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6 Requirements of My Husband

It’s always been my hearts desire to have a family- to fall in love, get married and have children. I have spent years imagining what my husband would be like, what he would look like, what his career would be, his hobbies and personality traits. I have prayed for him, that the Lord be crafting together a man specially designed for me and that he be equipped with certain characteristics. It’s the prayer that all us women pray: “Lord, I pray that he is kind, thoughtful, smart and generous. I pray that he can always make me laugh and that we never run out of things to talk about. I pray that he is my best friend, travel buddy, and lights up at the thought of watching documentaries. Let him treat me with the utmost respect and love me as Christ loved the church. Allow him to be extra fine, chocolaty and attractive. In Jesus Name I pray, Amen.”

Breast Cancer has altered this prayer somewhat. I’m realizing just how amazing my husband would have to be to handle all of this cancer, sickle cell goodness. His tolerance for all things medical is a must, and his compassion level must be a 10. The following are a list of things that I am now praying for, criteria that my husband must meet.

He must not mind a deformed boob.

Bonus points if he actually prefers it! Does that exist? Anywho, in its current state my right breast is one large wound. It has no skin and is bloody and gross. I have to change my wound dressing everyday and while you can make out what it is, its’s not the most attractive breast you’ve ever seen. Once the wound has healed, I’ll be eligible for surgery, in which I will get both breast removed. So if he is a breast man, this is not going to go well for him. I need a man who doesn’t care if they’re dented, scared, or missing a nipple. I need a man who despite this will still look at me like the sexy vibrant and exciting women that I am. May he come home at night still craving the cleavage I have left!

He must be okay with hospitals.

My husband must be okay with the occasional hospital stay. Now, visiting a loved one in the hospital is very different than being a care provider and staying with someone in the hospital. My husband will find himself responsible for making sure I don’t send embarrassing text messages while on morphine, keeping track of all medications given, advocacy work (which may include telling a doctor off), delivering food cravings to said patient, selecting riveting TV movies to fall asleep to, be the main source of contact for our family, friends, and employers/employees, act as a nurse when they’re nowhere to be found, and attempt to sleep in semi comfortable recliner chairs while machines beep in your ear. I can’t control when I may be ill, so he must be okay with the possibility of spending a major holiday on the inside, or missing the Mavericks game which he bought tickets for months ago. Sigh. Now it’s, not all downhill! I typically have an unlimited supply of graham crackers while in the hospital, which I’m more than willing to provide you with. Just call me the graham cracker plug.

He must not be attached to hair.

Chemotherapy and radiation has taken my hair twice now. While it’s currently attempting to grow back now, I’m never certain how long that will last. I’m very bald and he is going to have to be okay with any hairstyle I bring to the table. Whether I’m bald, have short hair, choose a wig or am able to grow long locs, he will have to accept me for me. Now, as a black women I’m not asking for anything out of the ordinary as we stay changing our hairstyles. I just ask that he comes knowing that “no hair, don’t care” is always an option. Who knows, maybe we will be balddies together! Sexy.

He must have an understanding for the need to nap.

I don’t plan on ending my love affair with naps, despite our committed relationship. I. Must. Sleep. While I forsee having to take naps less as my healing progresses, I don’t anticipating living life without it. I take emense joy and pleasure in my Sabbath Hour everyday, and pray my husband won’t mind spending a little downtime with me. Do I like to turn up? Heck yes! I love me some adventure time! Just give me a heads up so I, like a toddler, can plan my nap accordingly and be ready to go!

He must be flexible with the idea of parenting.

I have always wanted children. I desire to experience pregnancy, birth, parenthood- the whole nine yards. I went to see a fertility doctor when I was first diagnosed with cancer. My doctor wanted me to know my fertility options being that chemo can cause infertility. I was told by the specialist that with cancer and sickle cell combined, I have little chance at getting pregnant. That even when I beat the cancer I should wait five years before getting pregnant. He suggested that I consider freezing my eggs for in vetro fertilization, a possible surrogate or adoption as possible avenues. I was crushed. Then I was reminded that God has the final say in this matter too. I didn’t freeze my eggs; it felt like a decision that I wanted to do with my husband. I’m open to God’s miracles, including adoption. My husband must understand this and be onboard for it. Our family could look unconventional, and he must love it all the same!

