Update #38 (sort of)

Today would have been Laura's 40th birthday.

If it had been up to me, we would be on a beach in Tahiti with our husbands, sipping on a yummy umbrella drink, celebrating this milestone.

Ugh.

I know that some of you may be thinking, "Is 'ugh' the best word you could come up with to describe how you feel about the fact that you’re not on a beach in Tahiti? That you’re not celebrating this day with her next to you? That you’re not hearing her laugh, that you’re not joking about the growing number of wrinkles on your faces, that you’re not listening to her reflect on the depth of God's goodness to her throughout her life?"

Yep. 

Ugh works.

You know why?  Because I feel as if I could just stop typing now and you would totally understand all that this little, hard-to-tightly-define word means.  Without even consulting Webster's Dictionary (which, by the way, does have this word in it!), you probably already know all that's contained in this one little word and how it almost perfectly reflects how I feel about the hardships of this journey, including not celebrating a birthday in the way that I would like.     

I want to be unbelievably honest with you that there is much about this journey that I don't like.  Don't like at all.  No one will convince me that walking the road I'm on isn't hard.  Yes, it may not be as hard as others' journeys. It may not be as hard your journey.  But it is hard. And costly. And painful. And lonely. And often frustrating.

It's hard to not have access to my best friend who knows me and who knows what it's like to have a diagnosis like I have.  It's hard to watch to her husband grieving his wife and adjusting his life to one that is without her.   It's hard to hang out with her children and know when, and to what degree, I should mention or share a story about their mom.   It's hard to have a summer of fun travels and memory-making moments with my family and not be wondering about the state of my own disease. 

And those just make up the tip of the iceberg.  I would be sobbing my way through this if I listed out all the things that are hard...the things that cause me to stand in the shower, with tears streaming down my face, looking up,  pleading with my Heavenly Father to make the road a little less dangerous. A little less treacherous. A little less painful.

And I don't share this with you because I want your pity, your sympathy, your encouragement.  I don't share this because these are new feelings or because I'm in a "bad" place, or because I'm in despair.  No; that's not why I'm sharing this with you.  I'm sharing this with you so that you, in no way, romanticize or simplify or question if I'm detached from reality when you read the crazy words that I'm about to say to you.  So that you don't think that I'm not being honest with you about the messiness of this journey, about the grief that rises up in unexpected moments, about the moments of anger or deep frustration that I have to work through. 

So what are those crazy words that I have to share with you?

Just this:  there is another side of the story. 

There is another side of the story. And that side wins out.

Tears, grief, frustration, pain, loneliness all are true of my life right now, but they, at the end of the day, don't win out.  

They don't get the final say as to who I am, as to what my life is all about, as to what it's all for.   

They didn't get the final say for Laura and they don't get the final say for me.

Oh they sometimes seem as if they're gaining the upper-hand, pulling ahead in the race, just about ready to kick the game-winning goal...

But. They. Don't. Win. Out.

God wins.

Each and every time. 

His truth wins out. 

His promises win out.

His comfort wins. His peace wins. His joy wins. His grace wins.

Toward the beginning of His ministry, Jesus went to the Temple and was handed the scroll of the prophet Isaiah to read aloud in the service. After He finished reading a portion of it, He made a bold, bold claim: He claimed that He was the One who fulfills perfectly that Scripture.   Here's what He read:

God's Spirit is on me; He's chosen me to preach the Message of good news to the poor,
sent me to announce pardon to prisoners and recovery of sight to the blind, 

to set the burdened and battered free, to announce, "This is God's year to act!" 

- (Luke 4:18-19 Message Translation)

On that day in the Temple, He claimed that He fulfilled those words and He proved it time and time again as He completed His ministry on earth.   And, guess what? He still proves it today.

Bold statement, Kristie.  How do you know that He still proves it true today? 

How I know is because...

I am a girl who sometimes is poor in spirit. 

I am a girl who sometimes feels imprisoned by the constraints of her disease, or even more, by her poor choices.

