The people stood far off, while Moses drew near to the thick darkness where God was. Exodus 20:21

I remember the first time I noticed this verse. I was in the middle of a trial, a spiritual battle, a dark time. This was a scheduled passage for the day, and I’d read it many times before, and I wasn’t expecting anything new. I wasn’t expecting living words to jump off the page to me. I was reading about God, but I guess I wasn’t expecting Him to show up and change my thinking. To change me.

But that’s what God does when we draw near to Him. He shows up. He teaches. He admonishes. He uses His words to change us.

In the passage, God has just given His ten commandments. There is lightning and thunder and smoke and noise. The people are afraid and they pull away. And isn’t that how we sometimes feel when some big thing is happening? We don’t want to deal with it; we don’t have time for it; we just don’t want it to be true. It’s easier to turn away–to distance ourselves from God and what He is trying to do.

Moses said to the people, “Do not fear, for God has come to test you, that you may not sin.” Exodus 20:20

He tries to reassure them. Don’t be afraid. There is purpose in the testing. God means it for good. But only Moses draws near to the thick darkness where God is. And God speaks to him there.

I read this passage again this week. And again I am reminded to draw near. Don’t be afraid.

The darkness is not hiding God. The darkness is where He is.

Draw near to the thick darkness where God is.

 

 

 

 

We go to the Cancer Center at least two times a week where Marissa has a team of people who care for her. From the receptionist to the lab workers, they know her.

She makes them laugh. She’s spunky and she teases and they tease her back. I see her make the best of every visit. I see her engage others, ask about their day, encourage them. She brightens the room–they are glad to see her. The actual process of chemo is pretty painless now.  Once the Benadryl hits, she sleeps until it is over. It’s part of our routine, and I think in some ways we will miss Thursdays when this is done.

I see people of almost every age coming in for treatment, but I haven’t seen anyone as young as she is. So she has a little bit of celebrity status. The older patients smile when they see her. They are already tired when they begin this battle, and they watch her, envious of her youth and energy, although not envious of her journey.

Yesterday we had a new nurse who kept saying, “She’s too young for all this.” And I feel that she’s right but I know that she’s wrong. Because this is exactly where she is supposed to be. This hard place is one of the chapters written just for her. This is her road, her path, and it is taking her to a safe place. I know the end of the story. No matter where this journey takes her, it ends with her safe in the arms of Jesus. Always safe. Always in His arms. Always loved.

She only has five weeks left of chemo. Twenty weeks seemed like forever, and now it is almost done. She is tolerating the Taxol so much better than the Adriamycin and Cytoxan. The side effects are easier. Not friendlier, exactly, but more do-able. I hope that it is fighting the cancer cells as well. We really won’t know until after surgery.

These are hard days and there are hard days ahead. But the streams of mercy never cease. There is never a moment when we are separated from His love. (Romans 8:35) We are not crushed; we are not despairing. (2 Corinthians 4:8)

We are never alone.

Where shall I go from Your Spirit? Or where shall I flee from Your presence? If I ascend to heaven, You are there. If I make my bed in Sheol, You are there. If I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there Your hand shall lead me and Your right hand shall hold me. Psalm 139:7-10

You are a hiding place for me; You preserve me from trouble; You surround me with shouts of deliverance. Psalm 32:7

 

 

 

January is slipping away. I look at the calendar and the days are moving, passing by, and I have not really accomplished much except getting through. But the days are not without purpose. We hope the days are taking us to a place we want to be–past treatment, past this present pain, past cancer.

Some days I put blinders on. I trudge onward but I’m not looking ahead and I’m not looking around. I’m just looking at the next step, the next decision, the next hard thing.

I can’t see the cancer. I can’t see if this new medication is stopping the division of cancer cells or not. I can’t see the weekly battle in the blood–the intricate dance of the white blood cells that determines whether or not Marissa can receive treatment each week. I can’t see her body fighting off infection or her mind fighting despair.

I can’t see the fear in my children’s hearts or the spiritual battles waging in the souls of those I love. I can’t see where this path leads. I can’t see the future.

But some things I can see.

I can see my daughter laugh. I see her square her shoulders and bravely face each day. I see her turn to God for strength and hope.

I can see answers to prayer. I see how God has shrunk the tumor. I see how He has miraculously kept Marissa from sickness when she has no white blood cells to fight infection. I see Him providing relief from side effects.

I can see beauty all around me. I see it in morning stars and frosty days. I see it in shared moments of joy. I see it in kind words and helping hands. I see it in God’s living, powerful words.

