Doesn't that word always get our attention particularly when it follows the word diagnosis? Recently, I have had the privilege and opportunity to add numerous friends, acquaintances, and internet pals, all with cancer to my prayer list. The most alarming thing is the number of young children. My list includes a 9 month old with kidney cancer, a 19 month old and 5 year old with brain cancer, a 7 year old with thyroid cancer, an 11 year old with leukemia and the list goes on with too many adults to mention but all precious to me!
Not all of those on my prayer list have a personal relationship with Jesus Christ but for those that don't I pray for that as well! It is with that in mind that I am including the following, a post from a blog of a sweet young mother who is fighting brain cancer while raising a 2 year old. It was a blessing and encouragement to me when I read it and I hope it will be to you as well!
• The Climb
I was all ready to write my next note when I was on the plane headed to Houston. I didn’t know what the outcome of my impending MRI would be, I didn’t know what the next 48 hours held, but I did know that I would be okay regardless. I got some inspiration on that plane flying into Houston. I flew in right around 6pm. There were tons of clouds. More clouds than normal. When we were above the clouds I was overcome with wonder. They were fluffy. Cotton balls. The kind of thing you imagine heaven to look like when you’re 6 years old. The sun was shining in a gorgeous orange pre-setting kind of way. It was breathtaking.
Then, as is common during the landing procedure, the plane had to go down and into the clouds.
My window view went from white to light gray to gray to almost black with water flying across the plastic. It was obvious that while the view from above the clouds was indescribably amazing, what awaited beneath was darkness and storm.
We landed safely, bumpy, but safely. And I was so excited. What an amazing analogy!! Keep your eyes above the storm!! I was going to write all about perspective and how if you just keep your eyes on the prize you can keep going. But a few days later wisdom hit me where I least expected it. Grey’s Anatomy. Meredith's narration was along a similar vein. She was saying that you don’t take the picture at the bottom of the mountain. You take the picture at the top... after the climb. You don’t take pictures during the sweat and the tears. You take pictures of the happy ending. Even though you have to have the sweat and the tears to get there, people like to forget that part and go straight to the ending.
Obvious but profound.
Too many times we’re so focused on the future that we forget to appreciate the climb. Yes, I want to be healed! Yes, I desperately want to be able to put my hair back in a ponytail again! (So simple and stupid, but true none-the-less true.) Yes, I want my family to sleep well at night knowing that the cancer is gone. But that’s not where I am right now. Right now I am three days away from starting my next round of Chemo and feeling like crap. Right now I have short hair that I’m styling and making work, but I actually dream about my longer locks. Right now I have feet that peel and can’t be bare when formerly I was known as a barefoot queen. Right now I have severe tummy troubles that would be humiliating, but I can’t let myself go there mentally. It is what it is and I can’t help it if my system gets angry at my prescriptions. Right now I wake up in the middle of the night for no reason and need to nap in the middle of the day from exhaustion. Right now I take a minimum of 7 pills a day; when Chemo starts I will take 13 pills a day. Right now I cannot properly care for my own daughter. I just don’t have the energy. I check my blood pressure every day. I fly to Houston once a month. I talk to doctors and insurance reps far more often than a normal person should. I fill out forms. I keep records. I file every insurance summary that gets mailed to us on the off chance that something gets mixed up on their end and we need to fight the system.
I do not have a normal life. I am in the middle of the climb.
There’s a few things about the climb that I should also mention. During the climb you are raw. There’s no time or energy to be anything other than the person you are at your core. At my core I am certainly trusting God, but I miss the sense of control I had in my pervious life. Going in for an MRI is frustrating and unnerving. I have no control. A day later someone could tell me three simple words that would make me and my family... not break... we wouldn’t break, but parts of us would certainly feel broken. At the same time the doctor could say three other words and we would fall to our knees for a different, much for joyous reason. This time neither sets of those words were spoken. My results were the same as the last MRI. No growth. Which is good!! I was very happy to hear those words!! But it means the climb is not over... may not be for years to come and that’s okay.
The climb defines you. Any idiot can take a helicopter to the top of a mountain and take a picture. However, the people who actually climb that mountain are the only ones who will carry with them a sense of awe and appreciation for the mountain. The climb is WHY the picture at the top of the mountain actually means something. Without the climb there is little to no accomplishment.
I have said it many times before and I will continue to say it, Cancer is a blessing. It opens up so many doors for me to openly talk about my faith. It puts life into a different perspective. It helps me see the forest for the trees or whatever that old saying is. But, most importantly, it reminds me that this is not my home. My life is safely held by the maker of this universe. My cancer does not make me question God. If anything it goes right in line with everything the Bible has told us about him. Matthew 5:45, “He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and unrighteous.” God is JUST and LOVING and has not once left my side.
So I’m going to appreciate my climb - crevasses and all. Because even if I fall I am tethered to the God of this universe who knows my new name and has prepared a home for me when this life is through... whether that happens tomorrow or fifty years from now!
