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The Rebellious Boob Chronicles: The Day I Cried for Me…

14 Mar

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Hearing the words that you have cancer is nothing short of devastating. No matter how much faith you have, no matter how strong you are, no matter how healthy and active you are, no matter how positive you are, no matter how much you have tried to prepare yourself for the worst, it is still quite unsettling to be faced with that worst. When I first felt that something wasn’t quite right with my body, I immediately began to pray. Hebrews 4:16 tells me to “come boldly to the throne of grace to obtain and mercy and grace in a time of need. So, boldly I went to the throne. Not only did I pray, but I petitioned my Lord, with many reasons, why I needed Him to fix whatever was wrong in my body. I know He listened intently like He always does, and somehow I know that because He is sovereign and He knows the end from the beginning, He grieved a little at the prognosis I was getting ready to face. All good fathers hurt when their children go through hardships. Nevertheless, because of His great love, He had prepared me for this journey in so many ways, and for that I am thankful!

On that dreadful day in January when I heard the news, I cried. I cried for my children, who I love more than life and the fact that I would have to tell them what was going on with me. I cried for the fear I would see in their eyes and the sadness that would grip their souls when they had to hear that their mom had cancer. I cried for the memories that would rush back in to their minds from the journey they had walked with their father just a few short years ago. I cried for the moments that they would lay awake and wonder why they had to endure so much in their lives at such young ages. I cried for the moments they would see their mom weak and hurting and not able to do for them like I always do. I cried for all the tears they would shed silently.  I cried for the sacrifices they would make to stand by me and support me and love me through every moment. I cried as I shared the news with them and proclaimed with courage and assurance that, when it was all said and done, and this journey was complete, that everything would be okay and I would be better than I was at this moment.

On that dreadful day in January when I heard the news, I cried. I cried for my grandchildren, so young and innocent who would have to watch their Momsy struggle with a disease called breast cancer that they would have no understanding of. I cried for the moments that they would want me to play and I would be too tired and would have to say no. I cried for the times they couldn’t come see me because they had a simple runny nose or a belly ache. I cried because at times, I wouldn’t be able to hug them and comfort them when they felt bad. I cried for the moments that I couldn’t kiss them because I would be toxic and full of chemicals. I cried at the confusion I would see in their eyes when they would look at me and I had no hair. I cried for the tears they would shed silently. I cried for the sacrifices they would make to stand by me and support me and love me through every moment. I cried as I would somehow have to share the news with them and proclaim with courage and assurance that when this was all said and done, and this journey was complete, that everything would be okay and Momsy would be better than I was at this moment.

On that dreadful day in January when I heard the news, I cried. I cried for my family who are so near and dear to my heart – my mom, sisters and brother, as I would have to share the news with them. I cried for the pain they would feel and the dread I would hear in their voice as no one wants to hear that their daughter or sister has breast cancer. I cried for my mom and the hurt that would fill her mother’s heart for her daughter as she was suffering. I cried for the moments that fear would grip my sisters heart as they wondered if the same prognosis could be theirs also. I cried for the moments they would all feel helpless in helping me. I cried for the tears they would shed silently. I cried for the sacrifices they would make to stand by me and support me and love me through every moment. I cried as I shared the news with them and proclaimed with courage and assurance that, when it was all said and done, and this journey was complete, that everything would be okay and I would be better than I was at this moment.

On that dreadful day in January when I heard the news, I cried. I cried for my David, my companion, my adventurer, my partner whom, because of his closeness to the situation would have to hear the confirmation that yes, our fears were correct and I had breast cancer. I cried for the moments that would be different because I wouldn’t quite be at my best. I cried for the patience, compassion and grace he would have to possess as he watched his girlfriend change in appearance and stature. I cried for the moments that I would need from him far more than I could give. I cried for the moments he would have to endure as I fell apart at the seams in front of him. I cried for the moments in his life that would change because he chose to be mine. I cried for the tears he would shed silently.  I cried for the sacrifices he would make over the next year to stand by my side and support me and love me through every moment. I cried as I shared with him the news and proclaimed with courage and assurance that when it was all said and done, and this journey was complete, that everything would be okay and I would be better than I was at this moment.

On that dreadful day in January when I heard the news, I cried. I cried for my friends who are precious to me and the deep sighs that would escape their souls as they heard that their friend had breast cancer. I cried for the moments they would hurt because I was hurting. I cried for the efforts they would make to go out of their way to provide for me and help me. I cried for the moments they would need me and I wouldn’t know it. I cried for the tears they would shed silently. I cried for the reality we were facing together and the sacrifices they would make to stand by me and support me and love me through every moment. I cried as I shared with them the news and proclaimed with courage and assurance that when it was all said and done, and this journey was complete, that everything would be okay and I would be better than I was at this moment.

