Most of us, whether we've ever been to church or read The Bible, are familiar with the story of David and Goliath. You know--young boy, big giant, a little courage, some faith, and one small rock with a huge God behind it. Giant Falls, boy wins.
The other night I was up far later than my family, and I was restless and decided to turn on the television for a bit. As I checked the guide for shows, I found a show called cancer stories. I thought I'd just check it out for a minute before heading to bed. An hour later as the show ended and I sat alone in the dark, I realized so many things about myself and about this journey I've (we've) been travelling. I have cancer. Sounds stupid to you I'm sure, but I'm just now realizing that fully. The grief that overtook me was completely overwhelming. I was taken back to the day I had my biopsy. And I realized that when they laid me on that table, the doctor and the nurse had probably already labelled me as a "cancer patient". The Pathologist who did the testing on my samples quickly labelled me as a "cancer patient". And when my surgeon called me two days later, he probably held in his hand a folder that his staff had already labelled "cancer patient".
The day I received the call, I was in traffic racing to pick up a check from our insurance company settling the loss of our dautghter's car which had been totalled two weeks earlier. I was anxious to get the check and get it to the bank because we had already made a deal on a new (used) car for her and I had made a promise to her that we'd go pick it up that night. So I got the call, swallowed my reaction for just a bit, and did my duty as a mom. Then I drove to Rick's office and when he greeted me, he knew without my telling him, and his reaction led me to do what comes naturally for me--I stayed strong because I love this man with my whole heart and soul, and I could not stand to see the sadness in his eyes.
And then time just began to race by. Two surgeries. Chemo. Shots. Sickness. Doctors and lab techs poking at me. Days that passed without my knowing. At first when I thought back over these months, I feared that I was up to my old tricks - stuffing the pain and getting throough this on my own strength. It's a character flaw that I'm well-known for. Stiff upper lip. Take responsibility. Don't let the fear in. Don't let the pain be known. Don't let anyone else help. I can fight the giant all by myself and I don't need your rocks, thank you very much. But then in one overwhelming moment of realization, I knew that it wasn't true. I had not fought this giant called cancer alone and I was pretending to. Tossing this particular rock has been a group effort --through the love and faith of my incredible family, by you--my friends. Many of you have been in constant prayer that God would do the heavy lifting and heal me. Heal me emotionally, spiritually, and physically. I have (literally) walked daily through the strength of others. Neighbors, friends, church members, doctors, nurses, strangers, and above all, the same Big God with a small rock who saved the day for David. I thank you and above all I thank God for the gift of faith that has allowed you and me to lean on God and one another.
My Goliath has always been letting. Letting go. Letting others. Letting myself. Letting God. How about you? We all know Goliath and he can come in many forms. Fear. Self-loathing. Ego. Shame. Regret.
This morning as I pray, I am praying for you. Praying that you will come to name your Goliath and come to know that you do not have to fight him alone. There is One in whom you can put your trust. One who goes ahead of you to conquer whatever seems giant to you. And the rest of us, your army of friends, will be here with you on the ground, helping to carry you and strengthen you just as you have carried me.
Grace and Peace.
Thursday, October 19, 2006
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Chemo 5 and beyond
Just wanted to post a quick note to let you all know that I successfully completed Chemo #5 without too much of a problem. Great news is my counts were good and Dr. Austin very non-chalantly told me that after my next (and final) round, we'll get my port out and move on to radiation. Praise God! I can't begin to tell you how it felt to hear her say that we would get this port out. The port is not that difficult to live with -- it's just a reminder that I'm held captive to this chemo and this illness. As long as I have it, it means they think I'll need more treatment. To be told I can get rid of it, is like telling a lame person to toss away her crutch and walk!
So, now as I'm almost recovered from #5, I anxiously anticipate #6, after which I will recover for a week and then climb Mt. LeConte if all goes well. That will be a God-filled dream for me -a goal that I've carried all these months since I was diagnosed. It's a trip Rick and I make every year -- every year since we've been married anyway. And it's one I wasn't willing to give up for cancer. And Dr. Austin said I should be fine to go. Amen!
More later. Thanks for your continued prayers and support.
