Dwell

I have gotten my head kicked in the last several weeks.  Do you know those weeks?  Where things are said about you-true or untrue-you don't seem to get much grace or understanding, you can't seem to do anything right or well and as soon as you stand up and turn, you get punched again.  I. Was. Down. It's not really people--for we know the battle isn't flesh and blood- but the Enemy really kicked my legs out from under me.  

I found myself shutting down.  Changing how I was going to respond in areas I had felt passionate about.  Some of my closest friends feared my light had been dimmed.  I was letting my new puppy outside (I know...you're questioning my sanity) and I stood alone and wondered "Am I getting depressed?  What is happening to me?"

I finally began a diagnostic check.  How are my eating habits?  Am I eating too much sugar?  Have I slowed down on exercise?  Do I not want to do things I enjoy?  

I knew where to start physically to check on myself.  But spiritually...where did I land?  For the most part, I listen and read good, sound things.  My focus seemed to be on right things.  At one point,  I listened to a sermon from a church in Texas I like to listen to.  I usually only listen to the lead pastor but for some reason, I didn't turn it off when one of his younger associate pastors spoke that morning.  He spoke about identity--about his profession and his skin tone and his talents.  And he asked what if something happened and he couldn't preach?  Or when he isn't young and cool anymore?  I don't remember anything else he said because the wheels were turning. 

I have said since Scott did that my identity wasn't shaken.  That who I am wasn't in being Scott's wife or my kids mom.  And I mean that.  Scott didn't make me who I am.  Or change me.  He complemented me.  Championed and encouraged me.  But I realized in these rough weeks, that maybe my view of my identity had deviated just a tiny bit. 

Had I started viewing my identity in light of my gifts?  In what I can do for God?  In how He can use me?  And not in Him and Him alone.  Eeek.  It's so closely aligned.  I want to live for Him and serve Him. And those are good things.  But.  What am I made for?  My identity isn't in my gifts, but in the Giver of those gifts.  I am made to know Him and dwell with Him.  He dwells in me.  Dwell--I love that word.  Not visit or vacation there. Not stop by.  It means to live there.  That's it.  That's what I was made for.  To love and know Him and to be known by Him alone.  If He were to take out my voice and my legs which help me speak and do, am I still Lauren?  Can I still please Him?  Absolutely.  If He chooses to use me, great.  And if He uses someone else, great too.  He doesn't need me.  I dwell with Him and walk in obedience.  And that is it.  He does the rest.

I am pulling myself out.  Or rather, He was right beside me all along and has begun to pull and push and reshape.  Sometimes that's painful.  Sometimes it's more simple than we make it.  EYES ON HIM.  EYES ON HIM.  

The Word became flesh and made His dwelling among us. We have seen His glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth. John 1:14

Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.  I will say of the Lord, "He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust." Psalm 91:1-2

Both-ness

Both-ness.  The both-ness of God.  The both-ness of grief.  In my head, I have made this word up.  But it's quite possible I'm not the first person to try to coin it.

I had already spoken on Matthew 11 to our team on a small mission trip that morning.  Specifically, the 'take my yoke' part of the ever famous 'my yoke is easy and my burden is light' passage.  That morning with our team left something to be desired, in my opinion.  So a few hours before I was to give the same message again--to our team again but also the men and the staff and volunteers at the mission--I went away to a quiet spot by myself.  And like God often does, he demolished my talk and rewrote it.  As I was walking back, trying to hash out what God had said,  a friend stopped me and I tried to explain--"I think God showed me His both-ness".  

In Matthew 11:28-30, Jesus tells them to come to Him and He will give them rest.  We like that rest part!  'He makes me lie down in green pastures'.  Yes!  I so badly want to lie down! But God showed me in his re-write editing time with me that the very next sentence, just on the other side of the period from rest, was Take My Yoke.  No filler words to separate.  Right there.  Rest. And guidance.  Rest. And discipline.  Rest. And direction.  Direction with a tug---where He goes, I go.  I mean, the reality is, it looks like a headlock, right?  It doesn't look cozy.  Just on the other side of rest. 

And He is both.  Not even one sometimes and another in another circumstance.  Or a different day.  But in the both-ness of this All Powerful God, He is rest and direction simultaneously.  He is rest and guidance AT THE VERY SAME TIME.  It is restful that He guides me.  It is restful that He ought to be who I am in the yoke with, not myself!  

His both-ness is overwhelming sometimes.  Human yet divine.  The sacrifice yet risen.   Freedom yet yielded to Him. It allows me to feel both-ness too.  Sad and hopeful.  Missing and loving.  Strong and scared.  Because He is both, and I am made in His image, sometimes I am both too.

This Easter, so many feelings of both-ness flooded.  We buried Scott on good Friday a year before.  But I got to see the resurrection power of Jesus in so many lives in Mississippi just before Easter this year.  Both-ness.  I think Solomon understood it in Ecclesiastes 3.  A time for everything, sometimes together.  But I want to make sure I keep fighting for the both.  To mourn and dance.  To plant and pull up.  To be silent when it's time and to speak when He says.  I see His both-ness in my kids and our lives.  I see them fighting to believe when they doubt and laugh when they're also sad. I watch them love people when they want to pout and serve when they want to be seen.  God's both-ness--His power and mysteries and invisible qualities are here and alive and moving.  

Where have you seen God's both-ness?  Do you lean in to the rest and the yoke, or just want the good and not the hard from Him?  It's a hard question... some of us feel like we've gotten plenty of difficult and would like a reprieve. But I'll tell you....His nearness and intimacy in the dark and muddy is rich and filling.  I know His grace and sustenance carries me when I feel broken and wanting.  If you don't know Him-or want to understand--let's get coffee.  I want to help you see Him!

One year

Some of you ask me what it's like--trying to understand what I must feel.  It was a weird week.  Friday was a year.  I was told I would dread the days leading up to the year, but then survive.  So I kind of expected that.

What I didn't expect started Monday.  I woke up before my alarm--which isn't normal; I like to sleep!  And when I woke up, I stared at the ceiling with an attack of feelings--I felt tired like I'd been up all night, but I hadn't.  I felt anxious.  My stomach hurt.  And I felt scared.  Scared that he was going to die.  I laid there and stared.  My emotions didn't match the physical feelings.  I didn't feel sad per say.  So what was happening?  I talked myself through the fear first--'Lauren, he died a year ago.  You know that."  Okay... so what's the other stuff?  In a moment of clarity, I thought--"This.  This is exactly how I felt a year ago."  Scared. Anxious. Afraid of what was to come.  It was as if the grief wasn't stored in my emotions but was in my physical body.  It was incredibly strange and foreign to me.  I got myself together and had to get through my Monday.  That feeling too was familiar.  I couldn't give into how I felt, then or now.

Tuesday I woke up and it was similar.  But instead this was a flood of vivid memories of the last several days.  I could see him pursing his lips so I couldn't give him pills and my mom's voice telling me it was time to call hospice.   I could feel his skin and see his face and the faces of people that day.  It was so real, I felt like I was there.  

I showed a house that morning to another widow-about a year ahead of me-and she talked about the vivid memories the week before.  She was trying to warn me, just a few days late.  There isn't a template and I'm not getting much advice on how this is going to play out.  Most days I'm grateful because that would probably annoy me.  No 2 of us is the same.  But!  It is a tiny bit comforting when someone makes you seem normal, at least for a moment. 