He must have faith,

This is of utmost importance to me. He is required to believe in my complete and total healing. I need him to remain unwavering in this, not only for me but for himself. This is for the benefit of our peace, joy and hope in the forward progression of our lives, marriage and family. I’ll need the occasional reminder of just who God is, when I’m in the thick of medical storms. He will too and I pray that our faith is such that we will be able to uplift and encourage each other in the Lord. He must be able to look at me and at any obstacles that come our way and say, “God is good and this has already been conquered.”

I don’t ask or expect perfection. How can I, as I’m not willing to attempt to be perfect myself? But I do ask the Lord to send me someone who sees me, and sees past all of the obstacles before me. I ask that he see my destiny and the miracles before me. I pray that he believes in me; believes I can do anything through Christ who strengthens me. I pray he sees the God in me, and falls madly in love with Him. I pray that all of my new cancer insecurities will mean nothing to him, and that he will respect and love me more because of them and not despite them. I pray for bravery and vulnerability for both of us. I pray that God is molding the perfect human just for me.

I can’t wait to meet this piece of awesomeness!

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Glancing Back

I hate the oncology office. It smells like chemotherapy and pain.

I’m currently waiting in the lobby of Texas Oncology, breathing through my mouth, so that I don’t smell the odor of illness. Okay, I’m not certain what illness smells like. Most likely I’m smelling a combination of hospital cleaners, hand sanitizers and latex gloves. Regardless, my mind associates the smell with all the crap that cancer brought. I’m taken back to chemo, nausea, muscle pain, soreness and radiation burns. I hate this smell. On rare occasion I’ll get a sniff of it while in the foyer of my apartment complex, or in the grocery store and immediately must move away from it. But right now, as I wait for the nurse to call me back, I must sit in it and flash back to the worst of the past year. I hate remembering.

Flashbacks are fickle.

These very same images that I hate to recall in the doctor’s office, are the very same images that come to mind during worship. I stretch my hands to the Father, close my eyes and meditate on the “red devil” coursing through my veins, and the days after where I lay in pain on the couch. I recall to memory sickle cell crisis’ in the hospital and crying from the mind numbing pain in the emergency room. I recall the smell again, and I smile, because I’m reminded of the healing that God has brought. I need to remember the bad that occurred in my life, so that I’m consistently aware of the good that is happening. I love remembering.

Where is the healthy balance between remembering and forgetting? How do we balance no longer living in the past and rejoicing in the present, while not forgetting just what the Lord has done?

And then I remembered our friends, the Israelites, and this particular scripture:

“Forget the former things;

do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing!

Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?

I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.” -Isaiah 43:18-19 (NIV)

Now, I’ve heard this scripture before, understanding it as a call to put my past out of memory. I grew up thinking that there was something “healthy” about forgetting. We are told as children to forgive and FORGET. But as I wrestle with the memories of my cancer battle, I question this. So I look at this scripture a little closer and as I read it now, I’m noticing two important things. The first thing I noticed is the verses above this passage:

“This is what the Lord says—

he who made a way through the sea, a path through the mighty waters, who drew out the chariots and horses, the army and reinforcements together, and they lay there, never to rise again, extinguished, snuffed out like a wick:” -Isaiah 43:16-17 (NIV)

In the preface to telling us to forget the former things, the writer reminds us, pulls to memory, what the Lord has done in the past! The writer is saying, “Look, the dude who parted the red sea, who drew you out of the hands of your enemy- that guy has something to say.” He is defining God by what He has done for him in Israel’s past! This requires us to go back, and recall all of the mess we were in AND HOW the Lord delivered us from it. We look back to remember this, that we may remind ourselves of just who God is.

The second thing I noticed is the word “dwell” in vs 18. Remembering the past and dwelling in the past are two different things entirely. It’s not the casual glancing back that is dangerous, but the complete 180 turns we make to stare and meditate on our past. This is dwelling. The longer you stare in a direction, the more likely you are to walk in that direction. We move in the direction in which our feet and body are postured; surly if I’m facing towards an exit, I will walk in the direction of the exit. Surly if you position yourself to fixate on your past you will move toward it.

