Thankful For Healing

It's been a long time since I have taken the time to write! Partially because I am so busy enjoying summer and life, but also because I just really don't know what to say.

I guess I can start with... I'M CANCER-FREE!!

I can't believe that I haven't even taken the time to write that on a blog yet!

It's been an incredible 4 months of traveling, just hanging out, watching the growth of my hair from day to day and enjoying new relationships. This picture is a comparison of the day that I found out I was in remission (April 17th) and then a recent picture.

This picture makes me tear up whenever I look at it because it is a reminder of how God allowed me to endure this hardship in order for His greatness and faithfulness to be displayed in my life. 

In the moments where I would look at my pale, hairless self in the mirror after getting sick, I found myself wondering if this was going to be my story for the rest of my life. Physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually, I was exhausted. And in those same moments, God would enfold me in His ever-loving comfort. He would lay His calming hand upon me and tell me to trust Him. 

I have a lot to be thankful for. Without this battle, I wouldn't have discovered certain blessings along the way. God has truly gifted me even through the lowest points of this journey. I am thankful I allowed God to press into my gaping wounds. I am thankful that I chose to trust Him day in and day out. I am thankful that He is a God of grace for the times I would yell and curse at Him.

Fighting cancer is hard. And often people have no clue how hard it truly is. It's not only a fight for your life, which is difficult enough. It's staying strong through multiple treatments. It's standing firm in faith through scans and tests. It's a one-on-one spiritual war. It's all the aforementioned, combined with idiotic insurance agents, overwhelming medical bills, and other life drama. It's not just a fight. My diagnosis has transformed every moment, every nook and cranny, every aspect of my life. That's just a fact. 

Yet He has shown me that joy can exist in the midst of heartache. He has used this diagnosis for His glory, and I'm confident He will continue to. There is no greater satisfaction than to know that He has transformed this tragedy into triumph. I am thankful that my story has a purpose, even if it is one that I may never be able to wrap my mind around on this earth. 

And above all, I am immensely thankful that my story includes healing because I know of so many who don't have that as a part of theirs. 

For those friends of mine out there still fighting this disease, You can do it! More often than not, you just have to suck it up and keep fighting. It's a hard struggle, but you will discover more of yourself than you ever have. When you feel weak, know that our God is strong. He has not given this disease to you, but has allowed it. For what the enemy tries to use against us, God transforms into something miraculous and good. You will have hard days. You will grieve. You will cry. You won't want to leave your house, let alone get out of bed. You will experience pain and heartbreak. BUT, you WILL have good days. Great days in fact. Life is put into perspective when you are fighting for it. You will laugh. You can experience joy and hope. This isn't the end of the road. Certain things in your life will change, but you can continue to hold on to things that bring you happiness. There are people around you, whether you know them or not, who just want to help. Let them! Don't give up. As soon as you resign yourself, it's over. This is an epic battle. You are a soldier. You are on the front lines. And with your medical staff and The Man upstairs, you will crash through this diagnosis with guns blazing. Allow yourself to experience the rough days. Allow yourself to grieve and cry. After all, cancer is shitty. I give you permission to be sad, angry, hurt, and possibly devastated. Sometimes that's all we need...someone to say, "It's okay to cry." However once you've exhausted yourself from tears, pick your cancer-kickin' butt up. On days that you feel well enough, get out of the house. Don't isolate yourself. Enjoy the world we live in. Spend time with your friends and family. Go to a comedy show and laugh. Eat good food. Please, don't let your diagnosis run your life. You are not a cancer patient. But rather, a person who just so happens to have cancer. And last but not least, fight hard. This disease is a jerk. 

Psalm 107:19-22 (MSG Version)

"Then you called out to God in your desperate condition; He got you out in the nick of time. He spoke the word that healed you, that pulled you back from the brink of death. So thank God for His marvelous love, for His miracle mercy to the children he loves; offer thanksgiving sacrifices, tell the world what He's done–sing it out!" 

Two Years

Exactly two years ago, I first heard the words that changed my life.

You have cancer.

I was a healthy sophomore in college who had just taken a position as a Resident Assistant, and was trying to figure out summer employment after going on a month long trip to Romania and Moldova. Little did I know that I was about to be faced with a diagnosis that was going to take more than 2 years to defeat.

Then (1 week before diagnosis) and Now. 

These past two years have been a trial of great magnitude. They have been tumultuous, to say the least. Full of so many ups and downs. I have done all that I can to get rid of this cancer...I've invited poison to flow through my veins. I've laid alone in a room while fiery laser beams tried to diminish what is there. My body has been sliced open and stitched shut several times over. Where stuff has been removed and where there was once smooth soft skin, jagged scars remain. I have been bald for going on 10 months now, and I have learned how isolating and scary it can be. You don't really realize the amount of value we place on our hair until we no longer have it. Being bald has left me feeling vulnerable and different. Being bald is a physical reminder of the battle for survival.

Being open with every part of my journey has been hard at times, but I have challenged myself to always be honest. Cancer just plain sucks, and I have probably thrown every curse word at it that I can. I have gone up to 5 or 6 days without eating due to extreme nausea. I have cried myself to sleep because my body aches are past the point of tolerance. I have found myself on the verge of giving up because I am exhausted in every way.

I find myself struggling to get out of bed some days because I don't want to face another day living with cancer. I don't want to face another day having physical restrictions because my body is aching and tired. I don't want to face another day thinking about how I have no idea if this disease is what will one day take my life...

But while I've experienced a depth of grief I never could have imagined and wouldn't dream of wishing on anyone, there have been numerous blessings dispersed along the way. These past two years have taught me so much. About relationships. About loyalty, trust, and security. About faith, joy, and never-ending hope. Because of cancer, I hold my loved ones closer. Because of cancer, I pray, believe, and act more intently. Because of cancer, perseverance and determinations have taken on deeper meanings. Because of cancer, I have learned what it means to lament, to cry out to God in anguish, yet know that He is still there right beside me no matter what I am feeling.

I have been stretched, broken, molded, and reformed. I see life through much larger lenses, and I appreciate moments that tend to slip by unnoticed in seasons past. My character has been chiseled and refined. I am far more sensitive of what what compassion and empathy really mean. I have suffered great loss, and have experienced overwhelming gain. I have been blessed abundantly.

