Thorin's quarantine SECRET and the number 4...

March 17th.
A SURREAL date.
Ironically, also St. Patrick's Day, lol--though our family really doesn't believe in 'luck.'
Still funny, though.

I reach VERY reluctantly into an expired box of test strips and pull one out cause, as much as I don't want it to be the case, I just have that...feeling.
TWO lines appear.

HOW?! I mean..I KNOW 'how'..I just..don't know......HOW!?!!?
Were we not just HERE??? With a 6% shot of even the possibility, BEFORE???
And NOW...not remotely 'planned' or really even, honestly, 'desired.'


Three. Days. Later.
The whole rest of the box of expired strips later as well as three NEW store-bought tests, later.
Aaron's taking what seems like FOREVER to come home from work and I just can't wait anymore. I've already kept it to myself for three whole days of complete shock and triple-checking the accuracy of our 'circumstance.'
I finally just text him a pic of one of the tests.

*pause*
His response: 'Whaaaaaat?????'
My reply: 'Yep.'
*pause*
His reply: 'I'll be home in five.'
He's home in closer to three, but we won't discuss that. LOL.

We sit on the back deck, talking amongst ourselves (not ready to tell the big boys, yet), trying to wrap our brains around it all. Aaron admits that he was 'done' and trying to muster up the courage to tell me he wanted to have 'the procedure' done. Thorin has been AMAZING and he's a great 'end' to our kid-producing-story. He's known that it's still a little hard on me to let go, entirely, of that daughter, so he's been hesitant. We also BOTH know that Thorin will inevitably be an 'only child' as he gets older and his WAY older bros grow into their own, separate lives from our household. That too is a struggle for us both.
Just as God does...He seemingly took care of that worry, though. Since we called Thorin our God-Baby Z...well, this one will just have to be God-Baby Z #2 because...THIS...THIS baby is ALL GOD! And it's going to take EVERY BIT OF GOD'S STRENGTH AND ENERGY to get me through this 'extended chapter' that is our FINAL chapter of children, lol!!!

But we are thrilled.
This baby is ALL ABOUT Thorin and what HE will need.
A sibling and a buddy. Like his brother's had and will always have with each other.

Yes, we've kept pretty much silent about it until now.
Partly due to the need to just...PROCESS it all. Partly due to the circumstances of quarantine and the world, right now. But...now that you KNOW, we WELCOME YOUR PRAYERS.
All genetic testing has come back and everything looks completely NORMAL and HEALTHY, even aside from my 'old age' and wretched medical history.

ONLY. GOD.
Moving MORE mountains.

Unbelievable.
HUMBLING.
Exhausting.
Overwhelming.

We are blessed.


As for a quick side-story involving the number four...

We told the boys just week's later (sometime in early April, I believe) on an evening that the boys' mutual raving over Thorin caught us 'in the right moment' to do so.
Grayson was in a state of shock, not unlike our initial own.
Lincoln, happy once again at the news of being a big bro to a second baby exclaims to me, 'Mom...you get your Magic Number Four!'

I had nearly forgotten about my forever loved number and desired number of children and how I'd relayed that story to my older sons over the years, too. Before Aaron and I were even engaged but dating long enough to both KNOW where things were headed I made him agree to the idea of four children. I'd even recently shared that part of my testimony at church while still pregnant with Thorin.

Two Boys and Two Girls.
That was my heart's desire.
My beloved Grammy had always said 'Never have an ODD number of children as one ALWAYS gets left out.' She's right about that. But God HAD given us only three. And before that, two had had to become 'our story' for years and years worth of 'letting go of my own plans.'

Linc is right.
No, it's not my two and two.
It is an OLDER generation of two and a YOUNGER generation of two--still FOUR--but as we now know, I will remain QUEEN!
What God is up to in literally INUNDATING ME with so much testosterone under this roof, I really. don't. know. But, what I DO know is that I am, indeed, getting my four.
My FAVORITE number as a child.
A 'promise' wished for. A desire asked for.
A chapter...extended.

Due date as of now, based on our only ultrasound thus far, is sometime around the beginning of November.

Crazy, crazy times.........

Thorin Andrus--What's in a name...

This post is so long overdue, I don't even care to concoct excuses as to why it is just now coming to fruition. Let's just say that while blogs and thoughts and ramblings are still CONSTANTLY swarming my head, the actual 'moments' to sit down and actually let them flow out of my fingers are, well, few.
That said, it's been on my heart for quite some time now to share Thorin's story...if for no other reason but to 'preserve' the precious memories that led to him receiving the name we gave him.
So, here it goes.


Thorin Andrus.
I've been told more than once 'what a STRONG name'--and while I agree, it has less to do with strength and more to do with the Strength and Power of our Creator.

Thorin was never supposed to 'be.' Of course, as all parents proclaim about their children--once they are in your life, you can't imagine them NOT being. But years ago (6 in fact to nearly the very day  that a second little line on a pregnancy strip appeared), Aaron and I were told two is all we'd be able to biologically have due to cancer.

Having beat said cancer and moved on, day by day, to LIVE MORE LIFE...we now walk through life intimately aware of God's Power. His ability to, literally, Move Mountains.
God gave me that Word before he gave us Thorin's name in order to gift me Peace that this baby was not the daughter everyone had hoped and anticipated we were finally having. He told me in my 'prayer room' (aka, laundry room) to STOP 'lamenting' and instead REJOICE that He had moved ALL of the barriers from years past that had created the mountain range that stood between us and more children. He gave that similar Word to Aaron on the very same day while he was at work--as little did I know, but my husband was also finding himself in a state of mourning over the gender-news we'd received just days before.

Mountains became my 'symbol' for Thorin--for God's Plans for us--and hence, Thorin's nursery theme. Bears, which I also incorporated, were the representation of Strength that not only God has to move such mountains, but I prayed my son, too, would possess.

And Joshua 1:9.
A very specific verse that the Lord gave me for all THREE of my boy-children and future Men of God that I was now charged with raising.


Fast forward to a Sunday, after church. We hadn't settled on a name. It seemed every name on my list (cause I was really the only one generating one) was unappealing to one or more of us, and since we'd decided we ALL had to agree, my list went from a good 15 names down to NONE.
I was frustrated. I NEEDED this baby to have an 'identity.' Sure he was my little 'mountain-mover' but he was a new person in our lives and I wanted to identify him by name--even if we four all agreed we would wait to share it with a single soul until after he was born.

We'd stopped into the grocery store for a few dinner-makings and just as we were about to head in, I scrolled past a name. 'Thorin,' I muttered to myself, but consequently loudly enough for the family to hear. Gasps of approval filled the car. I look up. 'Wait, what did you say?' asks Aaron. I say it again. He smiles and the boys both exclaim--'We LIKE that!' 'What does it mean?' asks Aaron, again. I look back down. 'Thunder', I reply. 'Son of Thunder.'

Thunder.
The very word I would use to describe God's voice. Even in the Bible, His voice is described as such more than once. It is Loud. But Deep. And Powerful. And attention-getting. But also mysterious and strangely Beautiful.

What about a middle name?
I search and as I'm searching mention that I really want something that represents Strength. Also, WHOM could we 'pass on' through our newest son that we have not already? My brother, perhaps? Or me? Or BOTH?

Ryann's middle name is Andrew. Mine is Anne.
Andrew means 'manly', 'brave', 'strong', 'courageous' and 'warrior.' Any and all of those translations are immediately found when searching it. Andrus is an English derivative of Andrew and Andrew was also one of the fisher's of men--Simon/Peter's brother.
For a while, I actually vascilated about naming him Andrus as I felt it was so fitting but none of us were crazy enough about the nickname 'Andy' to agree to that.

We spend the whole grocery trip whispering the name back and forth to one another, feeling 100% confident we'd just, finally, settled on our future family-members name.
Thorin Andrus Ziebart. Our little Son of Thunder and Strength.


Fast forward to months later.
Something in me stirred. There was always still that part of me that lamented the possibility of a daughter--but it was more than that. I worried that 'Thor' would be tagged by the world as a mere comic-book-hero. The male-geek in Aaron LOVED that one of his absolute favorite characters would be, as a side-note to our purposing it, his newest son's name...but I struggled that people would be too distracted by that connotation to ever know the much richer depth of why we'd settled on it and I HATED the idea of ever nicknaming him 'Thor' for that reason, too.

37 1/2 weeks into the journey of growing our little man, I get a phone call from our church pastor. God has put it on his heart to ask a few of the women in our congregation to share their 'experience' of motherhood at our upcoming Mother's Day service and I am one of the names God's given him.
Reluctant but feeling God's urge to say yes, I agree. I spend a very-pregnant evening sitting amidst the 'mountains' of my newest son's nearly-done nursery in hopes that the 'right words' will flow out of my fingers into a 12-minute-allotted testimony.
God is Faithful. I haven't typed anything in MONTHS--maybe even YEARS--but the message flows.
I share it the next day and manage to, mostly, keep myself from crying my way through it.
It's powerful. A journey. A HARD, LONG, PATIENCE-TEACHING JOURNEY has led up to an expected THIRD SON in our lives.