And it’s as if God removes the blinders and lifts up my eyes. It’s as if He sheds a beautiful light on the road ahead. It’s as if He gives wings and lifts me up and helps me fly. It’s as if He carries me.

You have seen how the LORD your God carried you, as a man carries his son, all the way that you went until you came to this place. Deuteronomy 1:31

He is opening my eyes. He is helping me to see that He has carried me all the way.

He is helping me to see Him clearly.

Then Jesus laid his hands on his eyes again; and he opened his eyes, his sight was restored, and he saw everything clearly. Mark 8:25

 

 

 

 

Everything is meaningful these days. I am intensely aware of details, almost like I am watching this trial, my life, unfold in front of me. A dead battery? Meaningful. A hospital stay? Awareness. A test result? God. It always comes back to Him and what He is doing.

I don’t take my belief in Him for granted. I know that even my faith, my ability to believe, is a gift from Him. It feels like I have always believed, but I do remember doubt and disbelief. I remember as a teenager not wanting to believe, because it meant changing. It meant submitting. It meant choosing a way that was not my own.

But my belief in God fills my soul now. I cannot imagine not knowing, not believing, not looking up. I cannot imagine saying there is no God or saying no to God. I don’t want to say no to God.

Two mornings in a row last week I saw falling stars during my run. And I thought of the twinkling lights and how He numbers them and puts them in place and knows when they fall.

Lift up your eyes on high and see Who has created these stars.  The One who leads forth their host by number, He calls them all by name. Because of the greatness of His might and the strength of His power, not one is missing. Isaiah 40:26

He knows when they fall, my friend. There are billions of stars, and He has numbered every one. He knows their names. Not one is missing.

He holds them in place by His might and His power. When they fall, it is not because He is not strong enough. They do not fall because He looks away. Not one is missing that is meant to be there. Because of His greatness, they shine. Because of His greatness, they fall.

Are not two sparrows sold for a cent? And yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. Matthew 10:29

Every sparrow is precious. Every sparrow is subject to His benevolent hand. He numbers them, He feeds them, He knows their days.

So do not fear. You are more valuable than many sparrows. Matthew 10:31

And I’m letting that sink down into me. The great God Who numbers the stars and the sparrows is the One Who holds my hand. He formed me and He formed my children with an exact purpose. He loves me with an everlasting love. He sent His son to die for me. He is intentional in His pursuit of me. He plans to bring about good and glorify Himself through my life. He is powerful. He is kind. He is good.

He knows when the stars fall. He cares for the sparrows.

And He sees me.

Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Do not fear; you are more valuable than many sparrows. Luke 12:7

 

 

 

 

 

A new year is coming, and I am thinking about other years. Years when I looked forward with joy to a new baby, a milestone, a graduation, a wedding. Years when I wondered about change, even feared it. Years when I hoped to accomplish something, years when I wanted everything to stay the same. There was always a looking forward, an expectation. There was sometimes fear. There was always hope.

And now there is this new year. I already know so much of what it will hold. And never has knowing felt so much like not knowing. Never have I been so uncertain, so vulnerable, so afraid. Never have I needed truth more–needed it to seep deep down in my soul and soothe the turmoil, tame the terror, still the storm.

Never have I needed God more.

Do not fear, for I am with you; Do not anxiously look about you, for I am your God. I will strengthen you, surely I will help you, surely I will uphold you with My righteous right hand. Isaiah 41:10

I am speaking this truth to myself and to my children.

I am speaking it to Marissa.

Precious child, He is with you. He will strengthen you. He will help you. He will hold you in His hand.

Do not fear–He is with you. He is the only one who participates in every moment. When you are alone in your bed at night and the tears will not stop falling, He is with you. When you are being wheeled away for a test or for surgery and you feel panic rising up within you, He is with you. When you are waiting for a test result and your mind is frantically tumbling with both hope and despair, He is with you.

You are being held.

Do not look anxiously about you. Don’t look. Don’t look at the statistics or the studies about recurrence or long term side effects. Don’t look at the cancer and its horrors. Don’t look at your own small faith. Look at Who God is. Don’t focus on the battle around and in you. Focus on your God. His strength, His character, His absolute ability to keep you safe.

You are being held.

He will strengthen you. He will help you. He will hold you up.

And I love the truth of this verse. I love when He strengthens–when He gives that supernatural ability to endure. I love when He helps–when He enables us to carry on when we are past our own strength.

But what I love most–what I have needed most–is His promise to hold us up. His promise that we are being held. His promise that we are being kept safe in His righteous right arm when we would certainly be falling hard if not for His strong and gentle hand. If not for His faithful, covenant love. If not for His kind and constant care.