So, I encourage you to not turn around and dwell on your past. There is nothing in the past that is worth the repositioning of your body, and the slow backwards journey you will embark on. Your future, and the brightness and fullness thereof, is in front of you! Glance back. Occasionally turn only your head, ever so slightly over your shoulder that you may be reminded of the incredible road you have challenged. Do this only that you may remember what the Lord has done, and that it will propel you deeper into praise, worship and service. This is important, as Moses warned the Israelites in Deuteronomy 6:12 of forgetting, saying,

“Then take care lest you forget the Lord,

who brought you out of the land of Egypt,

out of the house of slavery.” (ESV)

I’ve often wondered if this is why the Israelites complained so much, and had such little faith during their journey. Time and time again, the Lord showed His mighty hand, providing for them in miraculous ways! The Lord parted the Red Sea, allowing them to escape from slavery and the wrath of Pharaoh (Exodus 14); He rained down manna from heaven that they may eat (Exodus 16); He provided water for the Israelites to drink, from a rock in the desert (Exodus 17)! And yet every time they approached a trial, complaining and unbelief overcame them. Maybe they didn’t glance back. Maybe they allowed themselves to forget the previous wonders and miracles that the Lord had done. Maybe they no longer remembered the pain of slavery and their prayers for freedom.

I don’t want to forget. i wont forget. I shall not. I’ll be sure to glance back to the past on occasion while resisting the fleshly urge to dwell on in.

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A Great Story

I’ve been waiting for an opportunity to coast. Only for a brief moment- not forever, not even beyond a year. Just a significant season of life where it wasn’t necessary to fight. Fight mentally, spiritually, physically or emotionally. I desperately crave the life my imagination is made of, a life devoid of all problems. A life where I felt secure and completely confident in what I was doing and its capability to launch me into my destiny. A life without illness. A life of simplicity.  Aww yes, simplicity, success, romance and Jesus (of course). All of this at my fingertips, without hard work or tears. You know, picture perfect happiness, just like I see on my Instagram feed. *insert wink*.  
I would be in the thick of my very lucrative, highly respected and successful career, that allows for power heels and high waisted pencil skirts. I would have the feet and abs that allowed for power heels and high waisted pencil skirts. Natural abs, which required no effort on my part to develop for my metabolism was anointed by the Lord. I would have seamlessly fallen into this profession immediately after graduating from a college program that would have adequately prepared me for the workforce. A program that was fully paid for on account of my awesomeness. The man of my dreams would have relentlessly pursued me after accidentally bumping into me at a coffee house. He spilled his coffee and I dropped my muffin and the rest was history. One year later he proposed by candlelight after a carriage ride in the park. This is how I would tell the story at annual Christmas parties and to unwilling strangers on cruise ships. The screensaver on my phone is an Easter portrait of my perfect little family, highlighting our 3 perfect little girls. They cause just enough trouble to supply me humorous topics for happy hour but nothing that requires prayer. Perfect angels, that live in a perfect house, who’s perfect mom has found a perfect man while wearing the perfect high waisted skirt and power heels. 
In this narrative, there is no growth. No authentic accomplishments. Nothing was learned. There is no winning because there is no fighting. There is no resolutions because there is no conflict. It’s predictable and boring. Therefore, this story sucks.  
Everyone knows that in every great story there is conflict, a problem that must be solved. Conflict draws us deeper into a great book or movie, so much so that we make sequels with new problems to solve, new dramas and new challenges, just so our great stories may continue to be told and that we may celebrate new victories. Conflict also draws us deeper to God, as we grow increasingly aware of our humanity and need for help and refuge from life’s great trials. Conflict draws us closer to ourselves, as it forces us to examine who we are and what we are made of. It’s the conflict, the fall and failure, that makes for excellency! What would the bible be without the fall of Adam and Eve? Boring!  
The “perfect” life would have produced the stagnation of my spirit. While my life would have been filled with “accomplishments”, my spirit would have had none. Like a muscle that has never been used, my spirit would have atrophied, and IN me nothing would have produced. No strength, courage, peace, integrity, love, patience, or power. There is no true progression or forward momentum in perfection. Do not waste your time daydreaming of a world that will produce IN you nothing. Accept your challenges. Face them head on. Smile at them. For you know the Lord is in the midst of writing a great story! This story doesn’t suck. This story is fantastic. 
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Gym Revelations

