A Golden Birthday

 14 on the 14th. It is hard to believe I am a full-blown teenager away from the Bone Marrow Transplant. The more I watch my daughter grow and mature into the beautiful young woman she is, the more I realize the farther and farther away I am from that traumatic chapter in my life. Ironically though, that trauma has been closer than ever lately in different ways. This past year has brought some really big changes in my life, including a major job change. As a result, I have been blessed with several opportunities to share my testimony with new people. This has led to sitting in and revisiting the hard parts of my story. I’ve had to sit in those hard top-line chapters again to try to actually put the words of my story to a paper for a devotion. I’ve had to rewatch the reels play through my mind as I whittle down all of the beautiful nuances of God’s mercy into a few broad strokes of amazing miracles to try to help people have an understanding of the living, breathing, walking miracle my life really is. It’s been incredible and humbling all at the same time. Every time I get to share, I feel like I am walking out my favorite verse that I have held onto all of these cancer-filled years, Joel 2:25. Getting to tell people that I know how it feels to be angry with God even as a “good” Christian or to understand the fear at wondering if I will ever feel normal again is such a gift and such a redemption for all that cancer took from my life. Getting to be that “Me Too” friend is a mind-blowing blessing that I do not take for granted either. I feel as though I am on the cusp of some other new chapters and all of the lessons learned through cancer and divorce and wilderness are still coming to play as I venture into uncharted territory. Even as I mark this new milestone, I am still learning how to wrestle well with God, still learning how to live with palms wide open instead of fisted shut, and still learning what God requires from my “yes” even if it’s a quiet one.

Today, I mark this birthday with BOTH joy at making this far AND grief that I am still not quite where I want to be. I am BOTH proud of the work I have been able to do AND humbled that God can use a scarred mess like me to do good work and bless others. I am grateful AND amazed that God’s grace and mercy are unlimited and that I get to live my life as living proof of it.

 Happy Golden 14^th BMT Birthday to Me!!

Lucky 13!!- Another BMT Anniversary

 Another trip around the sun has come and gone as I try to reflect back on how far this journey has brought me. Some days it seems like it happened eons ago and to a completely different person. Other days the lingering effects, the grief of what was lost still hits deep and fresh. Cancer leaves an indelible mark on your life with scars both seen and unseen. Yet, it can also give gifts that you never knew you so desperately needed. As I was looking back today, I was reminded once again of the gift of CONJUNCTIONS, a gift I still walk in. I know it sounds bizarre and kitschy, but hear me out. Thru this journey of low valleys and even more low valleys,  I have learned to live in the beautiful tension of AND. God is good AND Cancer sucks. I can grieve all that I lost AND laugh with joy at the good things I still hold. I can be anxious AND still know that God has got me. I can know truth AND still have questions and doubts. I can love God with my whole heart AND still be angry about why I still feel like the modern day Job. I have also learned to lean into the BUT of life. My current situations with court and the ex and money and jobs and doctors all seem kind of hopeless, like I am stuck on a hamster wheel going, going going.... nowhere. BUT God... so far, He has made a way when I couldn't see a way and provided for my needs. BUT God... at the times when my fingers were slipping off the end of my rope, there He was. BUT God... even in the silence and lingering wilderness and barren desert, He gives me glimpses of his faithfulness to remind me He is still working in the waiting. BUT God... even in my wondering and worrying and fear, He still calls me beloved and worthy of good things.  BUT God... when my arms are tired and I am losing the battle, He brings in the Aaron and Hur to my Moses arms to lift me up and encourage me to finish the fight. 

So to my fellow survivors and sojourners and everyone in between, I pray you will find that sweet spot of tension in all areas of your life. May you have joy amid your heartache, peace within your worry, and hope in spite of your grief. 

Now here is to another Lucky Bakers Dozen of milestones marking my Ebenezers, learning and relearning the same lessons because I'm human, and seeing my purpose finally played out. Thank you to all who have carried me this far on your love, prayers, support and friendship. It takes a village and I couldn't be more grateful for mine. 

His First Heavenly Birthday

     My Grandpa would have been ninety-two today, and instead he is partying it up at the pearly gates. Next week, it will be four months since he breathed his last here on this earth. While the grief is no longer raw, it is still very much woven into the fabric of our everyday. Big milestones are passing, and his presence is dearly missed. Today, I am holding the tension of a spectrum of feelings. I miss my grandpa, his sparkling blue eyes, and weird dad jokes, yet, at the same time my best girl, Nevaeh, his birthday buddy, is turning fourteen tomorrow, leaving middle school behind, and I couldn't be more proud. As I seek to honor these feelings in their acknowledgment and remember my grandpa in the best way, I thought I would share the words I spoke at his funeral. They still hold true today and perfectly describe the incredible man I knew and loved. Happy Heavenly Birthday Opa!! We love you fiercely.

Opa’s Tribute

Opa… such a small name for such a big heart. He loved us all so well in his own ways. He truly lived his life as the ultimate doorkeeper whether at church every single time the doors were opened or at his cozy home where he was the first to welcome all who entered with a hearty handshake, a piercing look in the eye and a warm hello. As a doorkeeper he was also the first to stand guard over his family and loved ones with promises to lay on of hands WITHOUT prayer if needed. Even in these last few years when he couldn’t remember what he had had for breakfast that day, he would still remind me that he could also give the right hand of fellowship, if necessary, all the while shaking his strong fist in the air.

I am so lucky to have had such an amazing and present grandpa. I really can’t think of any childhood memories without him in it, and I didn’t know how big of a blessing that was until I became an adult. One major trait that I always equate with my grandpa is that it was practically a cardinal sin for anyone to go hungry around him, and most of us here have been the true recipients of that firmly held belief. Growing up, even if we had just had lunch at home, he would ask if we were hungry and we would always say yes. There was always time and room for a vanilla cone at McDonalds. Every weekend afternoon and visits from friends and family ultimately led to us eating our body weight in his perfected stovetop popcorn and washing it down with Fresca. I also learned at a young age that a good cup of coffee was never complete unless accompanied by some cookies, a tradition he even enjoyed in his last days. Opa was also never without candy, especially suckers like tootsie pops and dumdums. He kept them everywhere in his pockets, in his truck, in his lunch box, and in his pantry. He used to keep them in a fuzzy pouch hanging off his rearview mirror. As a naïve young child, I thought it was a horses nose and loved to pet it and sift thru it to see what goodies he kept in there. It was so cute and so soft. With much humor, several years later, I finally realized it was not actually a horses nose but a tanned ball sack. We all still  have a good laugh about it to this day. Well Played, Opa.

