Update #47

Wrote this around 2 PM today. Didn't get a chance to send it out until now. I'm, thankfully, home!
______________________________________
Sitting at Roswell. Waiting for my scans. Again.

Not a place that I am unfamiliar with.
But not a place that makes it easy for me to rejoice.

The sad part is that I'm not alone.

In the last 15 minutes, there have been 30 other people, couples, families who have walked by my little, out-of-the-way place where I've set up shop as I wait. Whoops. Make that 31.

Time to be honest. Do you know what question I have asked myself over and over again during the past almost three years when I'm here?

Do I care?
Do I care that there are hundreds and hundreds of other patients here?
Or do I just care that I'm here?

Perhaps my answer to this question isn't completely black and white, but I do have a definitive answer to that question.

Chad and I have taken a very nice Christian worship song that has a line it is that says, "It's all about you, Jesus. And all this is for you, Jesus" and we - when we think the other person is being a bit selfish or egocentric - will sarcastically sing it to the other one but replace Jesus' name with one of our names. In essence what we're laughingly reminding each other of is that there is One who deserves to be the center of the world, but neither one of us is Him.

So, because Chad's off getting a quick bite to eat in the cafeteria, I guess I'm stuck singing that sarcastic version of that lyric to myself. Because, truth be told, that's how I feel right now.

I could lie to you and say that I don't care as much about myself as the others' who are in this place. I could pretend that I've never thought about it before or that it's a silly question. Or I could even lie to you and say that, from now on, I will care about others more than myself; after all, that's biblical. But since I have committed to walk this journey out with you as authentically as possible, those are not viable options.

The truth is that I'm in process on this one. And, while I wish my honest answer isn't what it is, the reality is that's where I am: I care very much what happens to me and sometimes that makes me focus only on me and what this means for my husband, my kids, my dog even :)

So why am I sitting here with a smile on my face after coming to this "you're not as good as you thought you were" realization?

Because, as much as I know that God intends for me to see things a bit differently than I see them today, I am so much more in awe of Christ.
Of His selflessness.
Of His countless examples of choosing to prioritize others.
Of His ability to change His own difficult on earth situation at any time by calling "legions of angels" to release Him and, yet, choosing not to.

Why would He do that?
Why on earth would He do all that when He could have easily and simply and quickly and painlessly have chosen not to?

(Here comes the reason for my smile…)

So that you and I could experience a forgiveness, a restoration and a freedom that is beyond words. Beyond what we deserve.

So that you and I could express our weaknesses and failures and questions and doubts and know that we will not be tossed aside as useless to Him.

So that you and I could be in a place - while not unfamiliar, but difficult - and know that we can experience a joy and a peace that defies the boundaries of our walls.

So that you and I can know that hard circumstances don't deny a good God.

Thanks, God, for that truth.  I needed that. 

So...as I go to try to beat my record in the "How Fast Can You Chug Your CT Smoothie" contest, my heart is lighter and my mind is calmer. Good stuff.

Love,
Kristie
P.S. I'll get the results on 2/6. Be back in touch then.

Update #46 And Then I Promise I'll Be Silent for a Few Weeks

Kinda easy day today.

Doctors aren't all that concerned about my tumor markers being above normal as they're only slightly above normal. However, they were adamant that it is time - actually I'm technically overdue - for repeat scans and so I will be going back to Roswell on January 30 for scans and then, the next week (2/6), for my regular monthly appointment.

My shoulders can relax again for 3 weeks. Gotta like that.

Thanks for loving us through this time. And I am behind on my reply emails so please know that, although perhaps I've haven't yet responded to something you've sent me, please know that I am so incredibly thankful for and encouraged by your words and even by your "no-words just frowny-face signs" that you send along!
K.

Update #45

Bottom Line: Tumor Markers up outside of normal. Meet with dr. tomorrow morning (9:30 ish) to hear plan. Most likely scans will be scheduled near-term and then the treatment plan will be discussed based on those results.
　
The Bigger Story:There's a group who is doing the bible study I wrote last fall and they wanted to have an intro to the study. So, today, I went online to find the link to the four messages that I gave at my church in the summer of 2011 to send that link along to them. To help them "pick the best one" I stopped and listened to two of those messages.

Just minutes before hearing the news about my tumor markers, I got to listen to a girl (me) talk about what it was like to anticipate hearing potentially hard news the following week when she was going to have scans because her tumor markers were going up and the most likely explanation was that her treatment plan probably wasn't working any longer.

