Not Finished

I am thankful:

~ to be home. We had a great trip and it was awesome getting to see so many of our family and friends. But after more than 40 hours of perpetual family togetherness in the car, we are OVER traveling.

~ for a bushel of juicy red ripe tomatoes waiting for us when we got home. We have been living off BLTs.

~ for waking up our first morning back home to one of my favorite sounds: the gentle rumble of a Texas thunderstorm.

~ that I am finally caught up on my laundry after no less than 7 loads of vacation laundry.

~ for crisp buttered toast with my Grandma’s blueberry rhubarb jam.

~ for a pic and a text from a friend saying that Cooper is great at his job.

~ for an experiment that paid off. We love love LOVE the brick floors that we painstakingly laid ourselves 2 years ago, but we have found them hard to clean. Josh had the bright idea of bringing in his pressure washer with the spinner brush attachment. We knew it would either be a success or an epic failure and flood. After a couple test spots and the addition of a mountain of towels and the shop vac, Josh got a good system going. It was A LOT of water, but the floors look amazing again! Great job, babe!

~ for the humbling honor and privilege of sharing my testimony at an intimate gathering of young moms at a pregnancy resource center. I’ve gotten more and more comfortable sharing about our childhood cancer nonprofit, about our personal journey through childhood cancer with Sawyer, and about our family’s adoption experiences. But it’s been a long time since I’ve shared with a group my raw personal experience as a lost, scared single girl faced with an unplanned pregnancy.

It was very emotional. But such an incredible story of God’s sovereign, redemptive Hand. I was thankful to share my story of hope with these young ladies, each with their own backgrounds, their own trials, their own stories. But each one of us the SAME: loved and valued and seen by our Heavenly Father.

That testimony just took place earlier this evening, and it was the perfect way to end an emotionally taxing week. I still hate July because we always get sick every year and because of losing Alan and missing him and because Cancerversary doesn’t seem to be getting any easier. Don’t get me wrong, I look at Sawyer and am completely overwhelmed with gratitude that he is healthy and well and cancer free. He is truly a miracle in every way, and I thank God for him every single day.

But looking back on that terrible day still has a shocking, staggering weight to it. This year it was the days leading up to July 23rd that were the worst. I couldn’t stop thinking about the days before we first heard the word “cancer.”

I always say we never saw the freight train coming. Those were the last days before we were branded forever with the identity of “cancer parents.” When the anxiety starts to rage, it begins with a heaviness in my chest. Like a deep dull burning ember. A heavy heavy weight in my heart muscle that crushes, suffocates, until I physically remind my lungs to breathe because they seem to have forgotten how to work. Then a sharp stab. Between my ribs, piercing, twisting, paralyzing my entire chest. Can’t breathe, can’t move, can’t think.

But then the guilt comes. I don’t get to fall apart: my child is healthy. We are not in the hospital. He survived. We are a success story. We got our miracle. Get over it and move on. Nobody wants to hear about your anxiety. I mean come on, it’s been 7 years for heaven’s sake.

I recently found a new Facebook page, “Off Treatment, Now What?” The moment I started reading, I was met by entry after entry, “I don’t know where I fit…“ “I don’t know how to talk to my friends who have lost a child…” “Why do I have such a hard time sleeping?…” “Why am I still struggling? Does it ever get any better?”

I resonated with all these people, but why didn’t it encourage me? Why did my stomach start to turn and my breathing suddenly speed up so fast? Why did I just want to run away?

I know that I always tell other cancer moms be kind to themselves. I’m trying to be kind to myself, but it’s hard. I’m tired of falling apart. I’m tired of feeling stuck, and like I am held together with chewing gum, scotch tape, and paper clips. I don’t know if reading these other stories made me acknowledge that I’m not as healed as I like to think I am? BUT GOD.

When I find myself in the midst of a breakdown, when I feel that downward spiral tugging, I remind myself that my anchor is set. God is faithful, and He won’t let go. I know He has a purpose for every single detail, every piece of our testimony, from the earliest days with Colton to all the things we struggle with today. Our story is still being written. And it’s for our good and for His glory. As much as I wish I was past all my hang ups, I’m thankful that I know that I know that I KNOW He’s not finished with me yet.

Whatever your story, whatever your struggles, He’s there.

Thanks for giving thanks with me.

“being confident of this very thing, that He who has begun a good work in you will complete it until the day of Jesus Christ;” (Philippians 1:6)

“We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed.” (2 Corinthians 4:8-9)

“But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.” (2 Corinthians 12:9-10)

“My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.”
‭‭(Psalms‬ ‭73:26‬)