Two other beautiful, more 'experienced' mamas than myself share. All three of our testimonies SO different, yet so filled with God's Word and Awesome Promises.

After service, the eldest mama of the three of us finds me. She grabs my hand and thanks me for what I shared. I return the thanks. Her words and 'story' were nothing short of awesome, as well.
She then asks me what we're naming this miracle-baby. I apologize that we've decided, early on, to share that with everyone only after he makes his appearance. She smiles, understands and says 'I'm sure it's perfect.'
Just as I think we are done interacting, she says 'I was asking because God keeps giving me a word and I'm trying to make sense of it. As you were speaking He kept muttering it over and over and hasn't stopped asking me to share it with you--but it just doesn't make any sense to me.' Thinking she'll site something about courage or strength (because I have shared both profound words amidst my testimony for years, now) I ask her to share it with me, anyway. She smiles again and with a searching look on her face she looks down at our clasped hands, looks back up with welled up eyes and says well...it's crazy...but it's, thunder.

I stumble, reaching for a chair to catch my weak knees--or at least to maintain my very-pregnant balance. She worries. My face has flushed color and she fears that what she's just said has offended me. I assure her it has not. 'While I cannot explain that word to you yet, Michelle...TRUST ME...it will make sense to you, soon enough.' I envelope her in a solid hug, holding back the tears. 'Thank you. Thank you SO MUCH for your obedience. You have NO IDEA what that word means to me.'
She smiles a third time. 'Of course--I'm so glad!'

I RUN *as safely as a woman just shy of two weeks from delivery can* out to the parking lot to catch up with my boys. I GRAB Aaron, exclaiming through tears what has just been spoken over our future-son. He's floored with awe and has difficulty even believing the accuracy of my story but is grateful as he too knows now--our son HAS A NAME.

Not even two weeks later, we deliver our newest little boy. A TRAUMATIC and rather awful birth, to be honest, but God is Faithful and brings us both through it safe and healthy--which is really ALL that matters. Two weeks, post c-section recovery I ask that we go to church for the first time as a family of FIVE. Amidst the morning announcements, our pastor spots us in the very back and exclaims his shock at our presence. Feeling inspired to do so, I snag our TINY little newborn from his stroller bassinet, stand up, briefly, holding him above my head and while doing so shout out 'Church, meet Thorin Andrus!' Baby-response 'aaaaaahs' ensue and we sit for the rest of service.
Just after service ends, we find ourselves surrounded by a short line of church-members who want to see and meet baby T, up-close-and-personal. When all had received their desired fix, I place him back into his bassinet and prepare to head home. I feel a hand on my shoulder and turn around. It's Michelle--and as soon as I turn around to interact she raises her hands into the air and exclaims in the loudest praise-filled-voice possible...'THUNDER!!!!!!' I squeal and say 'YES!!!' We laugh and embrace in JOY!



Our little Thunder-man.
For a little over a year now, this little boy has literally ROCKED OUR WORLD in the most amazing and unexpected ways. His first two months of life were spent SCREAMING, non-stop, in response to his lactose-intolerant belly that took us all far too long to diagnose. Once doing so, however, he became our smiley, BUSY, STRONG but tender little buddy.

Life with Thorin--our Thunder Strength--is truly, a daily reminder of the Voice our Powerful God can speak over any 'impossible' circumstance. He can and WILL Move ALL of our Mountains if we can just be still enough to Trust Him to do so.

God Baby Z--Boy child #3

This blog has been on my heart for quite some many months now, as the day I received that second 'stripe' on a pregnancy test was the first day of a new chapter. A new chapter in our lives as well as, perhaps, a final chapter for that book I will eventually get around to publishing, ha! Since that day, the day of seeing a literal MIRACLE be born into our little family's story, the Lord has blessed me with an awesomely renewed since of joy--a joy I haven't experienced in YEARS, as anyone whose been directly around me can attest. I know that I haven't had to work at that happiness or even ask for it amidst other things. I've had more patience with people and circumstances and an uncontrollably POSITIVE spin on everything because of it. It's a joy that you get solely from the Lord--when His presence becomes so intimately entangled in you, again. The 'news' of this Miracle Baby (God baby as we've nicknamed it) was, well...like a knock on the door *again*, with the Lord standing on the other side saying 'I heard you...I HEAR you...I KNOW you and I HAVEN'T FORGOTTEN YOU.' That kind of reassurance and the tangible experience of pregnancy reminding me daily truly wrapped me in His Presence and Joy. Then came everyone's reactions to the news--all the fun ways we broke the news--and all of the excitement that enveloped our hearts amidst others excitement, too. To watch a Miracle 'unfold' itself and experience people experiencing it with you. OH THE JOY!!!

At whatever point this miracle simply HAD to be that baby girl that my heart has longed to have my ENTIRE LIFE, I'm not sure. I am certain that responses of 'this is your girl, I just KNOW it' or 'God is gonna really show off now' were part of it, and even I too, at some point decided 'why ELSE would He put us in this incredibly UNfitting position of completely STARTING OVER--like--we don't own a THING 'baby' anymore, folks!--unless He was truly going to carry out my deepest hearts desire in the midst of that.
What an UNfair assumption. Not because it wouldn't of been great or felt awesome...but because, as I have said before and will be forced to say many many many many *I'm sure* many more times again...MY plan is NOT GOD'S PLAN!!! When will I EVER REALLY LEARN THIS?!

Regardless of this truth, 48 hours ago was nothing short of CRUSHING. It forced me into a space where not only was I resentful and utterly FILLED with sorrow, but I actually wasn't even so sure I wanted this anymore. I found myself in a DARK space of 'What are we going to do?!...'Why did we want this???...and 'What good is this for, now?!' My 'fairytale story'--my 'perfect last chapter' was--shattered.

K, now that we've seen the seriously FLAWED side of the human look at this...let's all take a pause...regroup and get a handle on God's reality in all of this!!!

THIS BABY IS A MIRACLE.
MIRACLE.
As in...Dr. Page said like 6% possibility MIRACLE.

THIS BABY IS our next chapter.
HE is NOT a mistake.
HE was CREATED IN ME, AGAINST ALL ODDS, FOR A VERY SPECIFIC PURPOSE.
Do I KNOW what that purpose is yet? Nope. But I DO know that it is extraordinarily--as in OUTSIDE OF THIS WORLD--IMPORTANT. Not because he is mine. Not because he is within our family. But because he is within GOD'S GREAT PLAN and breaking all the bounds to exist in the first place!

He is GOD'S Son. And for me to sit and mourn him when he is HEALTHILY (also against ALL ODDS!) growing and forming inside of me, in this VERY MOMENT THAT I TYPE, is sheer madness!!!!!!! And do you know why it's madness? Because ALL that I asked for was the chance to do this again.

YES, I WANT A DAUGHTER.
Someday.
Somehow. I'm afraid no matter how many farewell letters I type to said heart-daughter, that will NEVER CHANGE.
But THIS...this new son of mine is UNrelated to that matter. The Lord has impressed upon me, just in the past 10 hours that this baby boy...he has NOTHING to do with that desire. All of our assumptions in what God was doing were just that.
Assumptions. Worldly views that, somehow, I will not be 'complete' or have all of my 'needs met' if I this baby wasn't a girl.
That. That is just madness.

God does NOT make mistakes.
This baby IS what it was ordained to be from the beginning of time.
He is a NEW LIFE. One with a FULL STORY. And HIS story is JUST BEGINNING--even if he is MY 'last chapter,' he has his own book that will pick up where mine leaves off--and his story is not born from a 'perfect' one, it's born from a REAL one. One ENVELOPED in God's Promises.

As far as my 'need' for a daughter. God is mysterious. He KNOWS our heart's desires, but He ALSO knows that our heart's can be deceiving. What He knows most importantly is what our needs are according to HIS PLAN FOR US. He knows our family NEEDS this little boy. I don't even know the ways in which we need him, now...but what I can tell you is that I cannot now, in any way shape or form, see our lives without the fulfillments of Grayson and Lincoln.
This baby is no different. We don't yet know what needs we all have that he will soon be meeting.


So the hourly tears of grief and loss...they need to be done. I have not lost ANYTHING--yet only GAINED something I was never supposed to have in the first place.
Another CHILD.
I get to have ANOTHER CHANCE to snuggle a warm, precious little one. To rock and song and set up a nursery and re-aquire the things I thought I'd never get to need to have, again. And I get the opportunity to do all of these things as a older, MUCH WISER, much DEEPER IN CHRIST mama to a truly important future Man of God.

What MORE could I really, truly ask for.

