A number of people have asked me or Kim what has happened with my blog.  Before, during and after my surgery I went into my “holding my breath” mode.  Anytime I go through something that is physically painful but has a boundary of time, I literally hold my breath.  I steel myself during the intense moments and then do my labor/delivery breathing as I come out of the worst of it.  I don’t think holding your breath is recommended by doctors or nurses, but it is my learned behavior and it gets me through.  So, for the past week or so, I have been emotionally holding my breath.  I started to say you can’t see me physically holding my breath – but if you are with me during my emotional breath holding, you will see me kind of disappear.  If I can’t get away from everyone in the physical sense, I will clam up and go into myself.  So that is where I have been, and that is where my blog has been…clammed up inside of me.
Then came the pathology reports.  We waited a long time for those reports.  In fact, after everything running like clockwork at MD Anderson, suddenly we felt ourselves waiting inordinately long hours.  First, Gary, Kim and I waited three hours for a pre-op consultation.  No problem – we just got giddy with Gary doing impersonations and Kim laughing so hard nothing came out of her but tears!  Shooey…can you imagine what people were thinking as they passed by? 

Situation – cancer patient waiting for surgery, laughing so hard tears were streaming down her face.    

Diagnosis – crazy as a bed bug!

Then on Monday morning, my surgery was scheduled for 10:30 a.m.  I made sure to get to the hospital a little early just in case.  I was not called until 3:00 p.m.  During those 6 hours Gary did his best to make Kim laugh as I was busy intermittently holding my breath (emotionally) and praying.  I felt like the proverbial nun, shushing the two of them, giving Gary dirty looks, and finally taking him aside and having a talk.  They were seriously as bad as school children.  Lord only knows what they did after the “nun” was in the operating room.  I did notice a lot of the custodians and service personnel seemed to have a familiar rapport with them as we walked down the halls afterwards.

So, yes, we had grown accustomed to long waits – and waiting for the pathology results was par for the course.  The first call came an entire day late.  Kim, C.E., Jeanne, Gary, and I were in the family room.  I heard Gary’s phone ring.  The sound of his phone had become more like an alarm as I had begun to imagine all the possible scenarios play out in my mind.  I began to realize the good news is God is in control – not my mind, or anything or anyone else for that matter.  Whatever information was coming from Houston had already been filtered through God’s will.  And God loves me more than anyone.  What He wants for my life will be for my good.   He will give me the grace to accept whatever comes my way.  I knew if the news was bad I would eventually have a peace just as He had given me with my initial melanoma report. 

Dr. Soliman asked how I was doing.  As I told her I was getting better each day and answered a few of her questions, Kim was thinking “Spit it out, doc!  What does that report say?”!?!?  Crazy calm, unexplainable peace was with me as I walked to our patio doors and looked up at a most beautiful evening sky.  I felt His presence.  Dr. Soliman said, “Although we have not received the pathology report from the sentinel node (the first lymph node to receive drainage from my lesion), all the other lymph nodes are clear and we removed all of the cancerous tissue.”  I said, “I could not ask for better news.”  The family room erupted in cheering and clapping.  We all hugged, cried, laughed, gave God thanks, toasted with a glass of wine – basically did everything we could to celebrate God’s answer to our prayers.  Reluctantly, everyone left one by one, realizing we couldn’t jump up and down (well…they jumped) and cheer forever.  Someone asked if I was now beginning to feel concern about the sentinel node biopsy.  Strangely, no, I was not.  I could not get over God’s kindness toward me at that moment.  Like a child who wholeheartedly trusts on her Daddy’s decisions regarding her welfare, I knew whatever the outcome, I was in His loving, caring, tender arms and I was so safe and secure.  

I had to wait five more days for the final pathology report.  Gary delivered the news unexpectedly.  I was lying in bed when he called.  Somehow, after our initial exchange of helloes, I knew he had the news and I could tell by his voice it was good!  100% clear!! Amazing!  I cried so hard.  If someone had walked in the house at that moment, they would have thought I had received horrible news.   I was sobbing so hard.  All the waiting was over and all my prayers had been answered with a resounding, “Yes”!