So, now as I'm almost recovered from #5, I anxiously anticipate #6, after which I will recover for a week and then climb Mt. LeConte if all goes well. That will be a God-filled dream for me -a goal that I've carried all these months since I was diagnosed. It's a trip Rick and I make every year -- every year since we've been married anyway. And it's one I wasn't willing to give up for cancer. And Dr. Austin said I should be fine to go. Amen!
More later. Thanks for your continued prayers and support.
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
Seeing Clearly
Good morning my friends! What a gorgeous morning in Atlanta. These last few days as I prepare for Chemo Number 5 and just one month until the end of chemo, I have realized that this phase of our lives is not going to last forever. Except for the peeling skin on my fingertips which is a side-effect (I suppose) of the allergic reaction from Taxotere (my latest chemo of non-choice), I feel completely normal (as normal as I get). Yep - life is getting back to normal.....I'm worried about Rick and the kids, I'm working way too much, the dust in my house is getting on my nerves, I'm noticing that my jeans don't fit quite right and that's really starting to worry me, and "challenges" at the church are stacking up and my task list grows larger each day.
But then, there's the good stuff that's happening too. Each morning as I step outside to go for my daily walk, I am greeted by a cool breeze, clean air, and the beauty of Fall. And Rick and me and the kids and our dogs all running around in the yard. And decorating for Halloween, complete with ghosts Kat made from old rags that hang from our trees. And going to the hospital yesterday not for me, but to visit other folks and be there for a baby's birth. And watching my little girl (now 17) dress up in a floor-length gown and go to dinner with Chad who was dressed in a tux, to celebrate their one year anniversary (dating).
Yeah, life is going to go back to being normal. Too much to do and too many blessings to count.
Thank you, Lord, for the change of season.
But then, there's the good stuff that's happening too. Each morning as I step outside to go for my daily walk, I am greeted by a cool breeze, clean air, and the beauty of Fall. And Rick and me and the kids and our dogs all running around in the yard. And decorating for Halloween, complete with ghosts Kat made from old rags that hang from our trees. And going to the hospital yesterday not for me, but to visit other folks and be there for a baby's birth. And watching my little girl (now 17) dress up in a floor-length gown and go to dinner with Chad who was dressed in a tux, to celebrate their one year anniversary (dating).
Yeah, life is going to go back to being normal. Too much to do and too many blessings to count.
Thank you, Lord, for the change of season.
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
Not so fast.....
Mountaintops. We all love them right? I mean, many of us love to spend time up ON them, the spiritual or emotional ones anyway. I'll confess to you that I haven't been hangin' with the mountaintop crowd too much here lately. I've spent a good bit of time meandering around the valley, sometimes poking just one toe in to see how it felt, other times just diving right in.
Most of us, if we're lucky, will have a few mountaintop experiences in our lives. I've had a few. Several times on Spiritual Retreats where God met me in a big, big way. And I've had a few on top of an actual mountain called Mount LeConte, a mountain Rick and I hike every November (this year will be no exception if I get my way).
Up on the mountaintop, we experience the exhiliration of being above anxiety. above sadness. nearer to peace. closer to God and the heavens. A place where our minds and thinking can clear and we can experience the grace and the joy and the peace that's difficult to put into words (clearly!) Simply put, on the mountaintop many of us feel that we can see, feel, taste, and touch the divine.
But not so fast.....don't discount the importance of the valley. In the valley, miricales happen every day. True enough, in the valley there's sadness, pain, doubt, and any number of negative feelings. When we're in the valley, we feel like we're the only ones there and everyone else is up on that mountain partying and they've just stepped right over us as they climb up top and left us in our suffering. In the midst of suffering, we humans will often do something we would otherwise never do: we'll let our guard down. We'll decide we can no longer carry our own weight. We'll put down our shield and actually peel off our body armour. And when all the layers of our armour have been peeled away, we are then sitting ducks for transformation.