I heard her (me) talk about the provision and the promises of God and how - even when this Hill of a Hard Circumstance threatens to block her view of God (the right view of God, the full-of-promises and full-of-power and full-of-love view of God) - God is never for one second off His Throne. He is never unaware of her. That He is always seeing her, even when she can't see Him. That He is always acting in accordance to a purpose that far exceeds what she can imagine.

Boy did this girl need to hear that.

I know…doesn't it sound so bizarre that I was so encouraged by an August 2011 message from my own self? Quite honestly, I don't know if that makes it a great message that worth's hearing again or makes me a pretty poor truth-keeper! All I know is that I needed that powerful reminder because my Hill still lies before me and I still have to choose where my eyes will rest:

Will they rest on this scary Hill or will they rest on the face of the One who has already done more than what should be enough for me?

Oh that the "right answer" will be, in fact, the answer I choose...
Be back in touch soon.
K.

By the way…here's the link in case you might want a reminder as well. http://www.wchguest.org/media.php?pageID=19
Scroll down to 8/24/2011 and you'll find a 5 minute intro by Chad. Then you'll see that there are four messages from me (dated 8/23 - 8/20. Not the real dates, but that must have been the way they identified the messages) I'd recommend the 8/21 or 8/20 one…

Update #44

Had a tough interchange with Emilie last night. My hold-her-cards-close-to-her-chest kid said some pretty hard things to me. While I don't know, in full, where some of her complaints and perceptions come from, some of them I absolutely do. I cringe because I know exactly where some of them come from.

They come from me. From wrong choices I've made as a mom. From wrong things I've said, from poorly worded comments I've made, from numerous times I don't stop and listen - truly listen - to the internal, softly spoken voices of my kids.

The truth is that Emilie's perceptions - some of them anyway - come because I've earned those perceptions. And that's…well…that's a huge "ouch."

Yes, it's painful at any time to see the effects of your weaknesses, mistakes, sins.
It cuts to the core at any time, right?
But it cuts particularly deep when you hear those words the day before you head to the doctor to find out what your tumor markers are doing.

Shouldn't you, Kristie, of all people know better? Shouldn't you choose better? Shouldn't you prioritize better? Live better? Love better?
Oh yes. Oh yes, I should.
But I don't always remember that.
And, because I don't, last night's conversation happened.

Tears flowed.  And then, thankfully, apologies poured out. Snuggles happened. I love you's were said. Smiles returned. The light was turned out and goodnight's were spoken.

And then what happened?
What do you do after you leave her room after hearing these hard, hard things?

You go into your room. Into the dark closet and you spend several minutes crying. Quietly so that she won't hear and be alarmed.

You spend more than a second thinking - wrongly, but you still think it anyway - that perhaps your children would be better off if someone else was their mom.

You spend a few painful moments wishing you could make everything all better. Wishing either your cancer diagnosis were gone or wishing that you'd never make another mistake again. Yet knowing that both would be nothing short of miraculous outcomes.

These moments are painful. Yet they also serve as deep reminders.

Humble reminders of who I really am. And who I am not.

And that I have a God who sees me.

Exactly as I am.

Imperfect. Mistake-laden. In a wimpy puddle of tears in her darkened closet.

And that He loves me anyway.

He forgives me anyway.

He holds on to me anyway.

He never walks away. Even when I might very well deserve it.

The dark moments of last night are a reminder of the depth of grace - undeserved favor - God has for me, for you. That, through Christ, He called us His own when we were far from deserving. And He keeps us as His own when we don't reflect Him very well.

And, ultimately, that's why I'm sharing this story. Not so you'll assure me that I won't be on the next America's Most Wanted for being the Worst Mom in the USA. But because even in the darkest moments, you and I both need to know that God's forgiving truth matters.

So as I head to Roswell tomorrow to hear - yet again - the internal status of my body, I would covet your prayers. Not just for my tumor markers to be in the normal range, but that - just as God's truth penetrated my darkened heart last night - it would penetrate into any of those dark places in Em's heart as well.

Thanks friends. Back in touch tomorrow or Wednesday…

K.



Thankfully there are many, many, many fun and silly moments too!

 

Update #43

Some updates are difficult to write and some are easier.
This one is super simple:
Tumor markers went back down into the normal range.

Wow. I'm truly floored.

I think this goes without saying, but praising Him was easy today.
And I am thankful for that.
Superbly, superbly thankful.

Oops. Daniel's bus is coming. Gotta go. More later. (Or perhaps not…after all, did anyone know that there are only 21 days left until Christmas?!?!)