How do you express inexpressible joy?  Where do you find words when there are no words to explain your gratitude?  Silence was what came over me for a number of days.  Kim asked me what I would do if I got such a great report.  I said I’d sprout wings and fly.  Instead, I sat outside the next day – stunned.  What just happened?  It was as if I had been carried down a river by wild rapids the past six weeks (and I can seriously say that Kim and Gary figuratively carried me everywhere and I thank God for them) and suddenly landed in a pool of calm, gentle, peaceful water…floating as if nothing ever happened.  “Please, God, don’t EVER let me forget what You have brought me through,” I prayed.  Why am I not bouncing off the ceiling?  Why am I so quiet before the Lord?  Am I in shock?

I’ve come to realize my inability to express myself, my stunned quiet – just like that Wednesday evening before our prayer service – is a part of my praise.  It is my response to a deeper level of intimacy with the Lord - to a deeper level of gratitude and acknowledgment of who He is – an understanding of, or a better understanding of His majesty and that I have been in the presence of such great love and majesty.  All of us, when we are happy, thrilled, and excited show our emotions with screams, laughter and leaps of joy.  I expected that same response out of myself.  But when you come to the precipice of the possible end of life here on earth, not knowing if you will stay or leave, there is a newfound sense of seriousness.  I did not “dodge a bullet” as I used to enjoy saying when I escaped a possible trial.  I entered into a deeper relationship with my Creator.  I will never be the same again, thank God!

One day I will go home to be with Him…and what a day it will be!  For now, I am here with my loved ones, enjoying each beautiful new day He gives me here on earth.  Enjoying every life He places in mine.  The poignancy that it is Easter week end has not escaped me.  I am eternally thankful for my Savior, Jesus Christ!  His love for me in dying on the cross as a substitute for my sins brings me to my knees.  I can only go to heaven and have an eternal relationship with my Father because of Jesus’ sacrificial love and obedience.  My heart overflows with tremendous love and great joy.  

King's Cross

I just finished reading King’s Cross by Tim Keller.  I loved it.  It was so inspiring, I wanted to share these last paragraphs of the book with you.

In Matthew 11:5, Jesus says, “The blind receive sight, the lame walk, those who have leprosy are cured, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the good news is preached to the poor.”  And to the extent that that future is real to you, it will change everything about how you live in the present.  For example, why is it so hard to face suffering?  Why is it so hard to face disability and disease?  Why is it so hard to do the right thing if you know it’s going to cost you money, reputation, maybe even your life?  Why is it so hard to face your own death or the death of loved ones?  It’s so hard because we think this broken world is the only world we’re ever going to have.  It’s easy to feel as if this money is the only wealth we’ll ever have, as if this body is the only body we’ll ever have.  But if Jesus is risen, then your future is so much more beautiful, and so much more certain, than that.

Every Easter I think about Joni Eareckson Tada.  She was in an accident when she was seventeen, and ever since has been a quadriplegic, paralyzed from the neck down.  While she was still trying to come to terms with this horrible accident, she would go to church in her wheelchair.

The problem with being in a wheelchair, she found, was that at a certain point in her church’s liturgy every Sunday, the priest called everyone to kneel ~ which drove home to her the fact that she was stuck in a wheelchair.  Once she was at a convention in which the speaker urged people to get down on their knees and pray.  Everyone did except Joni.  “With everyone kneeling, I certainly stood out.  And I couldn’t stop the tears.”  But it wasn’t because of self-pity.  She was crying because the sight of hundreds of people on their knees before God was so beautiful – “a picture of heaven.”  And then she continued weeping at another thought:

Sitting there, I was reminded that in heaven I will be free to jump up, dance, kick, and do aerobics.  And…sometime before the guests are called to the banquet table at the Wedding Feast of the Lamb, the first thing I plan to do on resurrected legs is to drop on grateful, glorified knees.  I will quietly kneel at the feet of Jesus.

Then, she adds:  “I, with shriveled, bent fingers, atrophied muscles, gnarled knees, and no feeling from the shoulders down, will one day have a new body, light, bright, and clothed in righteousness ~ powerful and dazzling.  Can you imagine the hope that the resurrection gives someone who is spinal cord-injured like me?”  Only in the gospel of Jesus Christ do people find such enormous hope to live.  Only the resurrection promises us not just new minds and hearts, but also new bodies.  They are going to be more indissoluble, more perfect, more beautiful.  They will be able to be and do and bear the burden of what bodies are supposed to do in a way in which our present bodies cannot.