I am a girl who sometimes is blinded by what she sees (yes, I wrote that correctly).

I am a girl who sometimes feels burdened and battered.

I am a girl who sometimes feels as if God isn't acting .

Oh yes, I am a girl whose ears would have been intently listening to Jesus speak those words in the Temple that day.  Who would have immediately realized that He was speaking directly to her.  Who would have been waiting, with bated breath, to see if He was really able to fulfill all that He claimed He's able to do.

And praise Him that I am able to stand up, today, and say that He can and He does and He will, in full.  I am able to stand up and say there is another side to my story because - and only because - Jesus is who He promised to be and He does what He promised He could do. 

He is creating another side to my story. 

He is creating another ending to my story.

He is taking this poor, imprisoned, blind, burdened girl who questions God's actions/inactions at times and He is refreshing and renewing her. He is making her stand firm, knowing that she can bring her hard story to Him and hear Him say back to her:  

 I bring good news that your King, Kristie, has set, is setting and will set all things right.

I forgive you and I have already set you apart for purposes that are beyond you.

I give you eyes to see beyond the tangible and into the unseen. And I give you cause to trust Me when it still might be blurry to you.

I bring freedom for you to run, without burden, the race I've marked out for you.

And I am at work.  In countless, countless ways.  I will lift your head so that you see Me at work.  On your behalf.  For My glory.

Oh yes...today is a day where, if given the choice, I'd be celebrating 30 years of friendship with my 40 year old best friend.  And I absolutely hate the fact that that won't happen. And I won't apologize for that hate or ignore it or pretend it doesn't matter all that much to me.

It does. 

It matters a lot.

But I will also just as honestly declare that that is just part of my story. Part of Laura's story.

There is another side that is authored by and empowered by God.

And that part wins out.

Each and every time.

I hope you see how Christ's words to the people sitting in the temple that day are not just for girls like me, like Laur. But they are for you too.  And I hope that it changes things for you too.  Refreshes you.  Renews you.  Gives you hope and joy and peace and comfort.

So on this day, August 22, 2012, there is only one fitting thing left to say...

Happy Birthday, Laura. I love you.

Kristie 

Update #37

I know you all have this date circled on your calendar, so it will be no surprise to you...but...today, Sunday, marks my two-year anniversary of my re-diagnosis of breast cancer. 

Okay, I'm kidding.  I know that most of you probably read that and thought, "My gosh...has it been two years already?" 

Yes, me too. 

Well, sometimes I think that. And other times it feels like an eternity since I have been living as a woman who has received a pretty difficult diagnosis.

Although I won't even begin to try to capture all that this date means to me - or doesn't mean to me, actually - I didn't want to let it pass by without taking time to provide as honest of an update as I am capable of providing to you.  

I've actually been fairly silent since Laura passed away in December.  Whether you have realized it or not, I haven't provided a "real" update - that is, an update that attempts to capture the rawness of this road - to you in a long, long time.

And that is not an accident.

Or an oversight.

Or something that has escaped my attention. 

Not at all. 

I think it's just taken me some time to figure out how much of this battle do I want to continually put before you. How much of it am I capable of living out in the open?  And, perhaps even more so, how much of it do I think you can take hearing?  How much do I expect you to be able to walk with me through this long, drawn out chapter in the storyline that the Author and Perfecter of my faith is writing?

And the no-holds-barred truth is that I thought you needed a break from hearing from me.

I know, I know...some of you will vehemently - and honestly - reject that.  Even some of you might be so bold to challenge me and say, "How dare you, Kristie, determine for me how much of this I can handle." 

And, I would agree; you would be justified for feeling that way.  So, rather than say that to me, I would ask that you forgive me and respond gracefully to my decision to retreat a bit and keep things a little closer to my chest.  (My chest.   Ha. That's a funny one, right?  Breast cancer humor...there's nothing like it!). 

So why have I decided to finally share a bit more with you?  

Because of my day on Wednesday.

