Laugh and the world laughs with you...

My mom used to say, "Laugh and the world laughs with you, cry and you cry alone."  Today I decided to see if she got that from somewhere, lo and behold, she did!  

Solitude

By Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Laugh, and the world laughs with you;

Weep, and you weep alone;

For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth,

But has trouble enough of its own.

Sing, and the hills will answer;

Sigh, it is lost on the air;

The echoes bound to a joyful sound,

But shrink from voicing care.

Rejoice, and men will seek you;

Grieve, and they turn and go;

They want full measure of all your pleasure,

But they do not need your woe.

Be glad, and your friends are many;

Be sad, and you lose them all,—

There are none to decline your nectared wine,

But alone you must drink life’s gall.

Feast, and your halls are crowded;

Fast, and the world goes by.

Succeed and give, and it helps you live,

But no man can help you die.

There is room in the halls of pleasure

For a large and lordly train,

But one by one we must all file on

Through the narrow aisles of pain.

For some reason this saying of hers has been in my mind all week. I know it sounds morose, but this poem pretty much says everything I feel at the moment.

 

The Incline

Remember my post about how this cancer journey is like being dropped off at a trail head with no map, no idea how long the hike is, no idea the elevation gain, expected weather conditions and no idea if and when your snacks, water, backpacking gear and relevant necessities will appear? Yeah. Well, as it turns out that trail head drop off point was 2 years ago. We've crested mountains we would have sworn were the summit. We've meandered a bit and caught glimpses of a very dark valley and a steep mountain beyond that we all prayed wasn't a feature of this particular trail. And now? We're on the edge of that valley and the incline beyond.

I know from experience that I will find a cadence in the difficulty ahead, but I also know the burn of those muscles as they get pushed to their limit. I have a bit of muscle memory, and it all begs to abdicate. Even knowing there is no way but through, I don't want to do it.

Discomfort anyone?

 What does it take to sit in discomfort?

I've been pondering this question for awhile. (Is my whole blog about this question? I don't think so, but it features a lot.) Probably because life/God keep giving me opportunities to sit here, and so I keep pondering. Very recently I was evaluating this current discomfort and asking God for more tools to navigate the hard. I sat in quiet and stillness for a few hours, waiting. Thankfully, I had these beautiful trees to keep me company.

As I was watching the aspen leaves quiver in the very slight wind that was gusting through from time to time I was thinking about the seasons and the pattern God laid out for us on repeat. I was watching these aspen leaves that hold on to the branch by the thinnest of stems. So delicate their grasp on stability. They wave and quiver and look like the slightest breeze could knock them loose and it doesn't, until all at once it does. Down they float gracefully to join a million others blanketing the forest floor in gold. It's beautiful.

I tend to fight this season. Fight the discomfort. Fight to stay afloat and stable. 

"He makes us wait. He keeps us on purpose in the dark. He makes us walk when we want to run, sit still when we want to walk, for He has things to do in our souls that we are not interested in." - Elizabeth Elliot

Honestly? I don't think many of us have what it takes to sit in discomfort. This is a skill crafted by the master craftsman. It's not something highly valued in our society or even in ourselves. It's a gift most of us don't want. I know I don't want it. At least not a first blush, but since I'm here...

Inflection point

I've been thinking about inflection points in life. How they can be both major and incredibly small things along the journey. I have plenty of major ones. But I also have a collection of small inflection points that are little markers fluttering in the breeze (and sometimes in the gale), marking the path I've walked.

One that came to mind recently was just a flash of a moment in time when I was 19. Here is the setting: Daniel, Dathan and I had traveled by train and boat from Moscow, Russia to Kristiansand, Norway to visit dear friends. The journey had been long, dirty and exhausting. We had eaten very little and pretty much nothing of nutritional value, (think Nutella and bread). It was the dead of winter, so I was wearing an oversized ugly blue coat that had been my pillow/blanket on many a cold hard floor/bench/seat. We were coming from Tbilisi, Georgia where we hadn't been able to properly wash anything in months due to a lack of hot water (and being a teenager)! So we arrived in beautiful Norway dirty, tired and pretty darn hungry.

Upon seeing these straggly teenagers at her door, my sweet friends mother promptly ushered me to their sparkly clean bathroom where she gave me fresh clothes to wear and I had my first HOT shower in months (literally) and she also gave all my clothes a solid washing. The word divine doesn't come close to that feeling. Being cared for, being clean, being welcomed in...I remember her bringing me my jeans after they had been washed and I thought she had bought me new ones because they were so clean! It was a small moment in time, very simple acts of service and an inflection point in my young life. 