There is so much we could say about the strength and character of this incredible man. He was fiercely loyal and protective and consistent. He was strong and faithful and always had a dad joke ready to share. He worked hard his whole life with a work ethic that could hardly be matched. Then when he retired, he used that same work ethic to bless and serve his family. He stepped into our everyday ordinary and did all the things. He graciously moved me back and forth to and from college so many times with so much stuff and never bemoaned how much crap I actually had. He was mister fix it and always had the tools to jimmy-rig something or create some new masterpiece we didn’t know we needed. When my dad was deployed, he stepped in as bodyguard, and saved me from some hooligan boys that were not worth his Sweetie’s time. He was there to hold me each time my world fell completely apart, letting my tears soak the chest of his favorite western snap shirt. He was always there to cheer us on no matter what activity we were involved in whether it was sports, drama, church and everything in between. Throughout his years, he truly lived his life with open palms and shared all that he had whenever we needed it. Yet, in all of his goodness the one thing that I hold nearest and dearest to my heart was his unwavering faith. He lived his faith everyday in word and in deed. His worn Bible was always close at hand and creaked with years of good use and the current daily bread rested on the bathroom counter. His voice is still ringing in my ears of him reading Luke chapter 2 at the beginning of every Christmas Eve. He led by example and carried that mantle of faith well. It is because of his faith that I have hope today holding tension with my grief. It is because of his faith that I have a tomorrow to look forward to in being reunited with him. It was because of his foundation of faith that I too am able to live and love well. Here’s to you Opa. Well done good and faithful servant.

Love always,

Your Sweetie

A Dozen Years- Happy 12th BMT to Me!

 June 14th.... a day that will always live in infamy in my world. Today, my immune system is a preteen. It sounds so blasé to say it has only been a dozen years {insert a whisk of my hand}, and yet here with are twelve years down and peppered with some awesome teenage angst😃. 

It has been a Dozen Years. A dozen years since since I fought for life to be a mom to my daughter. A dozen years since sickness was my only normal that I thought would never end. A dozen years of walking through fires and hell, sometimes with only a mustard seed of faith and hope to keep taking that next step. Now, here we are. This past year has been different in so many ways compared to previous ones. There have been so many changes, so many feelings, and so so much waiting. This birthday just hits different. I find myself still in the middle of a long wilderness (coming up on a year) knowing that things are moving and shifting, but still anxiously waiting for guidance and clarity because I am still not sure how it will all play out. This is the year where I have actually found myself at a loss for words... crazy I know, but it is true. The lack of blog posts this past year is a testament to that fact. Still, this wilderness has brought its share of blessings too. I may still be in some survival mode, but I have found my inner strength again. Through another chapter of hell, I was given the chance to take back my voice and find my strength. I was able to finally look at my abuser in the eye without fear or trepidation or tears. No longer does that evil make me cower in a corner, for I am no longer that same woman that I once was. Another blessing I have found is that I can trust the wilderness. Honestly, the wilderness sucks. If I had the choice I would not linger here, but I have come to the place of knowing it is only a season. If the God that I know and love is truly El Roi, then He will lead me out when the time is right. I may still lose all that I am and all that I know right now, but I know this isn't the end. God is still present in the wilderness even when He is "silent". God is still present even when I can't see Him working. Right now, this is all I know and that is actually ok even if I have to remind myself of this truth every now and again. Right now, I have no inspiring pearls of wisdom, nothing new to pave the way just the clutching of memories of the past precedence of God's fingerprints in my life. Right now, ALL OF MY THINGS are so completely out of my control, and all I can do is wait and hope and trust that all things will work out for my good. This hope is all I have got, and my little tids and bits of it in the hands of the Almighty can someday multiply into something magnanimous. So happy dozen years to me today and a here's to the hope that my 13th birthday will bring about some epic new things. 

D-Day, A Year Later

    Where have the past 365 days gone? This question has been rolling around in my head all week as this anniversary loomed on the horizon. January 19, 2022 held so many HUGE emotions I didn't know how to process them then, and I am still learning how to process them now, so many months later (thank you counseling😍). Last year, I got my first taste of freedom and the future looked as bright as the morning sun bursting with possibilities. God showed up in magnanimous ways to blow my mind and remind me that He is still the God of the impossible. I was so ready to tie up the final loose ends, bid goodbye to my amazing lawyer, and then step into finding a new normal for me and my daughter. It was all so promising.  In the midst of my joy, however, I found myself also grieving for the end of an era, the loss of a soul tie, the harsh reality of co-parenting, and the fear of the unknown future. My soul was literally a cauldron of bubbling emotions. Looking back now, I have a hard time even recognizing the woman that I was back then or imagining the fragile hope that danced on the edges of my healing heart. While it has been a year filled with some amazing moments, it has also been a time of severe drought and wilderness. I continue to be overwhelmed and blessed by a super supportive family and a tightknit group of friends who consistently stand in the gap for me, encourage me, and bring me unspeakable joy. I have also made several new friends that have pushed me out of my comfort zone, inspired me beyond my wildest dreams, and redeemed a few of the broken bits of my story. Besides new people, I bravely found new things to try like dancing lessons and putting my soul on display in my writing for more people to see. Moreover, I found the courage and strength to pull up my big girl pants, and I learned how to not only be a single mom but also how to embrace humility and accept some much needed aid. I have been able to face the barrage of triggers and process them with fewer tears rather than crumbling underneath them ruining my entire day. I can see the forgiveness of my ex and continue to work toward it, instead of being overwhelmed by the feelings of the injustice surrounding it. My mess of a story has become a beautiful message and a beacon of hope for others who are just starting on this painful and arduous and devastating journey. This is a mantle I never would have asked for, but I am so grateful of its power to weave a new story of redemption. On the other side of the pendulum, however, I have also seen my bubbly daughter turn into an angsty teen as she bravely flounders her way through new family members, switching houses and trying to keep her peace in this chaotic time. I am realizing more and more how little I know how to parent and how much my mama bear heart aches to be able to just make things right for her. Instead, I have to continually place her into the hands of the One who made her and trust that it is enough. I have walked through the blazing fire forging my faith and basked in the sweetest intimacy of God in the darkest of nights to suddenly finding myself in a swirling dust storm of wilderness wondering what turn did I miss. I was good until all of a sudden I wasn't. Honestly, it has felt like now that the time of complete and utter desperation has passed that I am supposed to be good to go and just pushed to the side. It sounds absolutely asinine to even have that thought cross my mind, but there it is. The last several months have constantly had a feeling of shifting and shaking with no knowledge of why or what or when. The stinging pain of feelings, beliefs, and identity being stripped down and away has become a regular occurrence. I have found myself more and more like the wandering Israelites and doubting Thomas as the wilderness has stretched on and on before me with no end in sight. This past year has again forced me to match my walk with my talk. The times where my faith has dwindled down from a sword of steel to a miniscule mustard seed, I still cling to it because I know that even in its faintest form, it can still move the mountains and the giants in front of me. Therefore, I can keep going, keep stepping, and keep believing my way forward. I know this next year will become an incredible tapestry, weaving my grief, wanting, waiting, wrestling, believing, hoping and absolute joy as I do the hard and holy work to discover His greatness and His plans for me. So, here I am with open palms and cautious treading steps as I make my way into a new year and and new chapter of  becoming the better and stronger Lindsay Carlene. 

