Dear Nella:
It's me, I mean, it's you from a year in the future. I know you're starting Chemo today, and I know you're really scared. I wanted to tell you it will be ok.
First of all, the baby is doing really well. As I/you type this, she's army crawling around trying to stuff her beautiful fat cheeks with choking hazards. Chemo is least of her safety concerns.
Second of all, yes, your skin is going to stop hurting. You're going to wear clothes without weeping inside and you won't be covered in sores and scabs and scars anymore. You're going to just throw on any old clothes, even jeans, and you won't have to figure out what will hurt the least and still cover up as much gross embarrassing skin as possible. You won't even notice or think about your skin except to notice that "Hey, I'm wearing clothes like a person and I totally forgot!". You have scars, but you don't really care, because you just don't.
I know you probably want some advice. I know you're scared about what you'll see today. We hate medical stuff and you're afraid that everyone will notice that you're trying to look at the ceiling without looking at all of the needles in everyone's arms everywhere. You'll get over it. You will never, however, be able to not look at the ceiling in the Phlebotomy area. But not to worry, that doesn't mean you're a wimp.
You're scared about how it will feel and if you'll be tough enough to handle it and still make everyone think you're good at having cancer. Please stop thinking that. There is no such thing as being good at having cancer and there is no such thing as being bad at having cancer. You're just a pregnant lady with cancer. It's wildly inappropriate for you to put that kind of pressure on yourself.
Which brings me to my next point. If something hurts or is uncomfortable TELL SOMEONE RIGHT AWAY. Don't second guess yourself and don't tell yourself you're being oversensitive and that other people go through worse things in their lives. Yes, they do, but you've given birth 4 times without drugs and you have a decent idea about whether or not you are in discomfort. Please save us from a lot of needless suffering. Please tell them when you're hurting instead of apologizing and explaining it away. Chemo isn't supposed to hurt. Well, the needle part hurts, but after that when they push the saline and start the bags it shouldn't hurt at all. When they push drugs into your IV with a syringe it should NOT hurt. You have ornery veins and when your chemo hurts it's because your line isn't in right, it's not because you're a whiny over-sensitive worthless baby. Those nurses have their jobs because of sick people like you. You are not inconveniencing them. Tell them it hurts.
Chemo tastes bad. Really bad. Actually the saline they flush your lines with tastes bad and one of your drugs (the one that's usually the last push) tastes like...methane. I guess that's the most delicate way to put it. It tastes kind of like toots. You will really need Jolly Ranchers for the saline and the toot one. When this is all over the smell of Jolly Ranchers will make you physically wretch which may not seem like a big deal because we always thought those were overrated anyway but kids eat them so you will have to smell it sometimes.
I almost forgot--be serious about germs please. Please be serious about germs and don't care what anyone thinks. The baby is ok but you had her early because you were not serious about germs. Let people laugh at you and judge you and then go ahead and be serious about germs.
Yes you will make it to Owen's first baseball game of the season tonight and no you won't throw up in a garbage can. You'll just feel gross and weird but it'll pass and it will be bizarre to think of what just happened and to realize nobody there has any clue.
Oh and you know that thing you want God to use your cancer to fix? It's not happening today or this week but don't give up. You might just have cancer because you have cancer and that's ok too. You're going to learn a lot.
That's all for now. I know you know it will be ok. You know it will be ok because of statistics and science. You know it will be ok if you don't land in the good part of the statistics because it will just still be ok because God. I want you to know the baby is ok. The kids are ok. Michael is ok.
I'll try to write to you before the next Chemo. Be gentle to yourself. God loves you.
Love,
Yourself
When I was 19 weeks pregnant with my 6th child I was diagnosed with Hodgkin's Lymphoma. I started Chemotherapy during pregnancy and we lived to tell the tale! But now the cancer is back. BOO! I'm having an Autologous Bone Marrow Transplant to get rid of it once and for all. So, um, yeah. This is my attempt to process it.
Showing posts with label Faith. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Faith. Show all posts
Thursday, May 1, 2014
Friday, February 28, 2014
7 Quick Takes: What You SHOULD Do For Someone Facing a Health Crisis
5 posts down, 2 to go!
I'm just chugging along and joining all the links ups I've been telling myself I should join and then never got around to it. Today I'm doing a double Fulwiler. I'm pretty sure that's what it's called in the biz. I'm doing 7 posts in 7 days AND since it's Friday I'm also doing:
Yesterday I talked about what you should NOT say to someone facing a health crisis. Thank you everyone who contributed to the conversation. I mentioned in that post that everyone faces difficulties differently and that that list was from my perspective. Well, after talking to my friend Sarah, you'll be surprised to see that 2 of my don'ts are also on my list of dos.
In order for this to make sense you need to know that my friend Sarah is a complete weirdo, otherwise known as an Extrovert. She took an MBTI personality quiz just so I could be 100% accurate on my blog because that's what good friends do, waste time on the internet for someone else's blog. Anyway, for reference, Sarah is an ESFJ and I am an INFP which means we are completely opposite except that we both favor Feeling over Thinking. All that to say, we are so so different from each other that our running joke is to call each other "Weirdo" and ask "How are we friends?", but we are dear dear friends. Anyhoo, Sarah told me today that she experiences "How are you?" and "I can't imagine" totally differently than what I described, and Sarah has faced some true hardship in her life. So, to make things really confusing, here are the things you SHOULD say or do for someone facing a health crisis:
1. Say "I can't imagine."
Confusing right? I know. I'm going to quote Sarah now (with her permission):
2. Ask "How are you?"
See above. I really don't know exactly what to think of this. It is so foreign to my personal instincts, but I do know Sarah and I know that if she were going through something difficult this would truly be an important way to love and support her. If Sarah is this way, I'm sure there are many others like her who read my advice yesterday and were like "What the heck?".
I think that after reflecting on reasons you should or should not say "I can't imagine." and "How are you?" the conclusion I've come to is this: if you know this person well, do what you think best fits their personality and what you know about them and that you aren't saying one of these things because it's what you would want or because it's what you want in that moment. If your goal is to love that person, even if your foot ends up in your mouth, you are still doing the right thing. So now, on to the rest of the list of things you should do:
3. Pray
I know that, even if you are a believer, there are times when praying doesn't seem like enough. There are times that "I'm praying for you." sounds trite and like something that people just say. Please, please, please, if you do nothing else, pray for their healing, pray for guidance, pray for their peace of mind, pray for comfort. Please pray. I cannot overstate the power of your prayers. I cannot overstate the tangible support and relief your prayers offer that no other gesture or statement can even touch. If you are not a believer, when you tell someone you are thinking of them, that you are sending love and light or good vibes, or a myriad of other similar sentiments, please do not doubt the efficacy of these offerings. Not only do these prayers and similar offerings lift up the recipient at that moment with their love, they truly have lasting effects. There is no real way for me to convey it except to say that up until my cancer diagnosis my belief in the power of prayer was largely on blind faith, but now, having walked through that valley, "I was blind but now I see". "The power of prayer" is not a catchy phrase, it is the most egregious understatement of all time. In fact, prayers and well wishes and good intentions are the reason that "you can't imagine", because when you try to imagine it you are not factoring in the effects of the very real prayers and grace you will benefit from when you are in the thick of it. It is beyond human understanding. So please, if you do absolutely nothing else, pray pray pray and rest assured you have contributed the single most important thing you have.