Sometimes the Enemy tells me I'm doing it all wrong.  That I should regret and even feel shame for some of those days.  And some days I believe him.  The first 6 months, all I saw flashing across my mind were things I should have done differently and ways I hurt him.  But as I fight through and crazy memories flood, sometimes, in spite of it all, I'm overwhelmed with gratitude and pride in my people.  I can see my boys, waiting on call in the middle of the night, for when I might need them to help me lift him or move him.  They had incredible care and gentleness.  The love and respect oozed out of them, looking straight into the eyes of a man that had always been so strong.  I see my girls hugging him and loving on him instead of feeling awkward because his body felt different and we weren't exactly sure what to do.  

My kids have continued to fight and serve like that this year.  They have made hard, life changing decisions and could use their circumstance as an excuse to just stay put.  They serve their friends and strangers.  They're wrestling out their faith. And as much as I was overwhelmed with some hard pictures in my head this week, these pictures flash too.  It's a strange, contrasting gift.

As I look ahead at year 2--I don't have any strong words.  I have and continue to barely be able to look a week out.  I suppose that's the best place to be--God being in control and Lauren just not. A friend used the word sustain this week and it's been bouncing around in my head.  He sustains me.  It means to strengthen or support physically or mentally.  I have literally felt that this year.  Him holding me up.  His support.  My pastor called this week to encourage me about God's mighty right hand in my life.  I know His mighty hand has sustained me.  And while I still sometimes physically shake my head in disbelief that this is how He wrote this story--I trust Him. 

My soul clings to You; Your right hand upholds me.  Psalm 63:8

Jean shorts

I'm having an exceptionally sad day today.  No real new reason, just kind of short-of-breath-sad.  How can it be almost 9 months since I talked with him?  Since we hashed out a decision together?  Since he told me he loved me?  So I started looking at pictures.  I wanted to remember.  I cried alone in my car.

I came across an engagement picture of sorts and just stared. I wanted to remember and feel being those people.  It's not a real engagement picture because we were in Guatemala and our digital cameras were dead.  I don't even feel old enough to say such ridiculous things like 'digital cameras'.  So we have very few pictures from that trip, but my head is full of memories.  Of what he said and how he smelled.

As I stared, I noticed something I don't recall noticing before.  Jean shorts!  Scott was wearing jean shorts!  I giggled through my tears!  I remember his cargo shorts that trip--because I had reached for gum and he practically had a stroke.  I was not aware he carried a ring around for days in a foreign country!  But jean shorts!  Hilarious!  I'm guessing I got rid of those right after we got married! 

It reminded me there are so many details.  Some I forget and get reminded of in flashes, almost like PTSD.  Some of those are almost mean, they're so sad.  Some make me smile.  Some details I don't notice but someone else does.  My kids must have details and flashes that I don't.  Their view is different.  They see from a different angle.

I remember in Scott's sickest day, we saw things differently too.  I was seeing his humanity differently than he could.  In some ways, his perspective was God's kindness to him because he would have never wanted to know what I was living.  He would have wanted to protect me from that.  I'm grateful he didn't have the foreknowledge 13 years before to protect me from that.  What we would have missed! 

He used to quote Luke 10:23 to me--"Blessed are your eyes for getting to see what you see".  He was pointing out God allowing me to see the fruit of some of my labor--growth and change in people.  People choosing to follow Christ right in front of my eyes.  We don't always get to see the growth of what we water and when we did, he didn't want me to miss it.

As much as I really think parts of this story are stupid right now and I've told God I think He got it wrong a lot of days...I'm grateful to be the person who walked the details with Scott Sterling.  Some silly.  Some extremely hard.  Some infuriating.  Some fulfilling.  Many life changing.  

I'm reminded to keep looking at the details.  I don't avoid the pictures or the memories or the stories in hopes that I won't hurt.  Sometimes I almost force it.  I have the strange luxury of having heard him counsel others-telling them they can't fast forward the process and they have to walk through all of it.  I hear it in his voice, but it's for me now.  He's right.  I have to feel it.  

So I had my moment.  Looked at more pictures.  And am asking God to help me see the details.  See what I missed before.  See what He wants me to see.  I needed a change of perspective.  I'm begging God for it.

The baby changed everything

This season is proving to be difficult.  Like a dark cloud wrapped in everyone around you telling you how hard it's going to be.  And it is, regardless of their foreshadowing.  

I had a moment in November where I wanted to stomp my feet and boycott Christmas.  I didn't want to decorate or bake or be excited.  Honestly, having a 7 year old is enough to force me to drag myself out of that funk.  But in the Lord's kindness, He spoke too.  Real quietly, He said "But that baby changed everything".  

I mean, think about it, it's kind of weird.  We believe God sent his Son, with skin on, and had him come through an actual mama and live on this earth.  We call it "God With Us".  Well, God called it that.  These thoughts almost stopped me in my tracks.  How did that baby change things?  My mind answered...God came to be with us.  Jesus didn't assign his little baby self Kingship--God did!  He came just as was promised much, much before and lived just like it said so that I could know Him!   So that my sin wouldn't separate me any longer--He came to live like a human and take that for me! It's nuts.  But it's true and changing.  Life changing.

And you know what?  That baby changed everything for me.  It changed the way I see death.  It changed the way I live.  Before I lost Scott.  And certainly now.  And the reality is it changed everything for Scott!  What a crazy disservice to my guy to ignore this giant season!  Scott lived and served and loved abundantly well because that baby changed everything for him! And as he slipped from this earth, I knew he was walking into new life because of what the baby grew up to do.  

Now, let me say, this doesn't make us less sad.  In fact, I seem to struggle more, not less.  My flesh is so sad.  My heart hurts and aches. But hope means something because of that baby!   Because I do not wish for this life to mean something eternal and not temporal--I wait for it.  I know it.  I wait expectantly for God to do what He said and promised.  Now and in the future.  Now--that He is with me and has a plan.  That He doesn't waste pain and that He loves me.  Later--that He is coming back and this life is but a mist.  

As I shop and remember and cry and rejoice this season--I literally think, sometimes outloud, "that baby changed everything".  And there is peace. 

Love Story Part II

 I've started writing a second love story post approximately 3000 times in my mind.  So many things I want to tell you.

So many great details and important parts of the story happened before he quit dismissing me. Some many years before. I feared I made him sound like a bigger jerk than he was, all the time.  We had many a moment with sparks that we walked away from.  One was in a gym at a basketball game when he was telling me he doesn't get starry eyed about anyone and I told him to get a mirror.  I had a strange confidence some days, that I knew he saw it too.

When he pulled into my driveway one night, maybe to fix something at my house, I knew it was him just by the headlights.  This was a famous night when we talked about all the chatter about these 2 people with chemistry and that he wasn't the fairy tale for me.  I told him he didn't get to tell me what my fairy tale was.  Him being married before or having a kid and not a white picket fence was not my fairy tale deal breaker.  I told him the fairy tale for me was knowing, in any circumstance, room full of people and we aren't joined at the hip, that that guy picked me.  He would later use those words to propose...because he listened all those years before.  He was an excellent listener.  

One of our favorite years of student ministry, church camp ended with a ho down in a barn.  Because where else does magic happen?!?  Pearl snap shirts, jeans and cowboy boots, and teenagers everywhere.  There was a final dance, boys in a circle, girls surrounding.  As the music continued, the 2 circles rotated in opposite directions, like 2 clocks ticking.  Your partner changed with each rotation.  It got to me and Scott, face to face.  I raised my arms to dance, just as the music stopped.  Game over.  He got close to my face and almost whispered "Must be a sign".  And without skipping a beat, I scrunched my brow with ornery eyes and asked innocently "You were looking for one?"  He laughed.  Somewhat stunned.  This might have been one of his favorite stories to tell our kids for the next 13 years.  He liked my spice. 

