Thursday, June 25, Second Chemo

I was disappointed and frustrated today. I went for my second chemo treatment this morning. I felt so positive and well after just finishing an antibiotic yesterday to ward off possible infection. But when I gave my blood work, my white blood cell count was low. The chemo wipes out your blood cells and the hope is that the time between treatments is long enough for them to recover. Because my count was so low today, I couldn’t receive the chemo. Instead, the doctor gave me a drug to help stimulate my bone marrow so new cells will grow. It is an injection I, or someone else, gives me once a day in my stomach for five days. After that, hopefully I can have the chemo treatment next Friday. Disappointed. Frustrated. I’m disappointed and frustrated that I am already experiencing these problems- I wasn’t expecting difficulties this early in the treatment. I’m disappointed that every missed treatment means this will be in my life longer. I’m frustrated that there is nothing I can do in my diet or with resting that can help boost my cells.
I do feel disappointed and frustrated. It’s not that I don’t feel these things. But I trust God so much; I know He already knows all of the outcome. He is never surprised. I don’t know everything (or anything mostly). I can’t just surrender parts of my life to Him. He deserves it all and will take care of it all. I’m thankful He knows everything, knowing how much He loves me. It makes me feel better.

Peanut Butter

Had a 'moment' last night. Let me describe it. It was just beginning to storm outside. I was in my pajamas, in bed, with just a lamp on as I was trying to finish a pretty good novel. I had also just gotten up and made a piece of rye toast with peanut butter and strawberry jam. As I crawled back under the covers with my book and toast and the thunder and lightening, I thanked God. Thanked Him for this moment of just being so alive, so comfortable, with so many small pleasures. I wasn't worried about when I was going to sleep, when I was getting up, or the fact that I was eating such a favourite, but high- calorie snack that late and in bed.

I know some of you may be thinking- lame. Nice Friday night. What is she getting at?

But have you ever known people that have this special knack for always seeing just these tiny little beautiful things that others overlook? I have watched and learned from such people, often women. When I was a teenager, crossing the lake up north in a boat with my aunt, she remarked, "Look at the beautiful colour of your hair with the sun behind it." She sees with different eyes.

With lots of time to sit and observe now, I hope to hone this skill. To look for and appreciate the dozens and dozens of gorgeous moments that are happening all around us and which we usually speed by and of course take for granted. For me, I'm loving the luxury of eating as much peanut butter and jam toast as I want for now!

A Weekend of Grieving

Here I am, in a beautiful serene cottage tucked away on ten acres of straight, tall pines. God has given me quiet, nature and beauty in which to grieve. We are up at Todd’s aunt’s cabin in northern Michigan. The air is crisp, the greenery slowly flourishing, and I keep crying. I have surrendered many areas of my life to God, especially over the last 5 years. My mourning over my Dad’s death, my struggles with divorce, the uncertainties and fear of mission work. But, on Friday as I attended my first trip to the cancer clinic and received my treatment plan, I began to understand even more what it looks like to surrender all. After sitting with me for well over an hour, the doctor’s parting words were, “Hopefully in a year, this will all be behind you.”
That seems to be the sentence that took me down, the one that keeps running through my head. A year. Wait, I had plans, remember? I am supposed to be returning to Africa, to work with kids, showing God’s love. I’m supposed to be healthy and young and carefree and adventurous.

I am grieving my plans. My trip to Africa, the meaningful work that I was supposed to be involved with. I grieve my pride, my lack of control over what is going to happen soon to my body, my physical appearance. I grieve my time, and energy and interests, all which must bow to how I’m feeling on any particular day during treatment. I am grieving my motherhood. Chemo may take my fertility.

The truth is though, that all of these areas were already out of my control. We just believe we can control all circumstances, all areas of our life. In reality, life can shift in an instant, without any say on our part.

On the way to the appointment Friday morning, I listened to one of my favourite songs. Part of it goes like this:
To you, I give my life, not just the parts I want to. To you, I sacrifice, these dreams that I hold on to; because You’re thoughts are higher than mine, You’re Words are deeper than mine, You’re Love is Stronger than mine. This is no sacrifice, here’s my life.

Every aspect of my life, huge or minute, whether talent, energy, relationship, desire, everything, was a gift designed by God that created me exactly how I am anyway. It’s all His. Every bit of it. His thoughts, words, love, plan and perspective succeed my tiny ones in every way. The only way to get through this is to give it all back to Him anyway and let Him work it out with wonder and glory. This is no sacrifice, here’s my life.