 

Summer of #92

 Ninety-two days. That is how long this summer season has been. I had no freaking idea that these past three months would end up being the bumpy, twisting road that it was. I spent some time going back what I had posted in June as I set out on this new adventure, and without a warning, tears started to flow down my cheeks. I can feel the hope oozing from those words, and the expectations that danced along the edges of my soul. I recall the titillating excitement enshrouded with trepidation at what I had just stepped into. It is all a bit mind blowing as I try to reconcile the journey with this particular destination. I am nowhere near where I thought I would be at this time. The journey to get to this point was nothing like I had expected in both good and not so good ways. I have always written to clear my head, to inspire others, and to set mile markers in my life. Each blog post has been a piece of my soul displayed on a pixelated screen, laid bare for all to see. Yet, I had no idea of the unearthing that would occur and the new battles I would have to face as I sat down to write on a regular basis. I had no idea of the immense wrestling match that would ensue as I continued to face God and my Goliaths. I also had no idea that I could feel so seen and heard. Until this summer, I had never before experienced such an incredible depth of life-giving words spoken over me and to me. I had no idea that there were more gifts and talents to be seen and called out in me by incredible people. I had no idea that I, LINDSAY CARLENE, could be bold and courageous. Yet, here I am still sitting in this tension of the good and the bad, fearful and courageous, and holding both hope and grief. 

I started this summer with a dream, a dream to share my story and inspire the world. I had taken a challenge, a small step of faith, to see if I could put momentum behind this dream. I took the first step and then BAM!! The assaults of doubt and fear came out of everywhere. Questions of my worth and talent barreled to the forefront. Doubts of God and wondering how or why He could possibly use me became the song of my tears. I had nothing to say, nothing good to say or at least nothing new to say, still I kept on. I didn’t want to fall into my comfortable habits. I wanted this time to be different. I wanted to show up for myself for once. A friend recently reminded me, that courage is a muscle too and if you don’t use it or work at it you lose it. Well, this small but fierce bold challenge was the boost I needed to start being bold in other places in my life. It helped me to start trusting myself again. As a result, I was able to relish in new joys. I found excitement in trying new things. I made space for new people who eventually became friends. I was able to step out of my comfort zone and get out of my own head. I was doing the hard work of acknowledging the places in my heart that were still wounded from past traumas. I was being intentional about me and my own healing journey. All of a sudden, it was like I hit a pit of quicksand. Hurt, loss, rejection, and grief collided, and I was left flailing and floundering. I literally had nothing more to say or to write. My heart felt desolate like the desert hills. I was questioning the greatness of God and wondering so many whys. I felt emptied of all inspiration and the joy that had been lighting my face was fleeting away like a whisper in the wind. Still, I tried to press on. I continued to take the tiniest of bold steps. I risked rejection and put some of my writing out in different places. I started to put words and a voice behind my dreams that they may find a place to bloom as I cast them forth. Even now, I am still desperately putting pen to paper and fingers to a keyboard as I lay my gifts on the altar praying and hoping it will keep laying a foundation for my dreams. As I said before, this summer became a very different reality for me, and now at the end of it, I am still not where I hope to be. I am still leaning and pushing and grasping at the promises of God as I work through my doubts of yes, He has but will He again. I am still facing my Goliaths of doubt wondering whether I have what it takes or if I misheard His leadings. I am still here tired and exhausted of all the waiting and the wanting. Even so, an old season has closed, and I am still here as ready as I will ever be to face the new season ahead. Here’s to walking in boldness wherever that may lead. Goodbye sweet summer!

Just Another Day: 8/10/22

Ashes. 

Stone cold black dust that is disappearing on the wings of the wind and is all that remains of the past fifteen years. 

A day that once held beauty and hope and ecstatic joy has been reduced to a day smudged with the embers of years gone by. My "I Do" has forever been erased and replaced by the question of "What's Next?". My grief over loss is no longer the guttural cries from a drowning soul, but has become more like the quiet tears shed behind closed doors.

Today, I stand here with cheeks wet and palms open, balancing both the grief of loss and also the hope of a Phoenix rising out of these murky ashes. I hold both the relief of my salvation and freedom and the impatience of something better. I am still walking the edgy road of forgiveness while securing the good memories from my past.  I am embracing my healing while also igniting a new flame of hope. I had no idea how or what to feel today, and apparently, it was a lot more than I was ready for. It probably did not help that I actually crossed paths with Clay today of all days, yet, the heaviness of this day compounded with this dry wilderness season became an incredible tangle within my heart. The hurt, the rejection, and the injustice of it all made themselves known as I worked and walked through my day, being constant companions and a releaser of tears. This mile marker has now become just another day on the calendar. It is now a mosaic of all of the beautiful, ordinary moments that I am blessed to experience as I try to frame the past hurt with the gratitude of my many blessings. I'm sure people wonder why I mark this time, why I write my soul into the the minutes of this particular day. I write and remember because it is important to me. This day was etched into the core of an era of my life. I write to feel, to remind me of who I am and where I have been. I write to remind myself that the trauma of today and this past year do not negate the goodness and the blessings of time gone by. I write so I do not repeat. I write to give myself grace to feel and grieve and remember that the best is still yet to come. I write to remember I am not alone. I write that my grief might be a light for someone else. I write because my soul sometimes needs a language to release its desperate song. I write because I hold a glimmer of hope that one day this special date will be replaced and a new era will be born. 

August tenth...over and out.

BMT- Still healing after 11 years.

I saw this C.S. Lewis quote on someone's Facebook page recently, and it just sank into the depths of my soul like water on a parched ground. Someone had spoken the words my heart did not have yet have the language for that boiled this entire last year down to one sentence. 

“We are not necessarily doubting that God will do the best for us; we are wondering how painful the best will turn out to be.”

