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.

Not Always Easy

Never in my life would I ever think that age 20 I would be reading blogs, watching videos, and talking to others about how women deal with infertility.

Just a couple weeks ago my doctors informed me that it would be a miracle if I ever had children of my own due to the mass amount of treatments that were targeted to that area of my body.

It has definitely taken me a lot of processing and conversations to allow me to fully grasp the idea that I will have to tell my future husband that kids of our own may not be a possibility.

I write this with tears in my eyes because having children is something that I have always dreamed about, and the idea of it maybe never happening is heartbreaking.

There are so many people around me that are trying to get pregnant, and it breaks my heart because there is a huge possibility that will be me someday.

Then there are so many people around me having children, whom I am unbelievably happy and excited for, but holding those babies puts a bigger want in my heart. But the one thing that blesses me about these babies is that many of them have come after years of trying. That just proves to me that God really does do thing in his own timing.

I think God has given me a heart that loves deeply and truly. Whether or not I am able to have my own children someday will not hinder my ability to become a mom.

If there is something I have learned about my own story, it's that there can be so much redemption in someone's life when they become surrounded by positive people.

I have tried to say that this news has been a lot easier since having children is not something that is in my near future, but having it be something that is constantly coming up in conversation puts it on my mind. This all just makes me think of a friend who was told that she would not be able to have her children after chemo, radiation, and a stem cell transplant... And she is now on her third. She has helped me remember that doctor's 0% could easily be God's 100%.

I don't know what the journey to motherhood will look like for me, but I am putting my trust in a God who knows my heart.