I found a bald spot yesterday. Actually, I didn’t find it, my husband did. A stupid, not-so-subtle reminder of the battle that just doesn’t seem to go away. I refused to look at it, hoping maybe if I ignored it long enough it would disappear. It didn’t. Kyle said, “let’s go look together, it’ll be easier that way.” Nope. I didn’t want to see that mess and be reminded of laying on the radiation bed, head stuck in that nasty rubbery mask, trying so hard to stay with Jesus instead of letting my thoughts go rabid.
I sat on the couch, head pressed into my hands, my husband rubbing my back, telling me it was ok and it wasn’t even noticeable. I felt my eyes well up with tears and in that moment, I knew I had a choice. It was a crossroad, as is so many moments in this journey beating cancer. In one ear is the voice of self-pity, shame, and anger, threatening my existence with whispering lies. And in the other, a sweet, kind yet firm voice offers an invitation.
Most Christians–and most unbelievers–think that acknowledging God means that we must either deny the existence of pain and suffering or attribute it to God, using an umbrella “all part of God’s plan” theology. Pain or darkness comes and suddenly, we’re fighting for air, doing everything in our power to see glimpses of hope in what seems like complete desolation. This quicksand of darkness is enveloping and if we’re not careful, we’ll enter into a place of striving, operating as a slave instead of a son, begging for God to show up and rescue us. What most of us don’t realize, though, and what has taken me years to understand is that in those moments when your stomach is in knots and you feel like your heart is going to pop out of your chest, when the world seems to be caving in and hope is falling through your fingers like the finest sand, Papa is there. He’s there–here–letting me feel what I need to feel, ready to take me by the hand and lead me and my mess to a place where peace reigns. I always think that I have to get there by myself, that He has to wait for me to find the strength within myself and then He will come when in fact, it’s just the opposite.
Understanding this has completely changed the way I am able to deal with cancer. I face it head on but it doesn’t mean that I never feel. In fact, it’s because I feel that I am able to be ok and walk boldly in truth. For me, the reality of what I feel has become a veil that I must pass through–with Jesus– in order to receive the truth of who He is. Ignoring what I feel simply creates pieces of myself that stay isolated from Jesus and over time, gain influence into my mind and spirit.
I often remind myself that even Jesus himself wept. How certain he must have been of the plan set before him and more so, of the Father’s love for him but never did his confidence require the absence of his emotion. If it’s ok for Jesus, it must be ok for me.
And so, when I was sitting on the couch, head in my hands, listening to my husband’s voice, experiencing the sadness of losing a patch of hair and the fear of losing more, I now had a choice. I could turn to the voice that feeds those emotions or I could turn to the voice that offers an invitation out. However, in order to accept that invitation and proceed toward freedom, we must allow Jesus to take us by the hand and together, acknowledge and experience what is right in front of us. Often times, it is messy, ugly, embarrassing, revealing, and painful but how glorious it is in the moment you pass through and suddenly, truth and freedom arrive.
If you find yourself in a moment like this, I encourage you to stop fighting. Breathe. Allow yourself to feel whatever it is that you’re feeling. Breathe again. Still your mind until you hear Papa’s voice, soft yet firm, ready and waiting to take you by the hand to lead you to freedom. I promise, it’s worth it and better than you could ever imagine.
12 comments
You’re such a inspiration. Your resolve and quiet strength are God’s handiwork on display. Praying blessings, healing, and continued joy over you.
You’re my hero. Thank you for your obedience and courage. Thank you for sharing this journey with us through the encouragements and frustrations. Love you!!!
Truly an inspiration! Beautifully written and so raw and vulnerable! Mallory, I admire your strength and you have more wisdom on Gods love for us than anyone I know. So thankful for people like you who are willing to be so honest and unashamed.
Wow!!! Absolutely amazing! Thank you for sharing your vulnerability, revelation and process which all reveals His nature and character! :). THANK YOU!!!!
Mallory,
The power of your words are incomprehensible to the human mind and yet you speak with poise and assurance. I am honored to watch you walk this journey in faith and obedience. Know that prayer warriors stand alongside of you arm in arm as you take one step at a time with Jesus. You are loved and will forever be a voice against the weapons of the enemy which is silence. Keep being a mouthpiece for the Holy Spirt my friend as he governs your steps on this journey~
Love love & love. Thank you so much for your powerful encouragement! It seriously means so much!
You are inspiring, Mallory. Truly.
Mallory I am honored to know you and Kyle. You are both such a bright light. Your words are light to so many others. Love you both.
Mallory, you my sweet friend are such an inspiration! Your strength, honesty, courage and vulnerability is a great example of how we should live our lives! I am humbled as I see Christ in you … our hope! You are a hero to me and I love you!
I love you! Seriously…I do! 🙂
Mallory, it was so nice to meet you yesterday. You have such a great spirit and your speech was so uplifting. I know you helped a lot of people deal with their “mess” including myself. Hugs and prayers to you and your family.
Hey Robin, so nice to meet you too! I appreciate your kind words and I’m glad that you were uplifted after yesterday’s meetings. Please keep in touch & let me know how you’re doing!