Those Moments

Thank You, Abba, for those moments when I get it. Those moments when both the aches and the joys of life fall away and I’m left in Your arms tasting just the tiniest taste of Heaven of Reality of Life. Thank You, Abba, for those moments when I remember why I was created why I was gifted why I was prepared and equipped and enabled to walk in this weary world. Thank You, Abba, for those moments when I dance in my mind, in my heart, in my body. When the responsibilities are lifted, when the worries are banished, the wants fade away and You are more real than I have ever been. You are Good. You are Glorious. You are God. And the moment fades… And I remember that I am me. Stuck in the ruts of my little life trudging forward one step at a time. But I remember where I’m going now and there’s a Joy in the journey.

Answering a Pledgedrive

I was driving in to work yesterday, with my local Christian radio station playing. About five minutes from work, it began to get staticky, like it always does. I pressed the button for my second choice and K-LOVE came on. They're in the middle of their fall pledge drive. As the dj's began asking everyone to pray about giving and listen quietly, I sent up my not-very-heart-felt prayer for clarification. I had to sort out the feelings - was I feeling guilted by a skillful dj or convicted by the Holy Spirit. I need a clear sign to part with my money. Then a brief testimony was shared over the airwaves. A woman who was not a Christian, but who is seriously contemplating the idea after listening to this station. "That testimony was from Monica," the dj called out. "Are there any other Monica's out there who are able to give?" Yes. That was sufficiently clear. But I didn't know the number. So the dj's began chanting the number together. Unfortunately, I was still driving, and my phone was in the bottom of my bag in the back of my car. I promised that if I still remembered the number when I got to work, I'd call in. A song came on as I pulled into the parking lot. I fetched out my phone and looked at it, knowing I'd never remember the number. A couple of digits flashed through my head and I typed in the numbers, guessing at a couple. I crossed my fingers as the phone began to ring (I won't tell you which side I was rooting for). "K-LOVE radio" said the voice on the other side. So I offered my pledge. "What's your name?" "Monica" I had to go into work after that, so I never did find out how many Monica's pledged that day. But here's the real point of the story. He's taking my information, I'm tapping my fingers on the steering wheel and watching the clock so I'm not late, and the whole process is taking forever. Then he suddenly asked, "Is there anything we can pray about for you?" I wasn't expecting that. But I needed that. And the words came bubbling out. 'I'm an eight year breast cancer survivor, and at the end of the month I'm having a Basel cel carcinoma removed... This time it's on my face which is what's really freaking me out...' We chatted a while. He has a friend who had breast cancer which came back as skin cancer in the same place. He said that our God is the great healer. I agreed. And I said that even when He doesn't heal, it's all part of a great plan. He agreed. We talked about the good He gives us through the bad. I talked about my book. He wrote the name down and said he was going to pick up a copy. Then it was time to hang up and go to work. 'God bless,' he said. He already has. Over abundantly. Incredibly. In the most beautifully unexpected ways. I'm certainly not saying that you have to go out and find a pledge drive to give to. Just listen. And if He clearly says to do something, do it. Then tell me your story of amazement. God bless!

Second Punch on My Cancer Card

In May of 2014, I went in for my annual skin check. My doctor once told me that I have precancerous skin (doesn't everybody???). He took a couple of pictures and drew a couple of diagrams, them sent me on my way for another year. Shortly after that, a new mole popped up. As I had my next skin check scheduled, I ignored it.

This past May, I got a phone call that my dermatologist had left the practice and I needed to schedule a new appointment. Surprisingly, this took me a while to do. I finally made it in for this year's skin check a couple of weeks ago. We were both grateful that my previous doctor had taken such good notes and pictures so that the new one could determine if there were any changes. Apparently the areas of skin that have been radiated are extra prone to skin cancer.

Then I showed her my new mole and we decided to shave it off. Normally she would have just stuck a tiny circle bandaid on it after, but as I've had reactions to adhesives, I left her office with bandage taped to the side of my face. You know me - anything for attention.
She told me she'd call in seven days with the results.