About 3 weeks ago I received a “Survivorship” packet from my medical team at Dallas Methodist. It outlines everything I need to know about how to care for myself after cancer. This packet is thick, requiring a phone conversation with a nurse, who stressed the importance of following the instructions inside. It’s a template for the lifestyle I should live for the best shot of staying in remission.
I haven’t opened the packet yet.
Because I’m suppose to be done! Remission was suppose to be the end of this story. Every time I open the folder my insides groan at the thought of having to be mentally aware and actively practicing anymore routines related to my health. I’m tired of thinking about surviving; I simply want to live haphazardly without scrutinizing over harmful food ingredients, mandatory checkups and exercise regimes. Can I have one year of reckless living?
No I can’t. Honestly the majority of us can’t afford to, whether you’re a survivor or not. So I’m fighting the temptation to ignore the work that comes with survivorship, and making some intentional life changes. The first: exercise.
So, I accompanied my sister to the gym this morning. She promised to show me the ropes and walk me through her exercise routine. I actually was excited to be acting on something as important as this- it was time to get this body fully healthy and in shape. After all there is kingdom work to be done!
Y’all, the gym kicked my tail! This is the most out of shape I have been in my life! Between gasping for breath and questioning if I’ll see tomorrow, a revelation came when the Lord spoke to me saying, “This is why you haven’t opened the packet. You didn’t think you could do the work.”
Well dang.
I automatically counted life change as unlikely, for I doubted that I had the strength or drive to do it. I was fearful of the work ahead, fearful of failing once again, fearful of committing to a new way of living because I knew it required a deep, soul stirring work. This was deeper than a diet or a Pinterest inspired ab workout- this was about healing my soul which had been crushed by years of illness. This was about the lie that I can’t do “fill in the blank”. This would be the second fight for my life in which I would be reminded of my fragility. This was more than laziness, rebelliousness or ignorance- this was a psychological war in which I would fight for my strength, worthiness and capabilities.
What is it that you’re procrastinating? On the surface it seems you are just putting something off until the next day, week, month or year, but truly you’re running from it. And we have to ask ourselves, “Why does this torment me so? What makes me hide from my responsibilities or dreams?”
So, I’m allowing God to do the work in revealing to me the answers to these questions. I have a feeling that most of them will come while on the elliptical at the gym.
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A little episode of PTSD kept me from falling asleep a couple nights ago. In these rare moments, my mind fixates on the idea that I am not going to be alright- my life will be taken from me and surly I will die. The root of these thoughts are deep, birthed out of my mother’s death in 2011. Since then, I have irrational thoughts of being afflicted, just as she was. While I have grown tremendously in this area, the thoughts sill come on rare occasion, and I’m stuck in anxiety.
In the thick of the panic, I cried out to God for peace and calm, for it was internal anxiety I could not will myself out of. And so, I prayed and in the midst of tear soaked prayers, God reminded me that He was and is my salvation. He brought to memory various situations in which He has saved me; a testimony of His greatness. I kept the list of saving grace on repeat over and over in my head, until a calm fell over me, because certainly if He did it before, He’ll do it again. We often want to erase the bad from our memories, but I want to hold on to them just enough, so that they may operate as reminders of victory and my undefeated God. The very breath in my lungs serves as a reminder that I have survived the worst days of my life and that the Lord is a continual savior! So in the racing of my thoughts, as I rock back and forth in the thick of darkness, I will my mouth to speak out loud the things that the Lord has saved me from: 
1. You saved me from Mental Breakdown
2. You saved me from Abusive Relationships
3. You saved me from Drunk Driving
4. You saved me from Cancer
5. You saved me from Sickle Cell Anemia
6. You saved me from Pulmonary Embolism
7. You saved me from Fatherlessness
8. You saved me Starvation and Homelessness
9. You saved me from Dangers Unseen
10. You saved me from ME
What has the Lord saved you from? Reach back to your past and recall the moments in which you thought you would never make it, when it seemed that your mental stability or very life would end. You were at your breaking point and yet you are still here! Because you’ve been saved, and mercy has surrounded you! I encourage you to write them down, and keep them close. This list serves as your reminder that the Lord your Savior is a faithful rescuer.
And surly if He’s done it before, He will do it again.
Therefore, I’m free.
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5 Reasons Why You Need an Auggie Doggie