I have learned that we must live in the moment that God has for us today. We go through trials for a purpose. God allows us to endure unpleasant circumstances in order for growth and maturity to take place; to become more refined versions of ourselves. We can either embrace the change, moving forward with high hopes for our future, or turn around, desperately trying to hold onto something that once was. Moving forward opens opportunities for new blessings. Staying behind limits what's available for us.

As I continue to face living this life with cancer, I have a choice to make. Do I want to revert to the life I once had—one full of comfort, security, and predictability? Or do I embrace what God has allowed me to go through, and view it as an opportunity to experience new and exciting endeavors? Sure, the future is uncertain. There will be moments of great accomplishments and times of deep sadness.

But I have grown in this season for a purpose, and in the future I will continue to mature, as long as I embrace the process.

Exhausted Trust

The last several weeks have been really hard. It started off with not being able to do chemo because I got so sick 3 hours into it. Then I learned quickly about the havoc chemo had been wreaking on my teeth. I broke two molars while chewing on a piece of hard candy, which then delayed chemo because of infection.

Given I have been extremely blessed to have all my dental work covered, and I have got 75% of the work done within a week of breaking them...I have had a rough time.

On Tuesday I had 5 hours of dental work done while I was awake. I had a root canal done on my right side molar. Then they prepped that same molar for a crown. Then they went on to do all my right side fillings. By this time I had already gotten 6 numbing shots, but my root canal was beginning to throb. I was in pain and we still had to mold and fit a temporary crown. The dentist did a 7th numbing shot, but it didn't work. So I clenched on to the chair and had tears streaming out the side of my glasses and into my ears for the last 20 mins of that procedure. By the time I was done I was in a lot of pain and exhausted. I drove home, and slept for 3 hours.

That was 3 days ago and my cheek is still swollen from all the shots, my root canal is still sore, and I can barely move my jaw from it being open for so long. I have spent the last 3 days snugged up in bed or the couch on pain killers with an ice pack stuck to my face.

I have spent the last several nights tossing and turning. Not only because of my mouth pain but because that is when I find myself chatting with, and sometimes cursing at, God. In the dead of night is when my tears become prayers.

I am tired of having cancer. I am tired of not feeling healthy. I am tired of waking up every morning with aches and pains. I am tired of needles and all things doctor appointments. I am tired of being cautious of where I am and who I am around because my immune system sucks.

I hate not being able to "do my hair." I hate that no matter how many times people tell me I am beautiful, I don't always feel that way. I hate feeling like my life is on pause. I hate knowing that I may never have kids of my own. And I especially hate that all of these teeth problems have pushed back when chemo was supposed to be over.

I have been fighting this damn disease for nearly 2 years now. This journey has been hard from the beginning. Full of anger and doubt.  Next month, on April 6th, will be 2 years since I first heard the doctor say cancer.

I have 4 (maybe 5) more chemos, which means 8 (maybe 10) more weeks. I don't let myself get excited over that though because I know what it feels like to get excited and end up disappointed. I know what it feels like to hear the words in remission, only to hear the word recurrence shortly after. If these scans aren't clean after chemo is done, then there will be talk of a bone marrow transplant.

Gosh... I hope more than anything that those scans are clean. I lay here in bed at 1am typing this out...in tears. I am exhausted, and this is all so hard. Harder than I have ever let anyone see. I hold back tears in a lot of my conversations because I save my cursing and doubtful heart for my "dead of night" chats with God. I save it all for Him because I know ultimately I belong to the Lord.

I don't understand—nor do I think I will ever understand—why God is allowing me to walk this road. Oh, how I wish I didn't have to. If given the choice on what I wanted my life to look like, cancer would be at the bottom of the list. I've prayed time and time again, as well as had thousands of others joining me in prayer, for God to take this cup from me. But nonetheless, here I am. There's no denying it and there's no getting around it.

I have the choice to be miserable or joyful. Some may think it's not a choice, but I would challenge that stance. Though often times we cannot choose our circumstances, we can choose our emotions. I choose joy. I choose life. I choose to trust and love a God who is with me and for me.

Choosing to trust Him isn't easy and I have to turn my battle over to Him every day. I have to wake up every morning and tell myself that I can do it. More often than not, I have to "suck it up" and just keep fighting. It's a hard struggle, but I am discovering more of myself than I ever have. When I feel weak, I know that God is strong. He has not given me this disease, but for whatever reason, He has allowed it. For what the enemy is trying to use against me, God is transforming into something miraculous and good. I have hard days. I grieve. I cry. I don't want to leave the house, let alone get out of my bed. I experience pain and heartbreak.

But I DO have good days. Greats days in fact. Life is put into perspective when you are fighting for it. I laugh. I experience joy and hope. Certain things have changed in my life, but I have continued to hold on to things that bring me happiness. I have people around me, whether I know them or not, that just want to help. I have chosen to let them help.

And dammit, I won't give up! Because as soon as I resign myself, it's over. This is an epic battle and I am a soldier. I am on the front lines, and with my medical staff and The Man upstairs, I will crash through this diagnosis with guns blazing.

I have allowed myself to experience the rough days. After all, cancer is shitty. I give myself permission to be sad, angry, hurt, and devastated. Sometimes all it takes is someone to say, "It's okay to cry." However, once I have exhausted myself from tears, I pick myself up and keep going. On days that I don't feel well, I get out of the house. I don't isolate myself. I try to enjoy the world...spending time with friends and family, laughing, eating good food. I don't let my diagnosis run my life because I am not a cancer patient, rather a person who just so happens to have cancer.

Through all of this, God remains faithful. My plans and His are not in alignment, yet I know that His will for my life is far greater than I can imagine. For that reason, I continue to trust in His healing power, and know that He's got it all figured out!

Grief and Joy

My blog has been a wonderful outlet to keep people informed as to how things are going and what I am currently processing, but I realized I have found myself journaling a lot more instead. So I figured it is about time to let you all in on what is going on in the mind of Haley. ;)

Recently this devotional has continued to tug on my heart.

"Keep walking with Me along the path that I have chosen for you. Your desire to live close to Me is a delight to My heart. I could instantly grant you the spiritual riches you desire, but that is not My way for you. Together we will forge a pathway to high mountains. The journey is arduous at times, and you are weak. Someday you will dance light-footed on the high peaks; but for now, your walk is often plodding and heavy. All I require of you is to take the next step, clinging to My hand for strength and direction. Though the path is difficult and the scenery dull at the moment, there are sparking surprises just around the bend. Stay on the path I have selected for you. It is truly the path of Life."

