Update #64

Guess where I get to go tomorrow? 

Yep; That Place. 

I've spent the better part of the past three months with my Tuesday morning bible study girls studying Mark and using Tim Keller's Jesus the King as a commentary.  It has been a fabulous study, perhaps my favorite.  And, although I could probably provide you with a month's worth of great new learnings from Scripture or insightful quotes from Keller's book, there is one that has been bouncing in my brain and my heart for the past few weeks that is fitting to share tonight.

Keller states, "Often what seem to be our deepest desires are really just our loudest desires."

[You may need to read that again and spend a second processing it. I know I did!]

Unfortunately – because it's bedtime in the Rush household and the kiddos need me to put them to bed – I can't give you the full context for this quote, other than to say Keller makes it after witnessing Christ's prayerful wrestling with, and then surrendering to, God the Father in the Garden of Gethsemane (Matthew 26, Mark 14, Luke 22), just hours before He is betrayed, arrested, put on trial and sentenced to death on a cross. 

What it means is this:  Often the thing that we think we most desire is really only that which is screaming the loudest in our minds, our bodies, our circumstances, our hearts.  

For me, the loudest desire is to be free and clear of cancer forever on earth. It's to be told my cancer is gone. It's to have a body that doesn't ache and hurt to the touch. It's being able to run and feel the wind on my skin and the sun on my face.  Those are honest and good desires. 

But those aren't my deepest desires. 

My deepest desire isn't to be free of cancer.  

It isn't to have a fully functioning body.

It isn't even to run.

My deepest desires are all about living fully as a daughter of The King - wherever He has placed me, and with whatever He has put before me, for whatever reasons He has.  My deepest desires are about being joyfully and peacefully obedient to Him, with a deep sense that He is always as He promises to be: loving, good, powerful, and present.  And with a deep knowing that He is at work here and now and that He will, one day, set all things right. 

Loudest versus deepest. 

It's a pretty big concept. 

And, I'm sure it's not just me who relates to it.

I bet you, too, have some pretty loud desires.  Things that are shouting at you and tempting you to believe that, with their satisfaction, you will be complete and whole.  A spouse who treasures you.  A child who makes better choices. A boss who esteems you.  A job that fits you.  A checkbook that doesn't look so meager.  A womb that isn't empty when you don't want it to be.   

Yet I bet, if asked, I bet you too would realize that those loudest desires may not really be your deepest ones.  I bet you'd realize that, while they're loud, they won't rescue you.  They're loud, but they won't fully satisfy you. They're loud, but they won't fill you with forever purpose and with overflowing hope and joy.  

Hmm…loudest vs. deepest.  

How I need to hold fast to this when I walk into Roswell tomorrow at 9 AM and hear the results of my scans.  

Because this road is not easy.

Feeling like this isn't easy.

Being there isn't easy.

And even remembering that my loudest desires aren't my deepest desires isn't easy. 

So I guess that's my request from you all on this beautifully snowy night in Buffalo, NY…I would love your prayers for Chad and me as we head to Roswell.  That the loudest desires for a cancer-free body would be realized (remember #6 prayer from a few months ago!), yet even more so, that we would fully trust and obey and go forward in joy, peace, and rest no matter what we hear.   

Thanks, friends.

Sleep well.

K.

"You will go out in joy and be led forth in peace…" Isaiah 55:12

Update #62

Home from Roswell.

Home from the dentist.

Guess where I cried?

Yep, at the dentist.

Although the news I heard at Roswell wasn't fabulous, all and all my current treatment plan doesn't change and I will still be taking daily meds.   The pain in my bone near my knee is probably growing bone metastases, but for now, doesn't warrant a change in anything I'm currently doing.  The swelling in my leg is most likely lymphedema due to radiation.  This means that I will be rocking a compression stocking, if not more intensive bandaging.   When I asked Chad if he would still love me if I had to wear compression hose, he immediately quipped, "Only if it can be lacy."   Funny, right?

So why the tears at the dentist?

Because my tooth isn't doing well and, because of complications from the meds I've been on, my only option may just be that it has to be pulled. 