On this dreadful day in January, when I heard the news, I cried for my employers and coworkers whom I have grown to adore, as I would have to share with them that I had breast cancer. I cried as I thought about telling them that this person who they had put their trust in to achieve and be successful would be challenged over the next year. I cried as I felt disappointment in my own heart that I would somehow let them down. I cried as I sat in front of them and vowed to continue to work with diligence for the program and position that I was so passionate about. I cried for the tears they would shed silently. I cried for the sacrifices they would make as they chose to stand by me and support me and love me through every moment. I cried as I shared with them the news and proclaimed with courage and assurance that when it was all said and done, and this journey was complete, that everything would be okay and I would be better than I was at this moment.

On that dreadful day in January, when I heard the news, I cried. I cried for everyone that I loved and the changes that would come.  I cried for the sacrifices they would make to stand by me and support me and love me through every moment. I cried each time I shared the news and proclaimed with courage and assurance that when it was all said and done, and this journey was complete, that everything would be okay and I would be better than I was at this moment.

But one day while driving across the mountain, oh on this day, I cried for me. Finally I allowed the tears to fall for me as I faced the news that I had breast cancer. I cried for the sacrifices that I would make as I would walk through each moment of this journey. I cried for the moments that I wouldn’t feel like myself and my strength would wax and wane. I cried for each time I would feel myself struggling and hurting, having no control over what was happening due to the chemicals that were working for me and against me. I cried for the moments that I would look in the mirror and see the weakness in my own eyes and the changes in my appearance. I cried for the moments that I just wouldn’t feel like doing what I wanted to and I would have to surrender and rest. I cried for my body and how hard it had already fought and would have to fight to see me through this battle. I cried for the parts of me that I would inevitably lose. I cried for those moments when I couldn’t take care of my children as I always had for 23 years. I cried for the changes that would take place in me, knowing that I would never be the same again. I cried as I embraced the news that I had breast cancer and I prayed for courage and assurance that when this was all said and done, and this journey was complete, that everything would be okay and that I would be better, much better, than I was at this moment.

So on this day, I cried and I cried for me.

March 3, 2019.

 
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Posted by on March 14, 2019 in breast cancer, Uncategorized

 

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On Valleys, Shadows and Father’s Day Gifts

21 Jun

On Valleys, Shadows and Father's Day Gifts

Last week started as any usual week. Busy schedules, work, ballgames, kids wanting to go here and there, nothing out of the ordinary except this nagging irritation in the pit of my being. Being a woman, I figured it was just a normal ride on the nice little hormonal rollercoaster we encounter periodically, and I was sure it would fade as usual. As the next day rolled around, the irritation remained and was in greater capacity. I prayed, asking God to help me not feel like I could bite a nail in two, yet it proceeded from nail-biting to feeling like I could go postal at the drop of a hat. Friends would ask me what was wrong and I felt stupid admitting that I just didn’t know what was going on inside of me. Perhaps I was feeling the anticipation of my children’s hearts as Father’s day was approaching and two days later the 2 year anniversary of their father’s death, heck! I just didn’t know! The fact that I couldn’t shake it and was getting no answer to my “what’s up with me” questions to God was leaving me quite distraught. I finally came to the conclusion (through the help of a friend who is always faithful to sharpen me as iron does for iron) that God was leading me to a place of release and when He knew I was ready, He would faithfully reveal the purpose in all this madness. Until then, it was pray for sanity!

Sunday morning I awoke as the light peeked through my bedroom window. As soon as my eyes were open, my heart felt a gentle nudging. It was Father’s day and my heavenly Father wanted to spend time with me before anyone else was up. Coffee was fixed, and I went to sit outside to enjoy the cool of the morning. As I went to sit down, it felt as if a dam inside of me was about to break. Before I could mutter a word, I heard the sweet voice of my Father shhhh’sh me (hey, sometimes I think He even puts His hand on my mouth when He wants me to be quiet 😉 ) and thus began the revelation of the past few days. As I crawled up in the lap of my Father and laid myself in His embrace, I knew it was time to let go….