On Wednesday, I went to Roswell to hear the results of my latest scans and tumor marker levels.  And the news was easy:  scans show no disease progression (in fact, probable improvement, in my bones) and my tumor markers are in a "normal range."  And because of that news, I get to continue on with daily chemo pills which, in all reality, have little to no impact on my day-to-day life. I am still energetic. I am still a blonde, pony-tailed girl.  I am still considered by strangers to look normal. 

Fabulous, right?   Right.

Something to be thankful for? Right.

A cause for writing an update to you? Nope.

No.  That isn't what triggered me to, once again, be more transparent with you about this road that God has placed me on for this time.  It was something that happened later that day.

Emilie hit a triple in her softball game.

What? What does that have to do with having cancer and opening up your heart?

Oh, so much.  So, so much.

Perhaps a hitting a triple in a 10U softball game doesn't sound like much to you. But it is.  Why?  Because Emilie doesn't believe she's very good at softball. 

Because Emilie struggles with the fact that we've committed her to playing this sport. 

Because Emilie has wanted to quit softball since the day she made the travel team. 

Because Emilie bats at the end of the order. 

Because Emilie is timid running the bases. 

Because Emilie hates being at bat and having the "whole world's eye" on her.  

Because Emilie has seen this aspect of her life as something that is only hard, that is only in her life because she can't convince her parents that she should be done with it, that is only something that she wants to be done with. Yesterday.

And because, on Wednesday night, our little girl -  this sweet, unbelievably talented athlete who lets fear win sometimes and who doesn't fully believe in the gifting she's received - got a taste of the excitement that swells in your heart and causes your adrenaline to pulse through your body when you swing hard and feel the bat impact the ball in a way that just feels right.  She got a taste of what it's like to run around those bases as if you own them.  She got a taste of rounding second and seeing that the throw may get her out at third, but taking the risk and running for it anyway. 

And she got to stand on third, breathing hard, and experiencing the joy of getting a high-five from her coach. Of hearing the screams from the fans.  Of seeing the smiles from her teammates. Of knowing that she just enabled two runs to be scored.

Yes, that....that was the moment that unlocked something for me.  

And I knew that I needed to share with you.   

Because sometimes I have viewed this hard part - this cancer part - of my life as something that I'm only doing because I have to. I see it as hard. As something that tempts me to fear. As something that takes everything I have - and way more that I don't have - in order to walk through it.  I don't expect joy to come from it.  Yes, I expect growth. I expect redemption.  I expect greater coaching from the One and Only Coach we have. 

But I don't expect joy. In it. Through it. Because of it.

And a bona fide triple to the outfield in a 10U softball game showed me that I was wrong.  It showed me that I have been short-changing my expectations of God.  It's funny to me how God reveals Himself to me.  You would think that it would only come at times when I was walking into Roswell, or when I am deep in prayer, or when I am spending time in the morning reading my Bible.  Who knew that, after I made a fool of myself by cheering for my daughter like a crazed parent, God would be so kind to me and whisper a new truth in my ear:   I will bring you such joy from this hard thing.  The very thing that you see as something you would stop in a heartbeat if I released you from it can - and will - bring YOU joy.  Wait for it, Kristie.  I will do it. And I will be cheering for you and rejoicing over you and loving you all the while.

So...that's my update for you all on this lovely afternoon here in Buffalo.  How I pray that, if you too are facing something difficult - something you wouldn't pick for yourself in a million years - how I pray that you are encouraged to know that God has an unparalleled ability to use it and redeem it and bring joy in it and from it...

Many thanks for your love,

Kristie

Update #36

Sorry I didn't update you yesterday on the outcome of my visit to Roswell.

Easy day.

Yay!

Not that I'm a horseracing buff, but it was the trifecta of visits actually:

(1) Most important, my tumor markers are actually even lower than they were last month.

(2) I didn't have to get an infusion because a new bone strengthening drug was just approved by the FDA and it's a shot rather than an IV infusion. 

