I’m so happy and honored to have had my sweet friend Brianna write a guest post for the blog. I met Bri & her sister, Amanda, through my sister-in-love, Danielle. A few months ago, Amanda was diagnosed with stage 4 colon cancer and just yesterday had major surgery. After recovery, she’ll continue with another few months of chemo. I asked Bri to write a post to share a different perspective on dealing with disease. I mostly write from the perspective of someone dealing with disease but knew that Bri could beautifully articulate the struggle for those who are with us on the sidelines and how the disease affects them.
Please join us in praying for Amanda’s complete healing and for peace and joy and understanding for Bri & the rest of her family.
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“Just so you know, I’m a much different person than I was two years ago.”
I interrupted a reunion coffee date with a dear friend to make this declaration. I think it surprised her, but it most definitely shocked me! Most would follow up with how much they have grown and are now making better choices, blah, blah, blah.
Not me.
The last time we lived intimate life together I was throwing silly dance parties, hiking my beloved trails for hours, having glorious adventures, and most importantly, I saw life through sparkly, rainbow glasses. My childlike enthusiasm carried into my 30’s, tricking me into thinking it would be a consistent life buddy.
A rare spinal abnormality diagnosis a year and a half ago left me with answers (thankfully) and chronic pain. Several doctors agreed that no surgery yet existed to remedy this problem and the procedures to temporarily relieve suffering all failed.
A rare spinal abnormality diagnosis a year and a half ago left me with answers (thankfully) and chronic pain. Several doctors agreed that no surgery yet existed to remedy this problem and the procedures to temporarily relieve suffering all failed.
Life became hard.
My sister, best friend, roommate, and co-life adventurer was diagnosed with several forms of cancer four months ago. Life became so much harder.
Instead of hiking till the sun goes down, I beg the Lord to help me out of bed as the sun comes up. I have replaced parties with resting. When she lived nearby, two years ago, jumping in the car for a last min 10 hr beach road trip was normal. Now, I cry if I get stuck in traffic. I used to travel the US singing with my sister. Now, as my young one sleeps, I sneak to clean golden locks out of her hairbrush so she won’t see quite how cruel chemo is and singing, well, that hurts too. Life is so very hard.
My precious friend moved back! Why did I have to blurt out that I was different?! Why couldn’t I just let her figure it out? Was I warning her, apologizing, or simply grieving? I am leaning toward all three, but predominately the third. I really miss the girl she spent so much time with, who got excited about EVERYTHING and dreamed in color. I miss me.
Romans 12:15, “Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn.”
One of the overriding themes that keeps graciously annoying me in this season is mourning. I was taught to count my blessings, to celebrate and mourn with others, and to be a thankful, smiling encourager. I love that! However, sometimes I have to mourn and weirdly enough, to mourn me. I have to grieve what I have lost, what I loved about me, about my life, and what I thought would be. I am even sobbing as I write this. Embracing this heartache feels … odd, selfish, and a tad wrong. Yet, I mourn.
Crazy enough, every time I allow myself to grieve me (still sounds weird), what follows is calming, peaceful, and life giving. I wipe away cleansing tears and joyfully begin rejoicing over my many blessings. A servant-hearted man stepped into my pain-filled life a year and a half ago and constantly works to make my world easier, inviting the childlike me to visit. He loves it when I dream and grins a goofy grin when I squeal at the brilliance of the moon. His love humbles me. A new, raw song is stiring in my soul and I catch glimpses of emerging dreams. Gratefulness for my family has grown exponentially! They are a big, loud, passionate, sacrificial lot who excel at entering into messes and letting you know you’re not alone. I cherish my church family, Encounter Training tribe, and friends who are masters at caring. My little sister is alive for me to take care of today and is secure that Heaven awaits her, come what may.
And my sweet Jesus is mysteriously more precious than ever before. And I rejoice.
I was eventually able to tell my patient friend that I will continue to change with each new season, every defining moment and invited her to get to know the new me.
I pray that I will carry grief and celebration through each one!
1 comment
Beautiful words. Lovely spirit. Heavy hearted wholeness. Thank you for sharing your truth.