I continue to have this unwanted fog linger in my life. I am extremely grateful for the few days here and there that my energy level is decent, and my body doesn't ache. And I am blessed to wake up each morning with breath in my lungs. In no way minimizing these miracles, but sometimes I think, "if only my body and health could be restored to full health."

As I have blogged once about fertility, or rather my loss of fertility, I thought it would be a long time before I wrote about it again. But some recent conversations sparked that deep burning desire within me to have children of my own. Although I am not in a place to start having kids anyways, it doesn't take away the ache that comes with the doctor saying, "Your ovaries are about as useful as if you didn't have any." Thanks doc...

But another reason my "fertility post" has continued to stay in my "drafts" is because I do not want my thoughts to come across as bitter or angry or envious. I don't want my original thoughts to leave those whom I love feeling guilty for the blessing of pregnancy and children. That is by far the last thing that I want. I am genuinely and deeply happy for those blessed with such a miraculous gift(s)!

Although coping with the fact that I could be barren—incapable of creating and sustaining life within me—is hard, it would be too easy to view everyone else with jealousy after being dealt a crappy hand. Bitterness is the easy way. I am choosing not to live in envy. No matter how natural those feelings may be, I am making the decision to choose joy. Joy in my own story, and joy for the stories that surround me.

Grief is an inexplicable thing. Often I find myself heartbroken, unhappy and afraid. I have talked about that HERE before. Some days are easier than others. But through grief, wisdom is born. Grief can last for weeks, months, and even years. However, once we work through the sorrowful moments, wisdom, knowledge, and perspective mature.

Seeing my dearest friends with their cute baby bumps truly warms my heart. They are adorable! As I have continued to move forward through grieving my fertility, I am able to be genuinely excited for those with the miracle of life growing within them. I love celebrating the pregnancies of my friends!! I enjoy feeling their baby kick, giving people gifts, and probably asking too many questions. God never ceases to amaze me. My heart is healing and my joy is overflowing.

God's blessings on each of our lives is unique. Not one of His gifts are cloned for multiple people. Sure, the gifts of pregnancy and parenthood are gifted to many, yet the blessing is in the child whom is given to us. And no child is the same.

I know I will be a mother some day. Of this I am truly certain. I am joyfully expectant for the journey in meeting my children, in whatever capacity that may be.

Until then, I am putting my trust in a God who knows my heart.

Longing For Health, But Thankful.

Well, we've come to the end of another year. 52 weeks of life, love, celebrations, and tears. 365 days of waking and sleeping, praying and hoping, living joyfully and struggling to make sense, all wrapped up in one 12-month package called 2013.

This last year has left me longing for good health again.

I can't wait for the day I get the call that my scans show no sign of cancer. And then on that same day getting to share the news with my loved ones. I can't wait for the happy tears, the hugs, the celebrating...

But this longing leaves me speechless and in tears for many reasons. One of the reasons being that I have come to the realization that my healing may not occur here on Earth. The realization that the call I previously talked about may be to inform my loved ones that I have gone to see Jesus.

When I look at that picture, I see all joy for me as I get to approach the gates of Heaven and give a run and jump hug into the arms of Jesus (at least that's how I picture it), but then I see a mixture of joy and sadness for those left behind.

While I continue to be more aware that cancer is what could easily take my life some day, I am also more aware that death is not the worst thing that can happen to me. It's actually quite the opposite. I mean, who wouldn't want to do a run and jump hug with Jesus?

Yet, the only thing that truly ties everything together right now is the simple statement, "I am thankful to be alive."

I woke up this morning, wiped the drool off my face, rolled over to an upright position and put my feet on the floor, and the first thing I did was thank God for another day. I thanked Him for sparing me from life-threatening hospital visits twice in the last 6 months. (#effpneumonia)

I can't help but continue to compare my experiences with Paul when he was in prison. He started longing for Jesus and the graduation to glory, yet God spared his life because it was better for the church's sake that he live and help them grow. (Philippians)

So instead of longing for Jesus, I have learned to embrace Him in the present. I have resolved that my work here is not done and I continue to face every day finding wisdom in the simple pleasures.

As I stood in the shower this morning with the hot water pressing into my bald head, I closed my eyes as the steam enveloped around me, and it made me think, "This is what it means to be alive."

I have those realizations often since having cancer. Sometimes when I am watching the rain, snow, or leaves fall outside or when I am curled up on the couch watching hours of Ellen Degeneres, I am struck by how lucky I am to be living through such moments. I am lucky that I get to feel the sun and rain on my skin and hear my friend's laughter every day.

And because of the things that God continues to press into my heart, even the moments of sitting in a chemo chair or fighting off infections in a hospital bed, are moments that I am proud to call myself a suffering servant.

Hi, My Name Is...

Haley. 22 years old. College Student. Christian. Woman. Daughter. Sister. Friend. This is who I was before my diagnosis. And, as I'm learning, this is who I still am.

9 months before first cancer diagnosis.
June 2011

Cancer does a lot to a person. Physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. Any degree of trauma, battle, life experience... these events change and mold us. Fighting against this disease is tough. Cancer has forever changed me. And now I'm on a path to rediscovering myself amidst fighting this disease.

Today, as I was going through my typical routine and getting ready for the day, I looked in the mirror. Surgery scars. Bald head. No eyebrows. Bags under my eyes. A noticeable amount of pounds lighter. I simply asked myself, "Who are you now?"

I am still Haley.

Pre-cancer, I was athletic, determined, fun, adventurous, and care-free. I enjoyed being a college student and athlete. I loved to cook, bake, and have friends over. I exercised. I was excited for the future. I dreamt about being the first college graduate in my family, and eventually getting married and starting a family (no timeline on that one!) Cancer was the furthest thing from my mind.

In my battle against this disease, I have began to identify as a cancer patient. I have identified as a soldier in the throes of a civil war, and fighting, quite literally, for my life. And in the midst of combat, I lost sight of who I was before the war began. I don't suspect that's uncommon. As someone fighting for their life, we tend not to focus on things such as what's on the dinner menu for the week, or what movie we'll see next, let alone complex questions of self identity. Warrior. Soldier. Fighter. Survivor. That's who I am. And again, I'm learning, that's who I will always be.

