Being Held

I’ve had an influx of subscribers lately, so I thought I would start this by filling you all in a bit on where I am at in my cancer journey.

Here is a timeline:
Aug 2010-diagnosis: Stage 3 Invasive Ductal/Lobular Carcinoma
Sept 2010-port surgery
Sept-Nov 2010- chemotherapy
Dec 2010 -mastectomy + reconstruction
Feb 2011-Radiation –28 rounds
TODAY- round 13, halfway done with radiation!!
May 2011-“phase 2” of reconstruction
June 2011- tattoo time (read more here..)

For details of the journey, click here or on the Caring Bridge button in the sidebar.

I have come far.  I have so much to be thankful for.  There are many ups and downs.  Today was a down, I write about it below… but I’ll get back up there.
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{Halfway radiation point & “down” isn’t my best look..but I do like my  new hat that looks old:)}

Journal

I was late for radiation today.

It was a hard morning…I just could not pull myself together in time.

My radiation therapist, Mr. Brad, was so kind, reassuring me that they can be flexible, and that it was ok.

I told him a bit of my hard morning, he listened and said he would pray.

Then, I told him, with tears flooding,

He looked straight into my brewing storm and without hesitation, said:

 

A nugget of truth that shot straight to my heart and immediately brought internal storm rest.  I exhaled and went on to face my day.

Oh Truth, sweet truth

From the written Word and the words of His people!

What would I do without Truth?

Truth has been harder to feel lately.

I KNOW truth, I SEE it, but it FEELS far away.

Lots of “static” in the way.

Busyness of thought that creates distance from grasping the feeling of truth.

I know I create some of that static, and I know that giving up a medication and adjusting to that give up creates static.  I also know some of it is just life right now.

It. Just. Is.

This said static got the best of me this morning–it was oh, so loud–it comes and I kick and fit and shake my fists.  Eyes up, head down, at times– in hands.  Tissue thrown in piles on floor.

I blurt my static…to Him.  To husband.  To my Carma friend.

Words of “whys” and “no’s” and fears and questions and closed hands and fed ups..my words.

“But Lord…”

“No Lord…”

“Enough Lord..”

Vivid dreams have turned from normal into nightmares.  Can I just have one day of my life before?  I don’t want this unknown anymore.  I want concrete, expected, easy.  I want pretty, no scars.

Lord, do you see?

My Lottie-3 -year- old- Mae, the bravest fighter, her mother torn from baby sister to seek treatment far away.  Leukemia in a child is enough, Lord, enough.  But..bacteria infection and pneumonia, too?  Families who love and yearn, torn from each others presence? It seems too much..

Lord, do you see?

The man after me, there for radiation therapy.  The only color in his face are blood shot eyes that are hollow, but still smile at me.

Lord?

My husband, who deals with enough by dealing with me. He is sitting at table, deep in thought, while shuffling the mounting bill piles, doing his best to make them all fit.

Lord.

The statistics they scare me, why can’t I have a concrete answer?  Please?  Stage 3a or Stage 3b? Which one is it?  It matters to me.. 70% or 39%?  Why can’t I let go of the numbers? Hands grasped, closed tight.  Digits grasping digits.

These dear, strong, fighting women.

Stacy, Nancy, Amanda, Stacia, Veronica, Elaine, Connie,  Gina, Michelle, Heather, Monique, Jill

Women who have felt lumps, endured scans, had parts of themselves cut on and cut out, allowed chemical chemo to flow through veins and radiation to burn both good and bad cells, who felt razors and cold air on scalp, have to take pills that keep wombs empty and all the while are wives and some mothers and burden bearers for each other.  Oh Lord, these women!

 Lord, do you see?

So. Much. Static.

The above is enough there is so much more.  Unnamed more.

Lord?…?

“Yes, Amy, I see.”

 

“I know you are weary, but I am not.”

 

I SEE.  I, too, wept. 

I KNOW.  I, too, have scars.

 

I can handle your cries to me, My child.

I’m so glad you’ve come to me… 

For I am the Way.  The Truth. The Light.

 

I will make sense of tragedy.

I will be your burden bearer.  

Hand over the load. I was meant to bear it, not you.

 

Endure, child.

 

You know on this earth there will be pain and trials.

It was not meant to be this way, but it is.  

I will fulfill my promise to make it all right again, in my time.

 

This is what it is in an imperfect, sin- infested world.  

This is why I sent my Son, for a way out of it all.

 

 

I gave you the words to this song in your heart.

I gave you these words years ago, knowing you would need them in these fist shaking moments.

“This is what it means to be held, how it feels..

When the sacred is torn from life and you survive

This is what it is, to be held, and to know that the promise was 

when everything fell, you’d be held.”

I am holding you.

I have not promised a pain free world and life.  

But, I have promised that I AM Life, the Way, 

and I will be holding you every step.

These are God’s whispers to me.

 

I listen.

I search Youtube and find that song.

Natalie Grant

I listen again.

The static volume lowers to just a whisper and I find truth–and I am held.

{Words To Natalie Grant’s “Held”}

Two months is too little
They let him go
They had no sudden healing
To think that providence
Would take a child from his mother
While she prays, is appalling
Who told us we’d be rescued
What has changed and
Why should we be saved from nightmares
Were asking why this happens to us
Who have died to live, it’s unfair
This is what it means to be held
How it feels, when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive
This is what it is to be loved and to know
That the promise was that when everything fell
We’d be held
This hand is bitterness
We want to taste it and
Let the hatred numb our sorrows
The wise hand opens slowly
To lilies of the valley and tomorrow
This is what it means to be held
How it feels, when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive
This is what it is to be loved and to know
That the promise was that when everything fell
We’d be held
If hope if born of suffering
If this is only the beginning
Can we not wait, for one hour
Watching for our Savior
This is what it means to be held
How it feels, when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive
This is what it is to be loved and to know
That the promise was that when everything fell
We’d be held