In nine days, I got a phone call to call their office. That was a Friday. I calmly waited (aka stressed out and worried) until Monday and called them back. That began three days of phone tag. On the fourth message I left, I told them that as a cancer survivor, this was driving me nuts. "Either leave a message on my phone if I don't answer, or answer yours. Either one would be very helpful."

On Wednesday, we finally connected. Basal cell carcinoma. Won't spread to the bones. MOHS surgery. Doctor who specializes with cancers of the face.
It was that last piece that got to me. Cancers of the face. That just sounds terrifying.

So, we're scheduling surgery to get the rest of the silly thing out. And I'm looking closer at all of the other moles wondering what type of cells they're made up of...

But really, the basal cell carcinoma doesn't scare me too badly. It's little. It's not likely to spread. It's easily removed.
What's bothering me more is that this is my second diagnosis. I've already done the whole cancer thing. I did my time - read the book. I already got my cancer card. Did I really need another punch on it? Then the thought sneaks in: two cancer diagnoses by age 41. Grammy was a three time survivor, but she hadn't even had her first by 41...
This is why I'm a word person. Numbers can be terrifying.

But then, I look around at the beautiful place God prepared for me. My picture windows, library, wild grapes, and lily pond. And this is just a shadow of the Place He's preparing for me. I just need to keep trusting.
He's got this, too.

Life is good. Heaven is better. And God is in complete control.

Out of the Darkness

I wear a bracelet that says "out of the darkness."

It's a reminder.
A reminder of a pain I hope I never have to bear.
A friend of mine lost her middle son to suicide.
He was lost in a darkness he thought he couldn't bear.

And as I pondered this pain of losing a cherished son
And fought with God over my own
I finally came to the place where I let go.

Abba - Your will be done.
Whatever may come.
Would I take that pain so my dear friend didn't have to?
Father, Your will be done.
Whatever may come.

Then came that oh-so-obvious realization.
My Abba felt that pain.
My Abba lost His cherished only son to the darkness.
But only for a moment,
A horrible three day long moment.
Then He rose from the dead
To lead us all
Out of the darkness.

I'm doing very well...

It’s been a while since I’ve last written. Not because I haven’t had anything to say, but merely because I haven’t had the time to sit down and say it.  Taking three classes, working full time, and buying a house can apparently take up a lot of your time.

But today I took a moment to slow down. To ponder. And to share.

The day started off with a beautiful text from a friend:

            I’m going to name today “glad you’re my friend day”

 I can think of no better way to start off my 8^th ‘Diagnosis Day’… and I can think of no better way to spend it then the way I did. First, I swung out to the Cancer Care Center for a chit-chat with my radiation oncologist. We chatted about road trips, living in Charlton, buying houses, and visiting with my primary care a tad bit more often than I currently do. We also talked about improvements in technology, and he wrote a prescription for a new glove and sleeve with a serpentine healing band of copper. He told me that he enjoyed reading my book and kept it on his desk. Then he approved my next tattoo with the order to call him if I have any complications, told me I was doing very well, and sent me on my way.

And I drove away from the Cancer Care center…

… and to the house that will soon be mine.

Dad and I started painting it today.

I scrubbed down some of the dirtier walls, did some brush painting around the windows and baseboards and up the corners, and used the roller on two of the living room walls. There was music blaring from downstairs where they were working, but I could also hear the birds in the wetlands nearby. At one point, when I took a break from painting, I looked out the kitchen door and saw a redwing blackbird taking a break in the trees.

Before she went Home, Grammy gave me a wall hanging she had made. It says, “The kiss of the sun for pardon, The Song of the birds for mirth, One is nearer God’s heart in a garden, Than anywhere else on earth.” I am going to love sitting on my patio listening to those birds.

It’s going to be a beautiful house.

Unfortunately, unless I pay it off early, I’ll be paying for it until 2045. But you know, that really doesn’t scare me anymore. Because, as my oncologist said, I’m doing very well. Very well, indeed.