I find myself pondering more and more if I am the same woman before cancer as I am now? Do I still enjoy the same things? When I look into the mirror 20 months since original diagnosis, I notice someone different. Not only am I physically different, but I, Haley, am different. I am not who I once was. I have been molded by the fire. I have been broken, reshaped, and sculpted, and have the scars to prove it. Coming to terms with this thought scared me at first. Because if i am different, who am I now then? My name is the same. My face shows similarity from before, with an added tired appearance. But do I really know me?

As of this moment, I cannot confidently say I know all of who I am. But I'm beginning to understand that's alright. Life events change us. And if we don't change with the seasons, we might get buried in the past. Evolving, changing, and progressing into the future is healthy. As I am rediscovering myself, I know for certain that my foundation remains. My soul is untouched. I am still Haley: College Student. Christian. Woman. Daughter. Sister. Friend. But because of this season of torrential downpours, I am now more than that. I am more sensitive, aware, and compassionate. I am more braver and stronger than I ever thought I could be. A new passion for sharing my story and helping others has been birthed inside of me. As I continue to battle through the fog and haze of the battlefield, I find that I still love to cook and bake. I am still determined, adventurous, and fun. I still enjoy spending time with friends.

If it weren't for this diagnosis, I would not live the way I am living today. I am living boldly and courageously. I am soaking up every moment, no matter how big or small. I value and appreciate my friends and family more than I ever had before, for they all have still faithfully stood beside me when they could have easily jumped onto the next train. My gratitude towards my One, True God is greater and far more vast than it was many, many months again. I woke up today with breath in my lungs and for that I am immensely thankful.

Though I'm sure there will be moments where I have to recheck myself and shake my own hand in introduction, I can undoubtedly count on the identity I have in Christ. He has filled me with a spirit of love, power, and wisdom. I am His daughter and He is my friend. Through Him, I can do all things. Through Him, I have hope and a future. If my identity lies in the Lord my God, I will never be lost. So during these times of rediscovery, I cling to the knowledge that I am His creation and that my identity can always be found in Him.

When His Light Shines Through

I came to a coffee shop this morning to get some homework done, yet here I am...blogging. I think it's about time that I write something on here anyways.

It has been just over a week since I found out that I need more chemotherapy than originally planned, plus adding another kind, and then hearing the news that at the end of these 16 rounds–it still might not be enough, which is where a bone marrow transplant would be in the talks again.

How do you plan for life beyond cancer when the journey just keeps getting longer and longer? How do I trust Him that this won't be the one road I walk on the rest of my life?

I feel like I am stuck in this little room with a window. This window feels like it is stopping me from planning ahead. It is stopping me from thinking that there is even a life to plan for beyond this all.

Most days, the sun is shining through the window, but many days a thick fog rolls in and blocks the sun and blocks my view of life outside of cancer.

This fog represents my days of questions and doubts.
This fog represents my pain and discomfort.
This fog represents my confusion.

The question, "Why?" is asked more throughout my day than any other question, but I need to remember His answer to that question is probably something beyond my earthly comprehension; that I can't smell the color nine.

I can't expect Him to answer...in fact I can't expect Him to do anything. I can't put my hope in any kind of answered or unanswered prayer. My hope has to be put in Jesus Christ; that He was, He is, He will always be.

My hope has to be put in the fact that the fog isn't going to last long before the sun start shining through the thick darkness. HE is going to shine through.

He is near in the shouts and sorrow and pain. His promise is still true. I have made you. I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you (Isaiah 46:4). 

So regardless of my questions and doubts. My pain and discomfort. My confusion. He is the answer. He is the hope. He is everything.

I need to grasp tight to this truth when the fog rolls in because it is a chance to know Him in the suffering. He has forever changed me, and I need to celebrate that.

Celebrate the depth the question "why?" has created in my faith.
Celebrate the times when the sun shines through the fog.
Celebrate Him and how He has never left my side and never will.

There is a life beyond the window....there is a life beyond cancer.

I Finally Miss It...

Although the ongoing joke is that #baldissexy and the list of why 'bald is better' continues to grow...it hasn't been until recently that I realized how much I miss my hair.

I mean, sure...there are SO many things that I love about not having hair. And I am completely serious about that. I don't miss my hair shedding on everything, especially my clothes. I love the extra time I get to sleep because I know my showers are quick, and I don't have to factor in the time it takes to do my hair. I find the feeling of the water pressure in the shower on my bald head to be like therapy. Plus... it is so much easier throwing on a hat!

But the thing that has most triggered my want for hair was getting ready for a wedding this last weekend. People were using curling irons all around me. Trying to figure out if they wanted to wear their hair up or down. Bobby pins, hair spray, braids, hair ties, hair dryers.

All of these things make me miss the feeling of femininity. I miss having to make the decision of curly or straight. I miss running my fingers through my hair in the shower. I miss braids and bobby pins and hair dryers.

And all of these things make me want this cancer journey to be over that much sooner. It has been almost 19 months since I was originally diagnosed, yet it feels like 5 years.

I don't even remember what it feels like to not have cancer anymore.

People ask me how I am feeling, and I almost always respond pretty good or fine. But that is because the constant nausea and extreme fatigue have become normal to me. If I am not feeling those things, I feel like something is wrong.

Healthy feels like lightyears away.

I am heading into round 8 of chemo this week, and more than anything... I wish it were my last. As of now, we have chemo planned out until December 6th (10th round), but I have scans in a couple weeks that will determine if the minimum 10 rounds is going to be enough. I pray and plead to God that it is.

And if it isn't...the only thing I can do is keep getting out of bed, keep choosing joy, and keep trusting God...

All while continuing to wake up and throw on a hat.

Cancer and College: It's hard work!

Staying in college while battling cancer is hard work.

We are only coming up on the 4th week, and I have already had many times that I felt like I was in way over my head, but then I also couldn't imagine not having work to keep my mind off things.

I am currently only taking 12 credits (four classes) and am not at a social work internship placement this semester. Which means I have 3 classes on Tu/Th and don't have classes on Mondays or Fridays, with only 1 night class on Wednesday

I do have some advice for fellow George Fox-ers though... Please don't tell me that you are jealous of my schedule. I know that you have not meant that statement in any demeaning way, but you do realize the reason my schedule is set up like that is because I have have cancer, right?

Sure, I have less classes than you.
Sure, I have less homework than you.
But I have a lot less more energy and time to do it than you.

I sit at the hospital every other Friday for anywhere from 5-10 hours doing chemotherapy, which is followed by 3-5 days of being unable to eat anything or get out of bed or off the couch.