(3) We made it out of there in record time.  We were in our cars driving home by 10 AM.  That has NEVER happened!

All easy, easy things.  For that, I am grateful. Extremely.

And I realize that it's been a little while since I provided an update on how things are outside of my medical status.  While I'm not going to go super deep with you today, I did want to share with you one little story.  I promise that it will make you smile, perhaps even make you laugh. 

We just got back from a surprise-for-our-kids family vacation to a fabulous home in Delray Beach, FL that a co-worker of Chad graciously offered to us.  It was a wonderful gift and one that provided just the rest and family-time that we really appreciated having, especially given the sadness and stress associated with Laura's death. (I still hate typing those words...still coming to grips with that reality and, quite honestly, I don't like it one bit not having her around and hearing her voice.  Maybe I'll talk more about that at another time.  Not today though.  Today's a day for a funny story!). 

In addition to fun times on the beach, lounging in a hot tub built for 10 (so the kids could actually "swim" in it!), treating ourselves (3 times in 4 days!) to the best, make your own  frozen yogurt desserts....I learned a new thing about my daughter.

I learned that she's a total chicken crossing the street. 

Now Em's a fast girl.  God has gifted her with speed, for sure.  However, she often doesn't like to use that speed.  She could toast almost all of her peers in a footrace, but usually comes in 3rd or 4th because, "Why would I want to get all sweaty just to beat my friends in a race, Mom?" (What?!?!  Where's the competitive Rich/Rush spirit in that statement?!?!).  Well, give that girl a street to cross (and throw in one car driven by a senior citizen that you can barely spot 1/4 mile down the road) and all of a sudden she shows her speediness alright.  She runs like she's being chased by a pack of wild dogs! 

So we're crossing the street at an intersection with crosswalk signals. You know, the signals that show an orange man that tells you to stop and wait and then a white figure that let's you know it's safe to cross.   There isn't a car in sight and we tell the kids they can cross even though the orange guy is telling us to wait. 

Em weighs her options:  "Do I obey my parents or do I obey that orange man?" 

She apparently chose to obey her parents because she takes off like a shot before I take my first step off the curb.  I look up and see the orange guy turn to a white one and I begin to point as I shout to my black daughter who is now halfway across the street, "Look, Em; it's a white man!"   

To make matters worse - but also to make them funnier - my eyes shifted slightly downward and saw an actual "white man" (a Caucasian human, in case you're confused), standing under that crosswalk signal.  A man whose face all of sudden started to look very confused and very uncertain about how he should respond to my sprinting, eyes-filled-with-anxiety daughter who was now just feet away from him and whose mother was yelling about a white man. 

Well, I start laughing; you know the kind of laughing that causes you to just shake because no sound comes out. Chad, of course, heard what I said because I shouted it.  He starts laughing so hard that he has trouble breathing.  And the poor Caucasian man stood there, trying to comprehend our story, not at all knowing what the "politically correct" response was to the situation.  You know that, inside, he was thinking, "Why, oh why, is this mixed-race family pointing out white people?  Do they not think their 10 year old daughter can tell who is black and who is white???" 

(I'm totally laughing as I'm typing this.  It's still totally ridiculous to me that I would say that!)

Chad mumbled through an explanation to the man. I just stood there like a fool laughing. And, all the while, the kids are asking over and over again, "Mom. Mom. Mom.  Why are you laughing? Tell us why you're laughing."  

Oh my gosh. Totally ridiculous.  

   

Okay...so why did I tell you this story?  Well, because it's funny (at least it will forever be a family laugh for Chad and me!)

But I also hope that it reminds you - as it does me - that there is great joy during this challenging time.  I know I've said this before, but it's worth repeating:  there are many, many, many things that happen that cause me  to laugh freely and smile widely as I, at the same time, grieve the loss of Laura and live out the unknowns of our situation.   Yes, this is a hard road. And being a mom walking out this road can be a difficult thing.  But I want you to know that, despite what you may think, being a mom is one of the biggest influences I have to remember that I have to be fully present, fully engaged, fully alive today.  That my children don't need me wondering about and worrying about their future (and my future ability to be their mom).  They need me to be fully present today.  

