It’s so interesting…you’ve heard the phrase, ‘there are always two sides to the story,’ right? And typically you immediately think of a duo who is in conflict … a marriage, a friendship, siblings, a couple of co-workers… a ‘he-said-she-said’ type of scenario…  But what if this phrase can mean something else? 

Take a moment and put yourself in a meeting of some sort. Maybe it’s a work meeting. Or a small group gathering. Or an outing with friends. Or a family get-together. Maybe it’s church or it’s class or it’s counseling. What are you thinking when you sit there? P.S. This whole exercise will only work if you’re *actually* honest with yourself. And I promise, you don’t have to share out loud. But really, what is your presence in the meeting? Your posture (both physical and mental/emotional)? 

Do you slouch forward? Lean back? Cross your legs? Cross your arms? Do you fidget? Do you have a device in your hand? Do you tend to take notes or is someone in the meeting taking notes for you? Do you respond when offered an opening to share? Do you feel comfortable in the social setting or is it stretching to be sitting there because it’s not very comfortable? Do you prefer to bring a drink or snack with you? Would you rather stand? What do you do when someone is talking? How do you listen?

That is where I want to drill down… do you sit in a meeting/conversation in the headspace, “How does this serve me in my day-to-day?” If so, I’d say you’re in the majority. I’d say it’s pretty typical to come to a gathering of most sorts with that lens. “What will this [conversation] provide me with?” … “How will this [interaction] help me?” Duh – that’s pretty much the point, right? And truly, those things are important factors in meeting together. But what if. . .

What if you ever-so-slightly change the perception. How might your presence and participation change if you pondered the ‘other side’ in how to engage? Instead of ‘how does this [meeting] serve me?’ what would it be like if you said, ‘what can this [meeting] teach me?’ It’s soooooooo veryyyyyyyy subtle that you might almost miss it because those two phrases don’t seem all that different. 

But they are. 

On one side, there is passivity – ‘how does this [conversation] meet my needs?’ means there is a presumption that the conversation will meet expectations. That the conversation or the other person will reach out and bridge the gaps of communication. On the other, there is active participation – the individual saying ‘what can I learn?’ is choosing to seek value from the interaction. They, themselves are reaching out to connect and bridge the gap. 

On the one side, frustration may ensue because the meeting/conversation/interaction doesn’t meet expectations (whether or not they are actually accurate expectations is a whole other thing). Yet on the other, there is a level playing field for all participants if they all come seeking, offering, bridging.

Do you see the small yet significant distinction? Today, in a conversation I was having, I saw it. And I realized that there are a lot of times I am on the one side. And then I decided I am going to challenge myself to intentionally choose the other side more. 

Today I…
Sunday: Learned
Monday: Chose; said yes/no to
Tuesday: Loved
Wednesday: Prayed
Thursday: Was challenged by/to 
Friday: Am grateful for 
Saturday: Saw grace in

*Post 1019

Cornerstone :: 1/14/18 :: Post 136

My anthem. 

……Even when I don’t feel like singing. 

“Cornerstone”
My hope is built on nothing less
Than Jesus’ blood and righteousness
I dare not trust the sweetest frame
But wholly trust in Jesus’ name
Christ alone; cornerstone
Weak made strong; in the Saviour’s love
Through the storm, He is Lord
Lord of all
When Darkness seems to hide His face
I rest on His unchanging grace
In every high and stormy gale
My anchor holds within the veil
My anchor holds within the veil
Christ alone; cornerstone
Weak made strong; in the Saviour’s love
Through the storm, He is Lord
Lord of all
He is Lord
Lord of all
Christ alone; cornerstone
Weak made strong; in the Saviour’s love
Through the storm, He is Lord
Lord of all
Christ alone; cornerstone
Weak made strong; in the Saviour’s love
Through the storm, He is Lord
Lord of all
When He shall come with trumpet sound,
Oh, may I then in Him be found;
Dressed in His righteousness alone,
Faultless stand before the throne.
(Hillsong)

Whoa. That Was Hard :: 1/14/19 :: Post 489

Today was hard. 

Driving with Chris to Rose on a Monday had a very sad familiarity….Riding the elevator up. Checking in with Julie. The waiting. Good gracious, the waiting. The height, weight, blood pressure, pulse ox.

All of that was hard. But it was expected. What wasn’t expected was the intensity of the emotions that came with.

As I was checking in, a chemo nurse came and asked me if I still had my port so they could administer my IV maintenance chemo. 

That wasn’t expected, either. 

I knew we were gonna talk maintenance meds. I didn’t realize we were going to start them. 

So, in went the IV. In the back of my hand. I hate hand IVs. Ugh. And then came the waiting. And then the NP. And then the doc. And then the talking. And then the plan. Zomeda today…and every six months for 4 years. Tamoxifen tonight…and every day for 10 years. 

We’ll see how it goes. 

The side effects can be all over the map. 

More unknowns.

The lows of the day – hand IVs, waiting, difficult memories, the funk it put both Chris and I in, the this-is-good-for-you-at-the-same-time-it’s-bad-for-you chemo talk, getting more stuff pumped into my veins, sitting in my infusion chair, the fact that I have a favorite infusion chair, getting to work way later than I had anticipated and the uncertainty ahead of how these meds will make me feel. 

The highs – Being taken care of by people who want to see me live and having one of my best friends notice, without solicitation, that I was wearing mascara for the first time in a year and having her jump up and down while squealing with excitement as she exclaimed how happy she was for me. That was amazingly special. 

So, as I lay here tonight thinking through the new routine ahead, wondering how I’ll feel in the morning, gearing up for another potentially difficult appointment, I am reminded to live 5 minutes at a time. 

The Desert :: 1/14/20 :: Post 843

I’m not only learning that survivorship is a desert, I’m having to learn how to live in that desert. Things I once knew about myself are so different, or even literally gone, and I find myself searching for new identity, new perspective, new understanding, new habits, new faith, new rhythms, new sensations, new desires, new hopes… 

Nothing is familiar. Nothing is predictable. 

A desert brings with it several things – 

• Freedom. (A horizon without structure.)
• Quiet. (A lot of space to think without distractions.)
• Opportunity. (The path is made only with what footprints I’m making.)
• Uncertainty. (Mere mirages of possible realities that only tease the senses.)

All things that are inherently good. But things just as dreadfully hard.

As much as I strive to live changed, living changed necessitates a never-before-required level of courage. Literally uncharted territory. Some days feel incredibly freeing. Other days feel treacherously scary. And then today was one of those days where I have felt especially sad because as much as I gain from walking through cancer, the harsh reality is what is has stolen from me and what I am forced to redefine.