This isn't directed at any one person because I have heard it many, many times from several different people. I know that no one's intentions are in the wrong place, but that is probably one thing I have had a hard time hearing...

I would gladly trade someone for their 16 credits, internship, and job for 12 credits and cancer. Any takers? ;)

Well now that I have that off my chest...

As you all know, we have set up our Etsy store and that has been taking off well! And most recently, we have started an EFF Cancer Movement facebook page! Now that has REALLY blown up! It has been just barely over 24 hours and we only need a little less than 150 more likes to reach a thousand!

I honestly could not be more blessed by the support of all of you in making this movement continue to spread! The money from these shirts are going straight to helping subsidize the medicals bills that I have  piling up, and has made things a lot easier for me!

I have had a lot of hard days lately with just being exhausted and wanting this all to be over. I have been battling cancer for quite some time now, and it really does start to take a toll on me emotionally, physically, and spiritually.

I had someone the other day message me asking how I can still believe in a God that gave me cancer.

I know that God is not the one who gave me cancer because the God that I know cares for me and loves me. He weeps alongside of me, and holds my hand while I walk through this.

I continue to trust in Him and refuse to worry for He is my Strength and my Song. Because He is my Strength, He empowers me to handle every task as it comes. Because He is my Song, He gives me joy as I work alongside Him.

I know that He has a vision for my life, whether that is here on this Earth or in Heaven. He wants me safe and held, and I trust that His plan for my life is much greater than I could ever imagine.

So today, as I sit here still unsure of what this journey holds for me, I put my trust in Jesus, and promise to always give Him glory. Because this story of mine is not a testament of my own strength. It is a story that testifies God's strength given to those who need it and ask.

Shaving Heads and Eff Cancer

Wow, it has been awhile since I have posted on my blog, but I wanted to thank you all for your continued love and support! As this cancer journey continues to be a rough one, I have been extremely blessed to have the support of my friends and family during this all.

For a short little update, I just finished my 4th round of chemo last week and have upcoming scans later this week. Be praying that this treatment is showing improvement! I will also be starting school this upcoming Tuesday, so another prayer request is for an unfathomable amount of energy to be able to continue going to classes, doing treatment, and just enjoying life as a college student. I have recently moved into a new house (many people have been asking about this), that was just a deal that I would be a fool not to take. The house is owned by two of my good friends, and living here will be a "safe haven" for me, as well as take some stress off my back financially.

Another thing that you might have missed somehow... I shaved my head right before my hair started falling out. And in order to make this be a milestone in my journey that I will remember... I had a party!! My friend Megan documented it all and made this beautiful video that you should check out!!

http://vimeo.com/70597775

But in fun, big news regarding the #effcancermovement2013 that I shared about in a past post...We jumped from sales of the original 20 shirts to 440 sold shirts in just 4 months! These shirts have mainly just been spread by word of mouth through facebook, instagram, conversations when wearing it, etc.

This has shot way past what we could have ever imagined to happen with these shirts, but we are extremely grateful for all those who have helped us out in getting here.

That being said....

I am extremely excited to announce the opening of our Eff Cancer Etsy shop!!!

We decided that we wanted to take it up a step in sales in a more sustainable way, and an Etsy shop seemed like the perfect idea! (we already feel less stressed!)

Something we have realized is that everyone has been affected by cancer in some way, and these t-shirts are a great way to show their support. We are happy to supply the shirts whether or not they are specifically buying one to support me, or if it is for someone they know and love.

The majority of the profit still goes towards helping me with my growing medical expenses as I continue treatments and all the little things continue to add up. 

So please! Join the movement! Spread the word about our shop!

www.etsy.com/shop/effcancermovement

(I even added a little Etsy Badge at the top of my right side toolbar that goes directly to the Etsy account!)

We also have another fun something related to the #effcancermovement2013 that will happen at the beginning of October, so be watching for it! 

Thank you all for your continued prayers. They truly mean a lot. 

Some Updates. Some Thoughts.

It's been awhile since I have wrote on here.
Mainly because I don't know where to start.

As many of you know, I changed to a more aggressive treatment plan at the beginning of July. This decision was unplanned and quick. After talking to a friend of mine about my doctor's treatment plans for me, she asked if I would consider getting a second opinion from her doctor. And within 2 days, I got that second opinion. The treatment I was doing before was proving not to be successful, so we decided to cut out a couple steps in my actual plan to get where I am now.

I started a chemotherapy known as R-CHOP. I go in once every two weeks for a long 8 hours. Once we do several rounds of this, we will do scans to see if there is any progress. If there is, then praise the Lord that we have found something that is working! If not, we will begin our preparations for a bone marrow transplant.

This new chemo has proven to definitely be more aggressive. After my first round, I slept for an uncountable amount of hours during the three days following, and had a hard time eating anything but mashed potatoes for 2 weeks. I just had my second round yesterday, and some things are opposite! Some good news is that we found a nausea med that is working better than others, but it is $150 a pill! The doctors have been kind enough to keep giving me "samples" of this med, which has allowed me to feel a bit better than before.

As for the opposite side effect though, I am beginning to experience insomnia. Last night I slept from about 10pm-12am and then 2am-4am. And I have now been awake ever since other than some extremely short cat naps here and there. My body is aching with exhaustion.

When I woke up for the third time at 4am, I was exhausted and upset. I wanted to sleep. It was so silent and I laid there in the dark and soon began crying. Before I was so upset that I was always sleeping, and now I am upset that I can't sleep!

Although not sleeping is definitely not ideal, I can't help but be thankful for the time I got to spend in solitude with Christ. After realizing that I wasn't going to fall asleep, I turned on some worship.

Through lyrics, I was reminded that He promises us that we are not alone.

He is there to bring healing to the hurting.
He is there to bring comfort to the worried.
He is there to turn my mourning into dancing.

As I spring forward to what tomorrow holds for me, I was reminded that although I may be weak, His Spirit is strong in me. And although my flesh my fail, He never will.

Tomorrow evening I will be getting branded by the "cancer stamp" if you will. Because my hair has continually starting thinning a lot more than usual and today my head has started feeling a bit tingly, I will be shaving my head.

I have avoided thinking/talking about it because although I have been battling cancer on and off for a year and a half now, I have not had to deal with people knowing unless I told them.

With a picc line in my arm, and no hair on my head... I won't have to tell anyone. This is a big step in my journey and I am blessed to have a huge group of people to be here to join me in making this a milestone in my journey.