A moment of transparency is coming. Please don’t judge my ignorance and show me grace. Okay, here we go…
I never fully understood the need or purpose of an emotional support animal. It seemed like a convenient way to avoid pet rent and an excuse to bring your cat to all your social events.
Yeah I said it.
Animals that assist the hearing impaired, can help the legally blind navigate their surroundings, or the pup that aids the seizure patient- I get it! That’s amazing! How do I register and train my pup for such a noble deed!? But a dog who just makes you ‘feel happy’- can a dog truly be that beneficial to your depression?
Fast forward to April 2017. I was diagnosed with Stage II Triple Negative Breast Cancer at 30 years old. I felt devastated, confused, sad, angry and defeated. My emotions ran the gamut and for the first time since my mother’s passing I experienced deep grief, and road the wave of depression.
It was during this time that my dog, August (aka Auggie, Doodle, Doodle Bucket, Doot, Auggie Doggie and mylittlecutietootieshuggawugga) gravitated to me, fusing himself to my right breast at all times. Y’all, he never left my side, providing me with unlimited amounts of cuddles, licks and puppy eyes. I wasn’t aware of how in tuned he was with my health, both physical, mental and emotional. He proved himself loyal, attentive and caring. It was clear that August was well aware that something was wrong, and that he felt the need to fix it the best he knew how.
Once chemo started, I was left drained and laid out on the couch for days at a time, exhausted and in physical pain. Auggie would lay on top of me, allowing me to pet him while he napped. He became my companion, my shadow and overseer. I can’t deny that his presence brought me comfort, as he is extremely calming. Whether I knew it at the time or not, he was aiding in my emotional stability, providing a little call to a big storm.
Well I’ll be damned. August is my emotional support dog.
While he may not be a legal registered emotional support animal, there is no doubt that this is what he has been to me for over a year now. I can now say, I get it y’all. I’m officially Team Emotional Support Dog/Cat/Goat etc. I’m coming to this conclusion while fully recognizing that what I have experienced can not compare to clinical mental or psychiatric disabilities. Therefore, I can only imagine what an emotional support animal can do for those who battle such disabilities. It is no longer inconceivable to me that animals can truly provide a companionship and calm in a way that reduces anxiety and soothes. I’m incredibly grateful that Auggie was there during my battle through cancer. 
So this is to you Auggie- my little shadow and companion. Thanks for being so attentive, and for always seeing the needs of my heart.
Love you Doodle!
So, here are 5 reasons why you too need an Auggie Doodle in your life, especially if you’re battling illness:
1. Forced to Get Physically Active
    Just because I had cancer, didn’t mean my dog stopped needing walks. (It also didn’t mean that my sister, whom I live with, didn’t relieve me of all dog responsibilities, and for that I am grateful… I guess.) One of the best ways to fight that chemo fatigue is to be active. Taking Auggie on short walks was at times the only reason I got of of the couch.
2. Calming
    Animals have been proven to reduce blood pressure and and reduce stress levels. Reduced stress levels can also reduce anxiety levels. Bonus points if you found a calm animal. It still works even if you have a pet who is a bit of a spaz like mine.
3. Companionship
    Although I had a Village surrounding me during my battle, I still appreciate the companionship that August offered. I felt less lonely when it was just me and him in the house. I talk to him, and I swear he comprehends half of what I say to him. My dog throws shade, gives attitudes and laughs at my jokes- all which are excellent qualities in a friend.
4. Feel Good Feelings
    Petting your animal can release endorphins and oxytocin, those feel good hormones in the brain that make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Your dog loves it, your brain loves it- it’s a win win situation really.
5. Portable Heater
    My dog is a portable heater and I LOVE that quality in… well anyone really. He’s hot, so I welcome him to lay anywhere near me to warm me up. Heat is comforting to me, especially if I’m not feeling well. I’m a”suffocate me under 26 blankets” kind of human, so his warmth brings me much comfort. SIDE NOTE: A cuddle with a pup is not recommended for those goring through the “menopause” stage of chemo. You’ve         been warned.
Just give me Jesus and a dog!
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I have been loved on, taken care of, and fussed over from the time I entered this world. Partially because I was brought into a family with big hearts and partially because I was born with Sickle Cell Anemia Disease, a genetic blood disorder. Upon my diagnosis, you rallied beside me and poured your love over me. My Village- you’ve always been present. You then grew in numbers upon my breast cancer diagnosis and another portion of love came to me. I’ve always been amazed at your heart for me and for doing good by others. Through out the years:
You’ve claimed me as your friend even after I flashed the male nurse under my morphine endured stupper.
You’ve took me to the emergency room and sat with me in the early hours of the morning.
You’ve committed to wheelchair races and strolls through hospital gardens. How did I always win?
You’ve pressed the nurses button more times that you can count at the slightest chance that I may be uncomfortable.
You’ve listen to that damn machine’s beep, beep, beep, beep… beep.
You’ve memorized the medications I was allergic to, so that you could inform doctors and nurses. 
You’ve come to understand my treatment plan better than I do. Morphine, I. V fluids, heating pads. Repeat.
You’ve prayed.
You’ve held buckets while I threw up in them.
You’ve seen more blood and needles than you ever cared to. You haven’t passed out yet.
You ever so subtlety placed water bottles in front of me as your plea to hydrate. “Drink you water.”
You’ve turned up the heat so that I may not get too cold, while you wiped the perspiration off of your own face.
You’ve brought me balloons, flowers, games and treats to my hospital room.
You held my IV bag up in the air for 20 minutes while we waited for an IV pole, which was quite the task for someone with little arms.
You’ve spent the night with me, sacrificing the comfort of a bed and shower, to watch movies with me until I fell asleep.
You’ve listen to me complain and told me to suck it up- there’s work to be done.
You prayed again.
You’ve cooked for me. Fed me. Stolen my hospital jello and replaced it with candy.
You’ve intentionally made laugh, to keep my mind off of the physical pain.
You’ve called my parents and family to update them on my health. They’re numbers are saved in your phone.
You’ve run errands for me, gathering my prescriptions and miscilaniois items through the city.
You’ve endured a rediculius amount of hospital cafeteria food. And it ain’t all been gravy.
You’ve packed many a hospital bad, both for you and me. It’s required you to rummage through my underwear drawer and you were never judgmental.
You’ve been my chemo & hospital entertainer, is coming to never ending games of uno, cards and checkers.
You’ve collected my homework for me and committed to helping me play catch-up once I returned to school.
You’ve held my hand while I was in pain. You’ve endured my grip, which is strong.
You’ve lied to nurses, telling them you were my sister, so that you could stay with me in the absence of my family.
You’ve wiped my tears while you hid your own.
You’ve taken me to chemo appointments, enduring the disgusting sounds and smells of the clinic.
You’ve sent me care packages from across the county, that carried healing supplies, fun activities, words of encouragement and items to sooth my soul.
You’ve thrown me “No More Chemo” parties, reminding me that I didn’t do it alone. I’ve never done it alone.
You’ve loved me relentlessly, unapologetically, wholeheartedly and sacrificially.
Thank you.
I believe it’s my turn to do the same for you.
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An Atmosphere of Change