And that was it; that was the straw the broke the proverbial camel's back.  So, despite my best efforts at sucking it up and trying not to cry, the tears started to flow.  Thankfully my dentist is a great guy and, although he wondered what the heck he said that opened the floodgates, he knows what's going on with me and therefore didn't think I was totally crazy! :)

Oh, almost forgot.  Want to know Chad's comment when I asked him if he would still love me if I had to wear a compression stocking and had missing molar?  

"Of course I will because that is totally sexy in West Virginia."  

He's a funny guy, right? 

You are more than welcome to crack your own jokes at my situation.

Laughter is FAR better than tears.

Just ask my dentist!

Love to you

Kristie

P.S.  To further humiliate myself...the video shows my response when I said that waiting for 45 minutes in the exam room made me feel like a caged tiger.  

Update #61

Ok.  So today is a bit different than I thought it would be.

I'm supposed to be in my office, glued to my laptop, putting together the materials for the women's retreat I'm leading this weekend at Chad's mom's church in Reading, PA. Let's just say that, while I am still working on those materials, I'm definitely not doing it in my office. 

Where am I, you ask? 

Sitting in an Immediate Care office about 3 miles from my house waiting for them to do an ultrasound on my leg to rule out a blood clot.  [Oh wait; that actually just changed.  Now I'm in a wheelchair being wheeled across a parking lot to go from Immediate Care to the radiology center.  Oh how fun.  I feel like I'm in my very own parade.]

SERIOUSLY?!? 

In some respects, I'm angry about this; I mean, really, who the heck wants to be sitting in an exam room for an hour waiting to see if you've got a major problem or not?  But as I'm stepping back from my anger and frustration, I can't help but admit that it's actually, in a way, a fitting place for me to be right now.  

You see, the topic of this weekend's retreat is "Living Authentically Unoffended by God."  What I hope to have the women explore with me is this: How can we live so that nothing God does or says (or doesn't do or say) offends us?   So that nothing we don't understand (or don't like or don't agree with) hinders us from moving forward following hard after Him?   How in the world – especially when we face difficult relationships or circumstances – can we authentically, honestly, transparently live  without letting those things cause us to begin to distrust or desert the One whom we ought to trust and obey?

Hmmm. Think about that for a second. 

Doesn't it, then, sound like sitting in an exam room, waiting to hear some potentially yucky news might just be exactly the place from which I should be typing out this message? 

Sounds like it'll keep me honest about what it means to Live Unoffended, doesn't it?

Like it'll keep me from not glossing over or minimizing the depths of some of the hard things that we face in life, right? 

But, at the same time this room highlights that fact that life can be hard, this room (or this wheelchair and, actually now, laying on this table just minutes away from getting ultrasound jelly smeared all over my leg) also gives me the privilege of testing out His promises.  The privilege of testing out the multitude of promises He makes all throughout Scripture that point to His faithfulness and His trustworthiness, to His grace, to His presence and to His hope.  The privilege of testing them out and being able to say this:  

Even in this, His promises still hold true. 

An exam room.  A wheelchair joyride across a parking lot.  A gurney with an ultrasound machine next to it.

Not exactly how I planned to prepare for this weekend's retreat. 

Yet, how come I know that a retreat without having lived through this day would have been so much less than the retreat we'll have after living this out?  A bit more harried and rushed in the planning of it for sure.  But a far richer weekend as a result, I have no doubt. 

Ah…just another day in the life Kristie…

:)

P.S.  Just found out I don't have a clot.  Cool.  Mom & Dad  – you can relax now and continue to enjoy your River Cruise! :)

Update #60

Don't worry; no hard story today.  Actually it's sort of a great one:  

Yesterday I went to my first fitness class in over 3 years.  

My friend Becky was gracious enough to let this out-of-shape girl try out her "we kick butt" TRX class.  While I won't go into the details of how the class is run, let's just say that…shocking…it makes you use your muscles.   And, based on how I feel today, apparently it makes you use all your muscles.  

Seriously.  

Like every single muscle.  

Every where. 

Can you say, "Whole body hurts?"   

But it's good pain.

It's the kind of pain that tells you you're in the process of strengthening and improving and refining. The kind of pain that, while PAINFUL, reminds you that your body was designed to be exercised and challenged and used. 

And, it's the kind of pain that causes my heart to leap for joy because I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to participate in such a class again.