If you can’t dance and you long to dance, in the resurrection you’ll dance perfectly.  If you’re lonely, in the resurrection you will have perfect love.  If you’re empty, in the resurrection you will be fully satisfied.  Ordinary life is what’s going to be redeemed.  There is nothing better than ordinary life, except that it’s always going away and always falling apart.  Ordinary life is food and work and chairs by the fire and hugs and dancing and mountains ~ this world.  God loves it so much that he gave His only Son so we ~ and the rest of this ordinary world ~ could be redeemed and made perfect.  And that’s what is in store for us.

And if you know that this is not the only world, the only body, the only life you are ever going to have ~ that you will someday have a perfect life, a real, concrete life ~ who cares what people do to you?  You’re free from ultimate anxieties in this life, so you can be brave and take risks.  You can face the worst thing, even in a wheel chair, with joy, with hope.  The resurrection means we can look forward with hope to the day our suffering will be gone.   But it even means that we can look forward with hope to the day our suffering will be glorious.  When Jesus shows the disciples His hands and feet, He is showing them His scars.  The last time the disciples saw Jesus, they thought they were on a presidential campaign.  They thought that their candidate was going to win and they were going to be in the cabinet, and when they saw the nails going into the hands and the feet and the spear going into the side, they believed those wounds had destroyed their lives.  And now Jesus is showing them that in His resurrected body His scars are still there.

Why is this important?  Because now that they understand the scars, the sight and memory of them will increase the glory and joy of the rest of their lives.  Seeing Jesus Christ with His scars reminds them of what He did for them ~ that the scars they thought had ruined their lives actually saved their lives.  Remembering those scars will help many of them endure their own crucifixions.

On the Day of the Lord ~ the day that God makes everything right, the day that everything sad comes untrue ~ on that day the same thing will happen to your own hurts and sadness.  You will find that the worst things that have ever happened to you will in the end only enhance your eternal delight.  On that day, all of it will be turned inside out and you will know joy beyond the walls of the world.  The joy of your glory will be that much greater for every scar you bear.

So live in the light of the resurrection and renewal of this world, and of yourself, in a glorious, never-ending, joyful dance of grace.

Thank God for prayer warriors.

March 17, 2012

The past few weeks Gregg has been teaching from the Gospel of Mark. Three or four weeks ago, Jeanne asked me to write a prayer to be read during worship. Its theme was "God is worthy of our obedience." In preparation for my prayer, which eventually became Gary's and my collaboration, I began to read through Mark myself. When I got to the part where Jesus is sitting in a house teaching and the paralytic was lowered through the roof, I started to laugh. Never have I found that passage funny, but this time I saw the humor in it. I mean, can you imagine preaching to a rapt audience and suddenly hearing a commotion above your head, only to realize people were trying to remove the roof? Did Jesus look up and then try to continue His train of thought...or did they all just stop and stare, waiting to see what was getting ready to transpire? The funniest part is the thought of the awkwardness of slowly being lowered in the midst of a bunch of people who do not want ANY interruptions. Can you imagine the looks on their faces?!? And what in the world do you say when your pallet finally stops in front of Jesus' face? "Hi preacher"? "Sorry to jump line"?

Kim had been wondering if we should try and get together our church to pray for me.  Tuesday morning as she began her Beth Moore Bible study of James, she was surprised to see the verse for that day’s study.  “Is anyone among you sick? Let them call the elders of the church to pray over them and anoint them with oil in the name of the Lord.  And the prayer offered in faith will make the sick person well; the Lord will raise them up. If they have sinned, they will be forgiven. Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective.”  (James 5:14-16)  Well, after a quick email the prayer service was “on like Donkey Kong” in Kim’s lingo.  It was as if she and Gary had me on that roof, digging, digging, a hole and lowering my lawn chair down to Jesus. 

