**I have to add a thank-you here, after spending the last hour writing up this post. Thank you for reading my words and following along. Blogging this experience has been almost crucial to the processing of all these events. I’ve sat down at this keyboard uncertain, and through honestly confessing on-screen and in my heart before The Lord, I am going to walk away emboldened by the freedom that can only be found in Christ. Praying that He will use these words to relieve you of the regret, guilt, control, anxiety that you’ve been clinging to tonight. Thank you, readers. Now read on!
Since we’ve been home I’ve really struggled. Mainly with these things:
1. I don’t know how to, in every day mundane life, maintain the intimacy I felt with Christ while we were at St. Jude. I am frustrated beyond belief with this. I feel down. The closest thing I can compare it to is coming back home after working a summer at Doe River Gorge. It makes sense…the past few weeks definitely can’t be described as a mountain-top experience, but spiritually, in our desperation, we were lit up and bonded with The Lord in almost every moment. We had to be to get through it. So now what? We get good news and get sent home and then just…forget? Wouldn’t you think God would just get so frustrated with us for proving Himself over and over only to have us continuously choose countless idols over Him? We desperately need the Gospel. BUT MAN! I just want to finally get it. And stop forgetting that in every season I am desperate for Him. It is my state. My glorious state that propels me ever onward into the arms of grace. Whether in progress or poverty…always desperation.
2. I feel like we abandoned families that didn’t go home when we did. There are so many children with disease, in situations that seem incredibly hopeless, and parents that have been pleading for good news for a.long.time. We get the scare of a lifetime, hop over to St. Jude, have Dr. Wilson pop out an eye and then high-tail it back on home. Or, that’s what it feels like. What about everyone else, Lord? What am I supposed to do with this overbearing feeling of needing to help them? How can I fully relax in your miraculous work in our daughter, but also continue on in heartbreak for the other faces I passed at St. Jude? The countless faces I studied, hours on end, marked with #childhoodcancer. It seems almost oxymoronic or cruel. And deep down I know that it truly isn’t and that one day I will have clarity, but tonight, I am so heavy and confused.
3. I miss the bond we shared between each person at St. Jude. Sometimes, being back home, I feel like people have elevated us, or maybe displaced us a little, like we’re a little bit foreign because we’re going through something most people won’t experience. But the truth is, I’m just as clueless. I was never one to have the right words to say to someone in hard seasons. I still don’t have the right words. I don’t even know what I would tell myself. I miss the freedom we had in knowing that the couple sitting next to us has a child battling disease too. You get to skip all the obligatory or awkward steps, and cut right to it. It’s just understood. And it’s not that our community hasn’t been amazing. Everyone during this season has increased my faith in the body of Christ tenfold. I just miss the unspoken familiarity that came with St. Jude families.
4. Tonight I am more scared of cancer than ever before. Maybe it’s because it’s so real now. I can’t deny any longer the problem our humanity has with disease and sickness. I can’t protect myself, my husband, or my kids from falling victim to its brutality.
5. I am experiencing incredible levels of regret and guilt. I want to jump into Mr. Peabody’s time machine and rewind the clock to January, to the moment I decided to stop trying to nurse Willa. I had just gotten mastitis and with two other young children, I felt like I just couldn’t do it. I had no idea there was a tumor in her sweet little eye. I HAD NO IDEA! And if I had just waited, just pushed through, a few more weeks and I would’ve known that my baby was sick. I don’t have a lot of regrets…usually with time I am able to make sense of every situation. I’m not there yet. I want to take that back so badly, with every fiber of my being. I want to give her what every mother was created to give their baby. I want to nurture her and provide for her. And I can’t. I keep hearing these stories of people and children who were diagnosed with cancer and then switched to an incredibly healthy lifestyle only to be declared cancer free not long after. All I want to do is juice as many leafy greens and good things I can get my hands on, down 32 ounces of it every hour and then breastfeed my baby all day long.
6. I still think I can control cancer. I still think I can control my circumstances. Just read numbers 4 and 5 on this list. I’m scared of cancer because I’m trying to control it. I’m holding onto regret and allowing guilt to batter my heart because I honestly think that if I could nurse Willa then cancer won’t ever be able to harm her again. God proved His goodness to us in miraculous ways last week, and it only took four days being home for me to try to take the reins again.
I feel exposed and beat-up. You entertain fear and then Satan doesn’t waste a second of opportunity to snag you. I feel snagged. Anxiety is tripping me up, guilt is weighing me down. I’m exhausted. I’m sprinting circles in my mind: Kale! Chia seeds! How can I get the kids to eat better? I have to toss out the clorox wipes, like right now. What’s better than peanut butter? GMO. Non-GMO. Stomach aches, why does Finn always have a stomach ache? What about fluoride? Plastics, crap! Plastic is everywhere! I need glass baby bottles. Hydrogenated oil. What the heck is soy lecithin? Sunbutter. Almond butter. Whole wheat is bad? Bread is sugar. Sugar is bad. Sugar causes cancer. Thank God I haven’t had a coke in weeks. Coke. How is coke regulated by the FDA and still allowed. FDA. They allow too much. Cheetos? Toxins in everything. FDA approved. Approved to make you sick. Or fat. Or both. Maybe they want us to die in mass numbers. The U.S. has the highest rate of cancer. Other countries have banned food that our government says is okay. Let’s sell our house. Yes, let’s start a homestead. Grow everything. Everything from scratch. Beets. Goats.
STOP! Stop! You can’t continue like this. You’re losing it. Stop and meditate on these words…
Oh how I love You! How I love You! You have not forsaken me!!!
He has not forsaken me. He has not forsaken Willa. He has not forsaken you. I don’t know about numbers 1-6. I just don’t. But, I don’t have to know. I just have to know my God and King. See His steadfast love. Live into His faithfulness. Oh, what a brilliant thought! To stop and only know one thing. The one thing.
Oh Lord, keep us from stumbling. Good Shepherd of my soul….take my hand and lead me on.
(Lyrics taken from Shepherd by Bethel Music)