Tag Archives: hope

Life Is A River (and yes I know that’s a lake behind me)

5 Apr

We just moved. It’s been a lot and I didn’t think it would be, but so many changes have happened over the 2+ years of pandemic. I can’t seem to push past some of the sad days but there have been so many good ones. Warning, this may be a super rambling blog, so sorry not sorry. I’ve had lots of thoughts swirling in my mind so I’m writing to actually clear it up and put it out there. First, it’s Lent. Last year I did some amazing Lenten devotionals (from Kate Bowler and Erin Moon), and they were so helpful in quieting my mind and keeping my heart in focus of the season. I grew up Catholic and was ‘taught’ to give something up during Lent; a fast to remind you of the 40 days Jesus spent in the desert leading up to His death.’ Last year, I decided to partake in this ritual of fasting and give something up. This year, as I was prepping for lent, I downloaded and joined a few Lenten devotionals from people I love following, Kate, Erin, Sarah Bessey and had full intention of following and partaking in a sort of fast again. DID NOT HAPPEN. I read a beautiful article right before Lent (thanks Erin) that really resonated with me. The author spoke about her difficulty finding something to ‘give up’ this year and she asked, ‘over the last 2+ years of pandemic, haven’t we given up so much already?’ We’ve given up the false security that we are invincible (maybe that’s a good thing). We lost time with friends and loved ones, and many people even lost loved one and weren’t able to have a proper goodbye. We’ve lost jobs and safety, trust and confidence and to some extent, joy and maybe a little sanity. It seemed irrelevant to give up social media, chocolate, or whatever, when we’ve gone a strong 2 years giving up one thing after another. However, it is Lent, and I love Jesus. In Barbara Brown Taylor’s book An Altar in the World, she talks about altars everywhere we go and in everything we do, so to live with purpose, slow down, pay attention; to be in constant prayer, not just ‘making time’ in your day to sit, read, and pray. What does that look like for me? Waking up and walking to the coffee maker in the silent, dark of morning and praying, being aware of the sun and rain and grass and flowers of spring, and praying, being in conversation with a friend or a child and praying for them while in conversation. Lent for me this year has been living in prayer and remembering God is always there (and also, on occasion reading one of those devotionals).

Second topic, we moved. I don’t usually get attached to homes or physical objects and I’ve never been emotional over a sale of a house, even my childhood home. I have always loved the idea of a different place, reinvention, scaling back, etc, but this one hit me hard. It didn’t happen right away. In fact, I was excited to downsize, save money, and move onward as empty nesters. Most of the kids had taken much of their things to their college/grad school apartments, in fact, AJ, the oldest literally only had his winter boots and coat left at the house. Then came the youngest, Alex’s room. His room was the same as when he left for college. The posters were up, the desk still had pens on top and notecards in the drawers, his closet had clothes, shoes, and a couple backpacks in their regular stack; it felt like another day and that he would just walk in after school and plop onto his bed. Then, still in the plastic hospital bag from when we left the hospital after his stroke in 2019, were the hundreds of notes and letters from his friends and well-wishers; reminders of that dark time that transitioned into a time of strength and healing. Packing up his room was the first ‘break of the dam.’ So many struggles, so many memories.

The piano. As discussions were had about what we would move or not move walking around the house, the piano came up. At first it was a non-negotiable even though, as Jim reminded me, I haven’t touched it in a long time. It was coming with us, and we would find a space. I have not been without a piano since I was 7 years old and maybe it had become a source of comfort and my link to my musical past. When Alex was in elementary, he even wrote a short assignment for school and talked about how my playing and singing would bring him joy and comfort so yes, it was coming. The weekend before the move Jim headed up north to bring some tools to the cottage and I sat at the piano to try to play. Cancer took my singing voice, but I had the piano. Over the years after all the surgeries and radiation, I’ve developed neuropathy in my left hand and arm to the point that I can’t really feel my fingertips. Sometimes it’s manageable and at times, it’s not. As I sat at the piano and tried to play that particular day, my fingers would not cooperate and actually sent more numbness and a little pain up my arm. This was the second ‘breaking of the dam’. I was heartbroken, hated cancer, and was now willing to NOT move the piano. It was Jim who said, ‘don’t give up on it yet’, so the piano moved and sits in a small corner of our even smaller home.