Thanks to you for, once again, standing in the gap for my family and me. I will never know how to express the depth of my appreciation.
Love,
K.

Update #42 Somewhere In Between

Yesterday I found out that my tumor markers had increased and were now outside the normal range. Today when I went to Roswell, this is the news I heard...


I graduated with a B.S. in Marketing Management & French from Grove City College.

I graduated with an MBA in Marketing and Organizational Strategy from the Simon School of Business at the University of Rochester.

But I cannot seem to get my graduation papers that say I've completed a "Wait and See" (W&S) degree that's so expertly offered by the School of Cancer.

And so today, once again,  I entered that classroom in this all-demanding school.  And I heard familiar words from my trusted doctor: "Let's wait another month and see what your tumor markers are at that point. If they're still higher than normal, I'll order some scans and we'll make the determination based on those results."

So...how do I feel about this? 

Hmmm...better than if the recommendation was to start more aggressive chemo (you know, the no-more-hair, you'll-be-bald-as-a-cue-ball kind of chemo) tomorrow.  Worse than if she said, "Oh my goodness, we made a mistake. The nurse is dyslexic and your markers aren't 41, but 14!"  Somewhere in between is where you'd find me on this. 

Somewhere in between.  

Yes, now that I've typed that, I realize that's exactly where I was when I left that place this morning.  

Somewhere in between being relieved and being on guard.

Between being happy and being sad.

Between smiles and tears.

Between "Thank You, God" and  "I don't understand, God."

It's not a terrible place to be. But its not a great place either.

It's an honest place to be, but it's not a restful place. 

How I am thankful, then, that this isn't a place we were meant to stay.   

On Monday, I was cleaning out a set of drawers that contains the things I'm using when I have my daily time with God; you know, devotional books, my bible, some bible studies, some papers.  (Lots of papers, actually!). And as I was sorting through this stack of papers, I came across an index card I had typed up. 

Although I can't tell you when exactly I typed it, I know that it was in the months before Laura died, when it seemed like everything I thought I knew and believed was being tested.   When I was wrestling with Him about what to do with the seeming disconnect between our circumstances and the bold promises and statements He makes about who He is and what He does.

Promises and statements that are easy to believe when things aren't hard. 

But, promises and statements that are hard to believe when things aren't easy. 

Has it ever happened to you that, during easy times, the promises and statements God makes seem so awesome and cool? And, yet when life is hard, those very same promises can quickly turn into things that we need to wrestle with in order to come down on the side of believing Him? 

Have you ever found yourself not making it all the way to believing Him?  

I know I have. I've found myself staying in the somewhere in between.

Somewhere in between being "all in" and being "cautiously removed."

Somewhere in between being completely dependent and holding back and keeping control.

Somewhere in between being encouraged by The Truth and questioning of The Truth.

Somewhere in between amazed by Him and frustrated by Him.

Oh yes.  I can relate to this today. 

Apparently, I could also relate to this a year ago as Laura's life was getting harder and harder. 

Thus the index card.

You see, I'm a girl who sometimes needs to see things in black & white instead of in shades of gray. I'm a girl who sometimes has to be tough with herself so that she can honestly get to the point of resting in what she knows. I'm a girl who has to clear out all the niceties, who has to strip away all the "I should believes" so that she can see, with starkness, what she's really is believing. 

This index card was my way of doing that. Of asking myself with clarifying harshness in my voice, "Do you or don't you, Kristie? Do You believe God or don't you?"

Is He who He says He is? Or is He not?

Does He do what He says He can? Or does He not?

Is He trustworthy and true? Or is He not?

I needed a gut check then. And I need one today.

I needed to be reminded that somewhere in between - where my emotions may be tempting me to stay - isn't my home.  It isn't the best He has to offer. It's not the best I can do.

No; it's not.  Why?

Because He is. 

Because He can. 

Because he does.

So, despite how hard this is, I will not fix my eyes on anything or anyone but Him. 

Cancer...you can try, but you won't win. 

You may take my life, but you will not take my hope.

You may hurt me, make me cry, make me - just for a moment - question my God, 

but you don't own me.

I don't have to listen to you.

I don't have to say somewhere in between.

That is not my destiny.

Oh Lord, You know. You know how my heart gets weary from this road. How I long to be relieved from this burden, how I long to be running free from this encumbrance.  You know this because, God, I've told you this a million and a half times.  You know all this and You consider it and You lovingly respond that I must trust You - no matter where the journey You've marked out for me takes me.  Thanks for reminding me of the truth that following You doesn't lead to the "less-than existence" of staying somewhere in between.  No, Lord, it leads to one place and one place only: You.  A deeper trust in You, a bolder love for You, a stronger desire for You and the joy of participating in the unfolding of something far greater than I.  May that be more than enough for me today.   In Jesus' Name.  Amen. 