This feels like the anthem of not only this past year but these past eleven years. I have seen, heard and tasted the goodness of God. I have declared it in the darkest of nights and shouted it while basking in the gratitude of bountiful gifts. I know in my core how good God is and how good He is to me even though I am sorely, sorely undeserving. With my last breath, whenever that may be, I will still declare that He is good, faithful and still God. However, the pain, the cost, the sacrifice I continue to face now is still hard and unnervingly scary. I was looking back and reading past posts, my Ebenezers, and man, page after page was filled with His faithfulness... Thus far He has been 100%  perfectly faithful. Yet, my frail humanity still sits here with something akin to PTSD. I'm still afraid of the pain of expectations even though I know that what God has for me is the absolute best. This year, especially, my heart has been put through the wringer. It has had to shut down in places just to survive. It is exhausted from pain and heartache. It is just now starting to peek its head out seeing if there is safety out there for both the physical and the emotional sides of me. Still, I know without pain I cannot experience true joy and love, and without heartache I would not know the blessing of hope either. So, as I sit on this anniversary, I think about all of the healing that my body has overcome and contemplate all of the healing that remains to be seen. I still have effects like random bouts of nausea, teeth disintegration, and a thyroid that laughs as it clings to every ounce I carry. I still cannot tolerate even the smell of creamed corn, and the scars that cover my palest of skin reminds me of every poke and every med. That BMT day is a day of pure infamy. A day that required the severest of pains in order that I might live. The cost was high, the sacrifice high, and the pain severely high. This was the route that God allowed for my healing to occur. This was my miracle in medicinal form dependent on the smarts of other beautiful human beings. This route allowed for my best to come through. It brought the refining fire to my faith and relationship with God. It brought me a new appreciation for food and the beautiful intimacy that a shared meal can bring. It brought me to a new place of strength knowing that what I had survived would enable me to face ANYTHING else this world could throw at me. It brought me into new depths of compassion, I didn't know existed. Even now, it is reminding me that ALL healing is a LONG process. Some parts heal quicker than others and that is ok. Some parts may never fully heal and the scar that remains is ok and just more proof that I did, in fact, survive. I am finding I need to keep giving myself more grace. Grace to heal and grace to be at peace with the snail's pace. I remember in the first few months after my BMT and the smallest of tasks would completely exhaust me. I could no longer just tell my body to do whatever I wanted it to, and I was forced to rest. I just didn't have the strength and stamina like before. I remember crying because in the middle of shopping I had to stop as the nausea and dizziness came out of nowhere and literally almost took me out. It was clear I was not the same vibrant 25 year old. My body had aged exponentially, and it was just a fact and side effect of my treatment. Now, eleven years later, my triggers are different, a picture, a gift or a ridiculous bill. They spring up and stab my soul, and all the memories of the rejection, the hurt, the waiting and all of the loss overwhelm me like a tidal wave. No longer can I just stuff it away, and no longer do I want to take that route. Still, I have to take the time to deal with it. I have to process it, and I can't just shake my head and tell myself to get over it like I used to do. In this too, I know my stamina will come and the triggers will shrink eventually. I just have to keep going, keep showing up for myself and my healing. Even as I still need the my anti-emetic Zofran, I may still need other tools or people to show up and help me conquer another trigger that will most definitely come my way. That will be ok too. My worth as a woman and a human being is not negated by my need for help and community. My life's race is set for me and me only. A flower that blooms late is still just as beautiful as the blooms that opened before. Therefore, another year into another decade has come and I am still a warrior, continuing to fight for the woman that was saved from physical death because she has a purpose to fulfill. Eleven years down and the warrior in me is now fighting for her soul that was crushed and left for dead because it also has a new purpose to live out.

Happy 11 years post BMT to me! Eleven years strong and counting. 

June 1, 2022- A New Month and A New Season

 I am constantly amazed at how the omnipotent, ultimate Creator, God of the universe works ALL of the things out. The way He beautifully, intrinsically, and intentionally weaves not only our individual lives together, but also weaves those life braids together to form this magnificent masterpiece of community is just beyond comprehension. I love my tribe and my community that God has woven for me. I love the people. I love loving on people, and I tend to hoard people and friendships. I believe in the mantra that people come into our lives for a reason, a season, or a lifetime, but let's be real, I usually struggle to let go of seasonal friends. I should just have a tattoo that says LIFER on it because come hell or highwater, I can love the stuffing out of you. Yet as a healing work in progress, God in his goodness and faithfulness, looks down on my life and still decides to add new threads of friends to my journey in the most unexpected turns of my story. I look back on the last two years, especially, and the last 12 years of cancer and even the last 15 years, and I see some amazing people that have shown up in my life. God wants us to be fully reliant on Him, but what a wonder it is when he chooses us, as fallible people, to do His work and to bring life, love, hope and joy to those around us. It is a privilege, I know I take for granted far too often. Looking back, I can see how he brought people in to help fill a need I did not know I even had, or to heal a wound I had long since forgotten. I can see the times when it felt like all hope was lost, and someone stepped up and spoke words of life and truth into my battered soul overwhelming me with joy. I can see people, just in pure obedience, come and set an elaborate table before me that was completely undeserved, making my heart a pure puddle. Even now in my chaotic survival mode, He is weaving in some beautiful new threads that are already starting to form unique shapes into my story that just overfill my cup. For that, I am truly humbled and grateful. 

As this tapestry continues to unfold, this new month has brought forth a new season. This season is being built on shaky confidence, forged in fire faith, eager expectation, and the encouragement of my tribe. It is my prayer that this season takes my healing in a new direction of not just surviving but thriving. It is the taking of my talents and working them to multiply my own joy and to bring more life and joy to the ones I love. This season is about learning to better tune out the lies that are constantly being thrown at me and turning up the truth of who I am and whose I am. This is the season where I finally stop waiting for "the day" and start showing up for myself, my own hard heart work. This is the start of a lot....

The Survivor Tree in NYC

An Ebenezer - A New Chapter

A year ago today, I was brought to my knees as my world crumbled around me. A year that has been filled with battles, tears, prayers, and finally some peace. As this first anniversary approached, I was filled with conflicting emotions. It felt weird to "honor" this horrific day in remembrance, but at the same time, I felt so desperate to honor the journey that has cascaded from it. In this journey, I have held both sadness and joy for what happened and what could have happened. I have held both grief and hope as all I have ever known disintegrated, but then a spark began to ignite a dream that had long been buried. The path I have traveled this year has been wildly unknown, but it has also led me to true freedom, peace in the fire, and hope for what may come. March 10, 2021 is a day that is forever etched into my mind. It was the day when the writing appeared on the wall, and God finally answered my prayers in the most unlikely of ways.