I Got This

Three years and some odd days have passed since I last signed in here. Let's just be honest...I've avoided it. While part of me has missed pouring out my heart's words, a larger part has held them captive--purposefully. Upon signing in here, I read the very last post I made, to date. Ironically, it was my Katie post. The day of Katie's celebration of life, just three-ish years ago, I claimed that I'd been jolted enough to soften my heart to the Lord again. There is no way for me to recall all of the events since that day, but one thing I can say--for certain--is that I have not done so. While I haven't walked around with an angry, bitter expression on my face or *at least not purposefully* had some vendetta towards those around me--those who know me BEST know that cancer and the fears that come with it have been Satan's hold on me. He likes to daily prod me with them in all kinds of ways.

Something that I was forced to do early on in my walk with all of this nearly 6 years ago was Trust that the Lord was in control. When you are completely out of control inside of imminent circumstances, it's not as difficult to do so as one may think. In fact, what other options do you have?!
It is, however, when the facade that you are in control creeps back in--when you're given more time--that the selfish thought processes linger, again. Please don't get me wrong here. I don't think it selfish to DESIRE more life and time to live, but to EXPECT it in a different story. You see, our human nature IS greedy. We are allotted 'more' (no matter what it is) and we almost instantly decide that we deserved it. From that point forward, we are appalled and offended by the idea that the very circumstance at hand would be threatened..or even just taken away. Even young children do this with toys or privileges. Like I said, it's just, our nature. What then happens to our gratefulness? Our joy? It's impossible.
Sure, we can be 'happy' and we are GREAT (at least I am, outwardly) at 'playing the role'...but deep down inside, we are just screaming. Depression, disappointment, confusion, frustration, resentment...ALL of these poisons linger and multiply.

A week ago, I hit my limit. A week ago, for the first time in a LONG TIME, I turned to the Lord with a pleading heart. For the first time in a long time He didn't have to just endure my anger...my resentment...my 'yell fest.' Instead, He heard me cry. Sure, I have cried PLENTY while yelling at Him. But this cry was one of exhaustion. While standing in my laundry room (that long ago became my 'prayer room' for various reasons that I can expand on at another time), I BEGGED Him to help me to SEE Him, again. Help me learn to Love Him, again. Help me know that I can Trust Him, again.
All of these things have felt impossible to me.
Have you ever asked the Lord for something that way but even in asking NOT believed He would answer? That is where I've been, people. All of what 'has happened' to me..to us..to our lives...I've blamed Him. Here's the funny thing about that, though. It's EXHAUSTING. All I can see when I allow a moment of an outer-body visual is a robotic, upset ME...walking over and over and over into the same wall. It gets you NOWHERE yet it allows you to fall deeper and deeper into a state of being that is dark. Very, very dark. Seven days ago I begged for a change. I asked Him to, somehow, help me learn to see that He is still there.

So much has happened recently. Someone I cared for and had invested a lot of my days and heart into cut me out of their life. Almost simultaneously, someone absolutely INCREDIBLE came my way in what I felt, then, was His Perfect timing for 'my needs.' That same, perfect-for-me person had to break the news to me a week ago that they are moving across the country in less than two weeks. Upon receiving that news, I almost immediately fell back into my 'why me' state. Why, Lord?! Why do you keep teasing me...TAUNTING me. Prodding me.

Yesterday was Dr. Page day. I haven't seen him since last November and that appointment was like most others. Him spouting off stats and sticking me with more decision-making tasks. It really is the story of post-cancer life. Physically, things will never be the same for me. Emotionally and mentally they've been altered, too. But THAT is where the Lord made clear to me yesterday that He is trying to make a change.
The first difference to yesterday was that Aaron was able to come with. Dr. Page has had a recent change in his patient visit days and Tuesday is now an option. Seeing as Tuesday is Aaron's shorter day of the week to be at the clinic, it makes it possible for him to arrange to be with me. In the past, it's been various girlfriends, my mom and occasionally, just myself, making the trek. We've always tried to make it into a 'road trip' opportunity--find the positives--girl time! But as much as those have been nice memories, going with Aaron made dealing with cancer yesterday something that I'm not doing 'alone.' In other words, it reminded me that I have a teammate who has walked through every moment of this journey WITH me. I have spent so much of this walk assuming that there are things Aaron just doesn't understand..cause he's not me and it's not his body.
Again with the selfish.

Upon seeing Dr. Page, it was the same shoot-the-breeze start. Then, as it always does, it led into concerns, questions about management drugs--how long to take them, what to do in place of them if I don't--blah blah blah, same ol' sam ol.' But then our conversation led to the struggle. The fears. The woe is me's.The things that have plagued me for nearly 5 years now. And while Dr. Page normally just sensitively walks through those conversations, yesterday, he kind of kicked me in the behind. As he responded in a very unfiltered manner to my 'what if's', I sat there in a bit of a shock. (I think even he shocked himself a little bit based on his expression.) While he was cordial and semi-apologetic about how raw he was being immediately following his remarks, I could tell that he knew I needed to hear things that way so that fear can stop dictating every step of what is now my life.
How did he know? He is not a Christian--but as I listened and later that day really pondered--it was like God had spoken through the donkey.

After my appointment, Aaron and I went and got dinner--not only to avoid rush hour, but also to try to take advantage of the Portland opportunity outside of why we were really there. It was nice.
But shaking off that particular appointment was a battle I wasn't winning.

I was quiet for most of our drive home. Aaron had me drive until Eugene and even fell asleep which gave me private time to weep over my feelings. I wanted to yell, but I couldn't as I wanted Aaron to get some much-needed shut eye. But my heart yelled. And then it wept. And eventually, all it did was...plead. Again.
'Lord, I am AT MY KNEES. I don't understand. You deal so harshly with me. How could you be so brash through a man who doesn't even know you but then claim that you love me. Why must I continue to suffer like this?'

After Eugene, Aaron took over driving our last stretch home. I checked into my phone texts as a few of my closest girlfriends were biting at the bit to hear about my appointment. I'd gone there with concerns--spots in my neck and pain throughout my right shoulder and arm. That, of course, had been eradicated by our appointment, but they didn't know that. So, I began responding, one after the other, to reassure that things had 'gone well.' Then, I signed into social media to post what was resonating in my heart and just as I pressed 'post,' Aaron hit a huge, metal object with our car, sending us to the shoulder of the freeway with a completely blown out tire. After many more texts back and forth about our circumstances as well as a call to Geico, we finally arranged for roadside assistance to come rescue us. Unfortunately, they could only get us as far as Costco (where we will deal with the tire being fixed, today) which left us in need of a ride home. My parents, always ready and willing to do whatever is needed, were ready to drive in. As was one of my dearest Sister-friends who lives way too far out of town for me to even rationalize it. But it was another friend who is also a neighbor whom, in her bedtime sweatsuit, threw a hat on her head and came to our rescue at midnight!
Talk about an act of love!!!

So, what is the point of this particular rambling?
Amy (our neighbor who rescued) text me something so profound that I am 100% sure God used her fingers to say. She shared with me what the Lord has been telling her lately. Three words:

I. Got. This.

You see, on our way up to Portland, my fears had become so rampantly out of control that I had actually prepared myself for Dr. Page to say, yep, that needs to be scanned cause it's back. What I was NOT prepared for was, listen lady, this comes back and it's all over your f-ing body (translation: my time has come.) On our way home, I was NOT prepared to be stuck on the side of the road in the pitch dark for nearly an hour with hubby, waiting for a tow truck. I was NOT prepared to receive such immediate, love-filled 'threats' of 'I'm getting in my car as soon as you say so' responses from so many different short phone conversations had right after we found ourselves there. And I definitely was NOT prepared for Him to say 'I got this.'
I thought about that while quietly sitting in the tow truck, waiting for the car to be loaded--Aaron standing outside shooting a video of it for his boys, knowing they'd love it. I wrestled in my heart with the Lord, silently, but loudly. 'You don't 'have' ANYTHING, Lord?! You've let me be out in this pasture with all these wolves in every direction, it seems. And I don't even know why?! What did I do to DESERVE this?!!!'

Firstly, I deserve DEATH. So do you. If you think otherwise...read your Bible, again. I 'deserve' nothing.
I've said this soon many times before, too. I really do know this. But why don't I KNOW it?!!

Right before we arrived to the parking lot where Amy sat, waiting for us in her car, the Lord said to me, once more...I Got This. But this time, I HEARD it.
ALL of this time, since being told 'congratulations, you get to live longer' I've started trying to control my life again. I've NEEDED to have that control. I've wanted to so badly that I've desperately hoarded everything I can find that I might be able to make go my way. It's like, if I can just do that...I'll be fine.
But I haven't been. I've been MISERABLE. I HATE being 'in control' because, you know why? It's a FACADE. It's a big. fat. LIE.