Sometime in the year, after that camp, and we weren't dating each other but anyone else either....I must have spoken the unspeakable because one of his sisters knew my head was spinning.  She gave the advice to have a "walking away date".  She knew my heart was somewhat held hostage by our friendship at this point and said that if something drastic hadn't changed by the date I choose, that I walk away.  We clarified that it wasn't silly things like his hand brushed mine, but dramatic difference. This was early September, probably right before the moment with the Lord in my car when God told me to trust Him. I went home after that conversation and hung December 31st in a baggie in my shower.  It was my official 'I'm Walking Away' date.  If this crazy, chemistry-filled, friendship didn't change to something significant, I was going to walk away. I spent the next month or so praying that Scott would drive the ship, not me.  I refused to run the show.  And fortunately, I had seen how that had gotten about 120 women nowhere lol. 

So from October 7th and no longer dismissing to October 21st kissing me for the first time, to December 24th telling me he loved me...things had certainly changed.  Significantly.  Needless to say, I never had to walk away.  He never wanted me to get out on a limb by myself.  He didn't want me out ahead, wondering how he felt and where we were going.  And I didn't.  Not only had my car moment with the Lord kept me confident in Him and not in Scott.  But also Scott was so careful with me.  Intentional with his words. 

We only dated from October to March, got engaged in March and were married in May.  But really it was like we dated for years.  With no putting on of airs or trying too hard.  He even told a mutual friend he would never date me at one point, which after wiping away my tears, made me 100% myself.  With a tiny bit of protection of my heart because I knew this guy could really hurt me.

Fortunately, he never did.  And while our marriage and story wasn't perfect, it was pretty stinking close.  The fact that he loved and championed me so well has given me a strange confidence in my heartbreak.  It's given me permission to laugh and be playful because he liked her.  It's give me the gumption to try new things and have new ideas because he believed in her.  He would get starry eyed when I was excited.  It's crazy to me.  I wish I had believed him when he said it when he was here.  I believe him now.  I believe he was often God's word to me.  For me.

If you have a friend who has lost someone they love--a spouse, a child.  Ask them about them.  Let them tell the stories.  Don't say nothing because you're afraid you'll say the wrong thing.  Just ask.  We want to talk about them.  

He quit dismissing me

 "I quit dismissing you day".  I remember it was October 7th because it was the day before Logan's birthday.  We were shopping for her birthday gift, the day before, in true Scott fashion.  We had been friends for years.  Lots of banter and pushing buttons.  Lots of late night ministry conversations.  We spent years watching each other date other people.  One I even thought he might marry and I'd get invited to that wedding.  But the prior year had been different.  No dating anyone else for most of it.  I was in my Master's program, mooching food and cable off of him and Logan.  He was letting me hang around even after KU men's basketball lost and he didn't want to talk to anyone.  Our friendship was definitely changing.  

I remember people, women, trying to get to him by using me.  Because everyone knew I was the chic closest to him.  I knew I was in deep when I was getting set up with a guy and had to tell my friend (email because you know, 2007) and tell her that my heart was tied up elsewhere.  I would later find out he too was avoiding being set up about that same time.

One of the nights that year before, I was probably watching American Idol with Scott and Logan and Scott had cooked dinner.  Pretty sure it might have been one of the last nights he ever cooked dinner. ha  Anyway, I stayed and cleaned up after dinner and I remember driving home, feeling increasingly foolish.  "What am I doing?  I'm over there acting like his wife and I AM NOT his wife!"  I remember which bend of the road I was on heading back to my house in the middle of the night when God said "I'm not asking you to trust him, I'm asking you to trust Me".  It shut me right up.  "okay..." I thought.  No real clue what this would mean but I knew it hadn't been me.

So on October 7th, after some birthday shopping, Scott and I were at a restaurant when he started asking me some direct questions.  One was if I felt safe with him yet.  He was referencing me in my direct way at some point telling him he wasn't safe.  And then he said the famous words: I quit dismissing you.  I know, the most romantic words you've ever heard in your whole life!  Make a card.  Get a tattoo.  But what he was saying is that all the years before of being friends-of saying he wasn't he fairy tale for me-of ignoring what could be--he had finally quit dismissing the idea of me.  He quickly followed that with "Now don't get weird and start acting different". lol 

Somehow it went from October 7th to saying big words to being engaged and then married by May. It's not a lot of time but there are so many great details and stories wrapped up in those months.  So many confirmations and nuggets of God's faithfulness.  He got a little better with his phrases after that-- but I am forever grateful he quit dismissing me. 

6 months-how can it be

Next week will be six months and that has me rattled.  6 months without him.  Half the year.  How did we get here?  How have I lived for half a year in an existence I couldn't have imagined?

The Earth seems to keep spinning and time marches on but I don't want to leave him behind.  It's a very foreign push and pull.  I have a goer, achiever personality that wants to be moving, taking action, with an onward mentality all the time.  Yet I feel like I'm tugging on time wanting to stay where I was.  Wanting us to stay put and be who we were before. 

That's the other tug--am I the same?  How can we be the same people we knew and still be changed and affected by Scott's impact on our lives. There's a rub, a discomfort, that I can't explain. 

I read recently that manna, like what God provided in the wilderness, can literally translate as "What is it?".  For some reason, this resonates so deeply with me.  God is providing, He is dropping sustenance from the sky, but they look at it and wonder "what the heck is this God?"  They eat it.  It fills.  But it is unfamiliar.  Maybe doesn't taste great.  Or just doesn't taste like something they've ever tasted before.  But it meets the needs and fills the bellies.  

I know God is providing for us.  I know He is present and has been along these 6 months.  There have been moments where that has even tasted good. Where we have laughed and remembered well.  Where I can hang out in gratefulness and the overwhelming fill of how fortunate we are to have been the closest people to Scott Sterling.  But there have also been a lot of hard moments where I stood staring out at the ocean--this great creation--and wondered if the Creator had left me.  Wondered if he cared or had a plan at all.  "What is it?--What are you doing here God?  Are you sure you didn't get it wrong?"--these are sometimes the words that roll quickest off my tongue. 

I have found on the hardest days, the Enemy seems to talk loudest and he is always lurking.  He seems to be waiting right outside for me to slip up or have a doubt so he can swoop right in and wreak havoc.  You have to recognize that he's the opponent when he is the kind that kicks you when you're down.  He lies.  He deceives.  He worms his way around what God says and convinces you that God can't possibly have your best interest at heart.  There are days when I literally have to say outloud what I know to be true.  Truth with a capital T.  I will cry out that He never leaves me or forsakes me.  That He calls me by name.  That He has ordained my days.  And if He has ordained my days, he's ordained my kid's days too.  And while our circumstance doesn't change, Truth beats the lies in that moment.  Light always overtakes darkness.  

So as the Earth keeps on spinning like he does. And it can be overwhelming that time is getting away from  us.  One of the best ways I know to remember and honor Scott is in the God that he pointed us to.  That while we miss him in every aspect of our life, that he was pointing us toward how to live this life on purpose and be intentional with our time, even as it marches on.  If my, now seemingly so short time with Scott was a gift, and it was the greatest gift,  then the time now and manna that comes is a gift too.  I have to figure out what this new provision means and how to best use it.  I refuse to let this story be wasted on me.  There was just too much good in my years with Scott to not carry on more of that.  

Riverboat and Time

 Friday was 3 months since Scott's been gone.  3 months!  It has thrown my brain for such a loop.  He's been gone for 3 months--even more of missing him and us than that for me--and it hasn't even been a year since we've known about cancer.  I cannot wrap my mind around that!

A friend asked me the other day if I've always been good with dates.  I haven't.  I've always been more of a landmark-memory-kind of rememberer.  Place and feelings and smells.  I've always remembered where we were and who we were with and been able to guess what year.  I could backtrack and remember moments before we were even dating, when I knew he couldn't possibly not see the chemistry.  Everyone around us could feel it.  I remember a friend's anniversary party and he walked me to my door--not quite dating yet.  I can trace back-15 years ago, 13 years ago, 10 years ago. 

