What’s The Point?

“What’s the point?”

Someone asked me this today. They wanted to know why, with all the time I have to myself during the day, I don’t do anything productive. Why don’t I tweet anything? Why don’t I practice my piano? Why, why, why? Oh and then “what’s the point?”

Are they trying to say what’s the point of me still living then? Is my life worth nothing unless I’m doing something productive?

They are not sitting in my shoes. They don’t have to deal with the sickness, pain, treatments, procedures, and setbacks that a person with cancer has to. I’ve been honest about my lack of direction, my bouts with depression, struggles with faith, and how I’m without a roadmap when it comes to what I’m supposed to do now. I’ve also been very vocal about the issues I’m having which keep me mostly chair-bound. But I guess I’m still supposed to accomplish so much while stuck in this chair during the day.

I was given a list of all these things that I could be doing instead of nothing. Sorry to the person that thought this conversation with me was going to be productive or even motivating because they obviously don’t understand how depression works, how setbacks discourage, and how I still don’t know what my purpose is to be now that I have cancer. I have good days and I have bad days. I don’t know which it’s going to be when I wake up everyday. I’m just thankful to be alive.

I will say this though. My mom was going through her cancer battle while I worked at the American Cancer Society. I couldn’t understand why she didn’t advocate for a cure, why she wasn’t talking about it to others like some of the survivors I knew in fundraising. In fact, her best friend didn’t even know she had it. I thought for sure she would be a fighter as far as finding a cure but she wasn’t. She didn’t do much of anything day in and day out. Pretty much do her treatments, surf the internet, spend time with family, and sleep. Now that I’m the one with cancer, I’m really not that far off in doing what she was doing.

What is so wrong with resting and taking care of myself during the day? Why do I have to have some grand masterpiece that shows I’ve been productive for the day? And what constitutes being productive? Who gets to decide what I, a cancer patient undergoing treatment, should do with my time all day? Cause really, what’s the point? I could spend my last 6 months watching tv or putting all my energy into taking a class, but one of these things will relax me while the other will likely cause unnecessary stress.

I think it’s really simple. When God calls on me to do something more, than I’ll do more but for now, let me have my rest.

 

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Treading Water While I Find My Purpose

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I cough a lot. I cough to the point of throwing up the last thing I ate or drank. This is especially the case after I walk across the room. That’s right – barely walking can send me into a coughing fit that will make me lose my lunch. Maybe it’s because of the fluid in my left lung. Scans have shown a moderate to large amount of fluid for months. We thought that draining it would help improve my condition. Not only did the fluid quickly come back, the last PET scan showed absolutely no change in the amount of fluid even though it had already been drained. I went through the horrendous pain for nothing and don’t feel like it even helped me.

Then there’s my heart. Walking across the room really sends my heart racing and leaves me out of breath. Even just standing can cause the same reaction, and then I’m really left coughing and throwing up. I’m sure it’s my low hemoglobin counts again. Every round of chemo wreaks havoc on my bone marrow, making it impossible to have a normal amount of red blood cells. They’re not low enough for a transfusion but it sure keeps me from moving around too much. That means more days using my wheelchair instead of my walker when I get out of the house. It’s safer this way so my heart doesn’t run to 140 bpm with every little task but using a wheelchair makes me feel like I’m regressing instead of getting better.

These are just some of the things I deal with day in and day out. In some ways, I am doing pretty good despite all that I am going through but there are still some rough moments. There are still fears and doubts. It’s really scary not knowing if you’re going to die or not. Doing treatment after treatment, not knowing if it will be enough. My mom died just 4 months after being deemed cancer free. It had gone to her brain late in the game… and she quickly succumbed. We were told she had maybe a year when she went into hospice; she was gone within a day.