So for this Ebenezer, I will focus and honor the lessons learned and the faith forged in fire. No longer will this day be framed in tears, but will be covered with the hope and joy that can only come from a redemption song. March 10th will now be a day where I say "Thus far the Lord has been faithful. See what He has done." And...

To those that are trudging through your own Sahara wondering if the desert time ever ends, I see you. Believe me when I say I know how it feels to keep putting one foot in front of the other and trying not to cringe when well-intentioned people compare your plight to the 40 year desert stint of the Israelites. Just know this, that God is still present in the desert times. His sustaining manna is always consistent but sometimes unexpected. 

To those who are living day after day after day bruised by their prayers that ricochet off of the ceiling. I see you. I see the waiting and the wondering and the doubts that are closing ranks around you, blinding you to the work that God is doing. Just know God is still working in your waiting. 

To those that find themselves wrestling with God in the dark of night, I see you. I see the pillows that have soaked your tears and muffled the moans of anguish as you cast the swirling questions on the God you thought you knew. I see the questions of whether God will come through this time. Does He care about this little thing? He can do this BUT will He? Is my faith strong enough? Just know that He is El Roi the God who sees, He is the God who cares, and He is the God who is ever faithful.

This story is not the path I would have chosen, nor is it one I would wish on anyone. BUT GOD. Instead of a rod to part the Red Sea, he used a lunch box to unshackle my chains. Instead of a momentary quick fix, he gave me a path to true intimacy with Him. Instead of a whisper, He gave me the sign that I desperately needed, one that could not be refuted even as time went on. Instead of my wants, He gave me what I needed and for that I am truly grateful.

March 10th, Thus far has been faithful.

2/22/22- Twelve Years down and a Lifetime to Go

Today was a good day. My fingers hesitate as I am typing this, because it feels almost scary to even say those words. It feels like it might take away from the horror and struggle of the last 11 months and the past 12 years overall. Still, I will say it again, today was a good day. Today was a day filled with redemption. Today was a day where joy was found in the normal and the mundane. Today was a day where there were flickers of light and glimpses into possibilities. Today was a day for silver linings. 

A few weeks ago, a dear friend of mine asked if I would be willing and able to come speak to a group of awesome mamas. I agreed, a date was set, and she gave me the space to just share my heart. As I was preparing for this time, it finally dawned on me the significance that today held. It is my 12 year cancerversary. Now to most, this may seem like a trifle thing, but to me, today was a day to remember. I had the privilege and honor of being able to share my journey of these past 12 years. I was able to pay God's goodness forward as I gave these women permission to wrestle with God and permission to feel all of those hard feelings and have it be ok. Today, I was able to see Joel 2:25 come to life in a way that blew my mind and filled my cup. I was both humbled and excited. 

The rest of the day passed by with a sense of normalcy that I had almost forgotten even existed. I got to take my daughter and my niece to school. I got to take funny pictures as we waited in the preschool drop off line. I got to cheer on my daughter's 6th grade basketball team as they played to victory. Today, I got to bask in my freedom, and sit in its calming peace. For the first time in a long time, my prayer was no longer "Why Me?" or "How much longer Lord must I endure?"; instead gratitude and hope were the whispers on my lips. I know my journey is not over, neither with my cancer nor my divorce, and that is ok. For now, though, I will rejoice and celebrate the fact that cancer did not win 12 years ago. I will celebrate that my miracle daughter is alive and thriving. I will celebrate that although my dreams took on a different look , they are still coming true in my life. I will celebrate that the ashes from my story are bringing hope to those around me. I will celebrate that I still have this second chance to make this messy chaos into a beautiful life. 

As always, I cannot leave without acknowledging the best tribe of people. To those who have walked beside me, cried with me, held my arms above me, stood in the gap for me, spoke truth and power and prayer over me, and overwhelmed me with blessings, to you I give my humble gratitude. No matter the darkness that my story has held, because of all of you, I am the luckiest and most blessed girl there is. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. 

Here is to an amazing year of walking in freedom and the peace that follows perseverance.

May it be so. 

It Is Finished.

    Seven years ago today, my world was shaken, and the first signs of fracture appeared in my marriage. The façade I had always known began to fall away in shreds. For seven years, I had battled to stay on this roller coaster as I endured dark valleys and fewer mountain tops. For seven years, I prayed and toiled and bore the brunt of things, so that I could stand at the end having done all I could do. Then after a long stretch of absolute silence, God gave me the sign I had been seeking, and I gingerly took the first step toward the final chapter of this particular era. Now, after staggering thru ten months of the hardest battle I have ever faced, my marriage has ended just two days shy of the seven year anniversary of that first devastation. My "I Do" has become "It is Finished". My title of "Wife" has been replaced with "Single Mom". My numbing fear has morphed into glimmers of hope. My wrestling in the dark of night has become pure joy by the light of day. My questions and doubts of God's faithfulness have been destroyed by waves of truth and exponential blessings. My mourning has finally turned into dancing.

I had no idea how I would feel as I watched the calendar march on and these two red letter milestones converge only days apart. I am in a tangle of emotions that is beyond description. I am looking back on the past seven years, and my heart hurts as I remember the pain, the waiting, the yearning, and the fading away of myself. Every anniversary, I had hoped and prayed and continued to wrestle with God that He would still be faithful and be the Redeemer I had always hoped He would be. Every year, I waited for my struggles to turn into something awesome and meaningful. Every year, I felt like the same story different day... until now. 

I will be honest that there were times in these past ten months where I did not know if I was going to make it thru. I felt like every time I turned around, I was losing another battle. Everything seemed to be against me. Here, I had spent my entire life helping people, serving my community, being faithful, and walking in integrity, and it seemed like none of that now mattered. Even surrounded by the most incredible group of people and supporters, I felt like I was being overlooked or forgotten. I felt more and more like Job as the weeks turned into months, and the blows kept coming in every direction. Tears became my constant companion, and heartache my new normal. Despair hovered on the horizon as I wrangled for something, anything I could grasp onto and control as the end drew near. I felt stuck and scared. I still had so many people praying and interceding and speaking truth over me, and yet the battle still constantly raged in my heart. Finally, I had come to the place in my struggle of being able to let it ALL go. Finally, I was able to open my hands and say "Here you go God". Finally, I had found the doorway to complete surrender. My surrender meant sitting in that fear and discomfort and literally handing over all the things that seemed to be slipping thru my fingers. I had to surrender the injustice of a broken system, the possibility of losing all of my worldly possessions, time with my daughter, my identity, my livelihood, and everything else that I had worked for. This was where I had to put concrete steps behind my flowery words and claims. This was where I stood in the fiery furnace and still declared that God was good, faithful and still God. 