But now I feel a shift--in my mind it looks like the wheel on the front of a riverboat as it changes directions--the water gets rough and white from getting upset.  It's noisy and seems to happen in slow motion.  The scary dates are forward now, starting this week.  The day the phone call came that something was growing in his neck.  The appointment that said 'rare, concerning, aggressive'.  I hate those days.  They're not days I want to celebrate or make a monument out of.  I can feel the water getting jumbled up around me.  It makes me want to pull back.  It makes me feel like my mind is foggy and the sad is different, like I can't see so I should close my eyes and go to bed.  I can feel mad and numb at the exact same time.

These are the days where I will fight for what I know is true.  This week, gratitude is not naturally rising up in me like it has on other surprising days.  But I can choose it.  On Father's Day, one of my boys was talking about things he had learned from Scott and he said "while our time was not near long enough, some people go a lifetime without what I got".  I am choosing to remember how grateful I am for time that I had.  I am gritting my teeth and fighting through the hatred of the days in early July and looking ahead at what God did on so many days on our back porch last summer--hard, tearful conversations.  A husband and wife fighting to be a united front, holding hands, talking through horrific things.  A family hashing out terrible days.  Friends gathering, praying, crying....and forgiveness and grace that led to one of our sons giving their life to Christ.  Scott fought to pray bold prayers out there.  That deck that Scott built with a metal roof for me!  Because he wanted a screened in porch but I didn't and I won.  That's what I choose to remember!  That although I didn't wish for this story and still can't quite fathom why God has written it this way, He was present and near there.   

And He is present and near now.  Even when I don't necessarily feel it.  I go back to 2 Chronicles 20:12 at the end when Jehoshaphat said "we do not know what to do, but our eyes are on you".  This is the passage that Scott clung to often during chemo--"Stand firm, hold your position, and see the salvation of the Lord on your behalf".  (20:17). But it all started with them gathering in fear and setting their faces to seek the Lord.  Standing firm and seeing salvation seems hard-it seems too foggy up ahead.  But I can instinctually cry out "I don't know what to do but my eyes are on you".  The rest is His.  He has to still be who He says He is, even on these hardest days.  Or it's all just up for grabs.  I believe Him and trust. I am setting my face toward Him today. 

13 Years

 Yesterday would have been 13 years married.  It suddenly doesn't sound very long.  But then I look at pictures of those people that dated and we look so young, so different.  The years of friendship before--he was my favorite person for so long.  My first phone call, good or bad--my talk me off the ledger, help me processor, talk about nonsenser for much more than 13 years.  I miss his voice and his advice.  Our collaboration.  I can still feel his scruff on my cheek.  I'm scared to forget.

Really, the anniversary day was launched with days of high emotion prior.  We all walked into Sunday pretty raw.  But my kids made the day a priority--to spend time with me, to do things I wanted. Not because it was just my day, but because that's what Scott would have done.  So we fished and hung out and spent much of the day together.  They were cognizant of my emotions and my heart all weekend.  When theirs are jagged too, they worried about me. 

I tried hard to remember my wedding day.  To remember what I felt like that day.  To remember how he looked at me.  I remember he was so concerned that his haircut was too short.  It makes me laugh now.  It was no different than any other haircut he got for 20 years, but he wanted to look perfect. I remember it rained some that day, but not when it really mattered.  And that it cleared showing pink clouds, the color of pink in our wedding.  I remember how important it was to Scott that although seating was limited, that we invite the students we did ministry with.  One of those "kids" sent me a card this week, remembering our day.  I remember how at peace I was standing in the bridal house with my dad, waiting for my turn.  How it was all I ever wanted, to be so at peace on my wedding day, that I just couldn't wait to get down the aisle.  There were many unknowns.  But if he was the guy wasn't one of them.  

Sometimes the Enemy tells me that the way I believe Scott loved me was like a dream-not real-something I've made up.  And he'll slither in thoughts that in reality, God feels about me quite to the contrary of that love.  It will pop into my mind at the most unexpected time.  I know it isn't true.  The thoughts are so far fetched.  But when the Bible says he came to steal, kill, and destroy-I feel that.  He tries to steal my confidence and joy, he tries to kill my favorite memories and replace them with the hardest moments in vivid detail, and he attempts to destroy any semblance of hanging on that I have. 

I cannot let him.  He doesn't know everything, can't know my thoughts or my heart completely, and I refuse to let him steal from me.  Scott only loved me the way the Lord allowed him.  He only saw me as anything more than broken and sinful because God gave him insight to see what I could be, what my heart meant to do or say, and that I too was chasing the same God.  Only God could write this love story.  Only God can know the hearts of man.  Only God can love us fully.  Me fully.  Only God. 

I hang onto that.  That the hammock of safety I landed in each night that was Scott all these years, is still there in the Lord.  It was really always Him.  The hammock moves and sways with the uncertainty and chaos around me but its still the safe place to lay.  Sometimes its just a place to cry.  Sometimes all I can say is "God, you better be filling in the gaps.  You better still be here".  And He is.  Some days I see it better than others.  But what is faith if not knowing that what I believed to be true before, is still true now when I didn't get what I wanted.  "What's true in the light is still true in the dark" (Rend Collective lyrics, Weep With Me.). And it has to be, or it isn't true at all.

Overwhelming Gratitude

How do you write about things you never knew there were words for?  I know what happened...I know he's gone, I was there and I felt it.  But gosh, gone and died are terrible words to me now.  I know I have to say them-but I've had my mom make a dozen phone calls for me just I can say it a dozen less times.  

6 weeks and it's still so unbelievable.  I've said a thousand times that the last 3 weeks just went so fast-it was like watching a snowball roll down the hill and I almost yielded to the authority of it.  I couldn't stop it and it just got bigger and bigger.  

After the crowd left that Thursday and we planned the service, had the service, the burial--I expected radio silence to be waiting on the other side.  Fortunately, the Lord and you all have been so kind and have not left us. The overwhelming deliveries of gifts, plants and flowers.   I have learned so much about the incredibly creative ways to serve and love those that are hurting because of the way so many have served and loved us. 

How do I survive now?  I'm not even sure I know or have the credits to talk about it yet.  But I can tell you what makes some days bearable.   

• I'm so grateful for the continued calls and texts.  For unexpected mail and gifts-that are encouraging beyond acknowledging the sadness but push me to want to continue to fight through the hard.
• I'm grateful for the UPS store owner who walks around the countertop to hug me.
• I'm grateful for the unexpected check ins from people who you might have thought wouldn't think of you--that overshadow the void of those you thought would. I'm grateful for the inadvertent healing that has happened in some of those relationships- just knowing that they care about me. 
• I'm grateful for almost 13 years of marriage.  A marriage that I loved and didn't deserve.  The gospel doesn't promise marriage at all, let alone one in which you actually like each other.  I'm grateful for how he loved me and am reminded that he was only capable of loving an imperfect person that way because my God loves me that way.  
• I woke up on Mother's Day overwhelmingly grateful that this man allowed me to be the kind of mom that I am.  That he trusted a 25 year old brat with his 14 year old daughter.  That he didn't try to talk me out of wanting babies even though he had a kid.  That he then trusted my discernment about these 5 Peruvian kids enough to at least ask the Lord for his own discernment.  I know so many stories enveloped in fighting and resentment that I just don't have. 
• I'm grateful my kids saw that love.  That the demonstration of selfless commitment, while shorter than any of us wanted, is better than many I've seen for a lot more years!  The boys have joked they'll struggle to get married if they don't look at the girl the way Scott looked at me.  I love that!
• I'm beyond grateful that he was mine at all.  That I got to walk this out with him as his person.  This is really hard, but I wouldn't have changed my answer to him years ago if I had known it would end this way.  We're not supposed to like it here; this is not our home.  And I'm just so happy Scott doesn't have to carry the weight of the world anymore.  