It is not your faith that is pulling you through. It is not your strength that is lifting you up. It is not how well you are holding on.

It is Him.

You are being held.

When he falls, he will not be hurled headlong, because the LORD is the One who holds his hand. Psalm 37:24

Christmas is almost here and I am not ready. Three nights in the hospital last weekend didn’t help, but frankly, I would have been behind anyway. I’m a little lost this year, a little distracted, a little slow. I’m a little scared.

But I keep remembering that He came. I keep remembering the baby boy born long ago. I listen to the songs about His birth and I am stirred. I listen to the songs of why He came and I weep.

He came.

He chose to come and I am undone. He chose to come for me. For Marissa. For my family. For you. He came as a baby but showed His great love by living His life intent on dying. Intent on suffering. Intent on saving.

He came.

The Word became flesh and dwelt among us. John 1:14

The God-man lived His gentle, selfless, serving life with no thought of His rights or His position. Focused on His plan. Focused on loyal love. Focused on grace and His Father’s glory.

He came and He will come again.

But He also comes to us today. He comes into our heart if we invite Him. He comes near when we draw near to Him. He comes when we are tired of self and sin. He comes in the bleakness of a cancer diagnosis. He comes when we are struggling–when we are failing and falling and sad. He comes when we are overwhelmed. He comes when we are full of doubt, when we are scared, when we are weak.

He comes. He brings peace. He brings light. He brings joy.

He brings Himself. He comes.

O come, Thou Day-Spring, come and cheer our spirits by thine advent here.

Joy to the world, the Lord is come.

I walk out my front door almost every day before 6 a.m. I run most days, but even on non-running days, I walk. At first I dreaded going so early, especially on dark and cold days. But something happened along the way. I made friends with the dark and the cold. I made friends with early. I made friends with alone. Now I breathe deeply and feel at home in the morning darkness.

There is a phrase I would often tell my children growing up. “Happiness isn’t doing what you like to do. Happiness is learning to like what you have to do.” The Bible teaches us to be content and to be thankful and I’ve mostly found it easy enough. There’s always a silver lining, right? You can always find something to be grateful for, can’t you?

But there have been a few times in my life when I have faced a darkness that I couldn’t befriend. A darkness that sucked the air out of me. A darkness that seemed heavy with fear and evil and heartache. A darkness with no silver lining and no silver at all.

There is no learning to like some things. It seems impossible to make friends with cancer. It seems impossible to embrace and be thankful for this disease and all of its ramifications. Cancer is an enemy and we are fighting it with all we’ve got.

So what is God asking me to do?

Pray without ceasing. Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you. 1 Thessalonians 5:18

He is not saying be thankful FOR all circumstances but IN them. Be thankful–not for the darkness, but in the darkness.

So I cry out to the Creator of this darkness. I remember how He has given songs in the night. I remember how He has gently carried me in the past. I try to settle into the path instead of trying to figure it out or light my own way. I trust. I pray. I submit.

And I do it every day. In the lab, on the chemo floor, in the doctor’s office, at home. Waiting for test results, watching my daughter’s physical fight, seeing my children wrestle with fear. Trust, pray, submit.

And be thankful. Be thankful in the darkness. Notice the sparks of light along the way. Pay attention to the kindness of friends and strangers. Keep track of answered prayers. Focus on what God is doing, how He is helping, how He is carrying. Lift your eyes up to Him, the light of the world.

The darkness is what enables you to see the Light–be grateful you can see it.

God is light, and in Him is no darkness at all. 1 John 1:15

 

 

 

In the week leading up to Thanksgiving, I felt torn. Full of awareness of all I have been given. Heavy with gratefulness for this moment, these people, this grace. Yet grieving this changed life. This never-can-go-back reality. Tossed between cherishing this moment and fearing the moments to come.

So maybe I was a little distracted. And maybe I shouldn’t have started a major project two days before Thanksgiving. Maybe I shouldn’t have waited to make the pies until 5 a.m. on Thanksgiving morning. But I did and it was all right–they were beautiful (in an artsy, non-perfectionist kind of way.)

Before the meal, my husband read Psalm 100 as he always does. And then around the table with our spoken blessings, and there were beautiful words and many tears. And we were thankful.

After the meal, we cut the pie in big slices and added whipped cream. And really, it wasn’t until you took a bite that you realized the pumpkin pie was missing something–something major. I had forgotten to put the sugar in the pumpkin pie. I was more distracted than I thought.