I hope I can pay that kindness forward, and I hope I have. 

                                                           (Reeta and Birthe circa 1993)

wild hare

 This morning I got the wild hare to go back to the beginning of this blog and read my first post. It left me feeling that I diverged from my original intention of starting this whole thing right out of the gates. Good grief. I was gonna use this space to try to unpack the mysteries of life, and what have I done instead? Chronicled randomness. How apropos.

It's still in my mind to try to unpack the winding, crazy roads I've traveled. But unfortunately, cancer is kinda staring me down and daring me to talk about anything but. We'll just have to see.

When asked to take "no" for an answer...

 I've been thinking of late about taking "no" for an answer. 

How that sits with my American culture and upbringing. 

How that sits with my pride and self obsession. 

How that sits with my charismatic Christian training. 

Mostly it doesn't sit well. My culture and upbringing have told me, "Don't take no for an answer!" My pride and selfishness says, "You don't deserve this, you've had enough hard." My charismatic Christian training insinuates, "Cancer isn't God's will, your faith isn't strong enough, your knock isn't loud enough, you don't know the secret code to get God to move on your behalf."

Out of the 3, the last feels the most tricky to navigate. Mostly because there is a mix of truth and falsehood there, so it takes intention to separate them out. 

John 10:10 – “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.”

Matthew 4:23-24 – Jesus went through Galilee “healing every disease and sickness among the people.”

Jeremiah 30:17 – “But I will restore you to health and heal your wounds, declares the Lord.”

Clearly God did not originally design disease, brokenness and sickness for his creation, that all came as a result of sin. But does that mean God doesn't use this reality to shape me? I don't think so. And is it up to me to convince God to basically do my will? Honestly, this feels sticky for me. This mixed truth that God didn't design disease and yet He uses it to help accomplish our training. Nothing comes to me but through His hand, so how am I to view this current circumstance? I can't view it as entirely God's will (He didn't design disease) or entirely not His will (He allowed it into my life). 

2 Corinthians 12:7–9 – “Therefore, in order to keep me from becoming conceited, I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me… But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’”

John 9:1–3 – When the disciples asked why a man was born blind, Jesus answered: “This happened so that the works of God might be displayed in him.”

Romans 5:3–4 – “We glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope.”

Philippians 3:10 – “I want to know Christ—yes, to know the power of his resurrection and participation in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death.”

1 Peter 4:12–13 – “Dear friends, do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal that has come on you to test you… But rejoice inasmuch as you participate in the sufferings of Christ, so that you may be overjoyed when his glory is revealed.”

Once again I find myself squarely in the both/and of God. If I think I can perfectly discern God's design for my life or Alex's, I am wrong. Only He knows the plans He's laid out. Can I beg, plead and cajole God into changing His plan? Honestly, I don't know. Maybe. I know for sure I'm allowed to try! I definitely know that I can ask and cry and ask and beg and ask and knock and pound my fists on God's chest, He gives me this open invitation to do so. 

Hebrews 4:16 – “Let us then approach God’s throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.” 

Psalm 86:3 – “Have mercy on me, Lord, for I call to you all day long.”  

Hebrews 5:7 – “During the days of Jesus’ life on earth, he offered up prayers and petitions with fervent cries and tears to the one who could save him from death, and he was heard because of his reverent submission.”

I think God definitely asks me to take "no" for an answer. I have asked for Alex's healing with every fiber of my being, with prayer, supplication and fasting and God has said no. At least not right now, and not in the miraculous instant way I would prefer. So that leaves me sitting with a test of faith and trust. Do I trust the character of God? Can I take his "no" as the best answer right now? Am I serving God with my life because of the good things He brings into it or because I believe in and worship Him?

Romans 8:35, 37–39 –

“Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? … No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life… nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” 

“Christ did not suffer so you wouldn’t suffer. He suffered so when you suffer you will become like Him.” - Tim Keller

Aftermath.

 af·ter·math

/ˈaftərˌmaTH/

noun

1. 1.

   the consequences or aftereffects of a significant unpleasant event.

Here I am in the aftermath of Alex's PET scan on Monday. Think of all the ways you feel when an answer you deeply hoped would be positive comes back as a hard no. Yeah. All I could do was stand in the doorway to Alex's room and stare at him with disbelief when he said the news was bad. How many times have I stood in that doorway now and looked at him in disbelief. How on earth could it be bad, again?! Every single time I am holding on to hope. Every time. Stupid hope.