Laura helped to teach me that.  Her ability to be fully-engaged-in-the-most-important-parts-of-parenting until almost her last breath here on earth was an example worthy to emulate.   She taught her children - because she believed this with her whole being - that her children were entrusted to her for a time. That God loves them more than she does. That her most important role is to be as present and as much of an arrow pointing them toward Christ as she can be.  And that her most important task in living out that role was to pray over her children fervently, consistently and boldly.  Pray for their character. Pray for their belief systems.  Pray for their futures.

How that has encouraged me and challenged me: Live fully present and offer prayers that matter eternally.  So thankful that Laura paved the way in modeling this so that I, too, can choose to live that way and pour that truth over my children. 

And I'm so thankful for you, my friends. 

Thankful for your continued desire and ability to walk alongside of my family and me.  I continue to feel inadequate to express what a blessing you are to us.  

So, enjoy your day.

Hope you had a little laugh.

And, I hope you will never, ever say out loud in a public setting,  "Look! There's a white man!"

K.

Update #35

Easy-to-hear news today at Roswell:  My tumor markers are down a bit from last time and my bone and CT scans show no progression in disease.  

It's hard to put into words how thankful Chad and I were to hear that today.   While we both know that our hope doesn't rest in a medical test or in a scan - or even in what that test or scan reveals - there is just a sense of being able to breathe a bit more freely when you hear that your tumor markers are down and your scans haven't gotten worse.  

So today's drive home from Roswell was a "yippee" and "an-out-loud-at-the-top-of-your-lungs-yahoo" kind of a drive.  It was a "Thank you, Lord" and "Thank you, Lord, again" kind of a drive.  And I am confident that He is pleased with hearing the sound of His daughter's gleeful - rather than sometimes hard fought, thru tears, out of a choice rather than out of overflowing desire - praise.  

So thanks for continuing on this up and down, right-turn and left-turn journey with Chad, the kiddos, and me.  I will say this again and again until I have no voice left to say (or no fingers left to type!), I am grateful for the times when you all step into the gap and intercede for both me and for those whom I love.  It is humbling and encouraging and, above all, a very tangible reminder of the blessings that pour forth when we let people into our lives and share as openly and as honestly as we know how.  For sure, it makes life messier; but boy, does it make all together richer.

How I pray that today - whether it's out of easy glee or out of hard choice - you also praise Him for who He is and who He declares you to be.

With love and deep-seated appreciation,

Kristie

Update #34

Hi all...

Here we go again. Ready?

I'm headed to Roswell tomorrow morning (9:15 scheduled appointment, but in reality, who knows when I'll be seen!) to hear the results of the scans that I had on Friday.

I am, once again, not looking forward to tomorrow.  My bones (tailbone and pelvis/hip) have been noticeably achier than they have been so it's been challenging to not dwell on that. I have realized once again just how much I need to continually fill my mind and spirit with the truths of God so that I do not become filled with worries and fears that could so easily become a distraction to truly living the full life that Christ promises. 

So I would ask for prayer, that is, if you are willing to gear up in prayer for me again. And believe me...I know that for those of you who are experiencing the loss of Laura and who aren't quite sure if you're up for entering into someone else's life so intimately again for a little bit...this could be a very hard thing, something that you want to run from.  I get that.  I truly, truly do.  No apologies.  But for those of you who are able, I would very much appreciate a word spoken to Him upon my behalf.  Certainly for easy-to-hear test results, but even more so for a deep sense of His presence and His joy.   

Thanks my friends.

Be back in touch tomorrow sometime.

Kristie

Update #33 (From 12/15)

First off, my apologies for being so silent over the past few months. Some of you have wondered if you missed an update; you haven't.  Said simply, things with my health have been going well.  I am responding to this course of treatment.  My tumor markers have been consistently going down and the side effects of this type of chemo have been minimal.  For this, I am grateful.  More than I can express.   

