For the past three years, I have felt lost. Ever since I was told I was in remission, I have felt stuck. I don't mean that I was depressed per se. I have had many good days. I simply mean just that - stuck. Nothing inspired me. Nothing motivated me. After a moving church service, I watched as others reacted, but I felt empty. I listened to the testimonies of others and reminisced about times gone by when I felt alive in Christ.
I made plans, knew what it would take to get where I wanted to go, but I couldn't quite bring myself to do it.
I want to be healthy. Each morning, I elected to stay in bed instead of run, fooling myself into thinking I would make a better choice in the afternoon and go workout at the Y. The afternoon came and there was always an excuse for not being able to make it to the Y.
I want to shed the weight I gained during chemo because of the thyroid issue. The medicine is keeping me from continuing to gain, but I cannot loose. The day starts with a promise of better decision making. Then, it is time to eat and I choose tasty over healthy. I give in to my craving for sweets.
I started to feel down, angry with myself. I always say I will do better tomorrow, but tomorrow never comes. I was stuck.
Last Saturday, I attended a Women's Lunch at the church. The guest speaker had an amazing story. As I listened to her, I felt nothing. In the past, such stories would inspire me. I shared my frustrations with God, but even my prayers were stale.
Tenth Avenue North has a song out called Worn. There is a line that says:
I want to know a song can rise from the ashes of a broken life
and all that's dead inside can be reborn
'cause I'm worn
http://youtu.be/-METBrlP3xU
Those words became my pleading prayer. This past Saturday, on our way home from our first time out with the High Road Runners from church. I told Mike how I felt stuck and longed for something to ignite a spark within me again, to make me feel alive and motivate me.
It's amazing how God works. I have been feeling this way for some time then all of a sudden, BAM!
Sunday morning was amazing. When I tried to retell the story of what happened, all I could say was that the Holy Spirit was very present and that is still an understatement!
During Sunday School, four classes combined to hear a guest speaker. He had me riveted to every word. He was going to be speaking Sunday night as well.
I usually volunteer with the youth on Sunday, but because of this special guest, the youth were going to be in church with the rest of the congregation. Any time the youth do not meet separately, I tend to take the night off from church. This week was going to be no exception. My Texans were going to be playing at 3pm. Even though they have been pitiful this year and were playing an undefeated team, I still intended to watch the game. Unfortunately...or fortunately in this case...the game was not televised. After the excitement of the morning, I decided to go back to church.
Once again, Pastor Tanner from the Church of the Nazarene in Valparaiso, Indiana commanded my full, undivided attention. He told the story of a Biblical character that I never remember hearing about. He said there is sporadic mention of him throughout and you must take a sentence from here and there and piece them together to get his story. (Once I got home, I looked him up. I have read the Bible countless times. How come I never heard this story? Well, maybe because it is a mere sentence. But, there it is in 2 Samuel 23:20)
He spoke of a man, Benaiah, one of David's mighty men, commander of David's army, responsible for changing the world.
Why was he the commander of David's army? Because he proved himself as the head of David's bodyguard detail? Why was he in charge of David's bodyguard detail? Because he proved himself as David's bodyguard. How did he become David's bodyguard? Because he chased a lion into a pit.
Small choices led lead to great victory.
Pastor Tanner was so animated in his story telling. He walked us through what any sane person would do if a lion was following them. If, by chance, the lion turned and walked away, most people would be praising God for saving them, not running after the lion. Then, even if we were out of our mind and ran after the lion, most of us would stop once the lion fell into the pit and praise God for saving them in a time when they completely went out of their mind. But, no! This lion chaser jumped into the pit and killed the lion.
Imagine King David searching resumes for his bodyguard. Pastor Tanner mimicked the king flipping through resumes, all the Rangers and Seals applying. Those who have studied at top universities. Then he comes to Benaiah's resume, chased a lion into a pit. Yes! That's the one!
His point was for the state of the church, but I took it personally. It translated well into my life. How did Benaiah become one of David's mighty men? Because way back, all those years ago, he made that choice to chase that lion.
We never know what choices we make today can change the world in the future.
