was and still am so blessed to have an incredible community of people who continually lavished grace and patience on me as I worked through my grief and fear and hesitancy on my own time and my own terms. It took great grace and incredible wisdom from my family to remind me that the God who had just brought me through hell was not going to give up on me and would continue to be with me. I still had a purpose and an ordained a life to live. Furthermore, I had a daughter that needed me to set an example. I needed to be brave, to thrive, and to hold fast to my faith in El Roi because she was watching and learning these lessons too. So here I am, nine years later, a little less fearful, a lot less naive, a lot more empathetic, a lot more gracious, and infinitely more brave than I would have ever imagined. I feel humble and amazed that God continues to show up and redeem that awful time in my life. I am privileged to stand in that cancer gap for people praying, supporting, and believing because I have endured it ALL. I can grieve and lament because I too have sat in the depths of despair. I can speak truth over people because I know how the balm of truth can heal a scarred soul. So cheers to another year of perfectly, imperfectly living this blessed life!!
"9" is Freaking Fine!!
Ecclesiastes 3:1-8
There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under the heavens:
2 a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
3 a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
4 a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
5 a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
6 a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
7 a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
8 a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.
