And the theme of March will be grace. Grace upon grace.
grace [ greys ]
noun.
moral strength; the influence or spirit of God operating in humans to strengthen them.
I won’t be able to say that I am grateful for cancer. I have some friends, fellow cancer survivors, that are and while I understand their sentiment, I just don’t feel I can relate to their words. Of course, neither their way or my way is ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ because this experience is extremely relative (and honestly, we do get to do it our own way), so hopefully if they are reading this, they aren’t hearing what I’m not saying. So, for me, the way that I articulate it is that what I am grateful for are the lessons of grace in cancer.
…Or another way I say it, is that I’m grateful for the grace to suffer. Suffering sucks. I hate it. I don’t want to suffer. I wish I didn’t have to. I often wonder why I do. But, what I’m learning is that if I attach my value of grace to the ‘why’ of suffering I cheapen its power in the suffering. So often we are conditioned to shy away from suffering, to try and save ourselves from it, to pray for our escape or to question our faith if we don’t get the rescue. What if we didn’t limit the goodness of God because we suffer? What if we didn’t devalue our lives if we’re not always peachy-keen? I believe that suffering matters. It teaches us things that only suffering can. And it’s only when we are IN suffering that we get the opportunity to decide to learn the power of both it and the grace in it. Read that sentence again. . .and sit with the following words: “only” “in” “get” “opportunity” “decide” “learn”…
Early on in this hellhole I asked “why” a lot. Why me? Why now? Why this? What for? And it was important that I was asking because when the answer didn’t come, I was able to realize that ‘why’ was holding me back. I was able to realize that I didn’t need to have the answer. I was able to realize that having the answer wasn’t going to change the course of reality. And I was able to realize that getting that answer would have cheated me out of exactly that which this suffering is teaching me…exactly that which ONLY THIS SUFFERING is teaching ME. And the “what” that this suffering is teaching me….well, read the last 1082 posts.
And it is also here that I can sit with my girls in their sufferings and not pry them out or feel the pressure to save them or try to control their experience so they suffocate in “safe”… I choose to trust the STRONG power in GRACE. I choose to believe that IT will win.
P.S.
When I am talking about suffering, I’m not talking about abuse, so please don’t misunderstand. Those types of sufferings are two very different things. When abuse of any kind is happening, it is absolutely imperative that we find ways o u t. Of course, there is still so much to learn from those experiences, but it is not what I am discussing above…let me be very clear.
*Post 1083 (did not post last night as I was just too tired…)
Endurance. More Endurance :: 3/20/18 :: Post 196
I finally slept pretty well last night which made today slightly better than yesterday. I felt pretty good considering…
But my radiation appointment this morning was rough…
I see my radiation oncologist every Tuesday and today she told me that my symptoms will peak 3-4 weeks after my last treatment. Ugh.
And then she also said that while my skin is angry, she is pleased at what it looks like at this stage in treatment and that she’s glad my skin hasn’t hit the blistering and peeling stage yet… So while I agree with her and I, too, see the positive in this statement, I also hear the “yet” and feel my anxieties rise.
So….the end is nearer than it was but it sounds like the worst is ahead. …Endurance.
And tonight, my heart is sad. My Annie is emotional. And Saturday night my Caty was. And my Haleigh isn’t herself either. Life doesn’t stop when a diagnosis happens…and I wish it did. It’s so hard battling death with life while also wife-ing, parenting, working…
I talked to a woman last week whose mother was diagnosed with my “same” breast cancer several years ago. Stage 3, grade 3, slightly hormone receptor positive Invasive Ductile Carcinoma. This woman was 28 at the time of her mom’s diagnosis. I asked her how it felt hearing “your mom has cancer.” She said it was the worst and scariest thing she’d ever heard. She said it felt like a death sentence. She said she lived afraid of her mom’s mortality. And she said it was one of the hardest things to watch. She was 28. I’m pretty sure I’d be the same way at 38. My girls are 15, 14 and 9. My sweet girls have had to look fear and death and uncertainty in the eye. They are having to learn and practice and walk out trust and faith….trust and faith that is young and vulnerable…trust and faith that is hard even for an adult…
I know there is a bigger picture being painted here but it is devastatingly hard to watch my girls go through this. I know they will be stronger and more resilient for it, but….Endurance.
Lord…please grant us endurance.
Saying Crazy Things. Living Crazy Perspective. :: 3/21/18 :: Post 197
I fell asleep at 7:30…..like, crashed hard…..and woke up for just long enough to brush my teeth and write this.
I’m tired. Like, beyond tired.
I met a new friend this morning at radiation…a 17 year old young man. He had the appointment time right before mine. He had the chemo bald. He had the chemo slumped shoulders. He had the battle worn look in his face that is all too familiar because I see it in the mirror. His mom was there and she looked battle worn, too. We talked. We cried. We encouraged.
This is a club none of us want to belong to, a camaraderie that we wish we didn’t have…The battle scars we share and the experience of things seen that can’t be unseen. Looking death in the eye will change a person and we never look the same.
It sounds overly dramatic…..but it’s truth.
Cancer is a hard word to hear. Cancer is a brutal microscopic war that shows no mercy and leaves destruction in its wake.
It’s ugly. And it’s unfair.
I saw that sweet mother sitting tired in her chair and I was thanking God that I was able to relate to her son instead of her. I was grateful it was me going in next for treatment rather than one of my girls. I was relieved that I heard, “you have cancer” at 37 instead of 17.
Everything in this is hard and everything in this makes a mess of my head and heart. Being devastated and grateful at the same time is bizarre. Connecting with another human being in a beautiful way because of something only of death is beyond comprehension.
Thank you, Lord, for the story You’re writing. (And even that is a crazy thing to say…)
Vulnerable :: 3/20/19 :: Post 554
I chose to be vulnerable today with my counselor. But it struck me that I chose to be vulnerable…. I can go through the motions and look like I’m doing the work. Or I can do the work even when it’s hard.
That said, it’s hard to admit some things…it’s hard to acknowledge the unstated realities…
I’ll have to keep trusting the safety of vulnerability…
Heavy :: 3/21/19 :: Post 555
Ugh. Today my heart is so heavy. I was on the verge of tears all night.
My body hurts.
And I’m so very tired.
(No posts for 3/20/20 and 3/21/20)