4. Reach Out
If you hear that someone you know is facing a crisis, even if you haven't spoken to them in a very long time, even if you only know each other through friends of friends, even if you've never actually met them in real life--if you feel moved to reach out to them to offer encouragement, just do it. Don't worry that it will be weird, or awkward, or intruding. I know that after all I've said about being private and introverted and concerned about burdening people this sounds counter-intuitive, but so many people reached out to me in big and little ways after many years and over many miles and every single time it was so uplifting. Send a card, a note, a Facebook message, an email, a tweet, whatever. Don't feel weird. I felt so loved and supported and I was delighted every time someone reached out to me to say "I'm thinking of you, I'm praying for you, I'm here for you.".
I should be banned from Google Images. Moving on.
I'm just chugging along and joining all the links ups I've been telling myself I should join and then never got around to it. Today I'm doing a double Fulwiler. I'm pretty sure that's what it's called in the biz. I'm doing 7 posts in 7 days AND since it's Friday I'm also doing:
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| Also hosted by Jen Fulwiler |
In order for this to make sense you need to know that my friend Sarah is a complete weirdo, otherwise known as an Extrovert. She took an MBTI personality quiz just so I could be 100% accurate on my blog because that's what good friends do, waste time on the internet for someone else's blog. Anyway, for reference, Sarah is an ESFJ and I am an INFP which means we are completely opposite except that we both favor Feeling over Thinking. All that to say, we are so so different from each other that our running joke is to call each other "Weirdo" and ask "How are we friends?", but we are dear dear friends. Anyhoo, Sarah told me today that she experiences "How are you?" and "I can't imagine" totally differently than what I described, and Sarah has faced some true hardship in her life. So, to make things really confusing, here are the things you SHOULD say or do for someone facing a health crisis:
1. Say "I can't imagine."
Confusing right? I know. I'm going to quote Sarah now (with her permission):
I know I say that one but I don't feel like I say it in a way that is looking to be comforted. I say it in a "I have never gone through what you have been through so I can't say that I understand so I am not going to pretend I do."...I feel like it is annoying when someone acts like they understand your situation when they really don't.I get what Sarah is saying here. I don't think anyone who says this is purposefully trying to make the patient or caregiver they are talking to comfort them. I know they are trying the exact opposite, and I stand corrected, because for some it really is a sentiment they appreciate hearing. Sarah went on to say that when people expressed this sentiment to her it made her feel like she wasn't carrying her difficulties alone. I guess a good policy is to reflect on what you know about the person who's facing the health crisis. If you don't know them, my instinct is to just stick with "I'm sorry you're going through this".
2. Ask "How are you?"
See above. I really don't know exactly what to think of this. It is so foreign to my personal instincts, but I do know Sarah and I know that if she were going through something difficult this would truly be an important way to love and support her. If Sarah is this way, I'm sure there are many others like her who read my advice yesterday and were like "What the heck?".
I think that after reflecting on reasons you should or should not say "I can't imagine." and "How are you?" the conclusion I've come to is this: if you know this person well, do what you think best fits their personality and what you know about them and that you aren't saying one of these things because it's what you would want or because it's what you want in that moment. If your goal is to love that person, even if your foot ends up in your mouth, you are still doing the right thing. So now, on to the rest of the list of things you should do:
3. Pray
I know that, even if you are a believer, there are times when praying doesn't seem like enough. There are times that "I'm praying for you." sounds trite and like something that people just say. Please, please, please, if you do nothing else, pray for their healing, pray for guidance, pray for their peace of mind, pray for comfort. Please pray. I cannot overstate the power of your prayers. I cannot overstate the tangible support and relief your prayers offer that no other gesture or statement can even touch. If you are not a believer, when you tell someone you are thinking of them, that you are sending love and light or good vibes, or a myriad of other similar sentiments, please do not doubt the efficacy of these offerings. Not only do these prayers and similar offerings lift up the recipient at that moment with their love, they truly have lasting effects. There is no real way for me to convey it except to say that up until my cancer diagnosis my belief in the power of prayer was largely on blind faith, but now, having walked through that valley, "I was blind but now I see". "The power of prayer" is not a catchy phrase, it is the most egregious understatement of all time. In fact, prayers and well wishes and good intentions are the reason that "you can't imagine", because when you try to imagine it you are not factoring in the effects of the very real prayers and grace you will benefit from when you are in the thick of it. It is beyond human understanding. So please, if you do absolutely nothing else, pray pray pray and rest assured you have contributed the single most important thing you have.
4. Reach Out
If you hear that someone you know is facing a crisis, even if you haven't spoken to them in a very long time, even if you only know each other through friends of friends, even if you've never actually met them in real life--if you feel moved to reach out to them to offer encouragement, just do it. Don't worry that it will be weird, or awkward, or intruding. I know that after all I've said about being private and introverted and concerned about burdening people this sounds counter-intuitive, but so many people reached out to me in big and little ways after many years and over many miles and every single time it was so uplifting. Send a card, a note, a Facebook message, an email, a tweet, whatever. Don't feel weird. I felt so loved and supported and I was delighted every time someone reached out to me to say "I'm thinking of you, I'm praying for you, I'm here for you.".