But these few months have been - and continue to be - unbelievably difficult too.  

Because as I've gotten easy news about my own health, Laura has gotten hard news. And harder news.  And, now tonight, even harder news.  And yet, when you read her CaringBridge post that she wrote just minutes ago (see below)...And when you read it and think about what that will feel like as she steps out of her house in the morning...and when you stop and go to that place and imagine waking up tomorrow and wondering about the moments to come.  About what you'd say to your children. About what you'd be thinking as you went into your closet to get dressed, as you looked at the pictures hanging on the wall in the family room, as you passed by the kids' backpacks, as you stared out at the yard in which you have spent hours upon hours playing and laughing with your family...

Oh, are you crying yet?

Do you feel the immense, over-whelming difficulty of this moment for her, for her family? 

Have you attempted to imagine it? Imagine what you would do if you were in that same situation?

If you now find yourself with tears streaming from your eyes or now find yourself with a nasty, nasty lump in your throat fighting back those tears as you ponder the pain of all that, perhaps her words of hope jump off the page in a deeper way.   

"God is good.

He remains on His throne.

He awaits me in Heaven.

In these things I rely and trust. They have not changed.

And there is hope - hope in today and hope in tomorrow."

   

Do you see afresh why I love her so?How I am blessed beyond measure because of the countless ways God has spoken His truth through her to me?  Oh I know you see that.  And because you see it, you also see how much my heart breaks over this.  How painful it is. How devastatingly painful it is to contemplate doing life without her. 

Before I sign off, I want you to know that I hesitated sharing all that with you.  Why?  Because I don't want you to think for a second that I expect you to know how to respond.  That I think you should have the "perfect words" to respond with joy over my easy health news and respond with compassion over Laura's hard news.   If Hallmark doesn't have a card for this situation (which I'm certain they don't!), then please don't think that I expect you to have one.  There are some things for which there are no words.   I'm pretty sure this situation falls squarely in that category.  So...no words needed, but I will totally take hugs! 

Thanks, my friends.  Kristie

______________________________

    

From www.caringbridge.org/visit/laurarider

Hello everyone,

This unfortunately is a note I'd rather not  be writing, but as my faith-filled community who has prayed, fasted, encouraged and loved me so deeply for the last 2.5 years (and beyond), I wanted you to be aware of my current circumstances.

Tomorrow I will be going into a hospice care facility.  My pain and nausea have continued to increase, making basic life a challenge.  Recently I had switched pain/nausea medication in hopes that things would calm down but honestly, they've gotten only worse.  The progression of this disease becomes apparently obvious hour by hour.

It has been an incredibly difficult day in light of this decision.  However, God is good, He remains on His throne and He awaits me in Heaven.  In these things I rely and trust, they have not changed.  And there is hope- hope in today and hope in tomorrow.

I have led a remarkable 39.5 years of life- not one of perfection by any stretch!!, but a life that I bet some 90 years olds would trade theirs in for.  There is pain and grief, yet their is great joy and rejoicing as well.  How they combine, we can't understand, yet they do.

Thank you for you honest sharing in the grief, but thank you also for the joy and rejoicing.  Life is meant to be fully embraced and God has given me that great opportunity over and over.

As I have said all along, thank you for being the Church in action- His hands and His feet.  You have done an outstanding job!
With great love for you all,
Laura

So far...

....so good. 

Took 1st Xeloda chemo dose this morning and took another one after dinner tonight.  So far, no major side effects.  Actually, no side effects at all that I can discern besides a little tingling/ itching in my hands.  Much to my great delight, I was able to go for a long, long walk on this beautiful September, 72 degree day (a bonus summer day for those of us in Buffalo NY!). 

Thanks for your prayers.  Although...people...up the prayers in the "my kids being extra-specially kind" department...what's up with them being such grumps after school?!?!  No worries; I was ever-so-patient!