So here I am three weeks after my trial and one of the worst days of my life, and I am finally free. My mind is whirling, trying to grapple with this new feeling because it still seems almost too good to be true. Yet, it kind of is. The things that have come about as a result of this court case are things that literally only God could have orchestrated. The outcomes have left even my lawyer somewhat speechless. So many of the things that had seemed lost or destroyed are being transformed and redeemed before my very eyes. I have never felt so validated, so seen, or so loved. I am so overwhelmed by the outpouring of love, grace, mercy, prayers, support, money, time, and gifts that were lavished on me and my family during this time. I am forever indebted to everyone that has walked, cried, or carried me thru this fire, and words don't give my level of gratitude, justice. All I can say is thank you, and I love you all very deeply. 

Now, here's to new beginnings, new chances, a new era, and a new start. And so It Begins...

The Two Horned Goat- 2021

    In the movie The Help, there is an awesome quote, "Love and hate are two horns on the same goat...". If that doesn't describe life, I don't know what does. Now, hate is not a word I usually use, but honestly, I have HATED a lot of moments this year. Some of the worst moments of 2021 rivaled some of the darkest times during my cancer battle, and I do not say that cavalierly.  Having to muck my way through this valley of divorce and trauma, this time with my daughter and for my daughter and as an example to her took wrestling with God to a whole new level. I thought the spiritual intimacy I had already come to know, love, and rely on was enough. Instead, these last ten months have shown me very clearly the areas that I was still trying to control and hide. While battling law and order and the judicial system on the outside, an inner battle was waging as I was learning to let go of my fear of the unknown and to leave Nevaeh in the hands of the One who created her. "Ebenezer" and "El Roi"  became my daily battle cry as I kept reminding myself that thus far He had been faithful and He would see us both through this undulating rollercoaster of change and emotions.  

    To say 2021 was a year for the books is an understatement. The story I have lived is one that I could not make up even if I tried. It has been full of nuance and surprises. I felt my way out of many nights of darkness and was also blessed to experience occasions of pure and unadulterated joy. While I was hurt by the one closest to me, I found a blanket of love and support from amazing people all over the world.  The lessons learned and relearned could fill a book, but these top 15 encapsulate this past year...

1. I can find joy and still be sad at the same time.

2. God sees my daughter just like He sees me.

3. Hate and unforgiveness hinder true healing.

4. Grace and space to grieve are some of the greatest gifts.

5. Walking with God is a constant learning and developing relationship. 

6. Going first with my vulnerability, gives others the courage to be vulnerable too.

7. Sometimes people are the best surprises along the journey.

8. Faithfulness will eventually always win out. 

9. Community is absolutely essential to every step in life. 

10. I can be crushed without being utterly destroyed, even when it can feel like I am.  

11. Blessings come in unexpected packages and relationships.

12. Validation can make all the difference in the world. 

13. We can only heal what we name.

14. Honoring my journey and my relationships is a beautiful and awe-inspiring thing.

15. Open-Palmed Living is hard but brings inexplicable freedom. 

Therefore, as I process this past year and step into the next carrying these lessons, I have found my two words on which to focus. The first one has been spoken over me more than once and really fits my mantra of Joel 2:25. It is REDEEMED.

 

Isaiah 43:1-3

But now, this is what the Lord says—

    he who created you, Jacob,

    he who formed you, Israel:

“Do not fear, for I have redeemed you;

    I have summoned you by name; you are mine.

2 

When you pass through the waters,

    I will be with you;

and when you pass through the rivers,

    they will not sweep over you.

When you walk through the fire,

    you will not be burned;

    the flames will not set you ablaze.

3 

For I am the Lord your God,

    the Holy One of Israel, your Savior

 

MAY IT BE SO!!

The next word is GRIT: She is unshakeable not because she doesn't know pain or failure, but because she always pushes through. Because she always shows up and never gives up. Because she believes anything is possible no matter the odds. She is just like a pearl- made from grit but full of grace. @bryananthonys. This is how I want to be. 

So here's to 2022: May this coming year redeem my grit into a priceless pearl. May this time spent in waiting bear a flood of fruitfulness. May my mourning be turned into great joy. May my healing reveal my stronger self. May all my losses be regained ten fold. May my broken heart find a safe place to land, and May those lessons which have been forged in fire become the steel foundation to the incredible next chapter of my life. 

Life in the Dash Aug 10, 2007-2021

    Living in the "Dash" is a constant theme at most funerals, focusing on the significance of our existence between our birth and our death. What did we do with that little dash of time? Did we embrace it fully with all of its ethereal mountain tops, it's heavy-laden valleys, and all of the nuanced details in between? Did we love well and live well? Did we serve and extend grace? Did we fail and falter yet still managed to stand back up? 

    Well, today marks another "Dash", the end of an era, so to speak. Fourteen years ago, I stood on the cusp of a life long dream, about to take on a role, I felt destined to be in. I was going from Miss to Mrs, and I was thrilled. This was a dream of mine, and I was fully confident that the love and faith I had would carry through any heartache that would or could come our way. Obviously, it was not enough. Reaching fourteen years, you feel like maybe you've got this handled, especially since we had already lived a lifetime in those years. We had maneuvered through sickness and health, life and death, babies, discord, the seven year "itch", the decade milestone and everything else in between. I had done everything I knew to do to save and salvage until I had nothing left to give. Now fourteen years later, I am teetering on the cusp of something else, feeling angry and scared and rejected. Today is hard and hard to process. I am floundering in No-Mans-Land. I am alone but not fully and finally divorced. I am stepping in freedom, but still hurting from all that has been lost and crushed. I have a miniscule hope for a bright future, but am still wallowing in a past that defined me, shook me, broke me and built me. I feel like I have been ripped open and all that I thought I was is gone, including a lot of my identity. Things that are inherently me and that I hold dear are now fragile and fearful. So today,  I am having to face the ache that a broken anniversary brings. Today is a day to wonder why and why me. Today is my day to prove to myself that I can do hard things. Today is my day to be ok with not being ok. Today is my day to bravely let friends inside to see my hurting and vulnerable heart and let them whisper balmy words over my open wounds. Today is a day to push myself one more step ahead.

For all of you that gave me the space and grace to grieve today, for all of you that stood in the gap for me, and for all of you that remain in my corner, this weary heart is grateful for you and for being seen and understood today.