You see, not only does God ALONE 'got this'...but we actually NEED Him to have it. Having it ourselves creates depression, disappointment, confusion, frustration, resentment...recognize those?
ALL OF THIS TIME, while I have been desperate to blame Him for these feelings, it is MYSELF who is to blame. Why?! Because I keep trying to take what IS NOT MINE TO TAKE. My plans are not His plans because I am NOT HIM! My taking it is my trying to BE God. And WHY ON EARTH would I ever want THAT kind of pressure?!?!?!?!?
Holy smokes.

Not only does He Got This, He IS the only one QUALIFIED to have it.

He is the only one QUALIFIED to end my life at the very moment He set the clock for it to end. He is the only one QUALIFIED to give us a flat tire so that we may very well of avoided whatever caused the torched car that we saw not just two miles past where the tow truck picked us up. He in the only one QUALIFIED to provide us countless amounts of human vessels to help, love and uplift our lives in the way that He designed His children to do so for one another. He is the only one QUALIFIED to be in control. So I think it's just about time that I remove that burden off of myself and let Him HAVE IT.

A Miracle Friend...

God is sovereign.
Whether I'm willing to accept that or not amidst different times of my life...He IS.
It's too easy to forget...or perhaps hard to admit...the sovereignty provided in every single step of my treatment and recovery just two years ago. But setting my hurt aside and my pride down, it is important that I once again acknowledge the answers, the process, the people that were all provisioned. Isaiah 61:3 says: To appoint unto them that mourn in Zion, to give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they might be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that He might be glorified. He WANTS to provide replacement...support...and strength. And He did. And He still is, whether or not I choose to acknowledge that He is.

Lately, I have wanted to 'punish' Him by not acknowledging His sovereignty over my life...as He's allowed so much suffering and pain and anguish. That's anything BUT sovereignty, right?!
But when I was wise and cornered, clear-minded and open-hearted, I claimed these things as blessings! Yes. Not just trials, but BLESSINGS! Even that Laura Story song became 'my song' because of it's reiteration of this lesson. But just like anything else with denial, eventually, the truth must be faced, accepted and even--Lord willing--celebrated.

Today I attended a 'Celebration of Life' for one of the most impactful people that God sovereignly provided me amidst my cancer battle. Since my truthfulness on here will hopefully help set me free, I am urged to admit my cynicism born, again, out of more hurt. Losing her cut me deeply on so MANY levels that I was not prepared for. Why Lord?! Why I am 'celebrating' my friend today when I should be deeply pained that you took her away from all of us and her husband and three small children who need her!
I sat in a chair today, looking all around at the hoards of people there to 'celebrate' her with me...listening to the stories of all she's touched in her short 30-some years of life...realizing that right to her very last breath, SHE, HERSELF, celebrated life. Sure, we had phone conversations where we shared in our sorrows and frustrations, losses and struggles. But right to the very end, she gave it all to the Lord.
While there, a couple different epiphanies punched me smack in the gut.

The first: We travelled the cancer road, somewhat side-by-side and yet she is now gone..and I am still here. What am I doing with my 'here' status? Shunning the Lord and allowing the stripping I endured to hold me in a place of shame and insecurity?
What a waste. A waste of time Katie would've given just about anything to have.

The second: This amazing woman faced the realities of death. Calmly. And COMPLIANTLY. Sure she had human moments of fear--like the text she sent me when boarding her plane home after just receiving her '6 week's to live' news--'I am hugging my Hayley pillow as tightly as possible right now.'
Talk about feeling helpless in a moment I wished more than ever that I could wave my magic wand! But than via her sister after just 5 days later, she was suddenly admitted to the hospital with 'not much time left'--'Katie just sat the kids down and calmly explained that she was going to be with Jesus now.' As much as I may be kicking and screaming that God saw it fit to take her home and away from all of us who loved her and benefited so greatly from her beautiful spirit and graceful way of using her God-gifts on us... she was ready. Her calmness and compliance was sincere...but it was a RESULT of her sincere faith in and love for the Lord.
She was ready for His Kingdom.
I, on the other hand have much to learn, still.

I found it ironic that her dad (who is my 'second dad'), while hugging me today, muttered into my ear, 'Thank you for being Katie's best friend through this', as I believe she did FAR MORE for ME than I did for her. I spent the hour+ car-ride on may way down there today feeling my usual *for the past year anyway* anger and sadness and not celebratory at all. A dear friend who helped me through one of the most excruciating times of my life didn't get her miracle. Her sister said to me, on the morning of her passing, 'I just thought for sure God would give her her miracle given that He gave her the married name 'Marical...it just seemed too perfect.' Her words rang in my ears all week long...I agreed...and they fed my anger. But as I sat and watched and listened and experienced Katie's testimony to the hundreds of people in that room, I felt ashamed and disappointed in myself, as Katie's friend, knowing how much she would disapprove.

I had one last big, long gut-wrenched cry tonight while in the bath. Uncontrollable sobs turned into my begging God for forgiveness.
'Forgive me for pushing you away. For leaning on my own understanding, alone. For resenting what you've allowed. For LOSING FAITH. PURPOSELY.'

And then it dawned on me.
Julie...
Katie's miracle may not of come in the form of restored health and more life. I grieve with you in that fact and I even feel guilty about it, in some ways.

But, perhaps the miracle--as the pastor said today--came in a different form. Katie's miracle is the role that she played in all of our lives. The role that she played in MY life, just today, when HER testimony played a huge part in my willingness to fully re-open my heart to the Lord.

And THAT is something worth celebrating.

It's Time...

It's time for me to start writing again.

Not in response to all those around me who've prodded why I haven't been.
Not even just because I need some kind of 'outlet' for my feelings--as my counselor has said.

But because, tonight.....
as I laid in a bathtub filled with bubbles--my precious-hearted mother's quiet attempt to sooth her miserably sad daughter--I poured over my thoughts of anger towards the Lord...thoughts that I've been battling with, on and off, for the past year and a half now. How on earth could a 'loving God' allow such anguish in my life. News and more news, adjustment after adjustment. Allowing me, STILL, to be in what feels like Job's book! Haven't I learned ENOUGH?! Haven't I HAD ENOUGH?! Haven't I endured and experienced..ENOUGH!?!?! Do you even HAVE AN 'ENOUGH' on your gauge for me?!!?
Call it a pity party if you must. Honestly, what you think I am struggling with or why I AM struggling doesn't make any difference. The reality is...that I AM STRUGGLING.
STILL.
And haven't really ever stopped.


And then...I realized. It's time.
It's time for me to stop being angry. To STOP struggling.
It's time for me to stop pushing God away. Why?
Well, for starters, it's CLEARLY NOT WORKING.

My counselor asked me at an appointment, 'Why do you think you stopped writing' and my response was, 'It's like my writing was then--in the midst of everything--and it belongs with THAT time--but now is a different time and if life has to be a 'new normal' then I want DIFFERENT.

But here's the problem...when I was writing I was CLINGING TO THE LORD. I was being HELD, in a corner, and instead of making the choice to kick and scream and panic, I was making the choice to LOOK TO HIM. As soon as I was released from that corner, I ran from that room, slammed the door shut and never looked back. And He's been standing there, waiting for me to visit ever since. Instead, I've chosen to occasionally walk BY the door, throw a few curse words out and feel angry at all the redecorating that was done to the other rooms of my 'house' while I was in my prolonged time out. (And even continues to BE done, without my consent!)

And you know what?!
Just like it's exhausting for a small child to throw a temper tantrum for 45 minutes only to earn ZERO response from their parent...I am EXHAUSTED of doing so with the Lord. And truthfully, He must be just shaking his head at my willingness to waste such precious time in the first place.


It's not healthy to tell a person whose been through a life-altering circumstance that you're 'glad they survived and can go back to life now.' I know I've said this before, but I urge any of you who have not been challenged in your own life in this way to be extra careful to not say that to anyone who has.
It's simply not true. And it can actually make the hurting person feel GUILTY for not being grateful for 'getting past' that trial and therefore leave no room for the necessary process of grievance and acceptance to take place. Just because the scars are not visible to you and they 'look great' doesn't mean that their house was not DRASTICALLY 'redecorated' during that season of trial. In fact, rest assured...our trials are MEANT to change us...hopefully..eventually..for the better, for the New Kingdom's purpose.

As my dad said to me recently, 'there is a NEED to mourn the unchosen changes and losses caused by our trials.' I NEED to be able to talk about and cry about the loss of my fertility and therefore the loss of my option to biologically produce another beautiful baby with my amazing best friend and husband. I NEED to be able to mourn the loss of so much of my previous physical body. My breasts. The scars left  in their place. My 20-something body...the function of a normal 30-something body. Those are LOSSES. But like all things mourned, their is a time to do so...and then their is a NEED for healing to take place. I am ready for that healing but in order to do that, I have to stop harboring the anger, regret, loss and disappointment that has been keeping me from re-entering the room in which the One   who WANTS to comfort me most and heal my wounds in His Way can do so.

