hope in the hurt.

When I was 18 I said good-bye to life in the states and spent my first semester in college living in Singapore. I was confident and excited as to what was ahead. The unknown didn't scare me but rather motivated me to be the person God created me to be.
26 years later, I am still living in a foreign land and want more than anything to live in His will.

As a 44 year old, I'd be lying if I didn't say the question of the future weighs heavy on my heart.
It's no secret that my life has been hard. I carry disappointments around like it's going out of style. I confront suffering like an old friend. And welcome the unanswerable with silence. I've been challenged to trust the hurting. This journey of stage IV cancer is no different.
But these past couple of days I've been struggling to articulate the tension I am feeling. The space between living and dying. I was there before- we all are. We live to die, right? I have to admit, that part is exciting. If everything I believe about heaven is true, I  will be more than fine.
But it's not knowing what God wants from me that is tripping me up. I admit that I wish the cancer didn't metastasize. I'd fight like hell to win the war with breast cancer. But this stupid disease is invading an already beat up body.
So there's the unrest. The disappointment. The suffering. The unanswerable.  The silence. The hurt.

The last round of chemo hit me hard. I'm scared to start the third round on Wednesday. I meet with my oncologist before it to hopefully approach the regimen of treatment differently. I need to live to die a better way.

And I still need to hope in the hurt.

one foot in front of the other...

It's been three months since I have been diagnosed with stage IV breast cancer. A journey I never thought I would be on but here I am. Searching, longing, desiring that "new" normal. I received a card in the mail last week that defined HOPE. "It's that beautiful place between the way things were and the way things are yet to be." Way to go, Hallmark. You put words to the way I feel each day. I'm in the middle. We all are. The dash in between the day we were born and the day we die. The battle. The time that we prepare, we trust, we stumble, we love, we cry, we laugh, we doubt, we live. The middle. One of my favorite musicians, Ellie Holcomb, sang about it so well in her song, Find You Here.
July 28, 2016 was my last day of work at a church that was my place of employment for 20 years. I sensed it was time for something new. I dreamed of starting a non-profit and use my story for others as they battle through their own story. I wanted to speak and write. I had no idea what that would look like, I still don't, but I knew I had to put one foot in front of the other and take the first step. The very first day of "retirement" , I sat on my deck and googled, "How Do I Start A Non-Profit." I spent the next few months applying for disability (a full time job in itself), meeting with friends who were wise with 501C3's start ups and listening to God. A lot. I had been approved for disability and enrolled in medicaid, as I waited and trusted until my first source of income came five months later. I was amazed how the whole process was relatively painless and so thrilled that my ministry did not have to support me financially. It Takes Hope (www.ittakeshope.org) was born.

sneak peek with the team at It Takes Hope
 (photo credit: studio 6.23)

God is so faithful even when it feels like you are just treading water.
I joke that I didn't realize I quit work for a full time job in cancer. But God knew. The timing of it all has been amazing. Don't get me wrong, I hate that I have cancer. It makes me so disappointed that my future is unknown. But it was with FA. What's critical is what I do in the middle. How I fight this battle. Oddly, that's the fun part.
"It's that beautiful place between the way things were and the way things are yet to be."
HOPE.
We all need it.
One step at a time.