I am nervous and definitely not looking forward to tomorrow, but I continue to tell myself these four things.

1. God is good.
2. I am not alone in this.
3. This is another step to health.
4. #baldissexy

Purpose in the Pain

Nausea from treatment had been hitting me pretty hard lately, so when I got really sick the other night, it didn't really seem like a big deal.

Then I woke up the next morning with a weirdly tight chest and it hurt to take deep breaths, but last time this happened it was because I had a cold (which I have now too), and I was throwing up a lot. So I just figured it was because of that.

Side note: If you ever have a hard time breathing, don't be stubborn or assume anything like me. Go to the doctors.

Then the following morning when I took a shower and that made it harder to breath and I got dizzy, I knew something was not right.

When I got to ER they instantly started poking and prodding me with needles and swabs. Then what seemed like hours later, I was left waiting for results with an IV and an oxygen breathing thing.

The results came back as an infection that had spread into my lungs.
*switch antibiotics hooked up to iv*
*shot in the arm*

Okay. Not Bad. Treatable.

Then they found some blood clotting in my lungs.
*insert another IV here*
*two shots in the stomach*

Again. Not too bad. Treatable. 

I sat there for the next 8 hours with two IVs and my oxygen breathing thing, unable to fully lay down because that hurt my chest and made it hard to breath.

Then around 7pm the doctors decided that I was going to be on a 2 hour wait and watch period before I could go home so they could make sure that my breathing was better, and that my temperature was back to normal.

All of a sudden I was getting really hot. My chest started to have sharp pains. It was hard to breath. The machine hooked up to me started beeping.

Then all I remember next was waking up several hours later.

My doctors explained that I went into septic shock because my picc line was infected and it had gotten into my bloodstream (something I have had my doctors test before because I had a visible rash, but they came back negative).

Then they began to explain how most people with this bad of an infection do not make it out of septic shock without any worse problems, or even alive.

"You are quite the fighter, young missy" is what they kept saying to me over and over.

I walk away from this experience not prideful of my strength, but humbled by the knowledge that the Lord is not done with me yet.

With all of the pain and nausea from treatments, I am reminded daily that this is not our Home, and have even thought about the fact that Home could be so accessible to me if I ever decided to discontinue treatments (just so you know: I have never intended to stop treatments, and would never do that).

When I see Christ in Heaven, I want to cross the finish line with no short cuts. Standing fully unashamed, knowing that I have endured all for His name sake.

I have been doing a study with a friend through Philippians, and for Paul, departing this life was easier and preferable. He knew that death was not defeat, but rather a graduation to glory. But he resolved that God would keep him aline since it was better for the church's sake that he live on to help them grow.

I believe that my life, even a life with pain that leaves me tears and scary incidents that leave me unconscious, can bring glory to God and growth to His bride.

I have a purpose. A great one. And in sickness and in health, I can live that purpose out:

"Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind, and love your neighbor as yourself." Luke 10:27.

Scattered Emotions

Treatment this time around has been extremely rough, leaving me with an intolerable amount of throbbing pain throughout my whole body most days.

I have been pretty high functioning but the sad reality is that it is only because the pain is becoming normal for me. Sometimes I even forget how much I am hurting until someone asks me about it, which is not necessarily a good thing.

I get so used to the pain throughout the day, my body tends to completely shut down at night; which means I have many nights spent in tears because of agonizing pain.

My mentality this time around is so different because pain really gets to my head. My last treatments left me nauseated, which meant I couldn't eat a whole lot. These treatments leave me feeling trapped and helpless. I would take nausea over pain any day.

Something else I have realized this time around is that I, the patient, am just the tip of the iceberg. I have become more aware of the many people my diagnosis has affected in ways big and small. Not only is everyone around me facing the impact of the disease and the disruption of daily life, but also the strain of emotional support.

Cancer really takes its toll, and it's cumulative. It's not just a giant shock on the day of diagnosis, but a daily fight against the side effects of treatment and emotional stability. There are some days that are easier than others, but then there are days when I want nothing more than to just give up.

I don't mean for this to be another blog about how hard this has been, but this is the part of the storm that I am in. Yes, it helps to have honest conversation with people. Yes, it helps to laugh. Yes, it helps to be distracted. But at the end of the day, I still have cancer.

So many people ask if there is anything they can do for me or if there is anything I need and I wish more than anything I had an answer. I am just as clueless as you all as to what will help me.

I got an assignment the other day that had the question, "If you were to die within the next year, what would your obituary say?

This really threw me into an emotional roller coaster because I had already been thinking about the idea of cancer and dying (in a completely non-morbid sense).

What if cancer is what eventually ends up killing me? 

This thought has crossed my mind more than it should, and what a scary thought it is. I would like to assure you that I am choosing not to live my life in fear though.

I would also like to make it clear to everyone that I am not dying, and I don't have that mindset at all. But the reality is that we aren't guaranteed anything in life, so I can only hope and pray that remission is in my near future.

All I can do now is continue to find strength in the roots that I have set deep in Christ, and through the people I allow to love me through this.

We can do hard things.
We can face diagnosis.
We can withstand the anxiety.  
We can manage the treatment.
We may not want to do it
But we can.

#effcancermovement2013

I just wanted to let you guys know about something that my friend, Rachel Morell, surprised me with yesterday! Sidenote: On top of doing screen-printing, she also has awesome photography businesses, Fawn and Feather and Jonathan David Photography that you should check out!!

But anyways! Yesterday as I was sitting at a coffee shop I suddenly got tagged in a facebook post saying that Rachel was selling Eff Cancer shirts, but she only had 20 so they were basically on a first come, first serve.

I don't think we realized how big of a support you guys would be on this surprise endeavor, so we decided to go widespread with it! After posting something on facebook, within a couple hours we already had about 30 more shirt orders!

So now we are officially opening up the order to anyone and are selling "Eff Cancer #suckitcancer #seriously" t-shirts for $20 each!!

Here is the design we are using!! 

And the next best thing is.... There are color options!!!!

Let me clarify the colors for you. In order starting from the top left:
Purple with white.
Maroon with white.
Pink with white.
Turquoise with white.
Salmon with turquoise.
Fuchsia with turquoise.
Lime with white.

And then the best thing after that is... We are willing to mail you shirts if you don't live here! All that we ask is that you add $5. As soon as we receive your payment, we will mail you the shirt!