So...like a woman going into her first real contractions of labor who claims the start of what is a necessary process for a life-altering chapter to begin says...
it's time.
Time for me to embrace what life is now. What God still has planned for me...for US......
IN THE DAYS AHEAD.
Time to be done angrily mourning what once was because those things will never be again......time to allow the Lord to inflict what still CAN be in this life. I haven't even been willing to look Him in the face, truly, for the past year and a half for Him to do so...but that doesn't mean that He doesn't WANT ME TO.
He is, in fact, waiting on ME. Like a good parent should. No extra attention. Just calm, quiet patience.

Sorry Lord, forgive me. I think I'm ready now.
I think it's time.

Identity

Identity.
The state or fact of remaining the same one or ones, as under varying aspects or condition. The condition or character of who or what a person or thing is.

For the last year and a half now, I've spent my days terrified by this definition.

You see, as I've said already, you can't go through any life-altering thing without being completely changed--whether that means your life was taken from you, entirely, or you were lucky enough to be given a change at more life that is entirely DIFFERENT. I will always have physical scars on my body to daily remind me of my intense battle. I will always be on drugs that daily remind me every time I swallow them that I once, intimately, looked death in the face. I will likely always be fatigued a little easier than before and have more brain-lapses then ever. These are just all part of the 'mark' a survivor wears. Yet, this weekend, during a much-needed extended weekend away with my family, God awakened me to the fact that I have allowed these things to make me flee the very concept of who I am. I said once (or maybe more) that I feel like I'm me living in someone else's body and life. It really does leave you feeling that way, and that feeling really is beyond your control. My response to that has been to 'go through the motions' and shove what was 'under a rug.' Looking at pictures of our amazing family Disney trip just days before my diagnosis in 2012 hurts to much. Undressing to shower--I HATE mirrors and purposely avoid looking at myself without clothes on. Being so INsecure in who I am and who this battle has left me as is so foreign that I don't even want to address it. It's like I continue thinking that if I just look like I have it all together and re-busy my life with lots of distraction, it'll all work out and somehow, I'll 'adjust' to this new normal that I despise so much.

It was this weekend when God said ENOUGH for my sake and hers, too, that I realized where I've been for this past year and a half. You see, meeting a mama with kiddos the same age as mine, whose cancer was caught 'far too late' and has been given a more terminal diagnosis is humbling. Always. It's not that I haven't already had that happen both amidst and after my own battle, cause believe me, I have. People seem to FLOCK to you when they know you've been there and they or someone they love is facing or about to face a similar battle. Ironically, however, it was me trying to comfort her in saying, ALOUD, for the first time in months, that we are 'blessed' to of had our eyes opened like they are. Opened to the reality of life's fleeting moments and how every one of them is worth praising our Lord for and making the most of. I think the Lord knew I needed to hear MYSELF say it to really believe it, again...and realize how hard I've been working to IGNORE it all these months.

In meditating on how shaken I felt by that interaction--both praying for her and even my OWN heart-set and what a U-turn I'd unknowingly made--God gave me a word.

Identity.

We spend SO much of our lives working hard to define who we are.
Where we live, what career path we choose, what car we drive, who we marry, how many kids we have, what we do with our days and what we believe...and we look at all of these things as choices that WE make for our lives that help define who we are. But I think for those of us who KNOW our ALL-loving, ALL-planning, ALL-living and ALL-gracious God, we miss the mark in thinking this way.

This world wants us to define ourselves by these things. The evil-ruler of this world wants us to put our self-worth into things so that we get completely lost in stuff and blinded from what really matters.

Although this concept will never be easy amidst the spiritual struggle of this life, alone...it is so imperative that we let our identity ABIDE in the only place it belongs.

Him.

Who I was before, what I am now, what I have now or will have tomorrow ...ALL of these things are not of me. They are not MY 'choices.' They are God's ALLOWANCES and Grace working in my life. And all I can do is pray God's Grace on my path and my life, that He only allows what is best for me to do with this short life and time He has given me in this world and that it is ALWAYS PREPARING ME for a life ETERNAL, with Him.

I don't know about you, but His is the most Awesome identity I could ever think to be worthy of claiming. And the coolest part? Amidst ALL circumstances, THAT identity NEVER changes.

Growing pains...

If you've read any of my past month's blog entries you're probably noticing TWO things:
1. Words and thoughts are once again flowing out of me faster than I can type!
2. My mind and my heart are going through quite the battle.
I suppose the good part about #2 is the fact that Christ dwells deeply in my heart, so I know, no matter how brutal and how lengthy this battle, His PROMISE to overcome it is just that. A PROMISE.

Today, as Aaron and I were on our way home from Portland, we listened to a podcast from our old church. On top of making me greatly miss being there...the message we listened to was absolutely an answer to prayer. I'm not sure if Aaron chose it, specifically, or if God planted it in time...but what I DO know is it spoke Truth to me that I've been needing to hear for a while now. While I don't want to take credit for the pastor's spirit-filled words, I want to do my best to share some of the profound epiphanies I had while listening.


Since the day I was diagnosed, people have said to me... 'I don't get it.. Why YOU? You seem like such a good person. Why does it seem like the good people are always the ones to suffer?' I've had many days lately where I've fallen prey to that thought--found myself, left, WROUGHT with sheer and storming anger. 'Yeah! They're right!! WHY ME?!?! Why, Lord??? Unless........unless you just WANT to see me suffer. You WANT to cut me to the core!' I've sat, listening to my heart and mind scream back and forth, one to the other. Kinda like the dramatization of good angel-devil angel sitting on one's shoulder. My heart feels such GUILT to even hear my mind say such things to the Lord. To be doubting Him this way. I find myself feeling like the coach in a dirty wrestling match--standing on the sidelines, spouting off about how BOTH parties need to just STOP and take a time-out from one another.

Then, as I'm listening to the message in the car today, I am reminded once again of the battle and what the battle really is. This is not Satan in devil angel form attacking me. It is ME, fighting God. AGAIN. And the pain is mostly... GROWING PAINS.

When a kid is born of tall parents, his genetics add up to inevitable height, also. This is absolutely the case with our two young sons. If I remember correctly, they were measured at around 3 yrs of age to become 6'3 and 6'5 foot adults. *Surprise, surprise*. ;) As two experienced 'growers', Aaron and I have not yet forgotten the physical pain of fast-stretching ligaments, so when one or both of our boys complains of this, we have immediate empathy. The go-to remedy? Pain-reducing medication, lots of kisses and, above all else perhaps, is performed leg-rubs accompanied by favorite 'songing' selections.
This is ESPECIALLY important to our 'snuggle-bugger' of a Lincoln-bear. His words: 'Rub it please, mama... and sing to me while you rub it.' *Yep, he's a heart-melter, that one.*
So what does this have to do with my ongoing, personal 'good cop/bad cop' routine?

As the pastor put it, doubt causes a sense of spiritual vertigo where the ground beneath you is shifting--and as of late, my ground has been shifting in ways I'm not ready or even wanting to anticipate. It is causing me far more intense growing pains than I've ever felt before. Sometimes I think if only the pain could just be physical, again. Maybe then, I wouldn't be left fighting with my brain so much.

But, I realized today, *perhaps for the 100th time* that I'm missing the point.
The doubts are my SELF-response to the pain of LOSING this important spiritual battle.
Losing SELF. IS. PAINFUL.
So so so so so painful.
But dwelling on those doubts..in my SELF just prolongs the relief...the 'rubbing' and 'soothing' that has  ALREADY BEEN MADE AVAILABLE TO ME. As the pastor said, we must put doubt and self into it's proper perspective and place--realizing how SMALL *we* and they both are in comparison of the victor...realizing the GRANDEUR of Christ's Life! We must put into perspective that our fate without God IS doubt...but our fate with FAITH IN GOD has been PROMISED AND PROVEN!

It is time for me, once again, to stand up to the doubts I've had in the Lord and His plan for me.. my family.. my future......knowing that HE KNOWS MY HEART and that if I will just get down on my knees and INJEST Him and His LOVE AND COMPASSION FOR ME, THAT will form the 'trajectory of my life' that means everything while everything else, is worth nothing.

As the pastor said, 'When we wrestle with God and the love of Christ--we have but one choice. To LOOK upon the Cross. See how He died..and bled..and suffered.. on OUR behalf!

It is time for me to realize, once again, that MY victory is His victory and HIS was and is, mine. And in His victory lies His promise! So why on earth would I EVER. DOUBT. THAT.

Christ-like compassion...