We gave up the keys to our house less than a week ago and over the weekend I flew to see Alex in Arizona for his mom’s weekend. I’m so grateful I got to spend time with him, and I decided, with the kids gone and mostly farther away, when they ask, I want to be there. The move was hard not because I loved the house or the ‘things’ inside of it, but because of all the memories. It was a house of safety, love, joy, and new beginnings for me; a place where I could mostly be myself and breathe. No, it was not all roses. We raised 5 teens in a blended family, Alex had his stroke, I got my fourth cancer diagnosis and Stage 4 on top of that: so many challenges but also so much love and support.

As far as the empty nest thing, what’s made it so hard for me is time and cancer. My same story. What actually helped me came from the show ‘This Is Us’ (spoiler ahead if you haven’t caught up to the current season). In a recent episode, Rebecca (the mom) who has early onset Alzheimer’s sits her adult kids down at a table and gives them a speech. I’m paraphrasing but basically she says, ‘Don’t let my illness make your world smaller. Take risks and live your dreams.’ It was a HUGE mindshift for me and I come back to that phrase when I get sad missing my kids. I will confess that I’ve used the phrase ‘don’t be mean to me, I have cancer and you don’t want that to be your last phrase/feeling/sentiment to me.’ Awful I know but sometimes I just want to hold them so tight. But, I too don’t want their worlds to become smaller because of me so here I am. This morning I did a meditation from Sarah Blondin and she talked about the constant tension of life between resistance and letting go. She said,’ Why hold on to the stones at the bottom of the river when you just want to be the water that flows freely?’ I want my kids to think of me and smile, feel loved, seen, and safe because they feel free and not burdened by my own expectations, sadness, disappointments, or my own pain. Heck, I want to be free of that too. How? Remembering that tension will always be there and that life is never perfect but is always beautiful. Thank you Jesus.

I feel better, not sure if you do. When is life not changing? Just like a river, it’s not always flowing peacefully, sometimes there’s rapids. Life is full of OMGs and WTFs but also full of love, joy, and moments of peace. I am so grateful I get to feel the gamut of emotions because that is living and that is growing and that is what it means to just be present. I am grateful for all of it.

Hello 2022

19 Jan

It has been a LONG time since I’ve written a blog post and honestly, I wasn’t sure if I would ever write another, but here I am. The last blog I wrote was right around the time Alex left for school making us empty nesters. Since then, I’d like to say that I’ve enjoyed all this ‘independent time’ not having to think about meals, sporting events, clothes for homecoming or prom, etc., but I haven’t. For the last 6 months I’ve been mostly sad. Not only are we in what seems like an endless global pandemic, but I also have cancer; both pointing toward a daily life of uncertainty. Time is my love language so having the youngest leave the house meant that that phase of motherhood and seeing them more often than not, was gone. Cancer already opens your eyes to your mortality so any less time with those you love is exactly that, less time. HOWEVER, I do realize that our job as parents is to grow independent kids and cheer them on as they learn to fly, so I guess I’m sad AND happy.

In the past 3 months I have been to 2 funerals; one a friend from church and the other, wife of a childhood friend that I grew up with. Both women younger than me, both moms, and both passing away from cancer. A friend of my husband’s passed away suddenly, another friend’s dad passed from cancer, and another friend’s young (younger than me), healthy boyfriend passed away just last week. All within the past 3 months. Time is our most precious commodity. Faith in a big God is still my peace.

What now? The pandemic is still raging. I still have cancer. People are struggling. All people are struggling. I am still mostly sad but getting better. All of the kids were home for the holidays which brought me so much joy and watching them come and go and ‘do their thing’ helped me be grateful for where they are AND where I am in life. We can start there, gratitude.

I don’t do New Year’s Resolutions but for the past few years I have picked a word of the year. Last year I chose the word ‘simple’ and it was so helpful. It became a mantra and reminder for me to keep things simple and to really focus on simpler solutions. I had it on a bracelet, and I printed it on the opening page of my planner and journal. This year I have chosen 2 words and they’ve already been SO helpful. My first word is Kairos. There is linear, chronos or chronological time and then there’s Kairos, or my definition of those magical moments not necessarily confined within those minutes. Glennon Doyle has written, ‘Kairos is God’s time. It’s time outside of time. It’s metaphysical time. Kairos is those magical moments when time stands still.‘ Since cancer I have always sought after those magical moments and now more than ever, we need the magic.

My second word is ‘AND’. I chose this word because with most things in life, two things can be true at once. Life can be beautiful AND brutal (an amazing full life AND cancer). I can be both sad that my kids are gone AND happy that they’re becoming these healthy independent adults. We can be grieving lives we thought would be different AND still find joy and laughter. We can be disappointed AND still hopeful. We can be scared AND still be brave enough to take that next step forward. For me, focusing on this simple word has been so powerful. If we can remember that there is an ‘and’, it makes lots of things feel more ok…well at least it does for me.