                        

Oh My Soul

    There is a song by Casting Crowns that I have not heard in ages until this past week called "Oh My Soul". As I was singing along, part of the chorus slapped me across the face and then proceeded to be on a repeat track in my mind for several days. It says, "There's a place where fear has to face the God you know..." Mic drop.

    This week I have had to face some really big mountains. Mountains that seem impossible, completely unjust, and utterly devastating. I have been grieving and cursing and venting and bawling. I have been reaching out to connect with other humans like a dying man in search of water in the desert because right now, it feels hopeless and completely out of my control. I feel like I am on this constant roller-coaster that every time I start to get a toe hold on my life, on my feelings, and on my emotions something brings a sucker punch to my gut, and for now it is too much, too hard to remember the faithfulness I have already been blessed with. So people have been graciously speaking hard, yet necessary, truths over me and to me and in the gap for me as I try to process all that is to come.  Honestly, I am struggling to get to the place where I introduce these fears to the God I know. There is something so intimate and humbling and nerve-wracking coming before the God of the universe and saying "This really sucks. I am tired of this constant battle. I do not see a way out, and I am super frustrated feeling like I am getting the short end of the stick. Where are You?". This whole process is taking everything I have and everything I have ever known about God to maneuver through this knowledge and pain. It is requiring the vulnerability with friends to ask for their love and strength as I bolster my own. It is compelling me to be gracious to my own body, soul, and spirit and to find things that speak life into my bones. It is requiring that I trust, even in the most unknown. 

    One thing, though, that is making all of this even more frustrating is that I have already been down the trauma road. I have already faced literal death and despair. I have already bawled and processed and been severely humbled. I have already showed my scars that bore witness to God's grace, mercy, and faithfulness. Been there, done that...for real. Yet, this trauma is different and purposeful and the result of other fallible human beings. It is making its own newly carved ruts on my soul, and these ruts require its own process, learning, and foundation. It is another fire for my faith to endure as my dross is revealed and removed. The struggle is absolutely real. 

 So to the fears that have shrouded my mind and heart this week, this is the place where my fragile mustard seed of faith tells you to move. This is where you meet the God I know, the God who sees me (El Roi), the God who provides (Jehovah-Jireh), the Almighty God (El Shaddai) and the God who is ultimately just (Elohim). This is where I go back to what I know and not what I feel. I know that God is good, faithful, and still God. May this Ebenezer be the mark where God shows up in unexpected ways. 

May it be so.

My Anthem for the week...

https://youtu.be/DjNZf878ISQ

Oh, my soul
Oh, how you worry
Oh, how you're weary from fearing
You lost control
This was the one thing
You didn't see coming
And no one would blame you though
If you cried in private
If you tried to hide it away
So no one knows
No one will see
If you stop believing

Oh, my soul
You are not alone
There's a place where fear
Has to face the God you know
One more day
He will make a way
Let Him show you how
You can lay this down

'Cause you're not alone

Here and now
You can be honest
I won't try to promise
That someday it all works out
'Cause this is the valley
And even now
He is breathing on
Your dry bones
And there will be dancing
There will be beauty where beauty was

Ash and stone
This much I know

Oh, my soul
You are not alone
There's a place where fear
Has to face the God you know
One more day
He will make a way

Let Him show you how
You can lay this down

I'm not strong enough
I can't take anymore
You can lay it down
You can lay it down
And my shipwrecked faith
Will never get me to shore
You can lay it down

You can lay it down
Can he find me here?
Can he keep me from going under?

Oh, my soul
You are not alone
There's a place where fear
Has to face the God you know
One more day
He will make a way
Let Him show you how
You can lay this down
'Cause you're not alone
Oh, my soul
You are not alone

Source: Musixmatch

Big Feelings

     Anyone who has known me for longer than 15 minutes has to know that all of my feelings are BIG. I wear my heart on my sleeve. I love quickly, deeply, and without reservation. We meet as friends and end as family. Hugs are my currency and prayers anchor my connections. I hoard a lot of books, but I hoard people and friendships even more. The Biggest Heart and Most Tender-hearted are the only awards hanging on my walls. My heart is the filter thru which I do all of my life. It is a swinging door that also allows BIG hurts in. I feel my pain on multiple levels. Rejection cuts to the core of my soul. So this season of hell that I am in, I am feeling pains I have never felt before, on levels I never knew existed. I know this pain is not necessarily unique and not new per se but nothing can prepare you for its devastation. Most people have no idea of the entirety of this particular divorce story, but it has absolutely shattered me and left me broken. I hate looking weak and this new level of vulnerability is daunting. I want to be healed and whole again, and I have some small hope that one day I will be. Still, the way forward is frightening. I know I have to actually sit in this dark pain to process it, but I hate it and I do not do it well. Every fiber of my being is pulsing like it is on meth to DO SOMETHING. Do anything to distract myself. Focus on others' pain. Fill my time. Eat the good stuff. Discover something I can control. Find anything to fill this void. This. Hurts. Too. Much.

    I am not blaming God at all, but He is calmly listening to a head and heart full of angry and caustic words that I am hurling His way. I have grieved and lamented the loss and death of dreams before,  but this is different. This grief has more triggers, more nuance, and leaves me at the mercy of other people's decisions. In the midst of my own darkness, I have to help my daughter find her own space and way to grieve and process this too. So today, I am feeling the weight of the injustice of it all. There is no winning situation. There is no way that I will come out unscathed. There is no way that I will not feel the rejection with every step. There is no way but to walk thru this fire. To every event there is a season and there is a time for crumbl cookies and Hallmark movies and creative crafting and screaming lyrics while alone in my car. For today though, the season is for hot, angry tears from my eyes and loud, heaving sobs from my soul as I sit in this pain with all of these big feelings. 

Exodus 14:14 "The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still." May it be so. 

Life In a Decade

   Ten years ago today, I was neck deep in cells and smells and tears. I was clinging to my faith and fighting off the darkness of death. Everything was out of my control. I had no idea what my future held or how my life would turn out. All I had was my hope that God was still good and faithful and in control as God. Fast forward a decade and today, I find myself again clinging to my scarred faith and fighting a different sort of darkness. Things are still so much out of my control, and I am still holding tight to the hope that God is still good and faithful and still God. 