Looking around at all the different faces in the waiting room today...most of them wrought with worry and sadness...the feelings they wear in their body-language revive memories of my own from two years ago that I've wished, at times, to be rid of.
It's hard not to wonder what their scenarios are. Are they waiting here, stewing over a loved-one who is just at the starting line of a journey like mine? Or perhaps waiting for their OWN name to be called? No matter......it's impossible for me to not feel some of their pain.
Aaron and I were just discussing this on the drive up--how compassion is deeply implanted in us when we've BEEN through a significant life-trauma. Whether or not you want to feel it, it's part of the heart-transplant this journey leaves you with.
I look around and actually feel ENTRUSTED with the responsibility to lift these people in this waiting-room up to the Lord. Soft phrases spoken as they send their loved ones off, saying...'I'll be right here when you are done.' Though I might not speak it to them, I find myself worried for their loved one perhaps just as much as they are...a complete stranger is deeply concerning to my heart.

But isn't this a Godly result come from such a dark tribulation?
Feeling a true, unkempt love for people around you--a love that comes from a source far beyond yourself. Isn't THIS how God loves His Church? Isn't this how a parent loves his/her child? It's a ROOTED love and compassion. This is a GIFT of Christ-like compassion...and one POSITIVE result of cancer that I will happily embrace~

Pre-op Thoughts from this morning...

This morning, we travel north for the removal of the device that kicked this journey off, 2 years and one month ago. The second week of October, just a week after my 33rd birthday, I underwent my very first, (ever) surgery. I remember going into it, telling everyone, ‘I’ve not so much as had a broken bone my entire life…let alone had a surgery.’ Lord knows I’m a far cry from that circumstance, now, ha! Funny what time does. How FAST things can change. 

I went from surgery-virgin to human-pin-cushion/infusion-expert/pro-drug-popper and yes, in the process MORE than lost my surgery-virginity, too.

Some people are surprised to hear that I haven’t had my port out until now. Then again, some people forgot that I even received one. I certainly can’t blame either party, as it’s not their body… their life… or personal experience. But I do find myself processing those comments like I do most cancer-related things. Yes, it’s there still. Why? 

A: I had to finish Herceptin infusions before it could come out. 

B: I had to get the ok from my oncologist in Chicago at this last visit, in October. 

C: I had to find a surgeon that would/could do it…as my plastic surgeon went and had a baby and never returned. The search for a new plastic surgeon, that is currently underway, will be another blog entry. But for now—no, I’m not going to take a steak knife and remove it myself, folks—so I am somewhat relieved that I have someone back at OHSU whose willing to do it. 

I have been asked: ‘Are you excited to get it out?’ I gotta be honest, I’m at a bit of a loss to know just exactly how to respond to that question, as the feelings are mixed. Am I going to be happy to not have an occasionally itchy foreign device that my youngest smacks with his beautiful but bulbous head against too often, laying under my upper-chest area skin? MOST DEFINITELY! Am I ‘excited’ for another surgery—albeit a fast one? NOT EVEN SLIGHTLY. 

I don’t like needles. I don’t like knives. I don’t even like hospitals. Unfortunately, NONE of these fears bode well with cancer-treatment/management scenarios. Needles, knives and hospitals, in general, become a regular thing once you’ve had cancer. But regardless, this particular needle/knife/hospital scenario is still a symbol. It’s a symbol of time, passed. The last time I was in the Multnomah building on the 4th floor standing at the surgical check-in desk, life was concretely fragile…and my head—my thoughts—were fighting with my heart. A head FILLED TO THE BRIM with fear-driven thoughts. A heart FILLED TO THE BRIM with God-driven love and support. Tomorrow, while the fearful thoughts and the Godly heart conversations are swarming around and bickering with one another, I anticipate less fear—knowing that 

A: This surgery, compared to my double-mastectomy, is NOTHING. 

B: My awesome hubby is able to be at my side this time! 

C: This scenario, while I still do and will always hate being in it—is less unknown. The familiarity of dressing-down, sterilization procedures, etc, is there. And that is oddly comforting.

Perhaps above all else, however, is the fact that tomorrow is a symbol of health. I get to have my port OUT because—Lord willing—threatening-cancer is behind me. Even if just for a while. No, my life is not rid of cancer. That will NEVER be the case. But perhaps it’s time that I start looking at the POSITIVE marks that cancer has left on my life, versus being so blinded by all the negative that it is responsible for. 

If my life were rid of cancer completely, I will not lie, many things would be better—and less difficult. But with less challenge comes naivety and stagnancy. As I was just telling a student yesterday about the importance of a challenging piece in growth as a pianist, I too need to begin seeing that this challenge is my growth as a person and a Christ-child! 

So while I’m not ‘excited’ to get this port out, I am ready..and GRATEFUL for the current health I possess that makes it even a possibility. 

Not Alone...

I've been feeling guilty lately to be typing so many 'negative' posts. Not being 'inspirational'... not having any interest in sharing anything but the struggles I'm experiencing right now.
But as I am reminded after venting, this blog is not meant for anyone more than myself. It is my safe place to speak words and thoughts that will otherwise stay bottled up and tear my insides apart.

Even still, right before I press 'publish'..everytime.. I face that moment of hesitance. The fear that I need to just 'buck up' and someone else who reads this will tell me to do so. And that's ok. Sometimes I think in our greatest strife and deepest grief we need someone to point out what we should be grateful for. Spread some light on our perspective.

But interestingly, after my last few posts--after preparing myself for such a response--I have received some of the most heartfelt and tender...supportive...and LOVING responses, to date.


The saying 'misery loves company' is one I know we've all heard. I, like many, have always believed it to be a negative--even criticizing--phrase. Misery wants/needs more misery to surround it.
But in this past month or so, I have come to find it's meaning is something quite different..at least for me. I don't want to be the 'negative nelly'.. I'm certainly not trying to be. I'm just raw. VERY. RAW. And there is no other way for me to be right now.
Although I don't really know what I want/need people to do or say right now, what I have learned is that just being surrounded in love, is enough.

Does it take everything away? Of course not.
But.. it EASES the struggle.

After spending the last couple of days deeply and prayerfully begging God to lift some of this from me, He IS. He is using my friends, family, students and student's families--even strangers--to ENGULF ME with His love. And if that's not enough... as I climbed into my car tonight from my last lesson time with yet another sweet and supportive family... I started my car right as this song came on: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u7YKHRb59a4

And just like that, God's Hand presses so intensely on my heart something I should've known all along. I AM NOT ALONE.

I never was.
And I NEVER will be.



Lord... YOU'VE gone before ALL OF THIS. YOU fight my EVERY BATTLE. I WILL NOT FEAR.
I will press against you. NOW. In this moment. This breath. And my next, if it comes.

YOU'VE RECEIVED ME. And CALLED ME... as your own.


YOU are my strength.
YOU are my refuge in THIS and all other storms.
You've ALWAYS been faithful. And you've NEVER broken a promise.

Forgive me for doubting this.
Forgive me for temporarily pushing you away.
Forgive me for forgetting that...

I.
AM.
NOT.

ALONE.

Cancer-Clean

I find myself nearly BEGGING God these days to take away the hurt.
It's so literally opposite of who I am and what I know of myself.

I am aware that some of the extreme and out-of-control swings of sadness are drug-related.

Yay.
Drugs.

What I wouldn't do to not have to take them, anymore.
Maybe I could finally lose this irritating 10 extra pounds I gained during chemo that insists on hanging around. Maybe the spider-veins that are beginning to pop up all over my legs would cease and the random numbness in my limbs from thick flowing blood would back off.
And maybe, just maybe, I'd be familiar with my emotions, again.
But the irony is that those very drugs are increasing my chances of a tomorrow.
AKA: Not optional.

As I said in a previous post, I am learning to grieve. I'm accepting that cancer caused a TON of loss and that it's ok to grieve that loss.
But just like that--maybe due largely in part to how un-emotional I know myself to be in the 'b.c' days--I am SO SICK OF IT.

I am so sick of feeling fine...Joy-filled...and then I blink, face some sort of 'trigger' and bam! My whole day is spent holding back tears. Seriously. I feel like I am a stranger to myself. My body is not mine, my emotions are not mine. After a while I find myself thinking... WHO THE HECK AM I, anyway?!!

Aaron is reading a book written by one of our former pastors on facing depressive tendencies and restoring Hope in your life. One of the things the author talks about is taking your thoughts captive. Thoughts that Satan wants nothing MORE than to consume you--your heart and mind--with and rip that Joy from you.
I pray this daily, anymore. Like I pray for my young sons by their request, every night ('Lord we bind the nightmares'), I am asking the Lord to BIND THE AWFUL THOUGHTS AND TRIGGERS for me.

I don't want to feel the way I do. I don't want to THINK the way I do, these days.
I'm just so sick of feeling like life is all. about. cancer.


It's funny, you go through this unfathomable journey, praying you'll someday hear the words 'Cancer Free' out of your doctor's mouth. Then that day comes. They look at you and say it. At first, you cry tears of relief and joy. You text everyone closest to you before proceeding to proclaim it from the mountain-tops on social media and anywhere you go in town! You spread the good news.. you believe and cling to it.