This week during my prayer time (which has been a bit intense as I try to shake this rash that looks like I have a disfiguring disease), I've had some valley experiences. Feeling the disappointment that came with the difficulty of this last chemo treatment (you know, the one that was supposed to be a walk in the park?), I was feeling really hopeless and frankly just sick and tired of being sick and tired! But then late last week, I began to have the feeling that something important was going to happen. I wasn't really anxious, more like anticipatory. Then on Friday, when I most needed it, I received several phone calls from folks whom I would not normally hear, all letting me know that for whatever reason they just felt compelled to call and check on me. Then over the weekend I had a conversation with a wonderful woman who shared some insights with me that I believe came directly from God. Even now, I feel as if God is preparing me. He's making my "clay" moist. With each of these valley experiences, I felt as if I was being "re-clothed". The sickness made me discard my own armour. Each person God sent my way helped me to put on God's armour instead.
Yesterday as I turned on my computer and realized that the date was October 2, I got a big smile on my face. I realized that if all goes well, November 2 will be my last chemo treatment. That day, I hope will be a mountaintop experience. Until then, I'm finding the valley is more useful. Here, God gets my undivided attention. Scripture's pretty clear that the mountaintop is just a visiting spot (Mark 9:2-8)--the important stuff (healing, for example) happens when we get back down to the valley, having nothing left to lose and we cry out for the one and only one who can help us (see the rest of the story Mark 9:17-27).
So if you find yourself hanging out in the valley of sickness, anxiety, worry, troubled relationship, lousy job, financial stress), know that if you are open to it, there's someone to meet you there. Know that I pray for you regularly. If you need specific prayer, let me know. Email me at blessedfighter@bellsouth.net.
Grace and Peace, Rene
Most of us, if we're lucky, will have a few mountaintop experiences in our lives. I've had a few. Several times on Spiritual Retreats where God met me in a big, big way. And I've had a few on top of an actual mountain called Mount LeConte, a mountain Rick and I hike every November (this year will be no exception if I get my way).
Up on the mountaintop, we experience the exhiliration of being above anxiety. above sadness. nearer to peace. closer to God and the heavens. A place where our minds and thinking can clear and we can experience the grace and the joy and the peace that's difficult to put into words (clearly!) Simply put, on the mountaintop many of us feel that we can see, feel, taste, and touch the divine.
But not so fast.....don't discount the importance of the valley. In the valley, miricales happen every day. True enough, in the valley there's sadness, pain, doubt, and any number of negative feelings. When we're in the valley, we feel like we're the only ones there and everyone else is up on that mountain partying and they've just stepped right over us as they climb up top and left us in our suffering. In the midst of suffering, we humans will often do something we would otherwise never do: we'll let our guard down. We'll decide we can no longer carry our own weight. We'll put down our shield and actually peel off our body armour. And when all the layers of our armour have been peeled away, we are then sitting ducks for transformation.
This week during my prayer time (which has been a bit intense as I try to shake this rash that looks like I have a disfiguring disease), I've had some valley experiences. Feeling the disappointment that came with the difficulty of this last chemo treatment (you know, the one that was supposed to be a walk in the park?), I was feeling really hopeless and frankly just sick and tired of being sick and tired! But then late last week, I began to have the feeling that something important was going to happen. I wasn't really anxious, more like anticipatory. Then on Friday, when I most needed it, I received several phone calls from folks whom I would not normally hear, all letting me know that for whatever reason they just felt compelled to call and check on me. Then over the weekend I had a conversation with a wonderful woman who shared some insights with me that I believe came directly from God. Even now, I feel as if God is preparing me. He's making my "clay" moist. With each of these valley experiences, I felt as if I was being "re-clothed". The sickness made me discard my own armour. Each person God sent my way helped me to put on God's armour instead.
Yesterday as I turned on my computer and realized that the date was October 2, I got a big smile on my face. I realized that if all goes well, November 2 will be my last chemo treatment. That day, I hope will be a mountaintop experience. Until then, I'm finding the valley is more useful. Here, God gets my undivided attention. Scripture's pretty clear that the mountaintop is just a visiting spot (Mark 9:2-8)--the important stuff (healing, for example) happens when we get back down to the valley, having nothing left to lose and we cry out for the one and only one who can help us (see the rest of the story Mark 9:17-27).
So if you find yourself hanging out in the valley of sickness, anxiety, worry, troubled relationship, lousy job, financial stress), know that if you are open to it, there's someone to meet you there. Know that I pray for you regularly. If you need specific prayer, let me know. Email me at blessedfighter@bellsouth.net.
Grace and Peace, Rene
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