I thought about my feelings of being stuck. My choice to get up and run or stay in bed. My choice to eat an apple or ice cream. The choice to write or watch television. The choice to talk with God or watch television.
Goes back to the quote I have as my screen saver on my computer from the book Greater by Steven Furtick, "A big dream without a small start is nothing but a daydream."
I felt like a deflated quarterback coming into the locker room at half time after several sacks and interceptions. Coach gives us a pep talk to encourage us and excite us for the second half. I wanted to stand up and cheer and run back onto that field, ready to face the enemy and win the game.
After the service, I stood up and talked with the others from the Koinania Sunday School class who sat in the pew with me and said, "I want to go chase some lions!"
When I got home, I told Mike and the girls about it (while on the way to Dairy Queen. I had promised them ice cream when I got home.)
I was still fired up this morning. I woke up before the alarm went off, ready to go for a run. Mike and his youngest girl, Shelby, came with me. I have never in my life run outside in the dark and cold. There was frost on the roof, but I didn't care. It was fun, though, especially with them with me.
I know life is a cycle and I will not be this high every morning. However, after three tough years and one year of being uncertain of the who, what, why of life, I FINALLY feel like I'm coming out of the other side of a dense fog.
I have clung to hope. I have reached for inspiration, but until last night, I feel like it was all my efforts, empty efforts that never lasted more than a moment. This time is different somehow. I feel like instead of me reaching and jumping and climbing and falling, God held out His hand for me to clasp. He pulled me up out of that pit. The clouds parted and angels sang. He set me down on solid ground, smiling at me like a Father smiling at His beloved child. He lets go of my hand and tells me to run, go chase that lion. I feel free.
That's it...I feel free...no longer weighed down by the weight of divorce and cancer and constant self-failure. You know, I was so eager to be where I am at this very moment. I tried to create this feeling for myself time and again.
What happened yesterday is normally the type of thing that happens for me at Gethsemane. I cancelled my trip scheduled for the first week in November because of my upcoming surgery at the end of November. I could not justify taking a week vacation then being out sick for many weeks.
I felt at peace about it, like God was telling me it was okay. I didn't need to get lost in the woods to hear His voice. I thought I needed Gethsemane to break through the fog I was in. Again, me trying to create a moment.
He met me right where I was. This is the lesson for me. If I simply wait on Him, He will come for me. And, it is SO much easier and requires much less effort if I wait for Him to extend His hand rather than fight to reach Him from the pit I have dug for myself. But that is human life. I'm sure I will fight again.
My friend Mike asked me if this was going to become my new saying. I had been over using the phrase, "finish strong." Yep, I think I will now wear out the phrase "chasing lions."
Well, I'm off to chase another lion!
Monday, October 21, 2013
Friday, October 4, 2013
The Observer
When I sat down to write about Cheryl's memorial, I stopped several times, turned off the computer and walked away. I came back again, wrote more, hoping to quiet my mind. I saved what I wrote, but did not click the publish button.
I reasoned (as stated in that blog) why I wrote what I wrote, but I still could not bring myself to publish it. Finally, I came to the realization that very few people read my blog posts anyway. I can name all the people who read it on a regular basis. Since there is very little interest in my words anyway, I decided what the heck and clicked the publish button.
Even after going through all that, I still did not feel right about it for some reason. I didn't think it was well written and I struggled to put into words what I was feeling, but there was something else, some deeper, hidden reason why I struggled so much more with this post than I have had with other posts. I mean, I have written some very personal stuff about my bowel movements! If I can do that without shame, what was going on with me now?
Something happened with this post that has not happened with any of my other posts, something I never saw coming. People responded. People reposted. My readership more than doubled in less than 24 hours.
Now, I didn't feel shame or regret so much. After all, I did publish it. I knew that by putting it out there, anyone could read it. So, what was making me uneasy?
Too many people these days post their lives online then get upset or embarrassed when someone responds or calls their hand on it. I am all about not posting what you don't want other people to read or react to (even though I didn't think anyone other than more faithful readers would read this). I put it out there. I knew the possibilities. I wasn't ashamed or embarrassed by my words. Again, I've written worse.