Have you chosen a word? An intention? We have one life.

Empty Nest (yes I’m crying)

18 Aug

By the end of this week I will be an empty nester. Who came up with that name? I don’t think I like it. Plus, if it’s being compared to a birds nest, that implies they never come back. Am I wrong? Also, don’t mama birds shove their babies off and force them to fly when they’re ready? Ok. There were/are definitely times I’d love to shove the kids into the world and force them to fly but there are times I equally if not more, want to hold on and squeeze them in a hug and force them to just stay near. ‘The greatest gifts you can give your children are the roots of responsibility and the wings of independence.’~ Denis Waitley. Yes, yes, sure. I am not afraid of being an empty nester, it’s actually exciting to think the house will be more quiet, the tv/kitchen/couch will be just ours, our grocery bill will be significantly less (and I won’t have to think too hard about pleasing everyone for dinner), we can be more spontaneous, whimsical, and maybe even walk around in our underwear in our middle aged bodies.

I have been swallowed up in mixed feelings since Alex’s graduation last June, knowing he chose a college 2000 miles away and that this day would be coming sooner than later. I want to say that Alex is my hardest goodbye but I can barely remember launching the others so I know I’ll be ok. Alex is the baby and that in and of itself makes it harder. I was first diagnosed with cancer just as Alex started kindergarten and am now in my 4th recurrence. I was diagnosed as Stage 4 cancer when Alex was about to start his freshman year and I remember praying to just be alive to see him graduate high school. He has pretty much only known his mom as a mom with cancer. I’m still here, cancer has been stable since then but life was not easy within that 4 year period. Two years ago this month, Alex had a stroke and was right side paralyzed. In fact, almost everyday this month a memory has popped up on FB or in my google photos and it is of Alex at the hospital. This was the week, 2 short years ago, that he started moving his right arm and right leg again. Pictures have come up from the prayer vigil at his high school, of friends sending me encouraging videos, and of the night his friends gathered outside the hospital with flashlights and banners for him to see from the windows from his hospital floor. I lived at the hospital for 6 weeks and it wasn’t for me, it was for the child who is now ‘flying away’ and who had to fight hard both physically and mentally. Every memory and picture brings a flood of emotion. This is a hard goodbye.

A few nights ago we took a packing break and he laid down facing me on his bed and said, ‘let’s just talk.’ As I lay there facing him, I burst into tears. At the hospital, I would be in the exact position, staring into his eyes and praying at first for him to survive, then that he would just get better. I bargained with God to take me instead, after all, I was the one with cancer; the one who should be in the hospital bed. I remember the very last night at the hospital, looking at each other and both weeping about all that had happened, and expressing fear over his future and what leaving the safety of the hospital meant. I could not hold back the tears being in the exact same position looking in his eyes, I guess I have PTSD. All he said was, ‘Don’t let my last moments home be sad, be happy for me.’ I am ecstatic for him…for real!

As I try to process the last one leaving the house, I know that it’s not the fact that we are becoming empty-nesters, it’s the fear of an unknown future for both of us because of our health ‘scares’. I am also filled with questions about whether I was a good mom or not, did I help guide them on the right path, will they be ok and if they’re not, are they strong enough to ask and seek help, so many questions but I know I did my best. It seems the most random things melt me into a puddle of tears like the face to face talk, bringing something to his room and realizing he won’t be in it anymore for a long while (and then less and less), seeing the bag of almost 200 notes and letters he got at the hospital, the stupid picture memories that keep popping up on my phone, and even the random food items that only he likes that are still in our pantry and fridge. I know that as time passes these feelings will soften, he’s not the first kid to leave. It’s just another reminder that time goes so fast and to make each moment count. ‘Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart walking around outside your body’.~Elizabeth Stone.

I learned after the first one graduated high school and left that raising kids is a long series of goodbyes and as they learn to ‘adult’, we learn to let go. Now I prepare myself once again to have my house as a place he visits instead of a place he lives and to leave another piece of my heart someplace else.

‘If you would have your child to walk honorable through the world, you must not attempt to clear the stones from his path, but teach him to walk firmly over them-not to insist on leading him by the hand but let him learn to go alone.’~Anne Bronte

Caregivers

9 Feb

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I found out a little over a week ago that one of my caregivers has cancer. She was diagnosed a few years ago and it has returned with a vengeance. I met her when I first got cancer in 2008 and she was integral in my healing process both physically (helping me regain my voice) and mentally because she is one strong woman. She pushed me hard to help my healing and I am so grateful. A few days ago I found out another strong woman who has cared for me and my kids was just diagnosed with cancer as well. The news made me sad because you just never think the people who have made it their job to care for you and others would ever get sick themselves. Cancer is a bitch (excuse my language but it just sucks).