All that being said, we are finalizing this next order soon-ish so if you want a shirt—let me know! 

What I need to know is the color and size that you want, and if you don't live near here, I will get you the information as to where to send the money!!

Thank you to everyone who has already supported me in this rapid moving little fundraiser, and I look forward to hearing from you!

By the way, all of the profit is going towards helping me pay for treatments/medical bills/gas to appointments, etc... So it is very much appreciated!!! :) 

A Groaning Hallelujah

People in passing ask how I'm doing. I know that most of them actually want to know, but most of them would not be ready for me to break down or only say cuss words.

So instead of trying to figure out who could... I simply say with a smile, "I am doing well. How about you?!"

But if you want me to be honest... I am not doing well.

I feel.... Unhappy. Heartbroken. Afraid.

Time and time again I question why God has allowed this to happen in my life. Why has my cancer relapsed 3 times? Why have I had to have 4 surgeries in a year? Why can't this just go away? Am I not learning what You want me to learn?

It's unfair. I don't know why I am having to continue walking this path. It doesn't make sense at all, and no amount of preaching will change that or completely ease my pain. But what I do know is that by hiding my emotions and filling my void with unhealthy avenues will only hurt me more in the long run. Not allowing myself the freedom to feel what I am feeling will only restrict the blessings that God has in store for me on this journey.

I am not saying all of this so that you will shower me with encouragement in hopes that it will pick up my spirits, and I am not saying this because the encouragement you have provided already is not working. I am saying this because I believe that prayer is powerful, and I can honestly feel it moving. I am saying this because your encouragement has already done wonders for me and that it keeps me going on most days.

I am blessed to be surrounded by the ministry of presence.

Even when I build walls to keep people out, I have people in my life that are willing to break down those walls just so that they can sit in the darkness with me. No words needed.

Sometimes I just need to talk. Cry. Laugh. Cuss. Scream. And it is all of you that have given me the space to do that.

I have had so many wise friends journeying right alongside of me, giving me words that seem like a little shot of hope and peace.

"I have come to believe that the faith part of this whole thing is believing that God is good even when it feels like that might not be true and the whole coping part of this whole process is to find joy along the way."

I have started a gratitude journal. Every day I am writing down 5-10, simple or meaningful, significant or random, things that I am thankful for. Here's a peek into some of them from the last 3 days:

• My nephew's giggles.
• A car that gets me from point A to point B.
• My turtle pillow pet.
• Honest conversations with friends.
• A comfortable pillow and blanket to curl up on the couch with to end the day.
• Honeycrisp apples. 
• Sitting on the floor with a sweet friend in a safe place.
• Laughter.

I am choosing to find joy in the small things, but also allowing myself the freedom to lament. I want to be honest with God and I want to be honest with all of you.

"Lamentation when we are hurting...this is how we grieve...this is how we feel. We bleed, we cry, we hurt, we seek—bewildered, we grit our teeth...and we end in a groaning Hallelujah."

So here I am. Grieving, crying, hurting, but seeking His truth with a groaning Hallelujah.

Praising God, for He does not silence our limit.

A Fearful Milestone

Finding out on November 15th that I was in complete remission was probably one of the most exhilarating days of my life. 

In exactly a week I will be able to declare that I am in 4 months remission! I wake up every morning and the first thing I do is thank God for this new breath of life that He has given me. I have been given an understanding of God's constancy through life's inconsistency that helps me appreciate and utilize the time He does give me.

I have spent most of the last year literally fighting for my life, and I realize more than ever that I cannot take any moment for granted. 

Every blessing.

Every hardship.

Every emotion.

They are all real, and they are all life-giving. So if this is true, I cannot dispel this huge knot in my stomach that happens every time I think about being 4 months in remission.

This upcoming appointment has left me with bounds of anxiety; anxiety that has even brought me to tears at times.

On September 19th, four days after celebrating my 4 month remission mark the first time, I had my scans that informed me that the cancer had returned.

I am not saying that I think these scans are going to be bad, but there is so much fear that comes with this milestone. 

I don't think I have the right words to say other than I am putting all of my anxiety, fears, and emotions into the hands of a God that I know loves me. 

Through the Eyes of a Child

"I had a normal childhood," is something I always used to say.

Through my eyes, normal was... 

–Wearing oversized clothes because that is what the local Helping Hand had.
–Getting $5 at the Dollar Store for Christmas shopping.
–Smelling like cigarette smoke when I got to school.

I didn't know that other parents were so involved.

Through my eyes, normal was...

–Having to split holidays between my parent's families.
–Getting rides home from friends and coaches after every sports practice, game, or tournament.
–Only having contact with my dad through letters for 8.5 years because he was in prison.

I never understood as a child that the household I lived in was unsafe.

Through my eyes, normal was...

–Having to go outside to play when my mom's friends came over.
–Having my parents stay awake for days and days, only to be followed by crashing for days and days.
–Never talking with friends about what happened at home.

I was just the kid who thought everything was alright.

Through my eyes, normal was...

–Always having to go over to friend's houses to shower or fill up water jugs because our water was shut off once again.
–Getting in trouble when a teacher of mine asked my mom if something was wrong at home because I never smiled or laughed.
–Having my older sister play a better mom than my own.

I didn't know until recently that several people I knew called CPS.

Through my eyes, normal was...

–Getting asked at school, "Hey! Wasn't your dad the one who tore the cross off the church and then punched a cop?"
–Watching my high step dad attack my mom because she "had demons inside her"
–Having the police surround my house in the middle of night, being told to get back in bed, followed by the door being broke down, my step-dad pepper sprayed, and hauled off to prison.
–Throwing drug paraphernalia that I found around the house into the sticker bushes because I knew it was something bad.

Wasn't this what every home was like?

Just because the word proud is something I never heard from my parents, should not exclude my own ability to be proud of how far I have come.

I have this friend that grew up in a Christian home, had all the support you could imagine from her family, friends, church, school, etc, got everything she ever wanted or needed...

She just passed away from heroin overdose.

If I didn't have people in high school challenging me to straighten out my life, statistically speaking, that easily could have been me... Should have been me.

I have learned more than ever that so much redemption can come from just surrounding yourself with good people.

I know for a fact that I would not be where I am at today without the amazing support system that I have, and without a God who has woven himself through my story before I even knew Him. I thank the Lord daily for giving me the strength to gracefully let go of the things I did not need in my life.