Gratitude is huge because it helps me fight for perspective.  We are really sad.  Like in a way I can't really put words to.  Some days the ache is so heavy.  Sometimes it sneaks up on you.  But nothing is off limits and we talk about him A LOT!   Good things, funny things, things we've learned, how he would have responded.  We talk about it all.  And we find ourselves recognizing that really what he gave us was a picture in skin of how God feels about us, what God would say.  He told me in a hard moment towards the end when talking about our kids "I've given them everything they need".  It annoyed me at the time honestly.  How can that be?  But the reality is, Scott was never going to tell them what job to take or who to marry.  He wasn't going to tell them what their identity is.  He was leading them to the One who made them and would teach them their identity--which way to go, how to hear Him, pointing to His Word and those promises.  He did give them what they would need.  

So this is how we're walking right now.  If you bump into one of us, you may literally bump into some rough feelings.  They're on our sleeves a lot of days. But not forgetting us, not being silent, is the best you can do.  And if you know someone else grieving, my encouragement is to reach out when you think of them.  We're not looking for words of wisdom or solutions--you don't have them.  But knowing you're thinking of someone when everyone has returned to their own lives is huge.  Send the text.  Make the call.  I'll tell you, I do it a lot more because I've experienced the weight of care.  The Bible says "Love covers a multitude of sins".  Thank God! 

Even If

I used to love the story of Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego--you know that one?  The famous story in Daniel about Daniel's friends threatened to be thrown into the fiery furnace if they didn't bow down to the giant idol.  I always loved their audacious, bold faith and slight sass in their famous words "even if He doesn't..." stating they would never bow down to anything other than their God, even if he didn't save them.   They knew exactly what their God was capable of.  But also knew that Him performing or doing what they wanted was not what made Him worthy.   Even if He doesn't.  But come July, I didn't really want to hear those words.  It made me cringe.  And I definitely didn't want to say them!  "No, we are asking God big and believing in miracles! Not 'even if'!" 

Little by little, those words held more dread for me.  A recent women's event titled Even If was available online, and my initial thoughts were "hell no!"  I didn't want to have to have 'Even If' faith.  If I say 'even if' outloud, does it mean I doubt the miracles are possible or coming?  Will God withhold if I even think it?  

After the week long stay in the hospital, that it now seems Scott nearly slept through as if comatose, I had to tell him over a few days what we had learned.  Strange combinations of drugs made for fears that I may never have a lucid conversation with my guy again.  That turned out to not be the case, thank God!  Words like sepsis and liver failure had been said and then ruled out.   MRI's and scans showed no cancer in the brain, but yes cancer in the lower spine we didn't know about and growth in other critical areas.  We got the potassium up enough to leave the hospital, but still left pretty sick.  And although he was walking some with a cane before we got there, he didn't walk out.  His legs are very weak and in pain.  We are thinking radiation on that lower spine should help that some and we finish that up this week.  His platelets and hemoglobin are too low for any further toxic cancer treatments.  There is a still a team scouring the molecular breakdown to see if there are other non-toxic therapies available to us that maybe weren't seen or known even just a few months ago.   But in the meantime, we fight to keep blood levels healthy, including blood transfusions and lots of appointments.  We have home health and physical therapy and a whole new routine that we are managing.  And I mean we!  It takes so many of us to keep these new wheels moving.

As I described the hospital week to Scott, he is aware that he slept through some very hard moments.  He knows they said some big things.  And while he is a fighter and not ready to give up hope on any non-toxic treatments or alternatives--I heard him tell his mom the other day "but even if He doesn't...".  And for some reason, I didn't hate the words quite so much.  There was so much strength in his words and his voice.  He has told people at our house this week that if they are not praying and hoping and asking big, then they are welcome to leave.  He challenges people even in his physically weakened state.  Many of our friends and family are fasting and praying and asking again for God to do things only He can do.  Whatever that looks like!  And even if He doesn't heal the way we continue to persist and ask, we refuse to bow down to anything else.  

Scott looked at me the other day when we were talking more seriously and with groggy, sadder than usual eyes, said "Well, we serve at the pleasure of the King right?"  "Yes we do, babe.  Yes we do."  When I live in that eternal perspective--and remember that this life is but a mist, and this is not our home, 'Even If', isn't quite so suffocating.  I don't know what's going to happen.  Day to day, Scott changes, things ebb and flow.   One day he may be pain free, the next the pain is exhausting.  He has lost some independence and I know feels so vulnerable and beat down.  I have often said that I only have enough strength for today.  And I know that the Lord is the only reason my feet are not slipping. 

"He will not let your foot be moved; he who keeps you will not slumber."  Psalm 121:3

He is keeping us and we trust is not sleeping.  He is where our help comes from and we are counting on Him.

For better AND for worse

The last several weeks, I have written a post in my mind over and over, but never sat down to type.  Was it because I didn't know what to say?  Or because I didn't know if it was valuable?  I'm not sure.  But I know an update is needed.  I know so many of you are praying.  So many have reached out!  I promise your prayers are felt.  I know there are days I can only get out of bed because of them.  

Scott is in the hospital.  We went to the ER yesterday...after weeks of physical concerns but also some changes with anxiety and emotions that make it hard to evaluate the difference between what is being felt physically and mentally.  A few newer symptoms made me call the doctor yesterday and have him checked out. 

One nice thing about being in the hospital is that everything that needs to be done can be done here.  No appointment in a week kind of stuff.  He is getting ultrasounds, an MRI, and a blood transfusion today.  They are turning over many rocks to figure out why the weakness in his legs and overall strength has declined so rapidly.  For that I am grateful.  And a lot of things they have addressed are improving so that is good news! 

The last few weeks have been super hard.  Scott has needed help with things he would have never asked for before.  He is frustrated and hurting, sometimes both physically and mentally.  He has apologized over and over, as if this is his fault and I am frustrated with him.  I am not.  Cancer makes me angry.  My fear and sadness can sometimes make me mad.  But it is an absolute pleasure to serve and love my husband that loves me so well.  For almost 13 years (and how much before is debatable ;) he has loved and served me every day.  He thinks of my needs and my wants on his worse days.  Just last week, he was walking very little, yet we were sitting in a truck in a field that he wants to make a pond.  He doesn't fish or find it important at all. But it is to me.  So it is to him.  He has gone to many a concert and bought many a gift, listened to many a story or entertained many an idea of something that he couldn't care less about, yet was important to me.  

The phrase 'for better or for worse' rings in my mind lately.  I even googled it--is it 'or' or 'and'?  According to google, it's 'or'.  Well, that's dumb.  There isn't an 'or', as if you get to choose one.  Marriage is both.  It's and!  Lots of better.  And some worse.  Sometimes things you can control that need forgiveness.  And sometimes things you cannot control and do not want.  But always 'and'.  For better and for worse.  I vowed to 'and'.   And it is not hard to love and serve him in 'and' because he has loved and served me in 'and' every day.  

Beginning at 3:00 today, we have several big tests and a blood transfusion, that will be spread out through the evening.  Please be praying.  We know that healing comes from the Lord.  We know what He is capable of and that He is always at work.  We know He sees things we do not and are asking that He allows these doctors and nurses to see some of that insight-to care for him in the best possible way.   I know God loves Scott more than I do.  That He loves my kids more than I do or even can.  We are asking for so much!  Please join us!