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| Let's get practical, practical... |
5. Meals
Who doesn't love food? The Terrorists. No really, this is a 1/2 brainer. I was going to say no brainer but there are a few things you should keep in mind to make this as easy and helpful as possible. First of all, be sure you know of any dietary restrictions. After you know what the family can and cannot eat, it's great to coordinate with others as much as possible. When the enormity of our situation became apparent, some dear friends (including the previously mentioned Sarah), got together to plan amongst themselves how they could best serve our family. The idea they came up with was genius. Very often when a Mom has a baby, her friends and others around her will put together a calendar using a program like Care Calendar. This is a great option, but when a family is facing something that will last more than a month or two, it can become really difficult to manage continuous, consistent help no matter how badly you want to. If you have young kids and all of your friends do, which is our situation, no matter how much you'd like to think you could keep up the pace of providing meals for months on end, it is really difficult. My super smart friends figured out that if everyone who wanted to contribute meals made a frozen meal or two and dropped them at the homes of a few "Meal Coordinators" who had deep freezers, many more people could contribute consistently over the long term. It eliminated the hassle of trying to get a meal ready on a certain day for a certain time when lets face it, it's hard to do that for your own family most of the time. It made it possible that on a day when things were going well in one of my friends homes and things were clicking along they could double or triple the recipe they were already making and freeze it and voila, they fed our family for a few nights instead of just one. It eliminated the hassle of moms with young families having to pile everyone into the car during the crazy dinner hour. It also offered more privacy to my family during a time when things were constantly disrupted. Once a week one of my "Meal Coordinator" friends would email me and say "How many meals do you want this week?" and then would drop off what we needed. That way, if Michael was home and wanted to cook (because he is amazing like that), he could do that and we could use the meals when it was best for us without worrying about anything going to waste. What if you want to drop a fresh meal? What a treat! That is always welcome too.
What if you're far away? Well, one of the most humbling gestures I received was from a dear lady I used to cheer with in college who now lives far from me. I was not always very kind to this loving soul. It shames me to say that. She got in touch with another dear friend who is still near me and arranged to have a whole Panera Bread lunch sent to me so that I wouldn't have to worry about getting lunch around for the kids one afternoon. I can't begin to express what a fun, generous blessing this was to receive. So if you're far away, send something! We also received edible arrangements and grocery store gift cards and grocery bags full of staples and all were such blessings. All of these things lightened our load and helped us to focus more on the task of getting better and to focus on each other rather than the practical aspects of feeding our family.
6. Hire Someone To Do Housecleaning
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| I'm not very adept with PicMonkey yet. PS, this is not really my house but all Moms know how fast this could happen. |
The other amazing thing that Weirdo Sarah (xoxo) arranged for us was weekly housecleaning. You read that right. She collected money and arranged for a very adorable, very sweet, very efficient young lady to come to our house for 3 hours every week to clean up. In those three hours she picked up, vacuumed and washed our downstairs floors (our entire downstairs is tile and hardwood), cleaned the downstairs 1/2 bath and the kids full bathroom upstairs, vacuumed the stairs and upstairs hallway, wiped down my kitchen cabinets and island bar stools. If it had not been for her our house really would have looked like that picture up there. Moms out there I know you feel me. Even if you can't manage to get together funds for a weekly cleaning like this, even if it's just one time, it is such a blessing. You don't need to hire a professional service, find a college or high school student. Ask around at your church, your local Newman Center, or a local homeschool group. This kind of help isn't always easy to accept, but it is vital, especially when a young family is facing a crisis.
7. Expect Nothing In Return
The kind of whirlwind that ensues when you or a loved one gets a life changing diagnosis is all consuming. Sometimes you will send a note or an email or a gift and hear nothing. I'm still haunted by times I've not responded to kindness in a timely manner. In my case the reason for this is two fold, first, because when part of the time you are not capable of much of anything but the very bare minimum (at times the bare minimum being opening your eyes) and the rest of the time you're playing catch up and trying to make things slightly normal for the rest of your family a LOT falls through the cracks and you don't want it to be that way. The other reason is that just like you don't know what to say and it all seems like not enough, there are no words this side of heaven that can adequately express this level of gratitude. If I could lay prostrate on the ground kissing the feet of every person who has extended their love, generosity, and support to me and my family during this time and I could do it without it being The Most Awkward Thank You Of All Time I would do it and it would not come close to showing my most humble, passionate gratitude. I want to do big things for every person who has loved us through this in ways big and small and yet there is nothing big enough. It is paralyzing. So, if you say something or do something and the recipient doesn't respond how you expected, have mercy.
Also, you may say something that is totally kind, right, loving, and perfectly suited to the persons needs and they might be having a tough day or just be overcome in that moment by what they are facing and they might cry, or be mad, or ignore you, and it will have nothing to do with you. They are going through a difficult time and sometimes when faced with adversity we are very very strong, and sometimes we just lose our damn minds. So please, have mercy.
I hope this list is a bit helpful. As I wrote this I realized that those of us who have faced a health crisis or other significant hardship and those of you who haven't are all in the same boat. We each want to express feelings and intentions to the other that words cannot adequately communicate. When someone faces an illness or other crisis we want to help so badly, we want it to go away, we can't stand the thought of someone facing it and it is scary to think it whatever it is could really happen so close to us. I get it. I remember. In fact, even now, having walked through my own outlandish difficulty, I feel powerless to do what I really want to do, which is take it from them--to make it disappear in an instant. We all want to know what the perfect thing is to say or do and I started this list with the intention of tying it all up with a bow for you, but I'm reminded now of why we all short circuit when we hear of another's suffering--it is because we are powerless to stop it and anything short of stopping it seems puny and insignificant. Well, if you get nothing else from this list, please take away this: you can't take it away, but your efforts no matter how imperfect, are not insignificant.
Love is never insignificant.
These takes were not quick. Back to you readers...what would you like to add?
Wednesday, October 2, 2013
You. GUYS!!!!!
I'm getting Chemo today. My hair is falling out. But I don't care because today we found out my scans were clear. Which means...
REMISSION!!!!
I have one more treatment in two weeks and some scans and blah blah healthcare blah but I'm almost done. I'm almost done. I'M ALMOST DONE!!!!!
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| Dude. I know! |
Thank you for your prayers. Thank you for your support. Thank you for your encouragement.
Thank you Jesus.
I have to go get the Chemo now to make sure no biological rock is left unturned but I just HAD to tell you. Because seriously, REMISSION!!!
Wednesday, September 25, 2013
Where The Rubber Meets The Road
I wrote this to clean out the clutter in my brain and to ask for prayers. It's hard to declutter my brain right now because Chemo is making it very cloudy and messy and it's hard work to think or put together words at all. If you don't want to read through my mental dust pile you can skip it but I'd appreciate if you'd just say a prayer for me.
I'm having a PET scan today. As I write this I've already gotten through my first needle of the day because I had my mid-cycle blood work done about an hour ago. Thankfully my blood came out willingly this time so that's positive. I was anticipating a lot of digging around and playing musical phlebotomists so I'm really relieved to have it behind me.
I'm getting tired guys. I'm physically tired because of the Chemo, but I am getting so mentally and emotionally exhausted. God willing (biology cooperating?), I have only 2 treatments left. In the beginning I had anxiety over the unknown. I thought that with time and experience I would become desensitized and that the desensitization would mean that by the end of my cancer treatment I'd be an "old pro". Being an "old pro" in my mind meant I would reach a point where getting poked with needles and other medical procedures that were previously challenging would become no different than shaking someones hand.