Those words: Cancer Free.

But there's a sad irony to those words. That second one in particular.
Free.
Ha!

One day you wake up with a symptom. A symptom from 'cancer management' drugs and procedures. Then another. And another. It doesn't take long before you lose count. And it takes even less time for you to really grasp how ridiculous that second word is.

Free.

Free of what?
Sure. You're free of (that 'they' know of, anyway) detected abnormal cells that are directly threatening your next breath. But, as I said during treatment, we ALL should be more aware of the fragility that is life. Human existence life, on this earth, anyway.
But free? Honestly, I've decided this is a very misleading terminology---particularly for onlookers who've never been here.
There is NO SUCH THING as cancer-free.
A) Cancer is anything BUT free (fiscally I mean!) to face and deal with. The fiscal repercussions never end. Truly. NEVER.
B) Being 'free' of cancer would mean that my memory of the last two years of physical, emotional, mental and sociological wrath could be wiped. While part of me is grateful this is not possible--there will always be a separate part of me that would give anything for it.

Being 'free' of cancer would mean:

I am comfortable looking at my scarred, unrecognizable chest in a mirror.
I am once again capable of talking about our beautiful children with my husband without wanting to burst into tears.
I accept my drug-induced, fast-aging body.
I can watch a movie that brings cancer into it's story-line and not want to rip the DVD out of the player and smash it to pieces.
I am able to talk out-loud about my cancer as openly as I once could.
I see God's Good in this, again, and rejoice in His plan instead of feel resentful of this journey and all that it's done to our me...and us.

While I know that none of these are possible without God, I do believe that He can BIND this, too. I have to be reminded, once again, that He is BIGGER than cancer.

Today, I pray that He FREES me... truly... of these things. I NEED this freedom.

Meantime, I am still renaming the clinical term. 

When people ask me... as far as we know, I am cancer-clean.

35...

Since turning 35 (half way through my 30's to 40!!! ...ugh) at the beginning of this month, I've noticed a pattern of uncontrollable 'sad days.' At first I thought it was just hormonal stuff--and I'm not just talking about monthly female stuff--I'm talking about the drugs I'm on daily that set things into all sorts of whack! But it dawned on me tonight, after scrolling my fb feed to see so many friends, around my age, having the last of their babies, that my new 'number' has been an extra big reminder of our circumstances. Not that it's not on my mind all the time, anyway, but 35 really is a door reached that's been on my biological and mental radar my entire adult life.

Certainly, I more than anyone, know *now* that plans and our human tendency to MAKE plans for everything are really, in some regard, a silly waste of time. GOD'S plan is the end-all regardless of what we think 'we know best.' But like most people--women in particular--I once had a plan. My plan (in conjunction with my spouse's approval, of course) was to have 3 or 4 kids, each a couple to a few years apart from one another and 'be done' by the time I turned 35. I'll never forget going to our ultrasound to find out if Linc was a boy or girl and as we were pulling up in our car, Aaron making me promise that even if he was a girl, we wouldn't be done. I remember how relieved it made me feel that my husband and father of my children still wanted 3 or 4, too.

As most of us know, 35 is not just some random number I chose. Research and medical-findings were my biggest reasonings. The fact that you begin drastically losing your fertility every year after 35 and the fact that the pregnancy complication/abnormality rates go way up after 35 were certainly my biggest drive. But also, just thinking about carrying a child, BIRTHING a child and HAVING ENERGY FOR a newborn and multiplied children after that age *errr...MY NOW AGE* was NOT what I wanted for myself. Us. Our kids.

Aaron seems to think I'm letting go of faith in the matter to rule out--assuming my health is still in good standing--adding to our family and having 'second generation' children, "someday." But honestly, it just seems so distant and it feels as though everything about cancer has been a 'waiting game' even though I've been soooooo ready for so MANY things to change, for so long. It makes me feel, sometimes, like we're never gonna live in any other house or town or ever 'progress' into something DIFFERENT. I even have the morbid thought, on occasion, that my cancer will come back and kill me and it will be in these very same walls that I will leave this world.
Sorry to be depressing. Just being honest.

I know it's horrible for me to even say out loud, but every time I see a post about someone expecting their third or forth baby...or even meet a mom who has three or more kids...I actually bellow up inside with some amount of hate for them.
Like I said. Horrible.
But I'm so angry that they got to have that--they got to meet that desire of a third or forth--and I didn't. The clincher is seeing families with two boys, trying for--and sometimes succeeding at getting that girl. OR seeing families have that 'perfect family' of two boys and two girls. Definitely gives me an inkling of a glimpse of how childless mothers-at-heart feel when seeing mom's with kids. I KNOW in my heart that I should be happy for them, but it's hard.

Anytime I post an entry directly or indirectly addressing this bleeding mama's heart of mine, I get two kinds of sweet-intentioned private messages: Friends and family who feel they must remind me of the 'two boys that I am blessed with' and friends and family who want to 'introduce' me to the idea of adopting--as though I wouldn't be happy adding to our family that way. But on the contrary, I would be so game for that route.. if it were even possible for us.
What many people don't realize is how hard it is to have a recent history of cancer and even get approved as a candidate. Sure, I know God moves mountains...I am aware that many out there have 'impossible' adoption stories...but it's just not our time. Not according to approval needs OR other.
Even just our current house size would hold us back. One of the reasons that when Linc was 2 1/2 and I was practically begging to have another, Aaron just didn't feel like we could. And these are outside of Aaron's reasonable argument of fear for adding another child to our family that could, someday be his and his ALONE to raise, too--given the worst case scenario happened with my health.

With Linc now being 5 and growing up so fast, the baby-stage is becoming a further and further distant past. Some days I think I wouldn't want to go back to diapers and highchairs and midnight feedings--even if I HAD the choice. Once you get so far removed from that... how could you?!


It's funny.
Out of all the wrath and toll that cancer has taken on me--on my heart--this is perhaps the deepest I feel God could allow me to be cut---outside of having one of my loved ones go through it instead of me, that is. If you'd of told me in my 20's that I'd have cancer at the age of 32, I might of had an extra blazing fire lit under me to make babies and make 'em fast, ha! But, I know that's just one of the reasons why we DON'T receive such head's up about life's challenges. If I'd of known, I'd of done everything in my power to 'soften the blow' on myself. Yet I do--deep down, past all the tears and throat clenching moments--understand, that the blow HAS to be hard if God is to implement in me the extreme change He is working on now.

I just wish it didn't hurt so darned bad...

Learning to grieve...

I think most people who have experienced something big and life-altering can agree that things are never the same, again--hence the term 'life-altering.'
Sure, it's easy for onlookers to see you back in your 'groove' and assume from what they see that you just climbed right back up onto the saddle and nothing's changed.
Don't I wish...EVERY MOMENT OF EVERY DAY... that that were the case.
What I wouldn't give to get a redo. Even just to get one day of my mid-twenties, early in our marriage, with my body INTACT.. where kids were an OPTION and our sex-life didn't remind me constantly that they aren't.. where looking at myself in the mirror didn't stare back a scarred mess.. where conversations of nursing and/or women's boobs didn't make me want to burst into tears. Just one day. To EMBRACE what I had way more than I did when I had the chance to.

You hear parents who've lost children say to others 'Embrace your children tighter tonight. Spend more time with them...as though it's your last opportunity to do so.'

In my case it's no different. Maybe it's a bit more awkward to say 'women, go caress yourselves--or better yet, let your hubby do so, and count your sensation-filled booby-blessings' but I say it, nonetheless.
Moms, as you nurse...especially if it's your third or forth or fifth child.......think about how you would feel if suddenly that weren't even an option. Or for that matter, as you stare into that precious little face while doing so, ponder how gut-wrenched you'd be if that baby wouldn't of happened...weren't made an option when you decided to conceive him or her. If that baby was never allowed to be born into your life.


Until recently, I never really considered these thoughts as anything but a negative and damaging focus that I 'shouldn't' have... but I have been blessed with a counselor recently who said something profound that I have tried to embrace: there are no 'shouldn'ts'...only 'do's.'
Maybe I 'shouldn't' feel saddened at the fact that my husband pretty much avoids my chest area because he knows I feel nothing. But I DO. Maybe I 'shouldn't' feel ripped apart after listening to hours and hours of nursing conversation had by family with small babies. But I DO. Maybe I 'shouldn't' mourn the loss of the future children I so DESPERATELY wanted to create with Aaron. But I DO.


You see, cancer creates losses. BIG ones.
And whenever we experience a loss, grief must ensue.