Of course I don't really think hope is stupid. (It has a lot of great qualities. It apparently springs eternal. The recommendation stands that you shouldn't give it up, yet it can be dashed). But the real kicker for me in this moment is that hope is so very tenacious. It is very hard to kill. Mostly I'm a fan of hope. Except when I'm not. Like now. I mean, I don't want to lose it or anything, but...

On Monday I was contemplating how it was possible that in my deepest heart I really thought the news would be good. Every single scan I have approached with this tension, working so hard to hold both possible outcomes in my hands equally so as not to be disappointed if the results are bad. And EVERY SINGLE time I'm shocked and completely dismayed. What on earth? 

Honestly? So many things just boil down to the tension that lies in all the many many paradoxes of this life. How to hold hope and surrender simultaneously. Free will and predestination. Freedom in Christ and being constrained in order to love the other well. Healing and sickness. Life and death. The perfection of the original creation and our current broken world. So much tension. I would say a lot of people just decide to pick a side cause holding the tension is tough. (In my opinion this is part of how we've gotten to so many denominations. The inability to sit in the tension that 2 things that seem to contradict each other can both be true simultaneously, it's not either or).

Anyhoo. So yeah. That's precisely where you find me today. Sitting here in the tension of having held onto the hope that Monday would reveal glorious news and instead there's just this aftermath of heavy prospects and suffering ahead. Cheers.

the (very) messy middle

Ugh for the messy middle. I'm feeling it keenly today for some reason. This very untidy space of loose ends, unfinished things, raw emotions, more questions than answers, tension, unknown outcomes... all the messiness of life here and now. The question looms, "How to live well in the messy middle?"  And it's a tough one. Here are my thoughts. Surrender, rest, breathe out and learn to live with tension. I have no idea what the outcome of MANY things/situations in my life might be. I'm honestly shocked (for some reason) at how much surrender this life requires. The illusion of control has got to be one of the most toxic and addictive aspects of human existence. I crave it. I do not have it and I cannot get it. The temptation is to try to control everything that is feasible. I can definitely get stuck in this space. Practicing opening my hand with even the little things is something I have to keep tabs on, keep exercising surrender, keep letting go. 

Rest. So hard, so necessary. Rest, in my experience, comes from dumping all of my messy middle things at God's feet. Blah. There you go God! I'm sick of carrying all this crazy tension and messiness around! You can have it! What's the worst that can happen? _______________, so if that happens I know God is still here, still loves me, still holds all my atoms together. He is unchanging. 

So here I am in this tense pregnant moment. 11 days til another defining PET scan for Alex. And how many days until I'm not measuring time in PET scans? No idea. At the moment I'm keenly aware of how fraught life is. The tension of this life eases at points, but it never truly abates. So living in the tense pregnant moment bends me to a posture of surrender, prayer, hope, longing and supplication. 

Welcome to the messy middle.

Dichotomy!

 It's been a hot minute since I've written a blog post. I think I've needed a tiny hiatus. Life has been blessedly even for the past 2 months (well, sorta even anyway). The danger is that it feels like we've all moved on from cancer when cancer hasn't actually moved on yet. Maybe it's in the process of packing its bags and vacating Alex's lymphatic system, we don't know. Or it could be plotting a coup and fortifying it's positions, we don't know. Which leads me to thinking about how very little we know in general. We humans bluster about with great authority and confidence, making plans, sometimes even executing plans. But the reality is that we are all a hairs breath from life changing news, the upending of all things planned and the unknown all the time. In some ways it's almost a comfort to be in the upending, it makes me feel like I'm already in this trench, so whatever is gonna fly I'm ready. Of course on the flip side I'm hoping nothing else flies at my head in this moment. I am at maximum capacity for upending circumstances! Oh dichotomy!

Ok. Well, that's all I wanted to say. For now.

16 years...

16 years. That’s how long it’s been since my dad died. It was a Thursday in late March. The skies were threatening snow, potentially a lot of it. I had taken the boys to school and then hustled over to the hospital with little 3 yr old Grace to bring a gift to my brother and sister in law who had just welcomed their third, a baby girl! The snow was starting to fall thick and fast as I arrived and just as I was leaving the hospital I got the call that school was cancelled due to weather. I drove back to the school and picked up my boys who were 8 and 6 at the time and then made a quick stop at Safeway to buy some pizzas for dinner that night. The snow began to seriously accumulate as I made my way home to spend a cozy afternoon. Later in the day Daniel took the kids outside to sled while I got pizzas in the oven and just as they came in and pizzas were coming out I got a phone call from my mom. “Your dad is gone.” 