Instead, I'm experiencing some kind of increasing hypersensitivity. It makes sense--my body is registering that it is being poisoned and is rebelling, big time. I'm in an almost constant state of fight or flight and anything hospital related, even just figuring out who will pick up the girls from school elicits powerful nausea, physical shakes, and tears welling up in my eyes. Sometimes I'm not doing anything cancer related but suddenly I'm tasting saline like I do when they flush my IV at chemo even though that's impossible, because I don't have an IV and I'm safe at home. Sometimes the aching in my arms makes it so that all I can think about is being poked with needles, but they are not willful thoughts. When these things happen I feel like such a loser. I feel so out of control. I feel like I should be able to make it stop or that if I was being truly positive and truly brave none of those things would happen at all.
And yet, I am being poisoned. It is good poison. It is saving my life. Unfortunately, none of that changes that my body only knows it's being poisoned, and it wants out. My body is begging me to run away and save it from the poison and it's pulling out all the stops to try to force my hand: anxiety, nausea, flashbacks, exhaustion, anger, dizziness, you name it. No matter what it tries, I have to tell it no and walk back into the fray over and over. My body and I, we are at war with each other right now and it's hard because it's a fight I can't escape. Not only can I not escape it, each skirmish leaves me feeling less capable of fighting the next. I feel less capable, but I am NOT less capable. In the fight between body and spirit, I will only allow my spirit to win, but gosh it's hard.
In the beginning my cancer was essentially an intellectual exercise. The idea that I have about an 80% chance of surviving 5 years after my diagnosis sounded like a guarantee. It was so easy to be positive when cancer was an idea and the discomforts were minimal and fleeting. Now cancer is very real and relentless and believing I'll beat it takes a great deal more convincing. 80% isn't as comforting anymore. I do still believe I will be ok, but it is hard work to believe. I'm believing it because it's the right thing to do. This is seriously where the rubber meets the road when it comes to meditating on my blessings and turning to my faith. It's easy to think that those things aren't working anymore when the fight starts to really challenge me so aggressively. It's easy to think I was being naive and that those things never actually worked at all when I'm experiencing fear or despair or pain or I can't be totally in control of my thoughts and feelings. I wasn't being naive. Meditating on my blessings and turning to my faith are working and they always worked because I keep doing what I have to do, no matter how I feel.
I'm having a PET scan today and a CAT scan on Friday. The results will determine if I really do only have 2 treatments left or if I'll need more. Please, God, please don't let me have more. I don't know how I can possibly take any more. I don't know how I can possibly keep forcing myself to believe if they say I still need treatment. I don't know how, but if I have to, I will. I will do whatever it takes to kill my cancer. I will keep believing we're killing the cancer no matter what those PET and CAT scans say.
Can you do me a favor? Could you pray for me? It really helps, and I really need it.
I'm having a PET scan today. As I write this I've already gotten through my first needle of the day because I had my mid-cycle blood work done about an hour ago. Thankfully my blood came out willingly this time so that's positive. I was anticipating a lot of digging around and playing musical phlebotomists so I'm really relieved to have it behind me.
I'm getting tired guys. I'm physically tired because of the Chemo, but I am getting so mentally and emotionally exhausted. God willing (biology cooperating?), I have only 2 treatments left. In the beginning I had anxiety over the unknown. I thought that with time and experience I would become desensitized and that the desensitization would mean that by the end of my cancer treatment I'd be an "old pro". Being an "old pro" in my mind meant I would reach a point where getting poked with needles and other medical procedures that were previously challenging would become no different than shaking someones hand.
Instead, I'm experiencing some kind of increasing hypersensitivity. It makes sense--my body is registering that it is being poisoned and is rebelling, big time. I'm in an almost constant state of fight or flight and anything hospital related, even just figuring out who will pick up the girls from school elicits powerful nausea, physical shakes, and tears welling up in my eyes. Sometimes I'm not doing anything cancer related but suddenly I'm tasting saline like I do when they flush my IV at chemo even though that's impossible, because I don't have an IV and I'm safe at home. Sometimes the aching in my arms makes it so that all I can think about is being poked with needles, but they are not willful thoughts. When these things happen I feel like such a loser. I feel so out of control. I feel like I should be able to make it stop or that if I was being truly positive and truly brave none of those things would happen at all.
And yet, I am being poisoned. It is good poison. It is saving my life. Unfortunately, none of that changes that my body only knows it's being poisoned, and it wants out. My body is begging me to run away and save it from the poison and it's pulling out all the stops to try to force my hand: anxiety, nausea, flashbacks, exhaustion, anger, dizziness, you name it. No matter what it tries, I have to tell it no and walk back into the fray over and over. My body and I, we are at war with each other right now and it's hard because it's a fight I can't escape. Not only can I not escape it, each skirmish leaves me feeling less capable of fighting the next. I feel less capable, but I am NOT less capable. In the fight between body and spirit, I will only allow my spirit to win, but gosh it's hard.
In the beginning my cancer was essentially an intellectual exercise. The idea that I have about an 80% chance of surviving 5 years after my diagnosis sounded like a guarantee. It was so easy to be positive when cancer was an idea and the discomforts were minimal and fleeting. Now cancer is very real and relentless and believing I'll beat it takes a great deal more convincing. 80% isn't as comforting anymore. I do still believe I will be ok, but it is hard work to believe. I'm believing it because it's the right thing to do. This is seriously where the rubber meets the road when it comes to meditating on my blessings and turning to my faith. It's easy to think that those things aren't working anymore when the fight starts to really challenge me so aggressively. It's easy to think I was being naive and that those things never actually worked at all when I'm experiencing fear or despair or pain or I can't be totally in control of my thoughts and feelings. I wasn't being naive. Meditating on my blessings and turning to my faith are working and they always worked because I keep doing what I have to do, no matter how I feel.
I'm having a PET scan today and a CAT scan on Friday. The results will determine if I really do only have 2 treatments left or if I'll need more. Please, God, please don't let me have more. I don't know how I can possibly take any more. I don't know how I can possibly keep forcing myself to believe if they say I still need treatment. I don't know how, but if I have to, I will. I will do whatever it takes to kill my cancer. I will keep believing we're killing the cancer no matter what those PET and CAT scans say.
Can you do me a favor? Could you pray for me? It really helps, and I really need it.
Thursday, August 15, 2013
Like A Toddler With A String Cheese
Yesterday Adam woke up from his nap in a mood. You know when toddlers wake up and they decide they want everything and nothing simultaneously RIGHT NOW? It was that kind of mood. I picked him up out of his crib and he was doing that whiny cry and he put his head on my shoulder. For 2 seconds. Then he started the back arch gravity drop but not the full back arch gravity drop. He did the initiation of the back arch gravity drop that causes you as an experienced parent to start to put them down so they can toddle merrily on their way. Wrong move idiot.