Not to be offensive to anyone, but I truly thought Silver Sneakers was my only exercise class option left – and even that I thought would be a stretch.  [If you don't know Silver Sneakers, the name basically speaks for itself.]

So you can imagine how yesterday was just a gift to me.  

A surprising and glorious gift. 

And, after the class, as I hobbled to my car, a few tears started to well up in my eyes.  

Not at all tears of sadness, but tears of thankfulness. 

And I wanted you to know. 

Because too often I only update you when things are tough or unknown or heart-wrenching.  

Not today.   

Today - as my body screams with every step and with just about every movement – today is, for me, just a delightful day.  

Ah yes…sometimes it's easy to praise God and sometimes it's hard.  

Today is easy.  

[Well..that is…as long as I don't lift my arms or bend my knees…then it hurts like crazy!!:) ]

Yay! 

Kristie

Update #59

Easy news at Roswell!  Scans showed no disease progression.  Translated:  No yucky meds needed for (at least) the next 4 weeks! We are, however, going to try to up my current meds back to the original dosage to see if I can tolerate it without getting mouth sores.  The good news is that if I do start to get the sores,  I know I can cut my meds in half again and handle it just fine. The only side effect of these meds has been that I have some acne.  

Yes, that's right. Acne. 

"My name is Kristie Rush. I'm 41 years old and for the first time in my life I'm using acne cream."   

Does it bother me, you ask?  While, who in their right mind would like the North Star zit, the truth is that it doesn't bother me.  

IT.COULD.BE.SO.MUCH.WORSE.  

And, what's more, there is a hidden-blessing in all this: I have a new way to relate to my middle-school daughter and her friends as they navigate the woes of breakouts! (Hmmm…Is that being a bit too "Polyanna"?  Sorry. Still true!)  

So here's my story for you today. 

Went to bed with a little pit in my stomach.  Woke up this morning with a slightly larger pit in my stomach.  Drove into Roswell with that same darn pit.  As I drove, I thought to myself, "I wish today wasn't just about me needing encouragement from others."  

Don't get me wrong; I am so grateful for your encouragement. 

I don't know where I'd be without it. 

But, I will also tell you that abundant life – as least how I experience it – doesn't happen when I'm only on the receiving end.  

The paradoxical truth of God is that you are filled even more when you pour out.   

So, amidst the thoughts of "Oh crap; why do I have to do this today" and "What if the news is hard?" and "Oh Lord, please help me", the thought of, "Too bad today wasn't a day for pouring out" was running through my mind. 

Ha. Love it when God shows up and changes everything.

To preserve confidentiality, let me just say this.  God presents opportunities at times when we least expect Him to.  

Without us orchestrating anything.  

Without us having any idea that we've just been invited by Him to participate in His unfolding plans. 

By just asking someone a question of, "So, how did the move to the apartment go?", I got to participate in almost 30 minutes of listening and encouraging and speaking truth and offering hope to someone that I would consider almost a stranger. Certainly not a friend. Certainly not someone I ever expected to have a conversation like that with.  

In the midst of needing to be poured into (by you all!), I had the opportunity to pour out.

And it was joyful.

And life-giving.

And surprising.

And persepective-shifting. 

Yet I almost missed it.

I almost missed it because I tried to avoid this person in order to get out of Roswell faster today.

I got my "easy news" and I wanted to bail and "get on with my life."

Who knew that my life was supposed to be lived today a bit longer at Roswell? 

Who knew that, NOTHING else in my day – not even a trip to Starbucks for my celebratory Iced Peppermint Mocha – would be more important than that conversation.

Who knew that the need to pour out was right there before my eyes?

Not me.

But the One who reigns did.

And I got to experience being a part of Him revealing Himself to someone.

And it was good.

Easy news at Roswell was received by me.

Life-changing news at Roswell was given by me.

Now that's something to celebrate.

Love you and thankful for you,

K.

Update #58

It's been a whirlwind August. 

From my parents' cottage to Ocean City, NJ with Chad's family and then back to the cottage. Home for two days then off to Zambia for a week. Back home for a couple of days and then off to the cottage again.  And, as of this morning at 8:32 AM, off to school. 

Whew.

I wouldn't have changed a thing. 

And I won't be anything but grateful for the opportunities given me. 