Was it that I didn't think it was well written and not my best work or an adequate expression of my gratitude to/for Cheryl and Eddie? No. I have other post written worse than this one.
Was it my admission that I was lonely, even jealous of the lucky women of the Koinonia Sunday School class who have some amazing, faithful, dedicated, Godly husbands? Nope. The more I thought about that, the less lonely and jealous I felt and the more happy the thought made me.
After my divorce, which was extremely painful, I thought love was the biggest farce created by Satan to toy with God's children. I believed in love between family, but I did not believe in the same kind of selfless love between an unrelated man and woman. I thought, at some point, even if a man and a woman stayed together, they ended up hating each other. (My ex and I are better friends now than when we were married, and although we never grew to hate each other, we sure did do a fantastic job at hurting one another. I think we are both struggling to overcome the damage we did to one another.)
It is refreshing to know that I was wrong. I may never experience that kind of love for myself, but it is refreshing and satisfying to know that kind of love really does exist. It's not just fantasy which fuels great love songs and movies.
Men of the Koinonia Sunday School class at Nashville First Church of the Nazarene, thank you for restoring my faith in the goodness of men and the possibility of a successful relationship.
What, then, made me uncomfortable about the post? Well, the more I thought about it, I realized the reason I felt uncomfortable was that I felt like I was intruding on a very personal moment. I didn't feel that way last year when I wrote about Michael's memorial. I suppose that is a sign of my growth out of cancer and as a person.
If that is the case, I suppose there is no real shame in what I did by posting my thoughts on Cheryl's memorial. I just hope my thoughts and words did not offend the family if any of them did or will end up reading my words. If so, I hope they know my love and gratitude for the example of Cheryl and Eddie is pure. I meant no ill will by anything I have said.
If there's any excuse for me stepping out of line, it's that I'm an observer. I watch the world and what makes people tick. Some people mistake this as shyness, but I'm not shy. I'm just taking it all in and if I don't have anything to say, I don't speak. I get my best ideas from what I see out there and write about life as I see it.
If I write about it, whatever "it" is, it has had some kind of impact on me and/or on the world around me. "It" matters to me and I believe "it" matters to someone else as well.
Therefore, by writing about Cheryl's memorial, I am admitting that her life and her death mattered to me and so many others.
PS. Lisa, I don't mind hugs, especially from great friends such as yourself!!!
I reasoned (as stated in that blog) why I wrote what I wrote, but I still could not bring myself to publish it. Finally, I came to the realization that very few people read my blog posts anyway. I can name all the people who read it on a regular basis. Since there is very little interest in my words anyway, I decided what the heck and clicked the publish button.
Even after going through all that, I still did not feel right about it for some reason. I didn't think it was well written and I struggled to put into words what I was feeling, but there was something else, some deeper, hidden reason why I struggled so much more with this post than I have had with other posts. I mean, I have written some very personal stuff about my bowel movements! If I can do that without shame, what was going on with me now?
Something happened with this post that has not happened with any of my other posts, something I never saw coming. People responded. People reposted. My readership more than doubled in less than 24 hours.
Now, I didn't feel shame or regret so much. After all, I did publish it. I knew that by putting it out there, anyone could read it. So, what was making me uneasy?
Too many people these days post their lives online then get upset or embarrassed when someone responds or calls their hand on it. I am all about not posting what you don't want other people to read or react to (even though I didn't think anyone other than more faithful readers would read this). I put it out there. I knew the possibilities. I wasn't ashamed or embarrassed by my words. Again, I've written worse.
Was it that I didn't think it was well written and not my best work or an adequate expression of my gratitude to/for Cheryl and Eddie? No. I have other post written worse than this one.
Was it my admission that I was lonely, even jealous of the lucky women of the Koinonia Sunday School class who have some amazing, faithful, dedicated, Godly husbands? Nope. The more I thought about that, the less lonely and jealous I felt and the more happy the thought made me.
After my divorce, which was extremely painful, I thought love was the biggest farce created by Satan to toy with God's children. I believed in love between family, but I did not believe in the same kind of selfless love between an unrelated man and woman. I thought, at some point, even if a man and a woman stayed together, they ended up hating each other. (My ex and I are better friends now than when we were married, and although we never grew to hate each other, we sure did do a fantastic job at hurting one another. I think we are both struggling to overcome the damage we did to one another.)