The Latest

A bit of a whirlwind week...CT scan, oh his potassium is low again, just kidding, it's not (we were read the wrong report), meeting to hear about the CT....ahhhhh the emotional and adrenaline roller coaster! WE ARE WIPED!

BUT.... the good news is the look at the CT was a lot of good things!  Scott's lung looks significantly better!  Some spots shrunk, some grew a bit.  But nothing significant and nothing that needs immediate attention!  We call this a win! Scott's body needs a break and I couldn't have been more relieved than I was knowing he didn't have to do any more poison (chemo) right now! 

Like running a long race or public speaking....it's often after the big event that you kind of crash.  You've expelled everything you've got and then you either get sick or sleep for hours. Like you finally gave your body permission.  We are kind of there.   Not physically ill, thank God!  But just a bit worn and depleted. The adrenaline wore off and we can be "normal" for a second...but our nerves and emotions are just so raw from all the keeping-it-together-ness.  If you know, you know.  We have to fill with right things right now-not just nutritionally but emotionally, mentally, spiritually.  We can't be driving around this crazy journey without gas in the tank!  We push forward on this daily!  

The red sea and standing firm have been very clear ways the Lord has spoken to us over and over.  Scott has heard God clearly through those passages and hangs onto that tightly.  Yesterday, we walked up to the sea unsure of what we would encounter.  And we keep walking today.  This isn't a short fight for us.  There isn't really an end in sight per say.  But we live every day walking to the water.  We ask God to fight the battles.  We wrestle with Him and ask for the blessings.  The blessings of more.  The miracles.  And we see some of them.  Rare, aggressive cancer isn't wreaking havoc!  This is a miracle!  He is walking with us-we feel Him and see Him so often.  Miracles. 

Please keep praying as we walk this out.  There are battles daily.  Life goes on and this is as hard for our kids and families as it is on us.  I am humbled and filled when I hear the way you all are asking boldly too.  Some days it carries me when I can't make the words.  God has been so good to us.  He's being kind to our kids.  He is so present and my prayer is that if you can't see Him in the every day or in the world right now, that you see Him in our story.  

When He is Silent

I had a big, whiskey barrel looking sign in my entryway for a long time that said "I believe in the sun even when it is not shining, I believe in love even when I cannot feel it, I believe in God even when He is silent".  It's words that were written on a cellar wall during the Holocaust.  I love it.  There was even a song years ago that said something like it.  Believing God even when He's silent.  I have always wanted  big faith.  As a kid, I would lay awake sometimes, dreaming of things that I could do that were bigger than myself.  I never wanted to be normal or average in anything, really, but especially in my faith.  And I suppose I've had opportunities to demonstrate that faith over years in what now looks like much smaller chunks.  This--cancer--the journey that this is is a very different testing ground.  

These last few weeks have been extremely hard.  The back and forth of the weather brought bone pain, high out-of whack emotions, and some things that can only be explained as spiritual warfare.  Scott's a trooper even on harder days-- he works, he's on the treadmill almost daily, he's eating and drinking all the right things to try to feel the best he possibly can.  But when your body is fighting off the effects of chemo and radiation so hard, it comes with these hard days and we just get depleted.  Physically he is depleted for sure; chemo is so rough.  But emotionally and spiritually...we just get weary.  

Then yesterday, we got word that Scott's potassium level was in a dangerous range.  Ugh, one more thing it seemed.  And although we were able to get him physically where things needed to be....I couldn't get a phone call back from our oncologist.  Not a single person could find the time to answer an "urgent page" to give us some direction.  The lioness was awoken!  I found myself bubbling, more and more, as every hour went by with no phone call--"WHERE IS SOMEONE THAT GIVES A RATS REAR END ABOUT US?  WHERE IS A DOCTOR THAT KNOWS OUR NAMES?  A DOCTOR THAT SAYS -'I HAVEN'T HEARD FROM SCOTT AND LAUREN IN AWHILE, I SHOULD CHECK ON THEM'."  Today, as Scott and I were recounting some of the frustrations he was feeling, I heard those questions creep up even louder in my gut.  Tears instantly in my eyes and my fists probably clenched.  It makes me want to fight.  And quietly I heard God say "I know your name.  You are mine.  Is it enough?'

Eek.  Is it enough for me?  Is He enough for me?  Do I believe Him when I feel like He's being silent?  How much do I love that phrase now?  It's almost comical.

Now don't hear me saying that trusting God means I'm done with my frustrations and I do nothing.  In fact, I believe what raised up in me yesterday is the Holy Spirit giving me some direction.  Ideas and thoughts have popped into my mind that are not mine.  They are Him seeing me.  Loving me.  Loving Scott.  And He is moving.  

But what it does mean is that I am re-centered back to Who is doing the healing, not what.  I am brought back to Who is the doctor and Who I rely on.  And He is enough for me.  He is enough to heal Scott.  He is enough to protect us.  He is all I need.  I know it!  I am grateful for the reminders because it is dumbfounding that He speaks to me!  It is stretching me and as much as it pains me to say it, it is the testing of that faith I wanted to have so badly.  I do believe in God even when He is silent.  When He is silent, He is moving.  

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We have a CT coming up next Friday, the 29th and a follow up appointment with the radiation oncologist on February 3rd.  We would love your prayers!  If you like the practical-what are we doing to address the cancer talk-message me.  We are doing a combo of traditional and holistic things that may bore some of you to tears, but I'm happy to share.  

End of 2020

It's the last day of 2020 and it feels like I have so much to say and nothing to say at all.  I could say it's been the worst year of my life and I could say I've seen some of the best things in my life.  It's very weird.  

Sometimes it's difficult to find the words to update or the want-to.  Not for any particular reason.  But I also don't want to overlook and not give time to the things and people that have gone above and beyond in this hard season for us. The gifts we have received in the last month alone have been overwhelming.  Meaningful gifts.  Large fruit baskets because a neighbor hears we're trying to eat pretty healthy.  A homemade bottle of mustard seeds reminding us to have faith like Scripture says and that with God, nothing is impossible.   Cookie deliveries, meals even when we're not on a list anymore, and so much more!  And then friends who have a culdesac party, full of strobe lights and a live Santa to show us Christmas love!  I can't bring myself to take down that Christmas tree with the personal, signed, and thought-through ornaments.  The gift cards and monetary gifts that came that night and since....'thank you' doesn't even sound like the right words.  That people think of us, remember us, in a busy and often emotional season for others brings tears to our eyes often.  We have literally felt lifted and strengthened when we get a text message on days when we weren't soliciting prayers, but silently needed them.  These gifts are beyond what we could have imagined.  

Ending 2020 doesn't end our cancer journey.  I sure wish it did!  Today, Scott wrapped up his last day of 10 radiation treatments on a spot near his lung.  It was the spot that needed the most attention at this time and should be blasted.  Monday, he has a procedure to remove more fluid near that area which we did in October. There was always more fluid that may need removed and Scott actually looks forward to this relief.   We have no more treatments for now and we will have another look at things in February.  This is a time of recovery for Scott's body and a period of wait.  And really, we are waiting on the Lord alone.  We ask with faith and boldness, knowing that God alone can make healthy cells and kill the bad ones.  Please join us as we continue to ask God to stop cancer growth, even if it makes no sense.  We ask for God to show off and do what only He can! We ask for wisdom and discernment in our steps.

Scott has great days and feels almost normal.  And he has hard days where he feels fatigued, is confused by the response his body has to treatment, and feels discouraged.  We ride the roller coaster of many emotions and long for "normal".  But I will say, while our flesh is often unstable and feels a lot of things, our souls are firm.  Our guts stand firm on our God.  Even in anger and frustration, Scott is pressing on, trusting that "through endurance and through the encouragement of the Scriptures we might have hope" (Romans 15:5) .  Scott is the picture of endurance.  He is a fighter!  On his worst day, I will find him sweating on the treadmill.  He is never curled up in a ball quitting.  He is working and meeting with people and praying and fighting. And while we can't tell you what our 5 year goals are right now, or even 3 months, fighting and trusting is what we will continue to do.  