    This should have been a big year, a big deal, and I should be celebrating and marveling at how far God has brought me. TEN YEARS ALIVE!!! Ten years marking the milestones with my baby girl!!! I should be writing a new anniversary post and recalling my past Ebenezers to reminisce about how He brought Joel 2:25 to fruition in my life. I should be living life to the full. Instead, I am struggling, surviving, and separating. I have been ushered into a club I never thought I would be in... The (soon to be) divorced spouse club. A club that is full of different kinds of survivors whose scars are rarely visible. A club that breaks my heart and brings me to my knees. Now and again, I have no idea how my life will turn out after this particular battle plays out. I have no idea how God will redeem this time and journey, or how any beauty will come from these devastating ashes. I have no idea how well I am parenting, as I balance healing and persevering and forgiving. I just have NO idea except that this 100% SUCKS!!! I hate that there is this club (but grateful I am not alone), and I hate being forced to choose between multiple things that I hold dear. I hate the guilt and sadness that come with every step in this process. I hate the changes and having to let go of things I never thought I would have to give up. I hate watching my daughter having to navigate a middle ground. Mostly, I hate the old demons that have reared their ugly head trying to validate all of my fears in the midst of all of this turmoil.

   

    Ergo, here I am trying to recall and remember all that I do know to be true. The verses that bolstered me then, are building me up today. The songs that gave my story a voice are also now singing this new chapter. The friends and family that stormed heaven's gates then, have now stepped into my muck and mire and are marching me forward again. New friends have joined my tribe as they wrap me up in words of truth and love. Holy ground now looks more like bunco nights, salon chairs, garage sales, tin can mailboxes, Crumbl cookies, breakfast dates, drive thru lunches, and a circle of friends that hold me as snot and tears pour down my face more often than not. This is what life in a decade looks like for me.

    So, ten years ago I got a new immune system and newish body, and today I am heading toward a new chapter, new title, and new beginning of freedom that I did not know was possible. 

May the Lord do immeasurably more than I could ask for or imagine in this next decade of new life!! 

These links are my current anthem songs...

https://youtu.be/ZErLEnRNfbE

https://youtu.be/johgSkNj3-A

Eleven Years Down and a Lifetime to Go

Eleven years. More than a decade.

It sounds weird and feels different in ways I cannot quite describe. This past year has been so very dark and heavy and just plain sucky. There have been times that the battles I have faced this past year were just as wearisome as the ones dealing with chemo. Then there were the times I couldn't remember my own mantra or the lessons I had already learned. There were times that felt (and still feel like) they will never get better, never get back to normal. 2021 was looking so promising like a beacon of hope and change, and so far I am not impressed. However, this year has also shown me in so many ways how good God continues to be. His promise to me of Joel 2:25 continues to come to fruition and that has never been more apparent than this past year. My battle, my hurts, my anger, my grace, my humbling, my redemption, and my entire journey has brought me to some incredibly holy places. This year has claimed so many new warriors to the cancer battle, and my heart has been burdened for each one. Every time I heard the news of my nephew, my friends, my friends' kids and moms, my heart broke as the remembrance of those horrific words overwhelmed my soul. I grieve because I know all that will be lost. I weep because I dread the pain and sickness that will come. I speak grace and truths because I know the confusion and anger that will find its way out.  Then I pray because I know I serve a God that is good and faithful and still God. I serve a God that is big enough to handle the anger, frustration, doubt , and swearing that weaves its way into the heart of the warrior. I serve a God that can heal and do immeasurably more than I could ever ask for or imagine.

So on this 11th anniversary of my own diagnosis, I am thankful for the place I have been put. I am thankful for how far I have come, and for the incredible mission field before me. Finally, to all of you who stood in my gap, who held my arms up in battle, who wept when I wept and rejoiced when I could rejoice, who showed me the hands and feet of Jesus, I continue to thank God for you too.

The Ball and The Button

    Today is the 21st day of the 21st year of the 21st century, and also a day that hits closer to home for me. Six years I have been lamenting, toiling, praying, believing, stepping forward to only get knocked back and then compound it by the year that shall not be named... and here I sit. As I reflect and mark this day, I am reminded of the analogy of grief as a ball inside this box we call life. 

“'In the beginning, the ball is huge,' Herschel said in a tweet. 'You can’t move the box without the ball hitting the pain button. It rattles around on its own in there and hits the button over and over. You can’t control it – it just keeps hurting. Sometimes it seems unrelenting. Over time, the ball shrinks — but every now and then, it still hits the button. Maybe you see someone who reminds you of your loved one. Maybe a certain song plays on the radio. Maybe it comes out of nowhere. For most people, the ball never really goes away,' she said in another tweet. 'It might hit less and less and you have more time to recover between hits, unlike when the ball was still giant.'"

    If there was ever an analogy that fit with 2020, this is it. My 2020 was no exception. My year was no more remarkable than others. My grief, although it maybe different, was and is still grief, and it has reared its ugly head more times than I can count, moreover, in ways that I have not expected. I will be the first to admit this past year was not my finest. It was dark and heavy and mostly defeating. I kept losing sight of my Anchor. I kept taking back the anxiety and fear that I had just laid down. I kept heeding old lies about my worth. I settled for mediocrity because it was a known quantity when everything else "normal" was gone. I stepped back to avoid confrontation and let hurt be a banner. I had given up land that I had already staked a claim in.... yeah I was definitely not winning. Then looking back over the year and trying to recount my fruit (aka blessings) I really struggled to remember the good. It took me scrolling through my pictures to remember that EVERY SINGLE MONTH something good happened. Good things that I had forgotten because the darkness of the everyday had overshadowed their memory. 

So I write this post bearing my vulnerable heart on a white screen to share that 35 years into this life, 30 years into faith, almost 11 years as a survivor, and 6 years as a broken down woman and the struggle is as real as ever.

BUT GOD. 

Because of his grace and mercy, I was yet again privy to some incredibly holy moments that helped to shrink my ball of grief. Moments that filled my cup to overflowing and gave me the strength to face another day. He gave me a new niece, Phoenix, who has stolen my heart♥️ and reminded me of His goodness. Because of His love, I have been humbled as friends became family and I was witness to them stepping up to help when things got rough. Because of His awesomeness, I have an incredible relationship with my sister and a brother that I adore. Even more, I still have the best family a girl could ask for, a family that moves to fill the spaces when I lack , a family that brings laughter in the mundane, and a family that knows me and loves me regardless. 

On this day full of feelings, not only as an anniversary but also as a new chapter of uncertainty in this world, I cling to my sometimes mustard seed sized faith and hope for miracles. I am restarting the work of healing and attempting to let go of the chains and lies that have bound me. I seek to worship in this storm and remember that God is still good and faithful and most importantly still God.

May 2021 be the cleaning and refreshing and renewal we need.