The Good-Hard

Writing this afternoon from my infusion chair and wanting to thank you for your prayers these past couple of weeks as I've gone through a series of new scans. Especially in this last day with my (biggest) PET/CT scan and results. 

Rick and I met with my doctor today and are so happy to report things continue to look very stable. One tiny spot of growth in my spine, but overall everything else is shrinking or remaining unchanged. So the plan is to continue with my same treatment. Onward, troops! But please do pray for that L2 vertebrae which is under attack right now. L2! I’m not suggesting a bumper sticker, but maybe a post it note stuck somewhere discreet. I would absolutely be tickled to think that I have friends praying for my L2 vertebrae. Isn’t it all so weird, and yet, strangely wonderful?

Hard to believe, but in the the next couple of months I will be at the 3 year mark of this recent diagnosis. The fact that I am almost at 3 years and my doctors have been able to keep me stable and on my first line of treatment is worth noting. I can't explain how big that is in the metastatic cancer world and how grateful I am.

I am also crazy grateful for my scan team. I have this incredible dynamic duo at Emory-St. Joseph in Atlanta. Rodney and Katarina. Before jabbing me with my radioactive tracer, Rodney makes me feel like I am coming in for a spa treatment when he tucks a warm blanket around me and hands me my vanilla (not a latte) barium smoothie. Radioactive or not, Katarina actually hugs me when I climb out of my machine. She wishes me light and love and this time she said to me, “God is good.”  I almost cried when she said that. I told her my daughter, Sarah, had just given me a sweatshirt for my birthday last week which said, “God is good.” Katarina told me, “I love that and now you need to get her a sweatshirt that says ‘All the time.’ God is good. All the time.”

And He is. Good. All the time. But cancer isn’t. Cancer is hard. Even with this continued stability, let me assure you, the cancer road is fraught with challenge. Good news tonight or not, cancer is cancer. And I can’t help but hate it.  I hate what the medications are doing to my body and the new anxiety it has brought to me and to my family. The constant appointments and tests and blood draws and wonderings. The always waiting for another result or report. The every day management of meds and their side effects. But even in my always wanting to wish it away. Even in my constant craving to crush it. Even in my every day desire to destroy it. I'm going to tell you something you might not believe. 

And you can say you don't believe me. You can. That's your choice. But I am going to tell you anyway. And then you're going to have to think about it and wonder about the possibility--and maybe even the veracity--of my words.

 

So here it is—

I hate having cancer, that is true. But also true, it is teaching me things. Hard things, but Holy things. Things almost impossible to learn in a completely comfortable and pain-free life. Maybe someday I'll sit down and get organized and write out that list of cancer lessons. Maybe. But for now, you're just going to have to trust me on this. There's something here that is good. Good for me. Hard, yes, but good. Good-Hard. It can be both. It's a real thing. Those of you who have walked roads of suffering or battled crazy brokenness, you might know of what it is I write. 

There is some type of not-so-easy-to-explain treasure found in dark places. TREASURE!  Isaiah 45:3 is a verse to which I have held tightly from the very beginning of this trial. And it is more true today. More than ever. "I will give you the treasures of darkness, and hidden riches of secret places, that you may know that I, the LORD, which call thee by thy name, am the God of Israel." 

More than ever before, I know that God is God. I know more deeply that He is who He says He is. He calls me by my name. I know more fervently that He is for me. With me. All around me. He holds me close. He has my back. He goes before me. He is already there. He has this cancer. He has me. HE HAS ME!

My prayer is that someday when the result isn't so encouraging. Some day when I hear not promising words, but the fearful words of progression. My prayer is on that day I will be able to continue to claim the treasure of these dark places just as boldly and confidently. 

And If I am. And if I do. It won't because of my own power or strength, but because of His. I bring nothing. I know that better today than ever before. I bring absolutely nothing to this fight. The very best I can offer up is my sometimes sunny disposition. And, oh my heavens, let me tell you that is not even close to enough to get me through this. 

If you are in a dark place right now, I want to encourage you to reach out to my friend, Jesus. Ask Him for His power. Ask Him for His strength. Ask Him to show you the treasures He has for you hidden in the darkness.  He is already there and He is the light. 

He will show you.  He will show up. No, these aren't the shiny riches and wealth of this world, these are different gifts. Different givings. Different good. These are the things which don't make sense when measured by the desires of our world. No one is going to want to trade places with you. But, I promise you, He has something good for you in the midst of your hard. Good-Hard. It’s a real thing. 

Ask Him to show you. Go read His word. If you don’t have a Bible, message me. I’ll send you one tomorrow. I will! I’ve got nothing else to do tomorrow. My scans and tests and results are done for the day. Done for the time being. I would love to hear from you. Encourage you. Pray for you. I know I am not alone in hard stuff. So many of you have hard things. Harder things. If you are taking the time to read my words tonight, then you have come alongside me. I'd be honored to come alongside you. 

I am thankful for each one of you … you are my team. 

Happy [early] Thanksgiving. God is good. All the time.

“Give thanks to the Lord for He is good, for His steadfast love endures forever.”  Psalm 107:1