Over the past 11 years with cancer I have been a patient at a few different institutions and have had img_6957amazing doctors, nurses, and support staff. About 4 years ago one of my original doctors that helped navigate my cancer journey retired and I cried my eyes out.  He was the one who called me with the news that my cancer had returned the 2nd and 3rd time. He researched new therapies and called different surgeons and oncologists; this busy doctor made me feel like I was his only patient for the 6 years that I saw him. I love all of the people that cared/care for me. What a difficult job they have trying to comfort and encourage patients, while also doing their jobs and what’s medically necessary. The impact that caregivers have on our lives is pretty astounding. Having cancer comes with baggage; fear, sadness, uncertainty~ it’s a dark time and medical staff play an important part. No matter what is happening in their lives they are tasked to care and love hard. Dr. M and Dr. D, my prayers are with you and I love you both hard.

February also marks 6 months since Alex had the stroke. He is doing remarkably well! After having full right side paralysis, he’s now walking, driving, and back in school facetune_05-12-2019-17-31-34part time getting all A’s. He still gets a little tired writing but that is coming along. Here’s my mom struggle…before the stroke he was a normal teen boy doing the push and pull; the pushing of my nerves while trying to pull away into his own adulthood. I get it, I’ve had to let go of my other two and that’s how it goes. After the stroke, he became my baby again. It was an incredibly difficult time and sometimes when I close my eyes I can still see him lying in that bed in the ICU and it makes me cry. There are things I can’t even talk about without choking up including the last night we spent at the hospital together, praying, crying, and talking about all that had transpired, before img_6960being discharged to come home. Now that he’s about 95% back to being a normal teen boy, there’s that push and pull again, and I have to relearn it. As one radio DJ said, it’s like a hard break up. For me it’s like breaking up, getting back together, then going through an even harder break up again. Makes me sad but I know it’s necessary. Motherhood is hard and time flies. Besides Alex, my oldest is graduating college in a few months and planning grad school farther away, and Audrey is studying overseas this whole semester. It’s a mixed bag of sadness and joy.

I was a guest on another podcast last week and the topic was hope. She asked my definition of hope which I responded that it’s knowing your mission here on earth is not yet finished. It’s looking forward to another day with the expectation of something good despite your circumstances. Hope is the active response to gratefulness, recognizing the beauty of what, and who surrounds you.  The month of January my lipstick company, The Lipstick Journey, did a ‘buy one/give one’ to a cancer thriver and it was amazing. I got stories and emails and pictures of people across the country. I got to write notes of encouragement with every lipstick I sent. This is the mission that gives me hope and the motivation to keep my lipstick company alive. What else gives me hope? My faith in God knowing He’s ultimately in control, and people. Despite what we see on the news, the ugliness of politics, and people still judging others, there are kind people all around that want change and want to be helpful. I’ve seen it and felt it. When you’re sick or in need, people rise up. That’s hope. We are all caregivers. Be kind and love hard.

‘Hope is like the sun, which, as we journey toward, casts the shadow of our burden behind us’~S Smiles

2020

19 Jan

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Photo by Kat Stevenson Photography

It’s mid-January and I’m not even sure I know how to write anymore because it’s been so long. 2019 was a little rough around the edges from cancer, stroke, job changes, etc. and I just wanted to slide into a new year with new vision, renewed hope, and peace. So many amazing things happened in 2019 too; officially launching my lipstick company, new friends, old friends, travel, and many wonderful events. My year also ended with Alex walking, talking, driving and back in school part time, as well as my cancer still remaining stable-two of the greatest miracles. Adversity can make us bitter or better and although all the not so great events tested my patience, my heart, and my willpower, I am more patient and resilient because if it. I choose better. One thing I know is that we constantly hear we have to ‘be’ the good but I’ve learned we must also ‘see’ the good.