Lesson 1: Sometimes we’re going to fail. Sometimes we’re going to try our best and it won’t be enough. Sometimes we will disappoint others. Often we will disappoint ourselves. Failure isn’t only an option, it’s a guarantee. Because we are fallen people. We are made in God’s image, but we are not God. We are constantly falling short of God’s glory, and we are constantly being reminded that we are not enough, that we need to be rescued.

The wonderful news is that we have a Rescuer. We don’t have to be enough. We can trust in Someone who never changes, never fails. We can lean hard into the saving power of Christ.

My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever. Psalm 73:26

He is able to save to the uttermost those who draw near to God through Him. Hebrews 7:25

Lesson 2: It’s the inside that matters. When they were in the oven, the pies smelled wonderful. While sitting on the counter, they filled every expectation. It wasn’t until the first bite that we realized they were deficient–that they were not what they were supposed to be.

When the hard times come, we need a heart of truth. We need a heart that has sought God, a heart that has found Him. We need a heart that knows Him. It won’t be enough that we can say the right words. It won’t matter what we look like or where we are–what will matter is what we believe.

What we feed our soul–it matters. What our heart is holding on to–it makes a difference. What fills up the nooks and crannies of our mind–it changes us.

What we love makes us who we are.

Keep your heart with all vigilance, for from it flow the springs of life. Proverbs 4:23

Love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength. Deuteronomy 6:5

 

 

This is the testimony that Marissa gave at the Praise Service at our church on Wednesday evening.

This year I turned 25. By 25 you feel like an adult. You have more responsibility, you move out on your own, and best of all…you can rent a car. 🙂 Turning 25 is a big deal. I had no idea how big this year was going to be.

On September 24, 2015, a week before my 25th birthday, I was diagnosed with Stage III breast cancer. The month was filled with fear, despair, test after test, going through weeks with no answers, realizing that my life would never be the same, and having to make choices for my future that I had never even thought about. Between making choices about treatments, a new schedule, work, and future children, my mind was overwhelmed.

When I look back at the first month, I see all of these things. But I also see one overpowering thing. I see peace. A peace that truly passes all understanding. I have always been taught about the peace and strength that God gives in difficult times. I have read about it in my Bible. I have heard testimonies about it and I have even experienced it myself throughout my life, but never in this way. Isaiah 43:2 became my lifeline. “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you.”

Through each test, through each moment of panic, this verse would come to my mind and the Lord would give peace. There is so much the Lord has shown me about Himself in the last few months. I love having peace knowing that God has chosen me for this. This is one way He is going to mold me and bring me closer to Himself.

About a year ago I remember talking to a friend and saying how I felt like I was at a point in my life where I needed to make a choice. Keep living the way I was or start living more for God. I chose my way. It was easier. One of my first thoughts when I found out about this cancer was that now I had an easy choice. My God loved me so much that He was not going to let me choose my own way. He is bringing me closer to Himself through this trial.

What a blessed life I have. I know that I will have days where the fear is overwhelming and I will wish that my life was different. But I know I have a big God who loves me so much and He will give me the strength for each day. And with that hope and peace, bring on tomorrow!

Thank you for your prayers and support. I am truly blessed.

I am generally a positive person, known in my family as an optimist. I’m a silver-lining, glass-half-full kind of girl. But Marissa’s cancer hit me pretty hard. The swirling thoughts just didn’t settle into normally pleasant patterns. There was so much bad that it was hard to wrap my mind around the good. There was no escaping to my happy place. I needed more than optimism, more than positive thinking, more than myself. I needed God.

I started this blog to chronicle our journey through this trial but especially to see God’s hand, to notice His work, to trace His goodness. To find Him present when we felt alone. To know His love in the midst of fear. To settle our thoughts in His truth.

This is Thanksgiving week. My favorite time of the year. And while this has been one of the hardest periods of my life, it has also been one of the richest. Maybe there is no explanation for how the beautiful things are enhanced during dark times, but maybe there is. Maybe it’s God. Maybe He is enabling us to see light in the middle of darkness.

Light arises in the darkness for the upright; He is gracious and compassionate and righteous. Psalm 112:4

In the darkness, He is gracious. In the darkness, He is compassionate. In the darkness, He is righteous. In the darkness, He gives light.

So we are grateful, so grateful. We are thankful for each other. We are thankful for all the wonderful gifts we have received–for home and shelter, for physical needs met, for friends and family who have walked beside us and helped us through, for simple comfort, for daily joy.

But most of all, we are thankful for the Light.