#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.