This year, instead of immediately thinking about the future and what 2020 had in store, I decided to take some time and look backwards; not to dwell in the past, but to learn from it. Since we entered a new decade I saw many posts with pics

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My fave picture from 10 years ago

from 10 years ago. In the past 10 years, I got cancer 3 more times, got divorced, remarried, had 2 out of 3 kids start college, and started a business. I looked at my calendar from the past year and everything that filled it, I thought about the moments and the people that brought me joy, I thought about all the crappy things that happened, like Alex’s stroke, and sat in gratitude for the people who surrounded us and loved us throughout. It was a cool thing to look back and see how I’ve grown and changed, and how all the challenges from the past year made me feel more resilient (and focused) than ever. Turning 50 also helped because now I feel like I’ve finally become who I was made to be. ‘By the time you turn 50, we have learned our hardest lessons. We have found out that only a few things are really important. We have learned to take life seriously, but never ourselves.’~M. Dressler. Maya Angelou says, ‘The 50’s are all you were meant to be.’ Yes, all about it and feeling comfortable in my skin.

My word for 2020 is SIMPLE or SIMPLICITY. What does that mean for me? Simple living, purging things we (I) don’t need. Doing the Marie Kondo thing and assessing the things that bring me joy and those that don’t. Not overdoing the ‘yes’ but not overdoing ‘no.’ Setting intentions and saying them out load. Simple faith which means losing the constraints of ‘religion’ or ‘religious’ and just following Jesus and His example of loving people…all people. Our pastor said today that God is writing His story through people’s lives. If you can look at people and know that God is their author how can you not love them? What about our enemies, the people who have hurt you? I’m still processing that, give me a minute. Also, at the end of the day if you simply love yourself and how and who you were created to be, there is less room for comparison and jealousy and the need to be something else. There’s just peace and gratitude. Life gets complicated on its own.

It’s 2020. I looked back to LIVE forward. What a crazy, beautiful life it’s been. Happy New Year!facetune_30-01-2019-10-32-43

And then one day

it seemed like

the past no longer mattered

because she had learned

her lessons,

embraced her dreams,

and the world

was at her feet. ~ Mark Anthony

 

Scan Day

3 Mar

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Here it is again. Tomorrow is scan day for me. Living with ‘stable’ metastatic cancer is so weird. First let me explain stable; stable disease means that although my cancer has spread to other parts of my body (namely my lungs), the tumors are either not growing or not shrinking, there are no new tumors, and the cancer has not spread to any new regions of the body. Bottom line, with a diagnosis of Stage 4 metastatic cancer with tumors in my lungs? Stable is an awesome thing. I have been stable for over a year so at the one year mark my doctor decided to stretch my scans from every 3 months to every 6 months. Well, it’s been 6 months. In a blog I wrote over a year ago I quoted author Bruce Feiler who referred to his scans as his ‘regular date with digital destiny’ to show whether his lung nodules had grown. He goes on to say, ‘Scans are like revolving doors, emotional roulette wheels that spin us around a few days and spit us out the other side.’ Yes, yes, and all yes, I’m going on a date tomorrow with my digital destiny.

I have to say I think the spread to every 6 months has been beneficial to my well-being. It has given me enough time to recover from the scan, infuse a little hope, resume normal life, and on occasion, forget the cancer exists. The problem is, internally this weekend or even this whole past week leading up to the scan I’ve been a wreck. Of course nothing visible to the public but anxiety I can feel in my stomach, heart, and mind. This past week I haven’t slept that well and have had a harder time breathing. This weekend I’ve been pretty emotional. Giving my son a morning hug and a nice note from one of the sponsors of my launch party this morning has brought tears to my eyes. I want to both crawl into bed and not get up but also jump out of my skin and run like the wind (even though I can’t really run anymore because of my breathing).

I will make it through. Just another day and another step in this crazy beautiful life. Ultimately, having scans on a consistent basis has also served as a reminder that life is short and that it’s precious. It’s a reminder to stop and be truly grateful for everything and everyone you’ve been blessed with. I think that’s why I get so emotional, not because of fear, but because my date with the scan forces me to stop and really think about my life and all the people. Dang, I love living so much surrounded by people I love. Monday is just another day and by Tuesday or Wednesday, whenever I get the results and whatever  they may be, I will be a little stronger than today.

I love those who can smile in trouble, who can gather strength from distress, and grow brave by reflection.’~ Leonardo da Vinci

Today I wear The Lipstick Journey lipstick in Promise which is beautiful, soft, shimmery pink. On the website I described wearing this color to remind yourself that tomorrow is a new day, a color full of hope and promise and a ‘pinky promise’ to yourself to be gentle to you. For today (and tomorrow) I pray for peace. Cheers!