Update #41

"Dear God, please heal Aunt Kristie and please let us not be too sad about Mom."

Not sure what words you heard last night, but this is what I heard as I tucked Laura and John's youngest child into her sleeping bag.

Words that brought a smile to my face at the same time they made me sad.  Words that caused me to catch my breath and wonder at how a child who has lost so much in the last few months - both her mom and gramma - could still turn an honest heart toward Her Heavenly Father and pray.


Kate.

Or Katie-Ru, as I like to call her.

She's got the gift of making even the grumpiest of us - caught in our most grumpiest of times - smile.  Big, bright blue eyes so alive with joy. Blonde hair that never stays quite combed the right way because, as soon as it is, she's off running and twirling and dancing and tossing her head about so that it gets adorably messed up again.  A grin that extends beyond her whole face, and into her entire body.  I swear I can see Kate smile even when her back is fully toward me and her face is hidden.  

She's a gem of a kid.

I love her.

I love her for the way she lights up a room. I love her for the way she comes full-speed at you for an arms-wrapped-tight hug.  I love her for the way that she honestly shares how she feels.  I love her for the way God has used her to encourage my heart when my heart needs to be encouraged.

And I love hearing her talk to God.

What's it like to hear that?

Oh, I could tell you easily what it's like for me.

But this morning - as the three Rider kiddos and my 2 wonders are happily playing and as all feels both right and wrong at the same time in my life - here's what I wonder:
 

I wonder what it's like for God to hear her.

I wonder how He attentively bends His ear to her voice.

I wonder how He waits patiently for her to gather her thoughts and offer them up to Him.

I wonder how He captures each and every word and receives it as sweet incense, a pleasing aroma.

I wonder how He delights to hear the honest wonderings of a little girl whom He knows so intimately, treasures so carefully, dreams over so boldly.

But, I must admit that I also wonder...

God, do you cry? 

Does Your heart break for her like mine does? 

Do you hear those words from a little girl without her mom and a part of You - however that may work - is overwhelmed with the difficulty of it all for her?

And God, as long as I'm here asking you a few question, I've got one more for you:  what's it like for You when You have full power to make things different, yet You know that that is not how Your perfect storyline must play out?  What do you do about that? 

Hmmm.  I'd love to tell you that I have the answer to that one, but I don't. 

All I know this morning is that I think I have a lot to learn from Kate.

Actually, I think I have even more to learn from her mom.

You see, the reason Kate offers up her honest, expectant prayers to Her Heavenly Father is because she has been taught to do so by her mom and dad since before she could speak. She was taught - both by example and with words - to offer up honest, expectant prayers and to entrust them to the God who promises to, one day, set all things right.  She - and Sarah and Jack too - was taught this because her mom (and dad) took God seriously when He said: 

Love God, your God, with your whole heart: love him with all that’s in you, love him with all you’ve got!

Write these commandments that I’ve given you today on your hearts.

Get them inside of you and then get them inside your children.

Talk about them wherever you are, sitting at home or walking in the street;

Talk about them from the time you get up in the morning to when you fall into bed at night.

Tie them on your hands and foreheads as a reminder;

inscribe them on the doorposts of your homes and on your city gates. (Deuteronomy 6:5-9 MSG)

So - as I just got word that my tumor markers are still in the normal range and as I sit here listening to laughing, crazy kids wreaking havoc in my house - I am thankful. Thankful certainly for the easy news, but even more thankful that I get to see with my own eyes the blessings that are coming from Laura taking God at His word.  Blessings from believing that the foundation she, as a mother, was building for her children will matter in the future.  Blessings from the countless prayers offered up on behalf of her children. Blessings from the countless hours spent teaching them truths about Him and countless hours spent modeling for them what a life sold out to Christ looks like.  

Thanks, God, for giving me fresh glimpse of this. Thanks for mixing the bitter and the sweet and using that mixture as a reminder that my choices today as a mom have a lasting impact on my children.   That my prayers on their behalf matter. That the truths I teach them - whether by word or by example - matter. That the foundation that I'm helping build for them can protect them from the harshest storms and the most bitter winds.  Thanks for the reminder that You, Lord, really do bring beauty from ashes and turn mourning into dancing.

With love,

Kristie