I had never been to a prayer service, especially one that had anointing of oil and requests for healing. My first reaction was to be uncomfortable being put in the spotlight, which I'm sure the paralytic felt. Then I thought, "Why me? People will think I think I am special." Moving ahead of the line by being lowered through the roof was pretty audacious. I can only imagine what went through that guy's head. But after all those thoughts about me being somewhat embarrassed and uncomfortable, the seriousness of being brought before the Lord by people who love and care about me hit me hard. Did I want and need prayer? Indeed I did! Was there any place I'd rather be than surrounded by my church family with the Lord in our midst, just as He promised He would be? Absolutely not!! Did I then and do I now believe He can heal me if it is His will? No doubt in my mind!!!

As Gary and I drove to Christ Community Church that rainy Wednesday night, I could not carry on and banter with Gary as if it was a usual Wednesday night. As I write this, I don't want to sound dramatic; but, I honestly felt as though I was getting ready to tread on Holy ground - that I was entering into something very sacred - and I was speechless. As we pulled up in front of our church, I saw the precious faces of people I love. I felt so loved and honored as I watched each one file into the entrance. Tears streamed down my face. This was a moment I will never forget. It is etched in my memory forever. Being placed in the center of "my family" was not at all awkward. It was exactly where I wanted and needed to be. As each person stood up, walked over to Gary, Hunter, and me, placed their hands on us, and lifted us up in prayer, I felt an unbelievable peace and comfort. If anyone ever thinks that praying for someone is routine and common, think again. God has used the prayers of His people to accomplish mighty and wonderful things throughout time. It is no exception with me. I am so blessed, comforted, and strengthened by the prayers I have received. That night many prayers were voiced and many I did not hear. Garrett said he and Allie were praying with us at the same time in Atlanta. He said people were praying for me/us all across the country. I have since learned that Clint's church in Scotland has me on their prayer list. What a blessing...a blessing I am SO very thankful for. I think both the paralytic centuries ago and I today learned very quickly - when in a place of great need, God shows us how to take our eyes off ourselves and our insecurities...how to look to Him for our needs and desires. He, in turn, gives us great hope and fathomless love. Although there have been struggles along the way, I have felt His peace that I felt that night continue and increase. Yesterday I spent the day reading Tim Keller's book (King's Cross) which is, by the way, all about Mark. Garrett recommended it as I spend these weeks in Houston - and I see it as an "I spy" (God's working in our lives becoming evident). This house we have been blessed to stay in and the grounds that surround it are so beautiful. I sat under two live oaks surrounded by azaleas from early morning to late afternoon. As I read, prayed, listened to music, and enjoyed the sunlight and gentle breezes, I felt enveloped by the Lord - like Maddox swaddled in his little blue blanket. I told Gary and Kim that I never wanted to lose this feeling of being at peace with God's will. Whether I live or die, I am with Him. I am excited about living life with my family and friends, enjoying the Lord and all He has created and planned for me. I am excited to be with Him in eternity if my life here is coming to an end. It is a deep peace I have never felt before. I pray I never lose it.   

We fix our eyes not on what is seen...

Some people have asked why I chose to title this blog "Cracked Pot".  My dear friend, Jeanne Terry, sent a card to me after finding out about my diagnosis and in it she wrote, "from one crack pot to another."  It was in reference to her favorite scripture that she has quoted to me many times throughout the numerous trials in my life.  The scripture is II Corinthians 4:7-18, which refers to us as jars of clay. Our physical bodies are earthen vessels, cracking and eroding from the stresses of life.  But as Christians, we carry within us the death and resurrection of our Savior as our treasure.  The brilliant light of His life shines through our cracks and His all-surpassing power is made perfect in our weakness.

"So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen.  For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal."  II Corinthians 4:18

Journal Entry February 20, 2012

Well, I had my mammogram and everyone seems to think it's okay.  Two more appointments to go.  Man, I wish I hadn't scheduled all my doctors' appointments in January!  I have had a suspicious looking skin-change for quite some time.  My doctor has not seemed to be too concerned, so I wasn't either.  This appointment I decided to ask him if he thought it could be cancer.  He said, "Well, let's do a biopsy."  I was all for it - better safe than sorry, right?  So, honestly I really didn't think too much about it and waited for a phone call on Valentine's Day, one week after the biopsy. No call on V-day.  I wondered if they didn't call because they had bad news and did not want to ruin a perfectly romantic date night.  The next day I got the call about 10:30.  My stomach and heart sank.  The nurse said the doctor needed me to come into his office for a consultation.  I said, "Can't you just tell me over the phone?"  The answer was "No, honey, I can't."  Say no more.  This is not going to be simple.