 

Keep Going

9 Dec

img_0448Last weekend I got to spend some time in Sedona, Arizona. Sedona is probably my favorite place in the whole world because of its beauty and the peace I have felt every time I’ve gone there. Typically I’ve gone with girlfriends and we’ve enjoyed walks, food, and spas but this time I went with my husband. A die hard water person, he was hesitant to visit the desert but on the road into Sedona after seeing the first giant red rock, I believe he was hooked into the magic. On the second day (we were only there for 2 days), we decided to pick a trail and hike. I asked the front desk person at our motel for a map of the trailheads and for a short description of the trails. We decided to hit a trail late in the afternoon, picking the ‘light to medium difficulty’ 3 mile trail with ‘the best views’ (according to the lady). Long story short it was a beautiful trail near the top of a mountain with spectacular views but instead of the 3 miles, we ended up on different trails along the way and about 5 miles and 2 hours in, we started wondering if the trail was ending soon and if was going to be anywhere near where we parked. We kept a comfortable pace until the sun started going down and we started img_0466seeing animal (mountain lion) tracks along the way (the trail was a little muddy in some parts from rain earlier). Over 6 plus miles later, with the last mile or so uphill, we were exhausted, hungry, cold, but finally back in our car. Whew! It was exhilarating! 5000 foot elevation, 6+ miles, metastatic cancer with multiple lung nodules, the hike was a little challenging going uphill at various times but dang, when you think you can’t do something but do it anyway…it takes your breath away (literally for me).

‘If you can’t fly then run, If you can’t run then walk, If you can’t walk then crawl, but whatever you do you have to keep moving forward.’~Martin Luther King

This morning I went to the gym. I go to Orange Theory Fitness because I need to have someone tell me what I need to do and for how long when it comes to working out. OTF is like having a personal trainer (but in a group setting) for an hour and I love it. Today was what they call ‘power day’ which is basically working your tail off non stop for an hour. About half way through the class I could feel myself losing steam but then a new song came on and I was back in the game; Joan Jett’s I Love Rock and Roll. There was something about that song that brought back memories of my youth, and the sheer strength and grit of her female rockers voice pushed me to keep going.

What is it that pushes you to take that one extra step? On the mountain, fear and cold was a pretty good motivator. At the gym, it was a song translating into grit, determination and stamina. There are so many things in life that are like the mountain. You move ahead without img_0500really knowing if you’re going the right way or if there may be a little danger ahead. You take one step at time with a little fear and trepidation but you know that stopping is not the solution. Keep moving. Then there are times like the gym when you know you’re on the right path but you’re simply losing steam. Dig deep. Surround yourself with people that can motivate you and those that believe in you. Keep going.

It’s the holiday season and I admit, it’s always been a melancholy time for me. Partly because when I was young I remember my parents being a little sad missing their extended family they left behind in the Philippines. The other part comes from first finding a lump in my neck around Christmas in 2007, recovering from my 2nd surgery/cancer around the holidays in 2008, then getting a call on Christmas Eve 2009 that my cancer had returned for the third time. This Christmas I’m feeling that extra push to seize every moment. I’m so grateful for my life and for every person in it. My cancer has been stable now for a year and a half so I can feel myself getting excited about living and possibly a longer future ahead. Hope is a beautiful thing. I will keep moving forward.

Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.~Deuteronomy 31:6

God’s got us. Christmas is a miracle. Unto us a child is born. What a beautiful time of year to sit back, reflect on our blessings and keep. pushing. forward.

Today I wear The Lipstick Journey lipstick in Promise because there’s so much hope and promise in every day. Cheers!

Sick

13 Jun

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Me and my baby brother recently 

I have heard more times than not that I don’t look sick. Believe me, it’s a great compliment. Over the past week or two there have been some significant events happen with people who don’t look sick. The shocking suicides of Kate Spade and Anthony Bourdain, and the sudden unexpected passing of my dental hygienist who was a young, 39 year old mom of 2. My kids and I had known and been going to ‘S’ as our hygienist for probably 10 years so the news came as quite a shock for all of us. She and I went to the same gym so I saw her every so often and what looked like a healthy young woman was suddenly gone. She didn’t look sick.

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2010, week 6 of radiation. Minus 30 pounds, burnt inside. Do I look sick?