Just a few hours earlier dad had gone out to shovel the deepening snow so that he and mom could drive to Wendy’s for a burger. As she pulled into Wendy's drive thru dad suddenly slumped over next to her and she knew he was gone. She pulled out of the drive thru and drove straight to the hospital where she called me. Daniel and I left the kids with his parents and for the second time that day I made my way to the hospital. 8 hours earlier I had come to celebrate and welcome a new life and now I went to say goodbye to my dad. Life holds such strange moments. 

Dads death was a delineating line in my life. Up to that moment I hadn’t really experienced loss or grief of any substance. After his death it felt like the floodgates of hard things were thrown open. We would subsequently have to let go of our beautiful home in the foothills, our business, and pretty much all of life as we had known it. It was an incredibly hard stretch of road. At the time I didn’t know it would be one of many, I just knew the immediacy of that pain. 16 years later I can see how God used those first hard losses to teach me how to open my hand. To recognize that I have no control and to hold all things as loosely as I can by continually handing those I love and the comforts that can appear so solid back to God on repeat. It was my first really big lesson on loss and letting go, but by no means the last.

Sheer mercy

Wow. It has been a week. One week ago today Alex went in for another PET scan to get a base line for where his cancer is at before starting Salvage chemo. The morning of his scan I messaged a friend who is one of the prayer warriors who I know has my back in this very challenging season. This is what I texted her: 

"Today is Alex's PET scan... all morning I can't help but pray for a miracle... that the scan would inexplicably show him to be cancer free. I know that most likely that won't happen, but this is literally the last off ramp before he undergoes a grueling 6 months. I'm struggling with this tension between acceptance and contending..." 

She said in reply: "It's completely ok to beg the Lord for this! I'm with you in the begging! His will be done... but until it's done let's beg!...I am contending... begging alongside you!" 

Then God dropped this scripture into my heart/mind to pray over Alex, Isaiah 41:12,13: "You will seek those who quarrel with you, but will not find them. Those who war with you will be as nothing and non-existent. For I am the Lord your God who takes hold of your right hand, who says to you, "Do not fear, I will help you." 

I told her: "This is what I am praying over Alex this morning against all probability that "though they search for the cancer (enemies), they will not find them. Those who wage war (cancer) against you (Alex) will be as nothing at all..." 

By the sheer mercy and grace of God that PET scan revealed that his cancer had shrunk inexplicably by a 3rd, it's speed of growth was reduced by a 3rd and the cancer has not spread in the last 50 days. He has done 3 low dose chemo infusions in the past month and a half, but if these results are due to that chemo alone then it's a pretty phenomenal chemo!! It feels like nothing short of a miracle to have this news at the 11th hour! There aren't really words to describe the relief.

Oh blissful edge of darkest sea

Oh blissful edge of darkest sea

all tumult, foam and fury

Where do thoughts endless go

to meet their death?

Blackest thoughts of rot, decay

down to the depths are cast,

a ferment for future growth.

Rest. Your time is not now.

painting by Carolyn Roberts

Neuroplasticity and stuff

Today I read an article on the neuroplasticity of the brain.

"Your brain is an instrument of limitless potential in constant flux. Research across the fields of neuroscience, neuroimmunology, neurometabolism, psychology, behavioral science, neurology, and psychiatry all point to the same conclusion: You have the tremendous opportunity to change yourself for the better when you take agency over neuroplasticity and chart your brain’s future." --By Dr. Austin Perlmutter

And I couldn't help but chew on how whatever I'm ruminating on shapes my brain.  Philippians 4:8 anyone?

"Summing it all up, friends, I’d say you’ll do best by filling your minds and meditating on things true, noble, reputable, authentic, compelling, gracious—the best, not the worst; the beautiful, not the ugly; things to praise, not things to curse. Put into practice what you learned from me, what you heard and saw and realized. Do that, and God, who makes everything work together, will work you into his most excellent harmonies."  (The Message)

Crazy how science and God line up eh? 

Right now I'm in a fight to fill my mind with truth and beauty when in life I'm feeling all things January.  I'm trying to thread the needle of looking at the real hard things with clear eyes while still holding on to hope, joy, peace and yes, beauty. This is not easy. Cancer is ugly. It wants to take up all the oxygen in the room, all the space in the brain. Every minute of every day I'm fighting back against this. I'm releasing my grip and allowing God to do the heavy lifting, breathing in the oxygen of His word, his lightness of being to replace the heaviness and the dark. (Also, how cool to be worked into God's most excellent harmonies! Yes please.)

Did I mention this isn't as easy as it sounds?  I did?  Ok, well, back to work then.