Change is on the horizon. I can feel it in my bones. It’s in the atmosphere, thick as molasses. Every decision I make could be the beginning of the pivoting moment I’m anticipating. It is looming over me like a thick and glorious cloud, causing me to question my tomorrow. If an elephant arrives at my doorstep today I would not be surprised! I know it’s coming- something unexpected, surprising, relieving, challenging and necessary for the forward progression of my destiny. It’s God ordained and Kingdom driven. It’s BIG.
What happens when your securities are stripped away from you, and you’re left with yourself and God? There are no plans or assumptions. You don’t know how you will pay rent next month, or where you will live. Where will your work and what will you do? Because you’re smack dab in the center of change.
Change: to make or become different.
I’m certain that this is stretching further than a change in my circumstances, but that the very center of my being is becoming different. He’s stretching me, molding me for a New Thing. New Wine.
New Wine must be placed into New Wine skins (Luke 5:38). New Wine as it ferments expands and needs fresh wine skins to allow for the stretching that will occur. Old wine skins would burst at the pressure caused by the new wine. So God prepares you for the stretching that’s to come- the stretching of your faith, finances, territory, business, heart, service- by replacing the old with the new. When replacement of the old wine skins happens surly we expect the old wine to be replaced with new wine as well- the New Thing.
I have no clue what the New Thing is or just how expansive it is. The Holy Spirit within you eludes  to the enormity of your destiny as your vision and dreams become more detailed, wild and vivid. You have an eternal knowing while not knowing anything at all. Your mind wrestled with your spirit because it can not comprehend. It knows nothing.
I HATE not knowing.
I’ve come to learn that not knowing is what’s best for me. In the past,  had I known the changes that were coming to me, I would have ran or made feeble attempts at trying to “fix” the situation, which would have ruined the blessings to come. I’ve noticed that every time change has come and I’m anticipating the New Thing, I’m placed in a position of blindness; I can’t see what’s ahead of me, I know nothing. I don’t know what to do.
But my Spirit knows and tugs me deeper into submission, obedience and faith in His instruction. He says, “Walk.”
So I’m required to walk in complete darkness into the New Thing, which will transform my being. For faith without works is dead (James 2:26). So, I work and it demands that I trust Him. It demands that I seek Him and Him only. For a blind man can attempt to find many things, but is only guaranteed to find the Lord. The blindness pulls me closer to Him. And for the change that is coming, I have a feeling that’s exactly what I need; to be closer to my Father who will guide me
So He strips me down as He prepares me for the New Thing that’s coming. And I’m simply left with this:
And then it occurs to me that He is quite enough.
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Bonding With Purpose