Responding to the back arch gravity drop cue resulted in a blood curdling "NOOOOO!!!!! Mooooommmmommmmm!!!!". So this is how we're going to play it. I reversed course and scooted him back up the 1/2 a millimeter I had shifted him down because when you start playing this game 2 year olds become like highly sensitive scientific equipment capable of detecting phenomena at the molecular level. This whole interaction may not have even occurred on any physically perceptible level, it happened so fast. As soon as I scooted him back up he started the back arch gravity drop and around we went. So I did what any veteran parent does who wants to teach their children to deal with their unpleasant emotions in a functional manner...I brought him downstairs and tried to distract him with a snack. Future food issues anyone? As long as they come with a side of cheese. In Adam's case, string cheese. Lately string cheese has been Adam's fave. I won't even begin to tell you the rate at which he can put those down.
So we went to the fridge and he freaked out over opening the fridge himself. So I tried to put him down so he could open it himself. So he freaked out over me trying to put him down and did the super abs thing where they lift their feet higher and higher as you lower their butt closer and closer to the floor.
So I opened the fridge and got the cheese and tried to set him down to open it so he freaked out and did the abs thing again. So I just handed him the string cheese because sometimes when he's feeling reasonable he likes to try to open things himself and he tries for a short time and then he asks me to do it for him. I figured it would just go like that. Seriously. Idiot. Hold on to your hats people, it did not go like that.
Adam would put the string cheese in my face and yell: "CHISS!" which I would interpret as "Mother, please open this string cheese." and so I would start to take it from him to open it "NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!". sigh. "CHISS!" Mommy attempts to open it. "NOOOOOOOO!" SIGH. "CHISS!!!!!" Mommy attempts to open it. "NOOOOOOOO!!!!" On and on and on and on and on. Until he was in college. Actually for like 10-15 minutes, I'm not sure. Did I mention my Mom was watching this whole thing unfold? For some people Karma is a b****. For my Mom Karma is a rainbow butterfly who hands out all the candy you want. Which is what she deserves. She observed this whole scene with a mixture of pity and amusement, with tears in her eyes while trying to stifle a laugh. You know what? Right on, Mom. I get you. I'm sorry for every time I did that to you. You are a saint. A saint who gets to taste the sweet sweet nectar of revenge but takes pity on her former attacker.
What is this about? Are you going to turn into one of those Mom bloggers who're all like "Toddlers are unreasonable jerks woe is me? No, I won't, because it hit me last night that I am God's unreasonable toddler. Look at this girl:
Avery continues to grow and progress every day. Just like I've been begging God for her to do. She is doing really well. In the next few days she will be moving to an open crib and she has reached the 5lb mark. She is beginning to learn to feed from a bottle and doing so well with it she gets to try 4 times a day. They are beginning the process of removing her from respiratory support by reducing the flow in her nasal cannula and just today they stopped giving her caffeine. Which as an aside: I find hilarious. Premature infants sometimes need caffeine to help them remember to breathe. You and me both, Avery.
When they took her off of the ventilator and switched her to the air flow in the nasal cannula it was scary because her respiratory rate on the monitor didn't look perfect and predictable like a robot anymore. It looked variable like all human activities do. It went fast and then slow and then sometimes she would just be like "meh, breathing is dumb" and take a short break and I would FREAK OUT and the nurses would assure me everything was fine. I'm sorry but there is nothing fine about that and I don't care how fine it is. It's scary. But she continues to handle it well and they continue to wean her off of support and all my prayers are being answered.
I begged God to help my little girl outgrow those machines when she really wasn't ready (CHISS!!!), and now that she needs them less and less everyday I'm getting scared about the idea of her doing it all on her own (NNNOOOOOOO!!!!). I begged God to be able to bring her home (CHISS!!!) and now that we are moving closer to that goal I'm not so sure I'm ready (NNNNNOOOOOO!!!!!!). Poor God. It's a good thing he's so patient and loving. Oh. Right. He is patience and love.
Adam and I did the string cheese dance for awhile. He just hadn't felt right since he woke up from his nap. Maybe the girls playing woke him up before he was ready, maybe he was teething, maybe his bottom was sore, maybe he just had a bunch of big feelings and didn't know what to do with them. I held him for a long time and offered to open that damn cheese for what felt like a very long time. Eventually, between sitting in my lap and seeing that Mom would respond with love and patience (on the outside) no matter what, Adam calmed down. Eventually he toddled off to entertain himself for awhile.
I haven't felt right for a while and I've had big feelings I didn't know what to do with. I asked God for things and when they seem to start happening I get more feelings I don't know what to do with. God is so patient with me. He loves me even when I start to turn from the very things I asked for. He loves me even though my first instinct when things happen that I don't understand is "Where are you God?". He knows we will do this dance until the day I die, and He sits with me and is present with me anyway. He loves His unreasonable toddler.
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| Judge Judy saw this next part coming from a mile away. |
So we went to the fridge and he freaked out over opening the fridge himself. So I tried to put him down so he could open it himself. So he freaked out over me trying to put him down and did the super abs thing where they lift their feet higher and higher as you lower their butt closer and closer to the floor.
 |
| Like this with less attention to form and more rage. |
Adam would put the string cheese in my face and yell: "CHISS!" which I would interpret as "Mother, please open this string cheese." and so I would start to take it from him to open it "NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!". sigh. "CHISS!" Mommy attempts to open it. "NOOOOOOOO!" SIGH. "CHISS!!!!!" Mommy attempts to open it. "NOOOOOOOO!!!!" On and on and on and on and on. Until he was in college. Actually for like 10-15 minutes, I'm not sure. Did I mention my Mom was watching this whole thing unfold? For some people Karma is a b****. For my Mom Karma is a rainbow butterfly who hands out all the candy you want. Which is what she deserves. She observed this whole scene with a mixture of pity and amusement, with tears in her eyes while trying to stifle a laugh. You know what? Right on, Mom. I get you. I'm sorry for every time I did that to you. You are a saint. A saint who gets to taste the sweet sweet nectar of revenge but takes pity on her former attacker.
What is this about? Are you going to turn into one of those Mom bloggers who're all like "Toddlers are unreasonable jerks woe is me? No, I won't, because it hit me last night that I am God's unreasonable toddler. Look at this girl:
 |
| She's wearing a T-shirt and using a Pacifier! |
When they took her off of the ventilator and switched her to the air flow in the nasal cannula it was scary because her respiratory rate on the monitor didn't look perfect and predictable like a robot anymore. It looked variable like all human activities do. It went fast and then slow and then sometimes she would just be like "meh, breathing is dumb" and take a short break and I would FREAK OUT and the nurses would assure me everything was fine. I'm sorry but there is nothing fine about that and I don't care how fine it is. It's scary. But she continues to handle it well and they continue to wean her off of support and all my prayers are being answered.