Revisiting my past has brought up so many emotions.
Emotions that I didn't even know I had.

I have written in past blogs about how the probability of ever having my own children is very slim and that it has left me heartbroken, but my emotions were different this time.

I found myself relieved.

What if I mess up?
What if my addictive tendencies kick back in?
What if I am unable to give my child a different home than the one I grew up in?

But then I remember...

Even amidst all of the troubles, mistakes, and garbage in my life, there is a God who sees and cares deeply. I trust that He has a vision of me in a safe place.

The hand of my God is upon me for good. 

Scars: When You Realize How Much They Mean

Last night as I sat in the living room of my "Fox family's" home, I was in conversation with an 8 year old about scars. He saw a couple different scars on my knees and asked what they were from and then continued on to show me his scars and their stories. 

After sitting there and examining my legs for scars, he looked further up my leg and saw a small scar on my upper thigh (I was in running shorts because I had worked out before coming over.) He asked about that one, and I said it was from a surgery where they had inserted a small tube to drain fluids.

He looked up at me with a somewhat worrisome look and said, "Is that a cancer surgery scar?" I nodded, and he asked with another unsettling look, "Did it hurt?"

I began to explain to him that when I had my 3 different surgeries that they would put me to sleep, and I would not feel anything, and then after I woke up I had medicine that helped with the pain.

He then asked if he could see all of my scars. I lifted up my shorts just a little bit further and showed him my 4(ish) inch scar where the doctors had cut through my muscles and nerves to remove several lymph nodes when the cancer had returned for a second time.

He then began to re-examine his scars and said to me, "I like that your scars have a story."

I was amazed at what I had just heard come out of this 8-year-old's mouth. I just recently bought a tankini bathing suit with shorts bottoms because although all of the scars on my stomach and leg were patched up by a plastic surgeon and hardly look like surgery scars, I don't like my scars showing. 

I can honestly say that I have never found my scars to be "beautiful" like many people say about their own.  The bottom line is that our scars can speak volumes about our lives. Factually, they evidence life's traumas. 

I think about when I was growing up and every time I got a scar, it was just another "badge of courage" that I got to show off to my friends. I would show them to everyone I knew, and my story got more exciting the more I told it. Why don't have this same mentality anymore? Why have I become so ashamed of these scars?

My scars are evidence of how my medical team had applied their skills and talent to rid my body of cancer. They have created a physical sign healing and salvation within my story. 

I was in conversation with a friend not too long ago when she asked to see my scars and at first I almost said no, but then began to roll up my shirt and pant leg to show her. She saw the the reluctance on my face, and asked if she share something. 

She began to explain to me more about the power behind the scars of our bodies simply because of the way that Jesus handled His scars. She pulled out her Bible and opened up to Luke. 

"Why are you frightened?" he asked. "Why are your hearts filled with doubt? Look at my hands. Look at my feet. You can see it's really me. Touch me and make sure that I am not a ghost, because ghosts don't have bodies, as you see that I do. As he spoke, he showed them his hands and his feet." Luke 24:38-40. 

Right then is when I realized that scars are powerful; even my own. Jesus used His scars to reassure the people around Him of salvation, healing, and His return.

I am standing here today, alive and healthy, with the ability to show you the scars that saved my life. 

"Children show scars like medals... A scar is what happens when the word is made flesh." Leonard Cohen. 

Birthday Shenanigans

Tomorrow is my birthday and after spending most of year 20 battling cancer, I would like to say that my view on birthdays has drastically changed.

I used to dread birthdays because that just meant that I was growing another year older to having to get a real job and start a real life.

Another cancer patient once told me, "I don't know why people get all crazy about birthdays because the only alternative is not having one... And we don't want that!"

Birthdays have always seemed to be about the number; about how old you're turning. This year I am turning 21, so I am not saying that this birthday isn't about the number because this is a milestone birthday, but there is so much more than that.

I don't worry about the years anymore. If there is anything that I have learned from my cancer battle, it's that life really is short. People say that all the time, and I used to be the one that commented back with the smart-alec remark of, "Well it's technically the longest thing you'll ever experience..."

After experiencing something that could have very well taken my life, I am just happy to be here. Happy to have friends and family that I love and that love me. Happy to have a fulfilling college experience. Just plain happy to alive and well.

I have learned that our relationship with tomorrow drives our emotions and actions today. As I go into tomorrow another year older, I am thankful, excited, and hopeful for many more birthdays. Having traveled the cancer patient path of uncertainty about how many more birthday I would get to celebrate, I have a feeling that each one will become more meaningful.

 I also will always carry the fear that my cancer may come back and once again I will be challenged with how many birthdays I have ahead of me. But that could be a whole other blog.

I am just truly blessed to have been given the chance to live another year.

So what am I doing for my birthday tomorrow?

Celebrating life.
Celebrating healthiness.
Celebrating this new year that the Lord has blessed me with.

The more birthdays I have, the more time I have to enjoy my friends and family and to do the things that have meaning for myself and others.

Every year is a step forward away from the year I was fighting for my life.

It's A New Year

It's New Years Eve and I am at homesnuggling on the couch with my 6-week-old nephew, and watching Impractical Jokers.

Man, what a year it has been.

This year has been one of the most challenging, yet most rewarding years of my life. 

I have learned what it means to lament, to cry out to God in anguish, yet know that He is still there right beside me no matter what I am feeling.

I have learned about what it means to have true friends; friends that love me and know how to show their support for me.

I have learned what it means to be vulnerable. My story may be broken, but there is so much beauty that has come from the ashes.

Although I had battled cancer for almost 3/4 of 2012, I cannot be more thankful for the tremendous amount of growth that has taken place during those long months of tears, pain, and crud.

I gained friendships that I may not have otherwise.

I helped a dear friend accept Jesus into her life before passing away.

I was able to travel overseas and experience the Romanian and Moldovan cultures that ruined my life in the best way possible.

And even after many sleepless nights and a huge amount of stress, I finished my school year and am still on track to graduate on time.

I am grateful for a God who provided me with everything I needed in order to make it through the year. 

He provided me with rest when I was weary.

He overwhelmed me with peace when I was anxious.

He held me up against His chest even when the only thing I could do was pound on it with anger.

I can only pray as I enter into the new year that I continue to be completely overwhelmed by His presence in my life.

I don't think I've ever been more excited about the start of a new year because I know it will be another year of growth and becoming.