I called Hunter to see if he could look up my biopsy at the hospital. (Hunter is my younger son in his third year of med school.)  He said no.  He did say he would write down some questions to ask and tried to acquaint me with some of the possibilities this biopsy uncovered.  He met me at the doctor's office and asked, "Would you want me to come in with you?"  I did.  I am so glad he was there as the doctor sat down and immediately said, "It is melanoma." (a rare form)  Neither Hunter nor I were expecting the worst case scenario.  We just stared at the doctor as he nodded his head up and down for what seemed to be an eternity.  I wanted to ask, "Is there any good news?", but feared the answer and kept my mouth shut.  With nothing positive coming out of the doctor's mouth all I could think of was, "Get me out of this hell-hole."  I think I muttered, "It's okay, I'll be alright" to him as we left, but I could feel my blood pressure skyrocketing.

I went into my mantra immediately - God is in control of my life.  He knows the day I'm coming home...etc., etc.  Gary and Hunter nodded in agreement.  At home, Gary quickly called Garrett (our older son) and Hunter got on the computer.  I talked myself down a number of times as I felt panic ensue.  Each freaked out thought of death was followed by a spike in my blood pressure.  My mouth went completely dry and I bounced back and forth between wanting to puke and pass out.  I don't remember how long it took me to realize I could not go on like that.  I would not go on like that.

I cannot remember if it was that night or the next, but I finally stopped trying to be strong and fell in a heap before the Lord and begged Him to help me.  It was immediately that I felt I had an answer - die to yourself.  And it made perfect sense.  Because all I could think about was me, I was miserable.  Die to my obsessing thoughts.  Die to my fears.  Look to the Lord.  Also, I did not want this diagnosis to take me out of life and living!  Dying to myself and my thoughts about myself - and living to love and serve others was what made me truly happy.  My attitude and mood changed that night that I begged the Lord for help.

Since then I have had set-backs.  The day I went to see the oncologist was the worst.  I had spent many days focusing on the Lord rather than myself and my visit to Dr. Oakley made me focus on myself and my cancer.  I don't think I had stuck my head in the sand, but Kim and Hunter were the ones researching the type of cancer I have and they were the ones dealing with the cold, hard facts.  I was just trying to live life focusing on the Lord and his perspective.  Gary and Kim did all the talking at the appointment while I just kind of sat and listened to the depressing facts - one of which was that the lesion was very deep and of course had been there for quite some time.  When we left the hospital, the sunny morning had turned into a gloomy day with gray clouds hanging down so low I felt I could reach up and touch them.  God knows how I hate to not see the sun. He knows how my moods are so affected by whether or not I see the sunlight.  God is in control of EVERYTHING and He allowed that day to be as ominous as any day I had ever seen.

When we came home, Gary, Kim and Hunter began discussing my treatment/surgery as I sat on the couch, quietly falling deeper and deeper into a depressed state the more and more I focused on me, my cancer, and - scariest of all - the possibility of cancer keeping me in bed, hospitals, treatment rooms, etc., rather than out enjoying life and people.  I went upstairs to bed and tried to pray, but fell asleep.  When I awoke it was 5:00 p.m. - time to walk our dog, Atticus.  Gary was beside me...snoring.  I don't know why, but that added to my depression.  I felt so all alone.  I went downstairs and got Atticus.  We walked out into the gloom. I looked up at the sky and cried, "Help me, Lord."  The trees - bare and dark - looked like jutting spears.  The wind was seriously howling and buffeting me.  I thought, "I wouldn't mind if the wind just cracked one of those jutting spears and stabbed me in the heart!"  Whew...bad scene.  Just then - as if things could not get any worse - the slight rain turned into little bits of hail and to add insult to injury I was smacked upside the face with those little suckers.  The physical landscape matched the landscape of my soul.  I felt I had lost my focus and couldn't find the Lord.