We are grateful for so many things in 2020!  This season has had a sweetness that I can't even explain.   I am more proud of our kids than I ever have been.  I am crazy about my husband.  We are thankful for little things in the every day.  Even boring days, like New Year's Eve where we might barely make it til 10pm.  We have celebrated more and loved deeply.   We've heard grown men say things they should have said years ago.  Friendships have deepened.  Our faiths have grown and we have had more intentional conversations in every environment we are in.  So much to be thankful for!  

Round five

We had the awaited appointment with the doctor Scott not so lovingly calls Pharaoh yesterday.  This is our after Round 4 discussion of the last CT scan and plan moving forward.  I prayed beforehand two simple things....1. That the doctor wouldn't be discouraging to Scott.  He is our most dreaded appointment-made obvious by high blood pressure and our affect when we leave.  And 2 for Spirit words. That we would know what God says.  That was it.  Well, in addition to my persistent pleas that God would wipe out this cancer in a way only explained by Him.  But yesterday, it was really just the 2.

The appointment was fine.  The CT was "stable" is the word.  The cancer shrunk some in a few areas, but for the most part stayed put.  The doctor spoke to Scott about his reactions and symptoms to the first 4 rounds.  For the most part, Scott is fortunate and isn't losing his cookies or struggling too terribly much.  Peeling finger nails, bone pain mid-round, and just overall yuckiness and fatigue.  But overall, we know we've been blessed with some minimal side effects and some days of normalcy.  Pharaoh didn't rush us.  Listened to some questions.  And basically gave us a choice of whether or not to do Round 5.  I sat in a tiny room, just the 3 of us asking the Lord to speak quickly and loud!  How are we supposed to make this decision?!?  We asked the doctor what he would do.  He recommended the fifth round to give this chemo it's maximum benefit and because Scott is handling this chemo relatively well.  I talked about asking the Lord in front of him.  We were desperate to hear.  He stepped out and we had 10 minutes. 

We had 10 minutes to decide if we were going to send Scott back into poison.  To process a "stable" CT.  What the heck?  Even the medical professional didn't have a black and white answer.  And I remembered I asked the Lord for a lack of discouragement and Spirit words.  We had to believe that Pharaoh was how God was speaking.  It was all we had.  So Scott did round 5 yesterday.  He called me less than an hour later, begging for a food delivery, because just the smell of that place makes him nauseated.  Chemo has a smell.  Foods he eats and places he goes on chemo day, become how chemo smells.  It has ruined some yummy things honestly. 

So overall, not bad news.  Scott called it victory because it wasn't growing! But nothing that blows your dress up either!  I'm not quite sure why it's so hard to process "stable".  To send him back in to something he hates and makes him feel like garbage.  Obviously because I love him.  But bigger than that.  How do you ask big and with expectation, and not get let down when it wasn't what you thought.  And I'm an expectations person.  I remember saying those exact words to Scott when we were friends, before dating.  I never knew where I stood with him and I told him "Look, I'm an expectations person.  I never know if we're friends, if you hate my guts, and I hate it.  So decide which guy you want to be and I'll let you know if I want to be friends with him."  I guess I've been an expectations person for awhile.  

And I must have inadvertently walked in yesterday expecting the big miracle already!  I maybe didn't even realize I was doing it.  Expecting them to say "We can't believe it!  It's nearly gone!".  It's the only way I can explain what a big disappointment "stable" was.  I cried a lot!  I drove out of the parking lot sort of yelling at the Lord "You could do this differently you know!  You are capable and I don't understand why you're doing it this way!"  I struggled off and on and at another point admitted "I just wanted the big miracle, God!"  I sounded like a brat. Gently, I felt Him say 'What if this is a miracle Lauren? It isn't growing.'  My mind quickly remembered 9 years ago when we got told no about adopting our kids.  If I remember correctly, the exact word stamped across our paperwork was DENIED.  I cried so hard that day, Scott walked off a golf course to meet me at home.  Those were my kids and I'd been told no.  BUT God made a way there.  Why it took almost 2 years to get kids that should have been easy to bring home, I may never know.  What I do know is He made a way.  And that His way is better than mine.  

Today, I've read or been sent the most timely of messages and songs.  Reminders of God's miracles, business of impossibility, and even that God has never been held back by prognosis.  Scott and I have read them together, cried through some of them, grateful for God to be so specific and personal.  We still don't necessarily like this.  Chemo is terrible.  Scott hates feeling cruddy, swelling, feeling fatigued, etc.  But we are fighting to Stand Firm.  It's what He has asked us to do repeatedly. Stand.  So on Him, we will. 

Confident expectation

 It's advent season--the season of the anticipation of expectation of the coming of Christ.  There's a few different versions and some including more chocolate than Jesus,  but our church began with Scott speaking on hope.  The cancer patient speaking on hope....during a pandemic.  Honestly, it wasn't hard to brainstorm how to talk about our hope in Christ--our confident expectation that he will be who He says He is and do what He says He will. We believe it!  Our hope isn't in whether or not God heals Scott or what the outcome is.  Our hope is in the reality that Jesus is all He says and we get to know Him, to live in His Kingdom now and forever.

But I gotta say, the warfare that began before this sermon and since, has been intense.   If you don't believe in spiritual warfare, we should get coffee!  Because we know there is a big, active personal God.  But there is also an enemy.  Having hope in the big picture doesn't make us not have feelings or keep us from being human.  And it certainly doesn't keep us from spiritual battle.  In fact, I might argue that the more we hope and bring God glory, the more the enemy wants to tear down.  Spiritual warfare comes at me differently than it may come at Scott.  For me, it acts like pictures and words spoken that flash across my mind like those children's toys from the 80's--the View Master.  Remember those?   It's like people's sad facial expressions, words of discouragement, medical terms and my attempt at understanding click-click through my mind like that toy.  Either way, as it came at Scott, it came at me.  When he felt down, I found it harder and harder to cheerlead.  Symptoms, new and old, cause questioning if this is due to chemo or cancer growth.  Are things moving backwards?  And now the snowball is rolling.  We begin to hear the enemy whisper "You're alone.  You've been abandoned.  You're foolish to believe."  

Friday night, we knew we had hit a wall.  There are moments when you're just flat angry.  Cancer has stolen so much.  And then you've got fights with your insurance company.  You're exhausted trying to hold not only yourself together, but trying to worry about those around you.   You're worn out fighting to believe boldly and keep fear at bay and you can almost feel your neck straining to keep above the water.  We were leaving town with our family and we just cried.  

I reached out to only a few friends asking them to pray that at a minimum, Scott could get enough relief to enjoy Saturday with our people. We woke up Saturday morning and he already felt better physically.  Thank you God!  Then we went to Silver Dollar City and God began to speak in the most amazing ways.

It started with one facebook message.  This friend is from 20 years ago and has now twice sent the most timely, discerning message. She sent a piece of Psalm 44 with a brief note that she wanted to share the hope it had brought her.