I’m. Cancer. Free.

I completed the checklist. Chemo. Surgery. Radiation. My understanding was once that checklist was complete, once I was officially a cancer survivor in remission, that life would return back to “normal” and I would operate as I always had. My old life, my definition of normalcy, is what I coveted for 10 months. What I did not know, what nobody told me, is that cancer (and I imagine all life altering events) shatters normalcy, leaving you with fragmented bits of your old life. Like shattered glass, you can’t mend it back together, as some pieces are chipped, scratched and missing all together. Instead, you’re left with a few familiar pieces and the scars, wisdom and revelations that cancer left behind. Then it hits you: life as you knew it is over. You can’t go back to who you were despite how desperately you may have wanted to. There is a spiritual and emotional shift in the atmosphere, orchestrated by non other than God, and it requires every ounce of your attention.

I’m not the same. I never will be. There is something terrifying, yet so freeing about not recognizing yourself. There’s something even more surreal about realizing that you’re simply at the beginning of this transformation and that a month from now, a year from now, 5 years from now, you’ll continued to be shocked by who is looking back at you in the mirror.

Because Cancer.

Because you spent too many moments questioning death. You saw too many patients suffering more than you had. You wrestlers with God in your attempt to convict Him for what He has allowed. You can’t shake these things; the experiences bond to you like thick adhesive, becoming an extension of who you are. It’s like a heavy tumor, a sudden growth attached to your side, which causes you to now walk with a perminamt limp. I have a perminamt limp. A glorious limp that oddly enough I wouldn’t trade for the world.

The tumor’s name is Purpose. I’m so glad that she has found me.

Purpose will cause you to walk differently and therefore I no longer anticpaite going back to “normal”. Instead I’ve come to realize that further change is on the horizon and it will affect every facet of my life: relationships, career, vision. Changes that will further propel me into my new relationship with Purpose, are coming and have already arrived. I acknowledge that these changes are frightening as I’m not certain in which direction I am moving. But I’m certain in this: God is in control and I am His own possession.