I begged God to help my little girl outgrow those machines when she really wasn't ready (CHISS!!!), and now that she needs them less and less everyday I'm getting scared about the idea of her doing it all on her own (NNNOOOOOOO!!!!). I begged God to be able to bring her home (CHISS!!!) and now that we are moving closer to that goal I'm not so sure I'm ready (NNNNNOOOOOO!!!!!!). Poor God. It's a good thing he's so patient and loving. Oh. Right. He is patience and love.
Adam and I did the string cheese dance for awhile. He just hadn't felt right since he woke up from his nap. Maybe the girls playing woke him up before he was ready, maybe he was teething, maybe his bottom was sore, maybe he just had a bunch of big feelings and didn't know what to do with them. I held him for a long time and offered to open that damn cheese for what felt like a very long time. Eventually, between sitting in my lap and seeing that Mom would respond with love and patience (on the outside) no matter what, Adam calmed down. Eventually he toddled off to entertain himself for awhile.
I haven't felt right for a while and I've had big feelings I didn't know what to do with. I asked God for things and when they seem to start happening I get more feelings I don't know what to do with. God is so patient with me. He loves me even when I start to turn from the very things I asked for. He loves me even though my first instinct when things happen that I don't understand is "Where are you God?". He knows we will do this dance until the day I die, and He sits with me and is present with me anyway. He loves His unreasonable toddler.
Saturday, August 10, 2013
What I'm Trying To Accept About Michael's Second Wife
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| This is my most favorite picture from our Wedding. My sister in law Ruth took it and I keep it in a frame by my kitchen sink so I can look at it all the time. It's our first step into married life. Corny, I know, but I love it. It's sustained some water damage because it's near the sink. I'm kinda sad it's like that but I'm proud that we've been married long enough to have a wedding photo that needs heavy duty restoration. |
Because of cancer I've spent some time thinking about what might happen for Michael after me. Have you ever seen those stories on the Today Show or whatever about these married couples where they each lose their spouse to some illness and then find each other and get married and blend their families and live happily ever after? Oh and P.S. they were able to have peace about it because one of the deceased spouses left the remaining remarried spouse a letter or video or something saying "It's OK, I love you I want you to be happy" because they are not selfish childish jerks and they are courageous, kind and loving? I've seen them too and I want to like them but I hate them because it makes me realize I don't think I could do that. At least not yet. I want to be able to love Michael that much, that selflessly--but not yet, don't worry.
My "book club" can attest to the fact that this has
I just love Michael SO MUCH. So much that when I really think about it I can hardly breathe. The thought of him falling in love with someone else, even after I die, is physically painful. I love him so much that I can't stand the thought of not being with him forever and ever amen. He is the love of my life and the best friend I will ever have and we have been through SO MUCH and built SO MUCH and now this broad is going to come traipsing along and...and do what? Love an amazing man? Who deserves to be loved? Who I promised 12 years ago to love and honor all the days of my life? How am I loving and honoring him all the days of my life if I am begrudging him what is best for him for his WHOLE life no matter what that entails? More than that, how am I loving and honoring him if I'm spending even one minute of the time that we are together thinking about this hypothetical woman?
If I'm being honest, part of the reason I hate her is that if I were to kick the bucket before him and he were to remarry, that means she's walking around out there right now. And seriously? That's pretty threatening. Someone could be walking around out there who Michael could love. Ouch. What if he met her too soon on accident? What if we know her right now? Well, ouch again. But what a narcissistic fear to cling to, and how horribly disrespectful to Michael. Aside from the fact that the only loving choice is to pray that he could find love again, I'm disregarding that Michael promised to love and honor me 'til death do us part. So even if he did meet her before I died it wouldn't matter. He is a good man. He is an honorable man. He promised to be true to me and that should be all I need to know. It IS all I need to know. I married a good man who promised freely to be true to me in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. He didn't just say those words because he was told to, he has lived them everyday for 12 years even though the bad and the sickness have been more than our young naive minds could have anticipated on our wedding day. This is not a man who should have a wife who would begrudge him love and companionship for his whole life because she is too selfish and insecure to truly want the best for him at all times, no matter what that means.
So. Someday, when I'm 90 and Michael and I are on our porch somewhere and I'm practicing my shuffle off to buffalo tap step in my fringey dance costume and my best wig and I lose my balance and fall off the porch and it's literally curtains for me, I hope I'll be prepared. I have no doubt the rest of those old bags in my dance troupe will be circling Michael as soon as the crudite is put out at my lovely bereavement brunch. They will have seen that he's a good looking guy for 93, doesn't talk much, is quite tolerant of too much talking, and will come to tap dance performances if there will be food and he can bring his puzzles. They will know he has loving children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren and they will know it is because he is such a good man. Those ladies will know they'd better capitalize on the fact that Nella is out of the picture, because even at 93, Michael will still be a man many women would give anything to share a life with.
I know I can't attack Michael's future wife in Heaven because that's not how Heaven works. Heaven is a state of being in perfect union with God who is pure love. If I can get in there, I will be able to love purely and freely in a way my puny human mind and heart can't understand right now. If Michael ever remarries, I'm going to trust that God will have mercy on this poor sinner and see that I love Michael as much as is humanly possible and He will help me to look down from heaven and smile and tap dance and rejoice that he is loving and being loved. If I love Michael as much as I promised I would, it must be my most desperate hope everyday that his life is always the very best God has in store for him, no matter what or who that might mean. If I truly love Michael I have to let go of this impulse to make our love about me, when it should always be about wanting the greatest good for him.
We are 12 years into this crazy life together and they have been 12 years that have included the greatest pain I have ever known, but also the greatest joy. They have been 12 years of stretching our hearts to accommodate the love that continues to grow in our marriage. Heart stretching can really hurt, but it always pays off. Michael and I have decided (or I have proclaimed and he concurred) that we are going to celebrate our 75th wedding anniversary together someday. I will be 96 and he will be 99. So I guess I'll be 96 when I tap dance off the porch. Poor Michael will probably be thinking "How did I get mixed up with a crazy broad who was stubborn enough to think she could still shift her weight from foot to foot that fast at age 96?" and then he'll probably shake his head and fix my wig before the paramedics get there because he is the best. Hopefully 63 more years will be enough time to love him as much as he deserves, to bless him just barely enough for how much he has blessed me in only 12. Hopefully I'll stretch my heart enough in those years to make it to heaven devoid of the impulse to search for a celestial two by four, because Michael deserves every ounce of love the human soul is capable of this side of heaven, and so much more.