I would venture to say that 99.99% of everyone has some type of ‘ailment’ they struggle with on the inside whether it’s anxiety, insecurities, mental health, or actual physical health that the world doesn’t see from the outside (or social media) appearance. I spoke to a coworker whose husband has suffered from cancer awhile and doesn’t always ‘look’ ill and told her the biggest thing to remember in terms of being a caregiver for someone with a chronic illness is that we generally function under 100% all the time. Meaning, our 100% is your 85% so I told her if he’s complaining that he’s not feeling well to have compassion because he’s really not feeling well and has actually fallen below that 85% which is his norm.  For me, I have compromised breathing…all.the.time., I can never run a marathon let alone run 5 minutes straight on a treadmill because I simply can’t breathe and it takes a while to catch my breath, my left arm and hand have been numb (and getting worse) for the past few years which means I can’t play the piano anymore or confidently hold a cup of coffee with my left hand, or go through a drive thru without reaching over with my right hand because I’m not confident with my left, and when I say I’m tired, I’m exhausted and of course there are other things I struggle with regularly. Oh and I have massive amounts of hair falling out from my radiation experiment from last April. So my feeling 100% good is really about equivalent to everyone else’s 85%. I keep a full time job, try to be at all my kids’ activities, and try to keep a smile on my face. It’s how I live and you can’t see that I’m at 85%.

What does that mean for all of us? We need to be more gentle with each other. We need to see each other with compassionate eyes and know that beyond the exterior smiles, Facebook posts, beautiful instagram pics, etc there are stories of pain, illness, suffering, insecurities, and internal struggles that plague all of us. ‘The more beauty we find in someone else’s journey, the less we’ll want to compare it then to our own.’~Bob Goff. We need to love more and frankly as a Christian I am sick of the Christians acting like judge and jury (that’s a whole other blog). Jesus came to show us how to love and show grace and mercy and the world needs plenty more of that. Love God, love others no matter what.

I have another scan coming up in a week and I’m a little scared. I read this quote today, ‘Courage doesn’t always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying I will try again tomorrow.’~Mary Anne Radmacher. Despite my apprehension I have trust in the One who carries my burdens on His shoulders so in my quiet voice I say thank you for another day. I’ll be ok. I hope I never really look sick but let’s all be aware that every single person is dealing with something we don’t see. Be kind. Be aware. Be loving.

She made broken look beautiful and strong look invincible. She walked with the universe on her shoulders and made it look like a pair of wings.’~Ariana Dancu

Today I wear Tom Ford lipstick in Violet Fatale. This may be the most expensive lipstick I own. These lipsticks are pretty amazing. I didn’t like them at first becuause I thought they were a little dry but recently I’ve come to appreciate the semi-moisturizing but long wearing power of these lipsticks. I chose this color because it’s  bright but not too crazy and fun for summer! Cheers!

I am a mom

11 May

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Mother’s day is around the corner and I am a mom. I am a mom with cancer. What does that mean on mother’s day for me? How have I changed?  This is hard to talk about. The first time I got cancer my kids were young and all I could think of was to fight for them. I have to say, what lessened the urgency or ‘scare’ from the word cancer for me was that I had thyroid cancer which I read about and was told even by my doctors that it was the easiest and best cancer to have because of the high cure rate. When things turned out a little more complicated after the first surgery I was scared and yes, I cried…a lot. My img_1886kids were only 5, 7, and 10 at the time and I wasn’t ready to leave them (are we ever ready to leave them?). I fought, I cried, I prayed, I survived and for the next 2 years cancer came back again twice but same thing, I fought, I cried, I prayed, and throughout those years and the surgeries, and the treatments, I tried to make their lives as normal as possible. I continued to work, I volunteered at their school, I brought cupcakes and donuts to their classes for their birthdays. I rarely missed anything.

Today, 10 years later, cancer is back and it decided to spread. My kids are older, facetune_01-04-2018-18-00-11one is in college, one is headed there next fall, and the youngest is in high school. I’m older, teens are more difficult, life is rarely quiet but I fight, I cry, I pray. Life is funny because there are always things you don’t want to miss. When the kids were younger and I got cancer all I wanted was more time to get them through high school. Now that they’re older I want to see them become adults, get married, maybe meet my grandkids, I want to see them fly and flourish and know that they’ll be ok.

I am a mom. Like all moms we have img_1634pieces of our hearts walking and breathing outside our bodies. We feel their hurts, we cry when they cry, we’re happy when they’re happy. We worry, we discipline, we direct, we pray, we love, we do the best we can. There are no perfect people or perfect moms but we can love and we can teach them to love. I am a mom with cancer. I may not meet the grandkids but I am planning to. I want to see them make good decisions but I can’t control them. I want them to know that my home is a safe place and that there is love waiting for them here. My love language is time and unfortunately with cancer time is what is threatened the most so that makes my heart hurt a little. Here’s the twist, they’re all older and preparing and wanting to launch so while I try to grasp tighter and grab more moments, they are at the age of friends and freedom, and adulthood, how’s that for crappy timing…but I guess there isn’t really a good time to get sick. So that’s what’s a little different with cancer. I hug a little longer, and grasp a little tighter even though they’re older and they grasp for freedom. I stare at them more because I want to notice and memorize and soak in every nuance of their faces. When they ask to grab coffee or a movie or dinner, I jump at the chance because it’s more time. I don’t get too wound up over dumb things and I let go of simple annoyances quickly because I mainly see things in ‘big picture’ now. I listen more intently and I constantly tell them how much I love them and I fight harder, I cry harder, and I pray harder. To all the moms, stepmoms, aunts, mother figures, teachers, mentors and the village helping raise our children, Happy Mother’s Day.