It is refreshing to know that I was wrong. I may never experience that kind of love for myself, but it is refreshing and satisfying to know that kind of love really does exist. It's not just fantasy which fuels great love songs and movies.
Men of the Koinonia Sunday School class at Nashville First Church of the Nazarene, thank you for restoring my faith in the goodness of men and the possibility of a successful relationship.
What, then, made me uncomfortable about the post? Well, the more I thought about it, I realized the reason I felt uncomfortable was that I felt like I was intruding on a very personal moment. I didn't feel that way last year when I wrote about Michael's memorial. I suppose that is a sign of my growth out of cancer and as a person.
If that is the case, I suppose there is no real shame in what I did by posting my thoughts on Cheryl's memorial. I just hope my thoughts and words did not offend the family if any of them did or will end up reading my words. If so, I hope they know my love and gratitude for the example of Cheryl and Eddie is pure. I meant no ill will by anything I have said.
If there's any excuse for me stepping out of line, it's that I'm an observer. I watch the world and what makes people tick. Some people mistake this as shyness, but I'm not shy. I'm just taking it all in and if I don't have anything to say, I don't speak. I get my best ideas from what I see out there and write about life as I see it.
If I write about it, whatever "it" is, it has had some kind of impact on me and/or on the world around me. "It" matters to me and I believe "it" matters to someone else as well.
Therefore, by writing about Cheryl's memorial, I am admitting that her life and her death mattered to me and so many others.
PS. Lisa, I don't mind hugs, especially from great friends such as yourself!!!
Wednesday, October 2, 2013
Turning Point in My Journey
I received an email this past Friday that my friend from church, Cheryl Hales, passed away on Thursday. The funeral was scheduled for this afternoon. I knew I had to be there, but I was dreading it. Michael's memorial was one year ago this month. A lot has happened this past year, a lot of emotion. I remember how emotionally draining Michael's memorial was for me. I was not ready for another emotionally charged event. I was afraid of being overcome by survivor's guilt once again.
Something was different this time, from the very beginning. I cried some when I first found out, but I wasn't as overcome as I was with Michael or Cowboy. I had no regrets with Cheryl. Our Sunday School class was supposed to go visit her when she got really sick and started receiving hospice care. After finding out that she preferred not to have the large group visit, I made sure, in my own way, that she and Eddie both knew what they and their example meant to me. I never went to go visit them, but never felt like I needed to. She meant a lot to me the past year and a half or so, but we were not close friends. I had never even talked to Eddie. Nevertheless, unlike Cowboy or Michael, I made sure not to leave anything undone. I said my goodbye while she was still alive.
When I arrived to the funeral, armed with plenty of Kleenex in my pocket, I noticed Eddie standing at the entrance to the room greeting everyone as they walked in. As I got closer, I intended to introduce myself and remind him how he knew me and then tell him how much Cheryl meant to me.
I didn't have to introduce myself, though. He not only remembered who I was, but he gave me a hug and called me by name. He gave me an even greater gift than remembering my name. He shared with me how much Cheryl cared about me. I told him how much it meant to me how she was there for me during my own cancer journey. He told me he was glad my journey ended better than Cheryl's. He said Cheryl wouldn't have had it any other way. I gave him another hug and thought how odd that although I have seen him at church many times, this was the first time we had actually talked.
What got to me was his genuineness. His beloved wife of 32 years just passed away and here we were at her memorial, yet he had the strength and compassion to be kind to me. I didn't feel guilty in that moment. I believed him. I believed he meant what he said and I believed he was right about Cheryl. I didn't know her well, but I knew her well enough to know she thought more about the welfare of others than herself.
The service was moving, great way to honor the life and legacy of a wonderful woman. Most of our Sunday School class attended and Dr. Parrott gave a moving message. I shed a tear or two, but never broke down.