Happy Anniversary Michael, from your future geriatric tap dancer. I love you so much and will work hard everyday for the rest of our lives to love you more.
We are 12 years into this crazy life together and they have been 12 years that have included the greatest pain I have ever known, but also the greatest joy. They have been 12 years of stretching our hearts to accommodate the love that continues to grow in our marriage. Heart stretching can really hurt, but it always pays off. Michael and I have decided (or I have proclaimed and he concurred) that we are going to celebrate our 75th wedding anniversary together someday. I will be 96 and he will be 99. So I guess I'll be 96 when I tap dance off the porch. Poor Michael will probably be thinking "How did I get mixed up with a crazy broad who was stubborn enough to think she could still shift her weight from foot to foot that fast at age 96?" and then he'll probably shake his head and fix my wig before the paramedics get there because he is the best. Hopefully 63 more years will be enough time to love him as much as he deserves, to bless him just barely enough for how much he has blessed me in only 12. Hopefully I'll stretch my heart enough in those years to make it to heaven devoid of the impulse to search for a celestial two by four, because Michael deserves every ounce of love the human soul is capable of this side of heaven, and so much more.
Happy Anniversary Michael, from your future geriatric tap dancer. I love you so much and will work hard everyday for the rest of our lives to love you more.
Monday, July 29, 2013
I Don't Know How To Do This
Avery Hope, 5 days old
When I found out I was pregnant with Avery, I really fell apart, as you can imagine. I cried with my friends in the Wegman's cafe for a while, but then I knew I had to go home. I did NOT want to go home. I did not want to tell Michael I was pregnant--he was scared enough already. I did not want to go home and inflict on the love of my life the pain and fear I was going through. I was so unglued myself I knew in that moment I couldn't go straight home. So I went to my Mom. I don't remember much about it except choking out the words "I'm pregnant" and collapsing into her lap, sobbing like a little girl. I cried in her lap that night harder than I've cried basically ever. Since I was a baby anyway. Screaming, sobbing, choking, crying. I just kept saying: "I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to do this.", and I didn't. Who would? But I've learned that God knows how to do this and He has led me each day, sometimes each minute.
We're in a new chapter where I just don't know how to do this, so I have to lean on Him. I keep replaying in my mind the moment they put Avery on my chest and we saw her for the first time. I try desperately to remember how she felt and what it was like to have my arms around her tiny body. That is the only time I've held her in the 5 days since we met. If I add up the amount of face to face time I've had with her since then, it is less than 24 hours. I can't explain what it is to feel so keenly the absence of someone you don't really even know. Even the kids, who have each seen her for a grand total of maybe 15 minutes talk constantly about how they love her, how they miss her, and how much they want to bring her home. Even my stoic big boy Owen talks about Avery all the time and how much he wants to hold her and have her with us. It's amazing how they all know our family isn't all together and that it's not quite right.
I've changed a grand total of two of her diapers. 2. One wet, one poop. I never knew I could be so elated to change a poopy diaper but I will remember that diaper change to the day I die. When Avery was one day old I was sitting with her with my hand on her back because that's all I can do for her and I happened to see a nurse in the hall carrying a dirty diaper to the trash. As she was wrapping it up I saw it had that blackish greenish tar like meconium poop on it and I just broke down. I realized that I didn't change Avery's first diaper and it hurt so badly. I've spent a lot of time as a Mom of little ones dreaming of what it will be like someday to NOT be constantly providing for someones constant basic needs. Now, all I can think of is being the caregiver again. I dream of the day that wiping her little bottom is routine.
I was discharged from the hospital July 26th. I left her there. My mind knows that this is right. She can't breathe without the help of a ventilator. She can't maintain her own body temperature. She can't eat without a feeding tube. My body and my heart scream at me all day that this is not right. Something is missing. Someone is missing. All the way home I looked out the window and tried to tell myself: "Next year at this time we will be pushing Avery in the stroller like that." and "Next year at this time we will show Avery the river.". Mostly though, I just cried and called out to God: "I don't know how to do this!". Because I don't.
I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to leave my baby in the care of others. I don't know how to have someone else tell me how my child is doing. I don't know how to not scoop her up and comfort her when she cries. I don't know how to call and ask if it's a good time to see my child. I don't know how to turn my back and go home when it's time to leave, and I have to leave. I have to leave because her brothers and sisters need me too. I have to leave because I have to recover from bringing her into this world so I can get back to my treatment so that she will have a Mama to come home to. I have to leave her there but I don't know how. I know how to stand up out of the chair and move my feet to get to the car, but when I try to imagine the next few weeks or even months, I don't understand how to live this life that we are living without her. I don't know how to do this, but thankfully God has shown me in the last few months that I don't have to know. I just have to lean on Him and he will shepherd us through this experience.
Friday, June 7, 2013
It Would Be Dumb To Have A Bad Attitude, Part 3: My Faith
*Holy friends: I'm not a theologian, I'm just a simple sinner. This is not meant to be an academic treatment of suffering, sacrifice, and Christian life. I'm no expert on any of those. Regular Friends: It's about to get all full of the Lord up in here. I know what you're thinking: "Have you met you?". I have and so has He, and he loves me anyway. This is just a bunch of disjointed thoughts on the comfort my faith gives me and how it helps me to remain positive in the face of challenges. This is short because I feel called to share it, but vulnerable and inadequate in sharing it. Besides, like I said, there are much smarter and holier people who have written on this big topic.
"Each time I am tempted to scream, Where is our God when we suffer?!, the crucifix provides its own, wordless response: He is right here, suffering with us." ~Jennifer Fulwiler
The last reason I wanted to share that helps me have a positive attitude and the most important, is my Catholic faith. The stuff I already discussed as contributing to my positive attitude are only possible because of the foundation my faith provides. Suffering and sacrifice are awful. They are sticking points in the belief of many. But they are realities of human life that cannot be avoided. My faith acknowledges the existence of suffering and embraces it. My faith tells me that God Himself took on human form to suffer for us. Like seriously suffer. Not even He was exempted from this human reality. As a Catholic I believe I am never alone in my suffering. I'm also truly grateful that Jesus suffered and died for me. For me. Even though He knew that I would continue to sin and screw up, he suffered for me. I'm deeply grateful. Gratitude has to move me to action. If He chose to suffer for me, I must embrace the suffering I encounter in my life. If it's good enough for the Savior of the World, it's good enough for me.