I've never been a super emotional person--exuberant and expressive, most definitely--but drama and/or lots of crying and, well, grief, just never really 'fit' my personality.
But as my counselor and I were just talking about recently, even my very person has been altered. Sure I still smile a lot, but there is so much hurt--along with gained wisdom and priceless hindsight--but lots of grief existent where there was none, before.
I can't change it. Believe me, I've tried. But the funny thing about grief is that it can't be controlled or caged and, in fact, when you try to do so with it, it only morphs and grows into areas of you that are deeper and even more fragile.
Nope. Embracing.


EMBRACING the need to scream at the mirror.
EMBRACING the need to cry at the sight of sweet little girls with their mommies.
EMBRACING the need to tell the Lord how ANGRY this all makes me feel.
EMBRACING writing on here, again.

My mom used to tell me as a young child that 'our tears are the window-washers of our soul.' You'd think having heard that most of my life that I would just EMBRACE my emotions, but instead, I do whatever I can to combat them and barrel through. I think that's some of the McGee hard-headedness in me. ;)

But as the days pass, I am realizing, the more I ALLOW myself to just FEEL WHAT AND HOW I FEEL..that grief is ok and in fact it's part of the process that leaves me in a much better place.

Yes. Slowly, but surely... I am learning.. to grieve.

Responding to BIG...

Three months and 16 days.
That's how long it's been since my fingers typed this website into my browser. Since I clicked the button 'New Post.' Since my heart hasn't hurt too much to do all of the above.


Traveling such a life-altering, shocking.. traumatic mountain leaves you in a very weird place. Like if you've ever taken a new trail through somewhere, parked your car on the 'other side' where you thought you'd come out at and then found yourself some time later at the exit...but your car isn't there...not because someone stole it, but because you actually took a different exit. Yes, you're back at the road... but where the heck are you?!
For people who have not been through something so big (and yes, I know that's broad...but I really do think their are categories under which life-challenges fall and 'big' is it's own 'animal' that not everyone faces in their lifetime)...they are left not ever fully being able to relate.
I speak specifically to the oh-so-popular comment which all of us 'big' category people know and hear, maybe too often: 'Wow, you just got through that! Now you can get back to living life as you were.. I'm so happy for you!'

My response?
Thank you. Thank you that you are happy for me to still be alive.

However, do not for one second fall stupid to the lie that life just picked up where it was the day before my diagnosis.
To that I say, ha.
Ha. Ha. Ha.
Oooooooh...hahahahahahahaha!

K. I'm done now. Wait.
hahahahahaha. Ha.
Really. Now I'm done.


*Sorry for that pause. I couldn't type for a second because I had to address the everlasting itch that are my breast-implants. I only do this about 76, 942 times a day. And that reminds me roughly 72, 912 times a day of cancer.

Don't worry. This blog isn't turning into Cynical Hayley Central.
I really am not wrought with anger. Honestly, sorrow is a much deeper evil that invades me, often, these days. But even that, I daily battle away with prayer and God's power...
because God is still Good and has given me MORE TIME TO LIVE. Don't for one second think that I take that for granted or let my sorrow overshadow that reality...That GIFT.
I don't.

But don't be fooled, either.
The wrath of 'big' is real. And I live it, every day.
MY LIFE WILL NEVER BE THE SAME.

I do plan on sharing more on this... specific things that have been too hard for me to speak much about up until now. And I will share them on here because this is my outlet. My journal. And it's FREEING to get them out. But not today.

Today, what I ask of anyone still visiting this blog--even if just myself--is to get better at listening. Instead of feeling the need to find something right to SAY----which I am beginning to realize is a response to our OWN need to feel like WE made the situation better----just listen.
Sit.
Embrace.
LISTEN.
Don't talk.
CRY WITH if you're so led.
But.. Listen.

I've seen a lot of 'big' on Facebook lately. Stories of terminal brain-cancer causing conflict over the choice of controlled suicide. Stories of wives losing there husband's suddenly to accidents unexpected and unforseen. Stories of young parents only getting to know their first, brand-new baby for only minutes before he dies.
Life-altering BIG..
And reading through the comments I see the usual: 'Praying for you'... 'I can't believe it'... 'I'm still in shock'... 'I'm so sorry.'

But it's comments like 'It was God's timing for him'... 'Glad he was a Believer'... 'I don't agree with her decision'... and 'They should have terminated earlier to save themselves the extra heartache' that just rub me the wrong way.

And then I realize. I'VE DONE THAT. Maybe not said that exact thing, but I've spoken OUTSIDE of the scenario---or what I am now going to start calling it to hold myself accountable, OUT OF TURN---and though I may not of had evil intentions and maybe even had decent ones, I should of LISTENED.
NOT SPOKEN.

Now you may be saying... well wait, how do I 'listen' when I'm commenting.
Yes. I've been asking God that lately, too.
And just tonight, He clarified.

You listen to Him. You listen to what words He gives you. Or maybe you listen to what He may of asked you to do for them. Maybe donate money? Or send a card? Or cook a meal..or three.
Or maybe ALL OF THE ABOVE.

For those of you out there who are good at following the bible's command to 'hold your tongue', bravo! You may not need to hear this from me. In fact, you may of already prayed with me or just hugged me tight the last time I saw you--without the need to risk saying something unknowingly foolish. Thank you. I have much to learn from you.

But for the rest of us, ESPECIALLY myself.. I am praying.

Lord... teach us to talk less and LISTEN MORE.
Teach us to reside by those in our life going through something big...not fearfully staying quiet...but truly, heeding Your voice that will guide us in meeting THEIR need.
Teach us to not need to relate or search hard for the right thing to say.
Because we may not need to say anything.
If we just... LISTEN.

Becoming MOM...

Hindsight is an amazing and sometimes bittersweet thing. When you're in a moment, you LIVE there, making it easy to take on the mindset that you know all there is to know about *insert life-subject here* and can finally live it out in the wise state it deserves.

Take motherhood, for example.
When our kids are young--and we are, also--it's easy for us to view things in stages. There's the newborn stage, one that many of us 'on the other side' now admit to going into 'survival mode' during. Then there's the toddler stage, which leaves many of us anticipating future accomplishments like 'when she's finally potty-trained' or 'when he can finally dress himself.' And then there's the stage that I, myself, am currently in...the child stage. Even still, with the hindsight of the previous years having simply flown by, I still catch myself, weekly, muttering 'when he'll finally stop chatting away at me non-stop' and 'when he'll be old enough to make himself his lunch,' *which by the way is a reality for our eldest now, sigh.*
We're ALL guilty of it. It is, of course, partially a response to our newfound selfLESS way of living...where a hot meal is a 'treat'...or for that matter, a meal that is not our children's left-overs is almost as good as a night out! And that 5+ minute un-interupted shower is a major privilege versus a short tease. It's a way of living that, before children, is just foreign.

What? Life's not about me and my basic.. let-alone, extended, needs?!

After the shell-shock wears off, many of us are equally guilty of holding onto 'what once was,' as though our children were sent to shackle up our previous way of life and dangle it in front to mock us. But this mindset, moms... THIS is where we go wrong.


People *including myself even* tell me on at least a weekly--if not daily--basis, that I can't focus on what my life was before cancer. It's a detriment to my future to constantly look back and dwell on it... and honestly, even viewing pictures and videos of how life was before it can be enough to send me into the tailspin.

As moms in the BLESSED THICK of mom-hood, when we sit around our houses, looking at our messy living-rooms and kitchens, perseverating on how clean it would've been only *insert kidless number of years here* years ago, we rip ourselves and our children off of that moment. When we walk into the laundry-room and stare at the big pile overflowing our hampers and allow ourselves to think about how near-empty that would otherwise be... if only our little rug-rats weren't here to dirty so many clothes...we rip ourselves and our children off of that moment.

You see, moms... to even say 'someday' is presumptuous. We don't know if tomorrow will even come. We don't know if even the next hour will be open and available for life's opportunities.

We just don't know.

And this UN-knowlegable state is the best mindset we can maintain! Having the hindsight that the days and years are fleeting is definitely important. But choosing to live IN THE NOW... focusing solely on our motherhood and nothing more, whether before or after it, is the key.

I myself am recently realizing that, while I became a mommy by title nearly 7 1/2 years ago, learning to be and embrace being a MOM takes a short lifetime of experience... and while you may think I'm referring to my lifetime... I'm actually referring to theirs, my children's. THEY are responsible for teaching me what being 'mom' really is, which means that the sooner I let go of my own 'agendas' and embrace what theirs are and how theirs intwine so beautifully with God's desires... the sooner my life can be filled with bigger, deeper and more extraordinary blessings than I, by myself, could've ever thought up or desired.


So today, when your 5-yr-old's five-millionth question of 'why' nearly pushes you over the edge... challenge yourself to engage in the 'conversation' and embrace what your child is doing for you in that moment, to expand who you are.
And if even after doing so, you still just can't let your SELF go, remember... you feel like you're in the thick because you are... you are being transformed from a previous, rather selfish mindset.


You.. are becoming.. MOM.