For the first time in a very long time, it wasn't about me. I know very few of the great moments of my journey have really been about me, but they have all pulled me inside of myself, making me internalize everything. Today, that was not the case. No survivor's guilt. No great aha moments. This journey, this moment, was fully and completely about Cheryl. I heard the stories about her life and last days. I learned more about what made Cheryl tick. I listened to the songs that meant something to her. I watched the love and loss on the faces of those left behind. I felt at peace. I felt confident that Cheryl was exactly where she wanted to be and that Eddie was at peace with it as well. They were fortunate enough to have had great quality, spiritual time together before she died.
I have been exhausted from working so much trying to get our annual security report out by October 1st. Although I finished in time and took half a day off on yesterday, I still do not feel rested. I had a lot on my plate today and considered contacting our youth pastor and telling him I could not make it to youth group tonight. I could have easily gone home and gone to bed.
I needed to go to church, though. Hearing stories of Cheryl's faith and compassion compelled me to go.
The fact that this experience was not all about me for once makes me feel a little like a creep for even writing about it. But, I do so anyway for a few reasons:
1) I may be physically and emotionally tired, but these thoughts will not let me rest. My text may be dull and I may be having a more difficult time than normal to get my thoughts out, but if I don't, I will lay awake for hours rather than allow my exhaustion to carry me off to sleep.
2) This is a significant part of my story, a turning point in my journey. The fact that this experience was so different, that I could talk to Eddie about cancer and not be overcome by guilt that I am still living, that I didn't have a huge emotional breakdown, the fact that for the first time it wasn't all about me kind of makes it about me. I have crossed some imaginary line. I feel like I have truly overcome cancer, like I am no longer defined by the cancer. I feel almost normal.
3) Even though I felt peaceful about Cheryl's passing, the experience left me feeling odd. I could not quite figure out what mood I was actually in...until driving home from church and thinking about the day. I thought about the stories I heard about Eddie's and Cheryl's last few months together, all the photos of them having fun throughout the years, their smiles. I thought about the couples from Sunday School class and all the good, Godly men and husbands. I called it loneliness at first, but the truth is, I think I am in some ways jealous.
Mike and I went to dinner last night and I shared some thoughts about my brokenness. How is it that I love cuddling with my dog, but cannot stand to have people invade my space? I don't like humans! What I mean is that I don't like physical intimacy of any sort. Why do I love it with animals? Simple. They expect nothing of me. Their love is pure and simple.
I don't like getting close, but sometimes I feel like I'm missing out on something great. Should I let fear keep me from getting close to someone again? On the other hand, is loneliness or jealousy reason enough to get into something I'm not ready for yet? I know I'm not ready for it now. I've made plans to, God willing, move back to Texas next year. A relationship now would complicate things. Besides, when I think about all that it takes to make a relationship work, I simply am not ready! If God intends for me to be with someone again, I think He's going to have to knock me upside the head and sweep my feet out from under me.
On another note, I have been thinking of bringing this blog journey to a close. After today, I feel like it is time. I thought about ending this blog after my one year anniversary which is November 19, 2013. However, I do not get my one year scan until some time after that date. Therefore, the last entry of this blog will be after my one year CT scan.
It's time to end this story and start another.
In memory of the woman who taught me how to live for Christ no matter what challenges life throws at us. Thank you, Cheryl, for your love, support, example, and inspiration.
Something was different this time, from the very beginning. I cried some when I first found out, but I wasn't as overcome as I was with Michael or Cowboy. I had no regrets with Cheryl. Our Sunday School class was supposed to go visit her when she got really sick and started receiving hospice care. After finding out that she preferred not to have the large group visit, I made sure, in my own way, that she and Eddie both knew what they and their example meant to me. I never went to go visit them, but never felt like I needed to. She meant a lot to me the past year and a half or so, but we were not close friends. I had never even talked to Eddie. Nevertheless, unlike Cowboy or Michael, I made sure not to leave anything undone. I said my goodbye while she was still alive.
When I arrived to the funeral, armed with plenty of Kleenex in my pocket, I noticed Eddie standing at the entrance to the room greeting everyone as they walked in. As I got closer, I intended to introduce myself and remind him how he knew me and then tell him how much Cheryl meant to me.