Then he said to all, “If anyone wishes to come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily, and follow me. Luke 9:23
Jesus said: "...he must deny himself and take up his cross daily...". He didn't say: "design your cross daily" or "take up your cross when you feel up to it and understand it perfectly". He said take it up. As in, whatever your are given get to haulin' it. So I try. I try with a lot of whining and denying and analyzing. When a cross is placed in my path, I can deny it all I want, but when I finally pick it up and carry it God can start His work in my life. But, BUT! Even more than that, the crosses He puts in my path aren't just tests or punishments meant for me to endure until I'm holy enough. They're opportunities to join Jesus in His work. If I choose to try to consciously offer it up I'm joining Him in my minuscule way in His act of love. I can offer my sufferings for the benefit of others. My suffering is never in vain.
Jesus doesn't need my help. LOL! But He'll take it. He'll take my whiny, feeble, flawed efforts and use them to help another of His children. He also doesn't care what my efforts look like if I'm really and truly trying my best. I am humbled by that. I am lifted up by that. I am strengthened to know my suffering is useful, even if I will never know how it was used.
I discussed in Part 2 of this series all of the amazing ways my life has been blessed. Each of those blessings ultimately came from God. In comparison he asks so little of me. All he asks is that I take up my cross and in His abundant wisdom and love He gives me crosses that improve me along the way. I've talked in other posts about my pride--I could stand to be taken down MANY pegs. Picking up my crosses instead of designing them is a major challenge to the pride.
Now if only I could do better in picking up EVERY cross he puts in my path--not just the big obvious pregnant with cancer ones, but the little kids who don't go to bed ones, the people who make me mad ones, all the tiny ones that I don't always offer up with grace. Those I want to offer up and have Him pick them up and take them away, like some kind of supernatural relay. It just doesn't work that way. He will help me carry them, but they are there for me to pick up for a reason. It took a big cross to help me see the little ones more clearly.
Finally, this is all the supernatural part of "Why NOT me?". I talked about the biological reality of why not me in Part 1 of this series, but there is this spiritual part too. You've all heard that whole "Why do bad things happen to good people?" thing. Well, that's a dangerous trap for a Christian to fall into. Bad things happen to all people. There are no perfect people who are beyond reproach this side of heaven. We are all subject to the consequences of the fall. God loves every single human being the same so I'm pretty sure He wouldn't appreciate me assuming that other of His children would deserve suffering more than me. And then, AND THEN--while we are all subject to the consequences of the fall, we are also all redeemed by Jesus's death and Resurrection. ALL of us. That's a sweet deal. We can choose to take it or leave it. I'll take it. I'm not deserving of cancer, but I'm not deserving of God's love either.
So, after all that, it would be dumb for me to have a bad attitude because this suffering is mine to pick up, carry, and offer up for the benefit of others. It will make me better in the end and I have the honor of joining Jesus in his work in my tiny way. This is my opportunity to love until it hurts. I would though, dear readers, appreciate your prayers in this regard. Carrying crosses is heavy work, but I am privileged to do it.
"Each time I am tempted to scream, Where is our God when we suffer?!, the crucifix provides its own, wordless response: He is right here, suffering with us." ~Jennifer Fulwiler
The last reason I wanted to share that helps me have a positive attitude and the most important, is my Catholic faith. The stuff I already discussed as contributing to my positive attitude are only possible because of the foundation my faith provides. Suffering and sacrifice are awful. They are sticking points in the belief of many. But they are realities of human life that cannot be avoided. My faith acknowledges the existence of suffering and embraces it. My faith tells me that God Himself took on human form to suffer for us. Like seriously suffer. Not even He was exempted from this human reality. As a Catholic I believe I am never alone in my suffering. I'm also truly grateful that Jesus suffered and died for me. For me. Even though He knew that I would continue to sin and screw up, he suffered for me. I'm deeply grateful. Gratitude has to move me to action. If He chose to suffer for me, I must embrace the suffering I encounter in my life. If it's good enough for the Savior of the World, it's good enough for me.
Then he said to all, “If anyone wishes to come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily, and follow me. Luke 9:23
Jesus said: "...he must deny himself and take up his cross daily...". He didn't say: "design your cross daily" or "take up your cross when you feel up to it and understand it perfectly". He said take it up. As in, whatever your are given get to haulin' it. So I try. I try with a lot of whining and denying and analyzing. When a cross is placed in my path, I can deny it all I want, but when I finally pick it up and carry it God can start His work in my life. But, BUT! Even more than that, the crosses He puts in my path aren't just tests or punishments meant for me to endure until I'm holy enough. They're opportunities to join Jesus in His work. If I choose to try to consciously offer it up I'm joining Him in my minuscule way in His act of love. I can offer my sufferings for the benefit of others. My suffering is never in vain.
Jesus doesn't need my help. LOL! But He'll take it. He'll take my whiny, feeble, flawed efforts and use them to help another of His children. He also doesn't care what my efforts look like if I'm really and truly trying my best. I am humbled by that. I am lifted up by that. I am strengthened to know my suffering is useful, even if I will never know how it was used.
I discussed in Part 2 of this series all of the amazing ways my life has been blessed. Each of those blessings ultimately came from God. In comparison he asks so little of me. All he asks is that I take up my cross and in His abundant wisdom and love He gives me crosses that improve me along the way. I've talked in other posts about my pride--I could stand to be taken down MANY pegs. Picking up my crosses instead of designing them is a major challenge to the pride.
Now if only I could do better in picking up EVERY cross he puts in my path--not just the big obvious pregnant with cancer ones, but the little kids who don't go to bed ones, the people who make me mad ones, all the tiny ones that I don't always offer up with grace. Those I want to offer up and have Him pick them up and take them away, like some kind of supernatural relay. It just doesn't work that way. He will help me carry them, but they are there for me to pick up for a reason. It took a big cross to help me see the little ones more clearly.
Finally, this is all the supernatural part of "Why NOT me?". I talked about the biological reality of why not me in Part 1 of this series, but there is this spiritual part too. You've all heard that whole "Why do bad things happen to good people?" thing. Well, that's a dangerous trap for a Christian to fall into. Bad things happen to all people. There are no perfect people who are beyond reproach this side of heaven. We are all subject to the consequences of the fall. God loves every single human being the same so I'm pretty sure He wouldn't appreciate me assuming that other of His children would deserve suffering more than me. And then, AND THEN--while we are all subject to the consequences of the fall, we are also all redeemed by Jesus's death and Resurrection. ALL of us. That's a sweet deal. We can choose to take it or leave it. I'll take it. I'm not deserving of cancer, but I'm not deserving of God's love either.
So, after all that, it would be dumb for me to have a bad attitude because this suffering is mine to pick up, carry, and offer up for the benefit of others. It will make me better in the end and I have the honor of joining Jesus in his work in my tiny way. This is my opportunity to love until it hurts. I would though, dear readers, appreciate your prayers in this regard. Carrying crosses is heavy work, but I am privileged to do it.
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