The urgent. The trudge. Cancer teaches me things. BothAnd.

I have a very different relationship with time now because of cancer. 

Cancer does this weird thing with time – it becomes crystal clear that life can end at any moment, that literally in the blink of an eye this body’s life on earth could be rendered complete. It becomes this daily gift to acknowledge because of that same sentiment. It becomes a desire to not squander or turn complacent with time and the alive-ness it is to keep blinking each minute that passes. It becomes an action, filling each of those minutes with an urgent purpose and a deep promise to make it all matter. It becomes about living full. Living big. Living changed. Changing life so as to make worth only brunching with Death.

And then there is the daily grind. Where pain and forever-change inundate each.slow.minute. Where justifiable overwhelm overwhelms every one of my senses all of the time. Where Almost Death charges its hefty toll because surviving comes at a high cost. Where the Groundhog Days (think Bill Murray) coalesce into this one big blob of un-parameter-ed time, boundary-less and confusing. What day is it? Where am I? What am I supposed to be doing here? Didn’t this happen yesterday? Oh wait, it’s happening again today? What haven’t I learned yet? What am I supposed to do tomorrow? How presumptive I am that I’ll even get there. What is life gonna look like in 5 years? How presumptive I am that I’ll even get there. Is there an end in sight? Oh no, am I asking for the end? But I don’t want the end yet…but do I? 

Both exist. The urgency and the trudge. 

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But here’s the thing.

“We” do a really good job pontificating on the urgent. I think of many Sundays where many sitting in church pews hear preachers preaching on “getting it right today because tomorrow isn’t guaranteed.” I think of toxic positivity that overuses clichés like, “You only live once“ and “Dream as if you’ll live forever, live as if you’ll die today” and “Life is too short to. . .” I think of graduation commencements where the message is to go figure it all out ASAP so that one can settle in on their path to success in order to retire with enough time to really live it up…the bigger the nest egg, the better the life.

“We” do a really good job of perpetuating the urgent. I think of the dysfunctional way “we” handle trauma, grief, and loss by expecting ideals of Move On and Let Go and When Will You Be Done Talking About This? I think of the filling of space and time and quiet with noise and to-dos and accomplishments. I think of how we work hard during the weeks and then fill our weekends with all of the things we didn’t get to in the week because we can’t just wait till next week or we just can’t value rest. I think of how we are expected to steward our blessings to their fullest potential by being as efficient as possible in each minute gifted to us. I think of the instant gratification that we have all become accustomed to because Prime can get us our shipment same-day.

“We” do a really good job of pardoning the urgent. I think of the hurry-up and the glorification of busy-ness. I think of the pressure on players to perform perfectly without the coach’s deliberate preparing of practice. I think of my children having to show up to cultural expectations so that they don’t get passed up. I think of these same overstretched children without many (or any at all) spaces for grace because they are tired and life is heavy. I think of how mental health is back-burner-ed because to value it is to slow down yet slowing down is unthinkable if we want to be successful. I think of the American Dream and how us Americans are some of the unhealthiest in the world.

So instead…

What we don’t do well is talk enough about the trudge.

What if we allowed the grind to be more acceptable, maybe even admitted it’s actually the norm?! What if we became more comfortable sitting in the slowness of time and having important conversations with previously avoided truths? What if we realized those truths aren’t there to harm us but to teach us? What if we created spaces to simply be, free of scheduled plans? What if we offered grace to those that want to take time to understand their faith and their purpose, who want to ask God questions, even if that means they live in the undone? What if we accepted the realists and didn’t argue with them that their real is or isn’t real? What if preachers spent more time preaching on what hope looks and feels like separate of an understanding of God even though it’s more difficult instead of shaming and scaring people into believing blindly because it’s easier? 

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Cancer teaches me things.

I have to sit in the tension of the urgent and of the trudge. Cancer forces that.

I have to because I know all too well the fragility of life. That life is a gift and isn’t guaranteed. That each day I survive is a day I can make worthwhile. I also know, all too well, the significant slog of hurting 24/7/365. The incessance of chronic illness that, while invisible to others, is felt in my every breath and is in my every step. The ever-presence of cancer’s recurrence creating a fine (and very fuzzy) line between hypochondria and responsible surviving.

I have to sit in this tension. Day in and day out. And I am becoming comfortable with it. I am learning I don’t need a conclusion. I am trying to trust that I can still make years matter while I trudge minute-to-minute in this soggy survival. I am starting to realize that the messages of the urgent don’t have to shame or short-circuit my very real present.

It is so much to survive. It is living changed when living changed doesn’t fit. 

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March’s Message:

From the inside of cancer, let me encourage you. Life is precious. You can live it up and make it significant. Life is also a grind. Where showing up requires resolve and where purpose can seem elusive. But both matter. The urgency can keep things fresh and motivated. The trudge can keep things intentional and meaningful. So, instead of feeling like you have to pick one, pick both.

Practically speaking, what does that look like? For me, it looks like this:

✅I believe that I can grieve and be grateful at the same time, one not canceling out the other. This is key for me to live significant and honor my very hard reality. 

✅I show up even when I don’t want to. But in my ‘show up’ I’m authentic. If I don’t feel well, I show up in my 40% (or sometimes 10%) and offer grace to myself for doing what I can with it. If I happen to feel stronger, I allow myself to do more in my 80%. No matter what, I live with new parameters, I always try and leave a reserve for my priorities, and I do my best to make sure I am one of those priorities. And when I “fail” I believe I will try again if given tomorrow.

✅I challenge myself to think/dream into the distance (even though cancer makes that nearly impossible) and I challenge myself to be okay with living IN each 5 minutes as they come (because culture would say otherwise). 

✅I work on emotional intelligence and emotional adaptability. Emotional intelligence is having an extensive feeling vocabulary. Emotional adaptability is holding loose expectations and knowing each experience has something to offer.

✅I cling to the value of BothAnd. Many seemingly opposing forces can actually coexist. And grace abounds in the BothAnd.

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Thank you, as always, for reading. See you next month. 💙

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