For the first time, after two years, I allowed my heart to finally grieve, without any restraints or reasoning, the enormity of the loss that not only my children had suffered, but that had also pierced my heart. I didn’t try to understand, analyze, explain or restrain the tears that were flowing from somewhere deep inside. I just let them fall. I felt their warmth as they trickled down my cheeks. I tasted their saltiness as they found themselves upon my lips. Like a dam that had been opened, my soul had my unspoken permission to purge herself from all that she had been holding back behind those fortified walls. Oh, I’m sure had there been certain onlookers, they would have scoffed at my emotion, yet in this moment, it was just me, my Father and the gentle breeze that rustled through my hair. (oh and my dog was there, my sweet, loving, protective beast of a dog – leaning as close to the fence as he possibly could and looking sideways out of the corner of his eye – somehow understanding the moment and sharing it with me!)

I had lost the one who had become one with my soul many years ago. That supernatural connection doesn’t fade just because a legal paper says you are no longer together. It doesn’t diminish in meaning just because life got the best of you. In the eyes of the one who wove the threads together, it is only severed when He says that it is. How do I know this? Because GOD told me so! I don’t believe in coincidences so no, I don’t find it strange that the day that Derrek took his last breathe on this earth was the same day that 17 years prior, God had joined together two people and made them one. Yes our marriage had failed and in the physical, tangible world that we dwell in, we lived our lives as two separate entities. Yet in the eyes of the Almighty Author of our destinies, He had ordained time and circumstance to allow me to be present in the room as He called Derrek to his heavenly home. In the wee hours of a tragic Saturday morning, my daughter looked up and me and realized what particular day it was, with a broken voice she cried to me, ‘momma it’s June 18, our wedding anniversary’. I, overwhelmed with emotion was walking out of the room, when the audible voice of God spoke to me and said, “I meant it when I said til death do you part.” I knew right then it was soon, very soon and within minutes we witnessed a soul being led from this world into the realms of heaven.

A season of my life was over and a new season was laid before me. A season that would lead my children and I through a valley that, whether we were ready or not, it was time to venture on. The psalmist calls this place the valley of the shadow of death. Most of the time this particular scripture in Psalm 23 is used to reference the transition of the one who is passing. However, I can tell you from experience that, if you are a believer in Christ, there is no valley that you must treck through to get to Him. The bible says “to be absent in the body is to be present with God” and I watched as these words came alive when Derrek took his last breathe here. In an instant, his unbearable pain turned to incredulous peace as He reached out for Jesus and took hold of His hand. I watched in his eyes as his spirit left this world and crossed over into the realms of eternity. There was no valley, only a glorious gathering of angels welcoming him into his new, forever home. The valley was awaiting our feet and the shadows were falling on our hearts.

What is the valley of the shadow of death?

~It’s when you are blowing out your candles and everyone is singing to you the birthday song, and there is the once voice that you would love to hear.

~It’s that grand slams , the touchdowns, the 3 point shots, and even though the crowd is cheering you on, there is one face you are aching to see in the crowd.

~The song on the radio, the TV show you used to watch together, the little things that remind you of the empty space that no one on earth can fill.

~The moments of despair as you lay in your bed wondering how in the world you are supposed to do all of this alone.

~Wishing for that voice of wisdom as you need direction as you grow up.

~The dreams that are so convincing until you wake up and realize that life is still what it is.

~Those times when you just want to call and talk and share and laugh and love and hug.

~It’s everyday life and learning to live it differently now that a part of you is forever gone. Those triggers that bring a smile to your face and a tear to your eye.

Yes! The valley can be a solemn place, but, ah! It is also full of promise! The scripture goes on to say, “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death – I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me. Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.” The valley may be paved with heartache but it also blossoms with memories. At some points you will laugh so hard your stomach hurts and other times you will cry so hard that you feel you can’t possibly cry no more. There will be times you run on auto –pilot and times that you feel like you can’t take another step. But ALL times there is the promise that we are not alone! God, our good Shepherd, walks with us every step of the way. He was there in the hospital room , preparing us for our journey and He has been in every moment since. He promises that no matter what the valley may bring us, or the shadows that are cast upon us, HE is with us! No matter how heavy the heartache – He will comfort us. No matter how empty the space – HE will fill it. No matter how many times we feel like we just can’t make it – HE will be there to lift us up and lead us on. He is ever present and ready to meet us wherever we need Him – in a car, on a jog, in your room, on a field, on a treadmill, and even sitting outside on your wicker loveseat on a beautiful, breezy Father’s day morning. No matter how dreadful the valley or how dark the shadows sometimes, HE IS THERE! Will we ever move out of the valley? No. It’s a trail that we will have to blaze until it comes our time to cross over, but we need not to fear when HE is our travel companion.

The tears ceased and my heart was renewed. On this particular Father’s day it was me who received a gift. Healing, comfort, release, and a beautiful reminder that my God is good and He is still…and always…with me.

 
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Posted by on June 21, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

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