This is a picture that was in the bathroom at the doctors office. It's a new doctor who does natural medicine. I looked at it and immediately thought wow, thats it. That is exactly how I feel right now.
That day I received my first High Dose Vitamin C IV, and was pretty excited to find someone close by who could do them. I had been researching it for quite some time, found out my MD's are pro natural complimentary therapies, and that made me happy too.
But that is not what I want to talk about tonight.
Tonight it is this picture.
A raw portrait of a woman in the process of an emotional spiral.
It doesn't always take much to start the spiral, and other times it takes forever to reach the end of it. That is what has happened to me this time around with having to go thru chemo again. 4 times? Why? It's been a really brutal emotional battle. A battle to be strong, to have courage, to feel alive and vibrant, to feel anything at all, to be excited for all the graduation fun, to feel loved by God.
Oh I really miss that feeling.
Oh I'm happy to be at the end of this spiral.
A brilliant friend of mine suggested that the emotion I've been feeling is grief. I just looked at her and commented that I thought she was right.
If we go thru the series of events, it all makes sense. After treatments last spring it was explained that my cancer would now be considered a chronic illness and would be treated like a chronic illness. That means continual treatment....
Last fall God did do a miracle in me, by using me and food and a serious change in eating which made my cancer number came down. And although I continued with much of the diet and still do, within a few months my miracle was gone. I didn't get to be a miracle anymore. The problem was that I really thought that the cancer was gone-that's the miracle I believed I had gotten. But then January came, and so did the high number. I did NOT want to go thru chemo. Period. I just didn't want to. Period. Lots of reasons, but mostly because of Barbara. I didn't want her exchange experience to get even worse. We had just 'rescued' her.... So, I wanted to find a reasonable compromise. I realized that Avastin is used during my chemo treatments to help keep the tumors from growing, why not try it now. I didn't have a tumor, it's just microscopic. So I got to try just the Avastin, which was an amazing alternative! And for 6 months it kept my number down, not within range, but down.
Until it didn't.
I hate spring.
So yes, I've been grieving. I lost a miracle. That's how it felt. I felt unworthy, cheated, unloved, and my faith was challenged. How can I believe He's for me when nothing in this particular journey has been good, except for that short term miracle, which was taken away. It's sad. I was sad. I am sad.
David Carnes, um, you woke me up today. I missed every song this morning. That never makes me happy. I listened to a good sermon, one that could be two teachings, the one for today, and one for the serious crisis. But Davids words, nobody has had a harder life than Christ- being forsaken by his Father. Now that's an emotional spiral just waiting to happen. He used real examples from our congregation who have horribly terrible lives right now. Just so personal. For me it was what I needed to hear. A reminder that this life is hard for everyone. Period.
In this world you will have trouble but be brave! I have defeated the world. John 16:33
And there it is. The truth. I've always known this and always believed that even tho our struggles are different, some harder by earthly standards than others, struggles are hard! Life is hard. Is your life easy? There are things some of you are going thru that would make me curl up into a ball and cry....
Which brings us back to the portrait. She could be at the beginning of her downward spiral, and the beginning of her struggle.
She could be at the end of the spiral, ready to stand up and get going on healing and fighting to make it thru the struggle, with the One who has been thru it all before us. Today that portrait looks like a woman preparing for her battle. She is done with tears and unhealthy emotions. She's about to stand and dress for battle.
She is a seedling, finally rooting in the pure soil of God's truth, and about to bloom in her faith because of her struggle.
Her "Faith is in Bloom".
Now that's a 5 year circle my friends.
I'm fragile, I'm weak, I'm scared, I'm furious, I'm down hearted, I'm grieving. I realize now that I still have my miracle. A miracle is a miracle. They aren't all forever, some are for a moment. I've had some good moments. Few, in this particular journey, but they've happened. So I reclaim my miracle. I also reclaim my faith. I may be starting lower in the faith department for right now, but I'm going to make an effort to bloom again.
Just call me a wildflower... Mine have just started blooming in the garden.
Bloom where you are planted is a saying I've always loved. It sucks being planted in cancer, but for God, for plans he has to use this, I'll bloom. That's my job. He told me that 5 years ago. Live this out loud and honestly. I can't promise good moods all the time, or a smile everyday, but I can promise to do what God has asked.
Wildflower in Bloom
I often wondered what Cohen meant when he penned the lyrics "it's a cold, and it is a broken hallelujah" in the now famous song "Hallelujah"--it wasn't until last year, during a heart wrenching season of grief that enlightenment to those lyrics witnessed to my soul. Sometimes it's the only thing we can offer God. In the midst of our anguish, when we feel what the apostle Paul felt (crushed, perplexed, beaten down) the only thing we can muster is a cold, and broken hallelujah. The very act of calling out to God, be it cold, broken, or otherwise, is the knowing like Paul, that while yes we might be crushed, perplexed, and beaten down, WE ARE NOT ABANDONED. Faith. A seedling. The Planter knows which seeds need to be crushed prior to planting in order to yield a good crop. It sounds like an abusive process. And the "why's" get wrapped up in the brokenness, buried with soil, and left to the Master. It makes me wonder about perennials. Those blooms that come back year after year despite the season of dormancy. Often the first color of spring is from the delicate crocus; however, some of those perennials can be hearty buggars! Think about how trashed the hostas get, eaten by deer, pulled up and planted in a different location, yet in the spring, those curly greens break forth from the soil, and the cycle begins again. So much there. So much that we have to trust, again, to the Master.
ReplyDeleteYou are not alone in your grief. And while we might not see past the process right now, I hear the broken hallelujah as you cry out to the deeps. More importantly, I am assured that you are held in the process. By human arms, and by the arms of the only One that can truly touch your brokenness and show you the beauty in the midst. I love you my friend. What an honor to walk this road with you.