You see, in the spring when I realized that my meds were probably no longer working, I thought the only medical options left involved the throwing up kind of chemo.  And therefore I thought that my family and I might have a tough summer. Back in April, when I risked looking ahead and thought about what might lie before me, I never imagined that August would look like the way that it actually ended up being.  

Perhaps a trip to Ocean City. 

Perhaps time at my parents' cottage.  

But never in a million years did I think it would also include a trip across the world to Zambia. 

Change that: A trip to Zambia feeling great, feeling healthy. 

Not throwing up.

And definitely not bald. 

I could tell you a million things about Zambia – and I probably will tell you more as the days go forward – but for today, I'm going to let one picture speak the proverbial 1000 words.

I took this picture as I sat outside reading my Bible and listening to worship music on a beautiful, cloudless and crisp (yes, crisp!) morning in Zambia. I didn't take it to have a cool picture. I took it because, as I was sitting there, I realized it depicted perfectly some of the hard-to-explain-with-words complexities of my life: 

The emotions of being both grateful to be fully alive, yet having a still so very tender and hurting and confused heart over the loss of Laura.  

The humility of knowing all my human frailties and imperfections, yet the joy of realizing that those don't disqualify me from participating God-directed things. Things that matter.

The tension between wanting to live a comfortable, easy, ho-hum life and  also wanting to be part of an unknown, often costly, adventure following after a loving, but not always "safe" God.

The illogical role of Scripture in my life…a source of great comfort, excitement and peace, yet at the exact same time, sometimes a source of mystery, frustration and challenge. 

I could probably say more, but then there goes the 1000 words to 1 picture ratio, right? :)  

So let me just say this: above all what this picture represents for me is the freedom to live.

Whether that's in Zambia or not. 

With Laura or not. 

On a beautiful, sunny morning or not. 

This picture reminds me that, through Christ, God has given me – and you – the opportunity to live fully.

Even when things are unknown.

Even when things are scary.

Even when things are hard.

I love that.

That's the stuff of hope. 

So, my friends…thanks for taking a few minutes out of your day to read this.  If you have a few minutes more, I'd love to ask for your prayers… Headed to Roswell tomorrow for scans and blood work.  I'll hear the results next Wednesday.  

Pray that I'll be brave and grateful. 

Thanks!

K. 

Update #57

Just a quick one today…

#1  Radiation is OVER!  Super thankful that I was able to get a daily appointment time at 8:10 AM so the impact to my kiddos was minimal.  Super thankful that the side effects were minimal.  Super thankful that those lovely green accessories on my legs can now be removed.  Not super thankful that my quad and hamstring muscles didn't particularly like being radiated and they feel as if they've been fairly severely pulled.  They say that it should get better "over time", but I'm actually in more pain now than I was before.  Nothing two advil can't take care of, tho, so we're still good.   Ahh…the joys of treatment. :)

#2  Zambia is ON!  Long story, but I made a decision to go to Zambia. It's actually a cool story, but not one that fits into "this is a quick update" category. Suffice it say, it's not a "bucket-list" decision (I don't believe in bucket lists) nor is it a stick-your-head-in-the-sand-and-pretend-there-aren't-risks decision; rather, it's an obedience-to-God's-leading decision.  So…I, and 4 others from my church, will be gone from 8/20-8/27.  Other than the long travel times (JFK – Johannesburg, SA is 15 1/2 hours!), there's nothing about this trip that causes me any worry or concern or even the slightest furrowed brow feeling.  On the flip side, I also don't have any expectations as to what I will experience or what God has for me to be a part of when I'm there.  My biggest prayer is that this time away matters for eternity. Oh, and that I don't get yellow fever. That's also a prayer.  Because getting yellow fever or meningitis or malaria or typhoid, well…that would just stink.  :)

#3  Reprieve from Roswell for the rest of the summer.  Because of being away, I actually have a 5 week break from Roswell!  I don't return until 9/6 for scans and the 9/11 for my appointment with my oncologist to see what might be going on inside my body.  This break feels glorious.  And I will take it with open hands and a grateful heart. :)

[And, yes, if you've been counting…that's three smily faces in one email.  Can you tell that I'm thrilled to be done with Roswell for a little bit?] 

Enjoy the rest of your summer, my friends!

Love,

Kristie