"It was not by their sword that they won the land, nor did their arm bring them victory; it was your right hand, your arm, and the light of your face for you loved them. You are my King and my God, who decrees victories for Jacob. Though we push back our enemies; through your name we trample our foes. I put no trust in my bow, my sword does not bring me victory; but you give us victory over our enemies, you put our adversaries to shame.  In God we make our boast all day long, and we will praise your name forever. " Psalm 44:3-8 NIV (emphasis added)

I was instantly teary eyed.  Unfortunately, I'm also enough cynical to not want to take things at face value and argued with myself- 'Cancer isn't an enemy and that's not what this passage is talking about!'  Instantly, God reminded me that the enemy we were fighting this past week was Satan! He had sent us spiraling.  But my weapons, my words and attempts to punch him in the face are not what will beat him!  My God beats him!  He has and does and will again!  He wins the whole shebang and He will beat him for me today! It was so perfect, I was overwhelmed with emotion and shared it with Scott.  

A few hours later, we both received a text from a friend telling us how she had been praying.  She began before Scott preached the Sunday prior, but the Holy Spirit wouldn't let her stop after the sermon.  She continued praying for what?  For us to be able to take captive thoughts that were not obedient to Christ!  It was like she knew the specific struggle of the week.  That's how cool the Spirit is! 

And then a simple text-sent to Scott-stating that the Father wouldn't let him quit thinking about Scott and his family.  So simple.  Yet divine. 

3 different times, God came near to us.  He used His Word and His people to speak directly to our hearts and our circumstance.  Not change it completely but tell us that He loves us and is intimately acquainted.  And that we aren't forgotten.  By Him or others.  It gave us the push and strength to walk the coming few days before our appointment on Tuesday.  It helped us fight against the enemy with more umph and truth! 

Tomorrow, we hear about the last scan.  We saw scans after Round 2 and now again after Round 4.   It should give us some direction for what is next.  More chemo?  We've been asking not.  Radiation?  I've been asking God to eradicate the spots.  For Him to do a work that can only be explained by Him!  And we will give Him the glory!  Like the end of that Psalm 44 passage--we will boast in Him all day long! But until we hear, we know He is close to us.  We know He isn't sleeping or hands off.  We are hanging onto Him tightly, confidently expecting Him to be what only He can be----God.

Thanksgiving

It's Thanksgiving day and it's safe to say that this year has been weird and hard for all of us.  Jobs lost, loved ones sick or gone, kids home more than ever, uncertainty...cancer.  It's a strange time.  But I woke up this morning and for some reason, it felt like Christmas morning to me.   My house was silent.  Scott was up early with me to get rolls to start rising.  And I just see things differently now. 

It's been the hardest 4 months of my life, hands down.  The months prior, the beginning of COVID, I could not have known how hard things were going to get.  How scary.  How uncertain.  But I also couldn't have predicted the absolute joy and love and support that would come from hanging on by a thread to my God and the way He has moved in His people to love us well.  I can't describe the daily feeling in my gut of fear surrounded by faith and prayers.  I can feel the fear overshadowed by some of you all praying specifically.  The way uncertainty and stress feels enveloped by encouragement and random acts of kindness and texts that lead me back to the One that holds me together.  It's hard to explain unless you've felt it.  

The update is that we are in the last week of Round 4 of chemo...and Scott has been to work more day this round than any other.  He looks strong, yet bald.  Different, but he's him.  I am more grateful for his health and time with him than I ever have been.  Every moment counts.  Sometimes tearful conversations you never wanted to have.  And sometimes him taking me shopping for "Hallmark coats" (don't ask) when he doesn't feel awesome.  He demonstrates Jesus to me daily. 

I am grateful for kids that want to be around us.  That eat with us and decorate for Christmas together.  Even when I know they feel the fear and uncertainty too.  I'm grateful that 8 years ago today, we boarded a plane with our 2 year old to go get 5 kids we'd never met in another country.  I'm overjoyed with the family God built for me.  He built something I could not have imagined I even wanted.

And in a way, that's what He's doing with cancer.  He is stretching our faith and our relationships with everyone around us.  Because we don't do fluffy much anymore!  If you want to talk about the weather, we are not your people! We are constantly pressing in to good things! He is building something in me that I don't want some days.  He is reminding me that this is not my home and that every day is precious on this temporary Earth that He will take away someday.  And that He writes better stories than I do.  

Today, I am thankful for His presence and the Holy Spirit.  That He changes me and shapes me.  I am thankful for a country where I can still sit in a restaurant and read my Bible.  Where I can openly talk about the Lord.  I am thankful that He hears me.  That when I continue to ask for BIG things, He doesn't push me away.  

I am thankful for all of you that continue to ask God specifically too.  For complete healing.  For the hearts of all that love Scott.  For me.  There are days I can't do it and I know some of you are doing it for me!  I am thankful for the body of Christ and that we can meet.  Masked or not, we can meet and worship.  We are blessed.

What's to come is unknown.  We have a scan December 3rd and it will determine more chemo, radiation only, or some combo.  We are asking God to do things only He can do and eradicate the cancer completely!  What He does is His deal and I make clear that everything thus far is Him everywhere we go!  If you want to know how to pray, pray for December 3rd.  Pray for His glory!  

Happy Thanksgiving friends!  Give thanks to Him in all circumstances!  He is worth it!  

Round 4

 After Round 3 and good news in the last post, we had a Groundhog Dayish few weeks of that round.  The first two weeks are a roller coaster of not-so-hot, better, then maybe not so great again.  The third week, we have come to to expect normalcy which is a welcome reprieve.  Scott usually returns to work whole days and is so close to himself, we almost forget cancer is still such a big part of our story.

We go tomorrow for Round 4.  We will have a brief appointment with the nurse practitioner and then he will sit and get injected with all kinds of things.  The next few weeks may potentially come with answers about how much chemo, is radiation coming soon, and what the plan might be going forward.  I say "may" and "might" because I've come to know not to put my confidence in doctors, in appointments, or even in hopes that their plan will be communicated verbally at all.  These recent months have brought new meaning to "one day at a time".  Looking too far out can almost bring me instant hyperventilation and it is subject to change anyway, so why waste the breath.  

I have been hanging on 2 Chronicles 20.  It's been sent to us multiple times, by different disconnected people, in different months.  I have picked it apart, taken notes, and just tried to figure out what God could possibly want to say to me in it.  The last several weeks, I have toggled between the Go...and Stand firm.  The people were told to go...and they moved.  And they were told to Stand Firm and watch God deliver them.   Action and ultimate trust.  Both. What is my go?  And what is my stand firm?  There is such a fine line between research, food, vitamins and minerals....and trusting that this is God's deal and His alone.  Where do I need to go (do) and where do I need to stand firm (trust)?  

We have walked out praying and continuing to ask God for the miracles we know He alone is capable of.  We have pursued wise reading and council regarding natural remedies and conversations about food as medicine.  We continue to do what the oncology world is telling us as well.  These 2 different worlds don't coexist super well so it requires us to advocate for ourselves and ask God what He wants from us. 

For now, we believe we have good balance.  We know without a shadow of a doubt that in our God alone do all things hold together.  We stand firm in that He loves us and is guiding us every minute.  We go when He says and wait when He says, the best we know how. 

Please pray for Scott and his side effects from these rounds of chemo.  Each round builds on the other and it really is straight poison.  He is a trooper and gets up, gets dressed and wears cologne, even on the days he feels like he got hit by a truck.  He rarely complains and is present with our kids and in his business.  But it is frustrating when your body doesn't do things perfectly and you feel weaker than before.  

Pray for our kids as this journey is very much theirs too.  Pray that they all continue to or seek the Lord for the first time throughout this.  He is the only One who can meet their needs.  

And pray that God is glorified in our lives and our story.  That we would have opportunities at every turn to talk about who He is to us and all that He is doing in our lives! That same 2 Chronicles passage says that when Jehoshaphat was scared, he set his face to seek the Lord.  I am working to keep my face set, even if the Lord is having to gently grab me by the chin sometimes to hold it there. 

Thank you for your continued prayers and love and support!