In my case, I’ve watched God allow the treatments to make improvements to my condition. I’ve celebrated small successes like favorable PET scans and shrinking lesions, all while knowing the battle is long from over. I really want to hear the words, “cancer free,” but I’m not naive enough to believe that it means the battle is won. Several of the cancer survivor volunteers I got close to at the American Cancer Society died within a few years of meeting them.  Their cancers came back with a vengeance and no amount of treatment would help. Being a cancer survivor is a badge of honor, but it’s terribly heartbreaking when a survivor is a survivor no more.

So how do I handle my fears as I continue the fight? I wish I could say that I spend my days at the feet of Jesus; honestly, I still find myself spacing out and not really dealing. I’m still trying to find my purpose through all of this, how best to spend my days at home now that I can’t work. I don’t really know how long it will take for me to get on the boat instead of just treading water. I wish I could say it is an easy path to get there but in reality, there is still quite a bit of fog keeping me in my present state.  The only thing I have going for me is the fact that I haven’t given up on getting out of this situation.

I still believe God can rescue me. I still believe that God heals and does miracles. I don’t know if that is His plan for me but I trust Him to take care of me as I go through this trial. Why do I say that? Because I may be treading water but I don’t feel like I’m in danger of drowning. I may be treading water but I know Jesus is there, close by, even if I can’t see Him. And there are the blessings that keep coming out of this situation that remind me that it’s not all gloom and doom.

One day, God will call me home and I’m sure it will be a glorious moment for me. In the meantime though, I pray that He uses my time on earth for something truly wonderful, something that truly brings joy to His kingdom. I pray that I find my purpose through all of this, and that I can continue to push forward despite my fears. Having cancer is no easy feat but it can be just what is needed to bring glory to Him.

“But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.” Isaiah 40:31

It’s Not About Me

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I have spent a lot of time these last few months spinning my wheels, doing nothing. The tv is a nice mindless activity to get me through the bulk of my day without requiring a lot of energy out of me. This works because getting around has largely been hard for me to do as my back and hips continue to heal from the cancer. I sit in the nice chair my in-laws brought over for me with two main things in my lap – my dog and the remote. The problem is that it really doesn’t require anything out of me except a commitment to only the tv and nothing else. Ever notice how easily we go from one episode to the next while watching something on Netflix and before we realize it, several hours have passed and we have nothing to show for ourselves? They want this to happen or they never would have created the auto play option. And honestly, the last time I ever spent this much time binge watching tv was before I met my husband, before I got saved. I’ve had more important things to do. So why do I sit here now and consume so much that does so little for me?

The answer is really very simple. Call it avoidance of the big and little feelings that I have to still deal with lurking on the back burner of my mind. Or laziness to dive into something that will require a bigger commitment than I feel I can commit to. Maybe a bit of both even. There was a time when I longed to spend my days reading the bible all day instead of working. Now that I am home all day, this couldn’t be further from the reality of my current situation. Before an hour ago, I hadn’t opened my bible in weeks. Sure, I’ve listened to a few sermons but it’s not the same. Before today, I haven’t listened to worship music in weeks. Why? Because being well takes me forward a few steps and being unwell takes me back a few. There have been moments on this journey where I have really seen God’s hand, and then the rest of the time it seems like just deafening silence. And having to deal with things you don’t really want to deal with is sometimes enough of a reason to pull away from someone like Jesus, even when in my heart I know that He is the answer, the solution to everything I am dealing with. I’m not proud saying this but even I am not a person with perfect faith and perfect obedience to Him.

Why am I telling you this? Because the struggle is real. Every day is a battle to get back to Him, to get back to His word. The devil doesn’t want me to rely on Him for strength. In fact, the farther he can get me from the word of God, the more he can try and fill my head with nonsense. I know the truth but it’s still easy to take me away from God when I give in to the bleakness of my situation, when I let go of Him and hold on to the sickness my body is battling. I don’t want to live my life spinning wheels and just taking up space. Yes, there are still a lot of things I can’t do but there is plenty I can still do for the kingdom. Sometimes, it just takes me to wake up from my slumber and remember this isn’t about me. This whole cancer journey is not about whether I live or die, but about whether others live or die knowing Jesus. It’s time I remember my part.

 

 

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. 

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.