So this is what I say to you loved ones: that which has not killed you has come to shed light on your kingdom purpose- to proclaim the excellence of God. And as you shift into this purpose, do not resist, attempting to glue back the pieces of your old life, but rather embrace the changes within and truly bond with your purpose.

“But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his own possession, that you may proclaim the excellencies of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light.” -I Peter 2:9

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The Checklist

It’s Radiation Day! You get radiation, and you get radiation and YOU get radiation!! (Admit it, you read that in your best Oprah voice like the good Lord intended. If you failed to do this, go to the beginning and try again.) I am too pumped to begin my first day of radiation today, because it means I’m one step closer to completing this cumbersome, long winded and dramatic healing process. I love a good checklist. Nothing is more satisfying than checking off a task on the to-do list and feeling that sense of accomplishment and adulting. The gratification is so good that I will intentionally write remedial tasks on my checklist, such as “brush tooth” and “feed dog”, just so I have something to check off. I digress. Here is where I currently stand on my cancer checklist:

[x] Chemo x 8

[x] Surgery x 2

[ ] Radiation x 33

See that!? One box left! Now, I know this list seems relatively short. You’re thinking “Jewel, whats the big deal? It’s a 3 step process.” Truth is that this checklist expands, to include what was needed for the emotional healing and journey. What doctors and nurses don’t tell you, is that healing from cancer can range anywhere from a 1 step process to a 352 step process. My checklist reads something more like this:

[x] Grieve.

[x] Make sister touch your lumpy boob.

[x] Purchase pink stuff.

[x] Phone call with oncology finance office.

[x] Phone call with insurance company.

[x] Throw phone against wall.

[x] Wait. Patiently?

[x] Chemo appointment.

[x] Get Neulasta shot the next day.

[x] Hate everything.

[x] Love everyone.

[x] Pray & cry lots.

[x] Repeat steps 1-12 a total of 8 times.

[x] Celebrate the end of chemo .

[x] Get felt up by all doctors in Dallas.

[x] Make appointment for surgery.

[x] Get labs drawn for surgery.

[x] Contact insurance company 2,347 times for approval on MRI needed for surgery.

[x] Cancel surgery due to hurricane affecting insurance company.

[x] Make second appointment for surgery.

[x] Check into hospital.

[x] Let nurse attempt to find a vein 9 times for an IV.

[x] Access port instead.

[x] Cancel surgery because hospital forgot to do a needed procedure for surgery.

[x] Go home and cry. Eat lots of food.

[x] Make 3rd appointment for surgery.

[x] Surgery.

[x] Lay on couch for days while touching boob.

[x] Schedule appointment for 2nd surgery due to cancer appearing in lymph nodes.

[x] Panic.

[x] Pray.

[x] Surgery #2.

[x] Send text messages to friends while sedated. Laugh about it.

[x] Lay on couch while touching armpit.

[x] Heal while watching Blackish.

[x] Oncology appointment.

[x] Heal.

[x] Radiation appointment.

[x] Get freckle sized radiation tattoos.

[x] Show sister tattoos with pride.

[x] Get radiation.

[ ] …

And it was all necessary.

One of the most frustraiting things about this process is that I don’t know what to expect, nobody can prepare me for whats to come and the checklist is forever evolving and shifting. I didn’t know that I had to go through so much for the process to be complete within me; the expanded checklist was necessary to build my character, strengthen my worship and heal my soul. This is reflective of life for all of us on earth, whether sick or not. We don’t know what is going to happen tomorrow, our expectations rarely become reality and our life projections of growth and prosperity become overshaddowed with life’s cancer.

Life is a cancer.

We suffer uncontrollable abnormal growths of life’s complications and sorrows and at times it can feel cancerous. And in these cancerous stages of life, when we want nothing more than to feel better, for the pain to go away, sometimes we mistakingly convince ourselves that if we adhear to a set of tasks, that all pain will go away. We treat our healing journey like a perscribed checklist, believing that if we go through the motions, all will be fine. We try to shortcut the healing. Dont. Go through the expanded checklist. Work through every mundane, annoying and painful detail with God. Check each of them off, proudly, knowing that you are growing in the process. Embrace the crazy.