The Need For Rest Will Just Have To Do For Now

The last time I was sick on Christmas was five years ago… before my life was drastically altered after meeting my husband and embracing the Christian faith wholeheartedly for the first time. I had traveled to Colorado via Greyhound to spend the holiday with my best friend and her kids. Taking the bus was a great way to get out of the city to venture the beaten path with my camera after the end of a six-year relationship I never should have been in, and the end of a disillusionment for an affair that would never be more than a roll in the hay. 

Yeah, I’d had better days and the opportunity to run away from home was enchanting. The road to freedom was a little more traveled than I wanted it to be though; it took three days to get to Colorado and five to get home. I remember getting stuck in the Dallas bus station for a day and a half while a snowstorm wrecked havoc just north of us. I was still trying to get to Colorado, and I was completely at the mercy of a storm I couldn’t even see. It wasn’t snowing in Dallas where I was, but all around me it was coming down so heavy that travel all the way up to Denver was at a halt. I just wanted to get where I was going, and I wanted answers. There was no way out and nowhere to feel safe. 

I think it took a good 12 hours before they finally brought a bus out for us weary-eyed travelers to sleep on. I was so thankful… all I wanted was answers and rest, but I would settle at the moment for just some rest. It’s how I’m feeling again after all these years.

Cancer has a way of eating away at your soul… if you’ll let it. Sometimes I do, I won’t lie. Sometimes, I give in and let the cancer take a bite or two out of me. Sometimes it takes a few days, weeks, or months for me to wake up out of the chokehold-slumber that cancer is and stumble again onto my faith. On Christmas Day, it was just a reminder staring back at me that reads “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” Yesterday, it was a complete meltdown on the living room sofa where I begged God to help me over and over again. Today, it might look like something completely different but I’m not giving up. 

The answers may come another day but for today, I’m going to take the rest that comes with knowing Him. 

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Tiptoe


Even when you’re going through it,

You’re not going through it;

You’re tiptoeing around,

Careful not to step on

Your own thoughts, your own feelings. 

You don’t really want to talk about it;

You don’t really want to write about it.

You only want to think about, write about 

Nothing at all.

The nothingness that stares you in the face,

The nothingness that will never be nothing again,

The life that will never be the same.

Crying At His Feet

I know that You can cure me but I don’t know if you will, and that scares me to death. Lord, help me.

I’ve suffered the last three months with what every doctor and radiologist thought was pneumonia. I thought the constant pain in my back and hips were from coughing so much. I thought my difficulty breathing, talking, and singing were from the pneumonia. Sadly, we have learned that is not the case. I have lung cancer.

I won’t lie. It’s hard be positive, to be faithful when your mom died of the same disease just three and a half years ago. Just as in her case, mine has metastized to other areas so that makes it stage 4. I used to work with cancer patients at The American Cancer Society. I know the statistics. I also know we have a God that plays by His own rules. 

I have people around the world praying for a complete healing. For me, that is a hard prayer. Not because I don’t believe it can be done but because so often I have seen Him decide on a different plan. I hope He wants to keep me here so I can be a light onto His people. Only He can make that decision but I have loudly made it known to Him that I want to be healed. 

My life changed instantly the moment I found out, and so did the lives of my family. I’ll likely be discharged from the hospital tomorrow with oxygen and a walker to embark on an unknown and scary path. I will no longer be able to work, and will be filing for disability. I know that God is with me, and I know that He won’t leave me alone to deal as my family and I sort out what this means for our lives now. It’s just going to take some time. 

Your prayers give me strength and hope after I get up from my meltdowns. I need my Christian brothers and sisters to keep lifting us up. Please understand that I’m not able to respond to everyone’s messages but I will read them when I can, when I have the strength, and when I need it the most. 

I love the ministry we have created. I don’t know the end game, what God’s plan is but I will continue to share how God is working in my life, the lessons He is teaching me, and so forth as I am able to. I appreciate every one of you for joining me on this path. I may or may not ever sing again, but remember that salvation is not found in a song. It’s found in Jesus. Don’t waste time on the world when you can run to Him and bow at His feet, relinquishing everything you’ve got. That’s what I’m doing. Crying at His feet. 

Slipping Away

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No one hears me. In one ear and out the next.

I feel like I’m going in circles,

And the weight is too much to bear.

I need comfort, I need peace

But I’m not finding it here.

Lord, if you could just touch me now

I think I might just faint.

I may lose my strength, and succumb to weakness.

Is that ok? Can I be myself around you?

I’m just a mess of feelings that contradict,

And I need a safe place to land.

Will you catch me Lord?

Will you save me from this pain?

The world I walk on is crumbling

And the air is growing thin.

Lord, please be my refuge…

The light is slipping again.

Far From Over

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Separated by mountains of uncertainty, I wait.

Across rolling hills and open plains, fear hangs in the air.

It’s not that I don’t hear you, oh, I hear you.

The talk of death is so loud that I want to close my eyes,

Pretend that this is all a dream, but I know it’s not.

I can’t ignore the way you look past this life,

How you’re drifting offshore, drifting away from this world;

Please just let it be only in your mind.

I can’t do it, I can’t let you go.

You want me to support you but I won’t pull the plug.

Sure, it’s not going to be easy, life never is,

But you’re scaring me with all of this talk.

You think I’m making you do something you don’t want to do.

You think that I’m this evil monster because I want you to live

But the reality is, it’s not your time.

I don’t want you to suffer,

I don’t want you to sit and wait

For God to make you better without even trying.

That’s not how healing works, sweet child.

I know you’re angry at the world right now;

I know you think that God doesn’t hear you

But He is there, He’s waiting for you to come to Him.

He’s waiting for you to trust in Him to work this all out.

The doctors said that it’s treatable, the doctors say there is hope

So we have to hold on to that, reach out and believe

With all of your heart that God wants you here with us.

Hold on to His promises, hold on to your faith.

It’s not over sweetheart, it’s far from over…

God has a plan for your life.

Let’s Finish The Fight

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As you may know, I work at the American Cancer Society, and today I am reaching out to you because I need your help. I meet countless people whose lives have been shattered by cancer. I’ve met too many family members that come into my office to donate items that once belonged to their loved ones. I’ve seen the physical scars from having a mastectomy, and I have witnessed a sea of tears from women who were losing their hair while trying on wigs. I’ve put together more gift bags for terminal patients than I ever want to remember. Even more heartbreaking, cancer has cut a deep wound in my own family, both immediate and extended. I cannot put into words the fear in my heart for those still battling this terrible disease, and the joy that overcomes me for those that have been in recovery for several years.

I never want to hear the words “you have cancer,” and I never want to hear my children hear those words. I wish I could turn back the tides and erase it from the history of those whose lives have already been affected, but I can’t. What I can do and what you can help me do is finish this fight, once and for all, against cancer. We are all in this. It affects every family, every fiber of our being. I want better for our generation, for the next generation, and those that follow. Please help me finish the fight by making a donation today here. Thank you.