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.