They Are Yours

After my alarm woke me up, I picked up my phone, a bad habit I use to spend extra moments in bed. That's how I discovered a young mom suddenly died. Her name was Wynter Pitts, a  mom of four girls. One of those girls was the daughter in the movie, War Room.

She was cousin to Priscilla Shirer, one of my favorite bible study teachers. I heard her on podcasts. She loved God and her family and wrote for young girls.

It was utterly unexpected. One moment she is doing normal mom things, and the next she is in the presence of Jesus.

I don't know the details of what happened, but what I understand is she passed away in her sleep. Sudden loss. Profound pain.

I searched her Instagram account for any other information. All over, she has hashtags, #sayyestoGod.

Say yes to God even if we don't understand. Say yes to God even in the biggest hurt and confusion. Say yes to God because we know He is a big God.

Her other hashtag she used often was  #sheisyours. Her ministry was to point young girls to God. She had four beautiful girls and she gave them back to God. Her death was unexpected and swift, but if she had warning, she would have given her fears of leaving her girls behind at God's feet. They are His, first and foremost.

When I was first diagnosed with cancer, my concern for my kids was my deepest fear. I knew where I was going if I died, but who would be their mom?

I never will understand God taking away a mom from her kids. Sometimes, with our hardest questions, we won't know the why, but we can look for the who God says He is in the midst. He is Father. Comforter. Provider. Immanuel God, God with us in the middle of the pain.

Today. We aren't guaranteed tomorrow. I spent today with Ben. We went to Bellevue to watch a couple of friends  perform in a play. We stopped during the long commute home in rush hour for pizza. I love building in this memory.  He'll be a junior next year. That means in a minute he'll be a senior. And then, well you all know how fast these high school days go.

I've already dropped off Becca for her second year in college. Walt had to stay back to help Nathan with orientation at the UW. Even though it was just the two of us, it was so much easier than last year. Three bags from home, a trip to the storage unit, a parking spot right in front of her dorm because hardly anyone else was moving in at the time. She had leadership meetings during the day, so we shopped at night. I got to hang out with my cousin who offered her home for me to stay, visited my dad, and spent time in one of the coolest libraries around, located in Old Town Scottsdale.

The goodbye was easier, too. She is where she is supposed to be. Becca's absence here feels normal. Of course we miss her, but we are excited to see what God has in store for her this year.

Nathan has about a month left before we move him to the UW. Last night I talked him into taking a walk with me. No expectations to clean anything or follow up on something or finish his thank you cards. We just walked and chatted. The sun, because of the smoke from the wildfires in Canada, was a unique shade of red as it lowered itself for the evening, and the cool breezes blew away the heat of the day. It was the perfect ending to a summer day, as I count down our time with him at home.

These are the things that are important. Today with my people. Feeding into my kids when I have a chance. Breathing in deeply, trusting God with my expectations.

#theyareyours

#bigGod

Waiting on Results Again This Spring

Spring brings back all the emotions of six years ago when I first found out that I had cancer.  When I was in the midst of that whirlwind, I sought out info in other people's blogs. I'd search for breast cancer primarily, and usually only found those with Stage 4. Back then, I still didn't understand the figures thrown at me, all about five year survivor rates. Since so many cancer bloggers had their cancer spread, did that mean I could be experiencing that within five years or perhaps in year six or beyond? Many sleepless nights added to the confusion.

After a few more doctor's appointments and reading through the information the clinic gave me, I understood what the five year marker means. Once a patient hits the five-year mark, less follow up statistics occur since the incidents of recurrence decreases drastically.

And, the main reason reason most of the blogs I found were Stage 4 was once a patient finishes treatment, there isn't a lot of cancer-related posts to write. That's kind of where I am right now. Do I continue this blog or start a new one? Do I have anything to share from this perspective or should I start a new theme? I'm still figuring that out.

Since my blog is about my race with God, which includes breast cancer but not necessarily limited to it, for now I'll stay here and post periodically.

So, today, let me share what I've been up to, living life after surgery, chemo, radiation, tamoxifen, and aromasin.

The first thing I recognize is it's harder to notice lack of pain. Pain draws my attention and reminds me it's there. Lack of pain is easy to ignore, and therefore, I forget to be grateful for how much I've improved since finishing my prescription. I just finished my walk this morning. My hip is still a bit tight, but my feet, ankles and knees feel strong. I no longer have that pain that shoots through my toes when I walk, the stiffness that prevents me from taking a full stride, the achiness that follows a hard walk. I can bend down and stand up without pushing myself up with my hand; my knees feel stronger and almost painfree. I am still slightly stiff in the morning, but it's barely noticeable and passes quickly. Every day, things feel getting better the more I stretch and exercise.

Today I'm waiting to hear the results of (hopefully) my last MRI ordered by my oncologist. If you recall when I saw her last, she passed me onto my primary doc for follow-up care since I finished taking Aromasin, but she scheduled one last MRI. She explained that it is rare for a recurrence after all the treatment I underwent and the years that passed, but in the cases when cancer did come back, it was in women with similar diagnoses to me. My cancer was a highly aggressive, 3 cm tumor, estrogen positive with extensive DCIS (cancer that was still in the ducts) surrounding it.

Yesterday as I was ushered back to the MRI room, I couldn't help but be reminded of the walk six years ago in late April. My mind was still reeling after hearing I had cancer. I went from being healthy with annual visits to the doctor to overnight a calendar full of appointments. Everything then was new and overwhelming.

While it wasn't my favorite place to spend my Wednesday morning, I wasn't anxious. It wasn't quite business as normal, though, but I welcome the opportunity to spend time in focused prayer and worship. I'm thankful that my calendar has only occasion appointments this spring, but when I'm faced with a scary scan, I know God  will go before me and fill me with his peace.

Plus, now I have come to learn that it's not the scan that is the hardest part, but the waiting. As I type this, the phone could ring any moment with news of relief or concern. My calendar could remain busy with work, graduation, busy kids who still occasionally need me, or it could become overflowing with additional medical appointments.

As I wait, though, I lean into God and ask for a clear result, but no matter what, that I would represent a good God through it all.

When I finished radiation in 2012, someone had donated little evergreen trees for the patients.

My little evergreen tree in 2012

..
The other day, I took a picture of the tree I've transplanted into a container by the side of our garage.

My evergreen tree thriving in 2018

I look at the tree which reminds me of how far I've come since 2012, especially as I've learned to trust God in all things. I may still feel my heart pound, my palms sweat and worry as I pick up the phone from the hospital when it rings, but it doesn't take away from my trust in God. I just know that the news could be life altering or filled with relief. Yet through it all, the one thing that will never change is God's grace.

It's all part of the life of someone who is walking through cancer. And now, I'm off to grab a bite to eat before I head off for my job at the library, simply a great ordinary day.

**UPDATE: The MRI was entirely clear. Now I'm an ordinary person, going in for my annual mammogram and annual checkup with my primary care.  Praising Jesus for this sweet blessing.