What a friend we have in Jesus!
Not all of those on my prayer list have a personal relationship with Jesus Christ but for those that don't I pray for that as well! It is with that in mind that I am including the following, a post from a blog of a sweet young mother who is fighting brain cancer while raising a 2 year old. It was a blessing and encouragement to me when I read it and I hope it will be to you as well!
• The Climb
I was all ready to write my next note when I was on the plane headed to Houston. I didn’t know what the outcome of my impending MRI would be, I didn’t know what the next 48 hours held, but I did know that I would be okay regardless. I got some inspiration on that plane flying into Houston. I flew in right around 6pm. There were tons of clouds. More clouds than normal. When we were above the clouds I was overcome with wonder. They were fluffy. Cotton balls. The kind of thing you imagine heaven to look like when you’re 6 years old. The sun was shining in a gorgeous orange pre-setting kind of way. It was breathtaking.
Then, as is common during the landing procedure, the plane had to go down and into the clouds.
My window view went from white to light gray to gray to almost black with water flying across the plastic. It was obvious that while the view from above the clouds was indescribably amazing, what awaited beneath was darkness and storm.
We landed safely, bumpy, but safely. And I was so excited. What an amazing analogy!! Keep your eyes above the storm!! I was going to write all about perspective and how if you just keep your eyes on the prize you can keep going. But a few days later wisdom hit me where I least expected it. Grey’s Anatomy. Meredith's narration was along a similar vein. She was saying that you don’t take the picture at the bottom of the mountain. You take the picture at the top... after the climb. You don’t take pictures during the sweat and the tears. You take pictures of the happy ending. Even though you have to have the sweat and the tears to get there, people like to forget that part and go straight to the ending.
Obvious but profound.
Too many times we’re so focused on the future that we forget to appreciate the climb. Yes, I want to be healed! Yes, I desperately want to be able to put my hair back in a ponytail again! (So simple and stupid, but true none-the-less true.) Yes, I want my family to sleep well at night knowing that the cancer is gone. But that’s not where I am right now. Right now I am three days away from starting my next round of Chemo and feeling like crap. Right now I have short hair that I’m styling and making work, but I actually dream about my longer locks. Right now I have feet that peel and can’t be bare when formerly I was known as a barefoot queen. Right now I have severe tummy troubles that would be humiliating, but I can’t let myself go there mentally. It is what it is and I can’t help it if my system gets angry at my prescriptions. Right now I wake up in the middle of the night for no reason and need to nap in the middle of the day from exhaustion. Right now I take a minimum of 7 pills a day; when Chemo starts I will take 13 pills a day. Right now I cannot properly care for my own daughter. I just don’t have the energy. I check my blood pressure every day. I fly to Houston once a month. I talk to doctors and insurance reps far more often than a normal person should. I fill out forms. I keep records. I file every insurance summary that gets mailed to us on the off chance that something gets mixed up on their end and we need to fight the system.
I do not have a normal life. I am in the middle of the climb.
There’s a few things about the climb that I should also mention. During the climb you are raw. There’s no time or energy to be anything other than the person you are at your core. At my core I am certainly trusting God, but I miss the sense of control I had in my pervious life. Going in for an MRI is frustrating and unnerving. I have no control. A day later someone could tell me three simple words that would make me and my family... not break... we wouldn’t break, but parts of us would certainly feel broken. At the same time the doctor could say three other words and we would fall to our knees for a different, much for joyous reason. This time neither sets of those words were spoken. My results were the same as the last MRI. No growth. Which is good!! I was very happy to hear those words!! But it means the climb is not over... may not be for years to come and that’s okay.
The climb defines you. Any idiot can take a helicopter to the top of a mountain and take a picture. However, the people who actually climb that mountain are the only ones who will carry with them a sense of awe and appreciation for the mountain. The climb is WHY the picture at the top of the mountain actually means something. Without the climb there is little to no accomplishment.
I have said it many times before and I will continue to say it, Cancer is a blessing. It opens up so many doors for me to openly talk about my faith. It puts life into a different perspective. It helps me see the forest for the trees or whatever that old saying is. But, most importantly, it reminds me that this is not my home. My life is safely held by the maker of this universe. My cancer does not make me question God. If anything it goes right in line with everything the Bible has told us about him. Matthew 5:45, “He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and unrighteous.” God is JUST and LOVING and has not once left my side.
So I’m going to appreciate my climb - crevasses and all. Because even if I fall I am tethered to the God of this universe who knows my new name and has prepared a home for me when this life is through... whether that happens tomorrow or fifty years from now!
What a friend we have in Jesus!
"Then your light will break forth like the dawn, and your healing will quickly appear; then your righteousness will go before you, and the glory of the LORD will be your rear guard. Then you will call, and the LORD will answer; you will cry for help, and he will say: Here am I."
Isaiah 58:8-9
Isaiah 58:8-9
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