Maybe every year needs one day to live wide awake to celebrate that we get to call these people ours, that we get to be the one who gets seconds and minutes and hours and days and maybe even years to witness the wonder of them…We get the gift to love our people-and what if we don’t get the wonder of another? Maybe getting to love is getting the best gift of all.~Ann Voskamp

Today I wear MAC Liptensity Lipstick in Habanero. I was looking for something a little bright after my radiation treatment. I needed a little pick me up and this color did it! I love the texture of this lipstick formula and the color is awesome. Habanero is a bright orange/red and I love it. Like the name, this color is spicy and fun! Cheers!

Power of Story

16 Mar

I heard a cancer survivor speak recently and I have to admit I was a little annoyed. I am incredibly happy that this person was completely cancer free and that her treatment worked for her, it’s a place all cancer fighters hope for. I think it was her story and her ‘after’ story that irritated me. The presentation was to a large group so I can imagine it may have been stressful but what I missed was a little authenticity, the guts of her journey. Maybe the story was too simple; got cancer, got treated, got cured, stayed positive, doesn’t remember having any ups and downs emotionally. Maybe I’m being too cynical, that’s probably it. All I know is for me to share in her joy and excitement I needed to be able to connect to her story and being a Stage 4 cancer fighter currently, the expectations and probability to connect was high but it didn’t happen. I wasn’t inspired, and all I could do was sigh, ‘that’s nice, good for her,’ a sharp contrast to someone I heard speak last year. Listening to last year’s survivor story left me on the edge of my seat, I was in tears as I was brought into her journey with her words and I wanted to seek her out afterward and know more. I didn’t even have cancer then.

You may tell a tale that takes up residence in someone’s soul, becomes their blood and self and purpose. That tale will move them and drive them and who knows what they might do because of it, because of your words. That is your role, your gift.’~Erin Morgenstern

Have you ever thought about that? The possibility that your story could actually take residence in someone’s soul and become part of their blood and self and purpose. Whoa. If that’s the case, would you be more truthful about who you are, your feelings, your purpose, your words? What I wanted from the speaker was authenticity, truth, and maybe her truth was just that simple. Maybe she didn’t have low points in her journey or maybe she just didn’t let herself get there. My truth on my current cancer path is different and that’s ok because we are all created differently. The authentic self is soul made visible. – Sarah Ban Breathnach  Be authentic.

Today’s page in my story is a jumble of words and emotions. My mind is all over the place. I have the consistency of work and kid rhythms but my mind and heart are still longing to save the world, to check things off on my ever growing bucket list, to see dreams become reality. I heard a fellow cancer fighter say that she tries to create such a big and busy life in order to shove down the ugly cancer stuff; in essence to make cancer just a small part in her mind. I feel the same, planning big, checking things off my bucket list and keeping busy helps me forget on occasion that I have cancer and it also helps me in a small way not to live from scan to scan. Faith. I recently read from an Oswald Chambers devotional that at the beginning of the Christian walk we are so marked by feelings, more by sight than by faith, but there comes a time when that joy is not what it used to be and that sometimes the soul gets dark but that is when God is taking the soul out of the realm of religious feeling and emotion into the realm of faith (all paraphrased). Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens.” ~J.R.R. Tolkien. Deep faith. I’m right there now too. I have a sweet relationship with God that has deepened over the years through life, cancer, and other obstacles, and it’s what’s giving me hope. On Jen Hatmaker’s podcast she ends each episode with the question, ‘What is saving your life right now?’ I have to say for me, it’s my quiet time with God each day and the people I have chosen to surround myself with, my family and my friends; both give me hope, peace, and joy. My mind may be in overdrive but today I get to add another page to my story, I’m alive.

Today I wear Flower Petal Pout Lip Color in Chestnut Kiss. I was pleasantly surprised by these lipsticks from Drew Barrymore’s line. They are inexpensive, have great color, are pretty long lasting, and are fairly moisturizing as well. I chose this color because I was looking for an everyday brown that I could wear without looking ‘dirty’ on my brown skin and this was actually perfect! Cheers!

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