I didn't have to introduce myself, though. He not only remembered who I was, but he gave me a hug and called me by name. He gave me an even greater gift than remembering my name. He shared with me how much Cheryl cared about me. I told him how much it meant to me how she was there for me during my own cancer journey. He told me he was glad my journey ended better than Cheryl's. He said Cheryl wouldn't have had it any other way. I gave him another hug and thought how odd that although I have seen him at church many times, this was the first time we had actually talked.
What got to me was his genuineness. His beloved wife of 32 years just passed away and here we were at her memorial, yet he had the strength and compassion to be kind to me. I didn't feel guilty in that moment. I believed him. I believed he meant what he said and I believed he was right about Cheryl. I didn't know her well, but I knew her well enough to know she thought more about the welfare of others than herself.
The service was moving, great way to honor the life and legacy of a wonderful woman. Most of our Sunday School class attended and Dr. Parrott gave a moving message. I shed a tear or two, but never broke down.
For the first time in a very long time, it wasn't about me. I know very few of the great moments of my journey have really been about me, but they have all pulled me inside of myself, making me internalize everything. Today, that was not the case. No survivor's guilt. No great aha moments. This journey, this moment, was fully and completely about Cheryl. I heard the stories about her life and last days. I learned more about what made Cheryl tick. I listened to the songs that meant something to her. I watched the love and loss on the faces of those left behind. I felt at peace. I felt confident that Cheryl was exactly where she wanted to be and that Eddie was at peace with it as well. They were fortunate enough to have had great quality, spiritual time together before she died.
I have been exhausted from working so much trying to get our annual security report out by October 1st. Although I finished in time and took half a day off on yesterday, I still do not feel rested. I had a lot on my plate today and considered contacting our youth pastor and telling him I could not make it to youth group tonight. I could have easily gone home and gone to bed.
I needed to go to church, though. Hearing stories of Cheryl's faith and compassion compelled me to go.
The fact that this experience was not all about me for once makes me feel a little like a creep for even writing about it. But, I do so anyway for a few reasons:
1) I may be physically and emotionally tired, but these thoughts will not let me rest. My text may be dull and I may be having a more difficult time than normal to get my thoughts out, but if I don't, I will lay awake for hours rather than allow my exhaustion to carry me off to sleep.
2) This is a significant part of my story, a turning point in my journey. The fact that this experience was so different, that I could talk to Eddie about cancer and not be overcome by guilt that I am still living, that I didn't have a huge emotional breakdown, the fact that for the first time it wasn't all about me kind of makes it about me. I have crossed some imaginary line. I feel like I have truly overcome cancer, like I am no longer defined by the cancer. I feel almost normal.
3) Even though I felt peaceful about Cheryl's passing, the experience left me feeling odd. I could not quite figure out what mood I was actually in...until driving home from church and thinking about the day. I thought about the stories I heard about Eddie's and Cheryl's last few months together, all the photos of them having fun throughout the years, their smiles. I thought about the couples from Sunday School class and all the good, Godly men and husbands. I called it loneliness at first, but the truth is, I think I am in some ways jealous.
Mike and I went to dinner last night and I shared some thoughts about my brokenness. How is it that I love cuddling with my dog, but cannot stand to have people invade my space? I don't like humans! What I mean is that I don't like physical intimacy of any sort. Why do I love it with animals? Simple. They expect nothing of me. Their love is pure and simple.
I don't like getting close, but sometimes I feel like I'm missing out on something great. Should I let fear keep me from getting close to someone again? On the other hand, is loneliness or jealousy reason enough to get into something I'm not ready for yet? I know I'm not ready for it now. I've made plans to, God willing, move back to Texas next year. A relationship now would complicate things. Besides, when I think about all that it takes to make a relationship work, I simply am not ready! If God intends for me to be with someone again, I think He's going to have to knock me upside the head and sweep my feet out from under me.
On another note, I have been thinking of bringing this blog journey to a close. After today, I feel like it is time. I thought about ending this blog after my one year anniversary which is November 19, 2013. However, I do not get my one year scan until some time after that date. Therefore, the last entry of this blog will be after my one year CT scan.
It's time to end this story and start another.
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