In the past, I have struggled with depression.  The sunlight, or should I say the lack of sunlight, has always had an effect on my mood.  January through March has never been my favorite time of year.  But, as I have grown spiritually, God has over and over again made me aware that my moods and feelings don't last...they are temporary.  Yet, I have allowed my moods and feelings to dictate the way I lived.  I have learned best by His creation showing me that the beautiful blue sky is ALWAYS above the clouds.  The clouds are temporary - here today and gone tomorrow - so don't focus on something that has no permanence.  Focus on what is never changing.  So that day, as I felt the clouds and my cancer oppressing me, I came home and renewed my focus on the never changing, permanent Lord.  My trust is in the Lord.  He is worthy of my obedience.  Over and over He tells me, "DO NOT FEAR" and "BE ANXIOUS FOR NOTHING".  I will trust what He says and in obedience, do what He says.  I love my Lord and my desire is to glorify Him always.  That brings me joy.

January 3, 2012

Happy New Year!

That's what everyone says, at least.  The past 4, 5 or 6 New Years I have found myself not so much celebrating the new year, but wondering, with a bit of dread, what these next unknown 365 days have in store for me.  I try to shake it off, like a boxer shakes off a glancing blow to the jaw - but the ominous mood still hangs overhead. 

Last year, as the new year came, I was sick and couldn't hear much of anything but my own voice.  Couple that with my best friend's father-in-law dying, as well as my employer dying (within one week of each other) and I felt totally fine with taking to my bed for at least a week...only to get up for my yearly mammogram, which came out "suspicious."  The next few weeks were a fight for my perspective. 

Now, I find myself in the same frame of mind.  Another mammogram looming, my cousin suddenly losing the love of his life, and my dear sweet dog quickly succumbing to the effects of diabetes.  Life does not go the way we want it to, always in a state of flux.  As I get older that flux is usually not a good thing.  Rather than losing a boyfriend when we're young - which is sad, but usually followed up with a new, exciting "love" - we lose a loved one for good in our old days.  Rather than uprooting and moving to a new city when we're young - again very sad, yet exciting because of all the new sights and opportunities - in the latter years we watch our kids pull out of the driveway, taking our precious grandchildren out of our everyday lives.

Sometimes I get jealous of people who bounce, who make life work for them.  I look at them scampering to and fro, seemingly as carefree as the squirrels that run along the top of my fence...busy, busy, busy.  I watch them to see what it is that keeps them so seemingly happily occupied.  They come home with shopping bags, grocery bags, gym bags, etc.  That's all good.  Nothing wrong with bags!!  I hope to be carrying some bags in the house before too long, as well.  I just need to take a break from bags this new year.  I believe I need to quiet myself before the Lord and tell Him of my fears, my sadness, my longings and my sins.  I can't go on with this new year until I talk to Him, read His Word, hunker down under my covers and let Him transform my perspective to His perspective.  It's not until I go to Him that I can be of any use to Him... to anyone.  It is not until I strengthen myself with His words that I can face, head on, the next 365 days.  It is not until I remember that I have life eternal with Him that I can shake off any feeling of dread.  Father, I know You are with me in EVERYTHING.  There is nothing I can't handle as long as I am Yours and You are mine.  Rather than Happy New Year! I think I should say, I wait with excitement to see what God unfolds.

I have kept a journal off and on for many years now.  That was my journal entry for January 3, 2012.  I meant every word I wrote.  But I had no idea how true those words would be in less than 6 weeks.  I did go to my mammogram appointment, along with my other two annual doctors' appointments.  I received a phone call on the morning of February 15 from one of my doctors asking me to come to his office that afternoon.  Somewhat scared, I called my husband and my younger son.  My son ended up going with me.  Unbeknownst to me, my husband was waiting in the parking lot.  It was at this appointment I learned I had a rare form of cancer.  From that day I have experienced the joy, love and peace of God through His body - the church.  My pastor and friends have encouraged me to share my journey.  I do not fancy myself a writer.  And it is difficult to share my innermost thoughts.  But I do want to share how the Lord has blessed me through this situation.  So from time to time I will be posting entries.  I hope the blessings I have received and continue to receive will bless you as well.

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