The Weeping Princess

Who decided that big girls don't cry? 

The day after my diagnosis I had an appointment to get a biopsy. It's hard to describe all of the emotion I was experiencing, but overwhelmed comes close. As I followed my nurse to the locker and took a hospital gown from her hands, I felt a swell of emotion. Uh oh. My "cup runneth over," just not exactly with joy. Tears began to fall- not loud, uncontrollable sobbing, but a silent, steady waterfall down my cheeks. I call it "leaking,"and it is tough to stop!

Apparently, this caused quite a bit of distress for everyone that still had to interact with me. I kept assuring them that this was normal, I was fine, but to no avail. They had a goal and were pursing it with a single-minded tenacity: "stop that leak!"...perhaps for their own comfort more than mine. The intake nurse insisted on getting Jonathan. That didn't help. Jonathan and I just laughed through my tears, knowing they weren't going to stop anytime soon. Tears flowed a little harder when I discovered I would be awake for the biopsy, which I imagined to be a huge needle plunging deep into my chest (and it was). Next came my favorite part. A bouncy IV nurse- I think she literally bounded throughout the hospital- landed two inches from my face and in her sweet, Asian accent exclaimed, "OH! You are the Weeping Princess!" It made me smile. "I suppose I am," was my reply. The title, which I proudly accepted, made her unique approach to starting an IV somewhat tolerable. I'm pretty sure I saw her hop as she inserted the needle. I continued to "leak" as they wheeled me to my doctor, crying harder when I saw that he looked like an eighteen year old. The supervising doctor only needed a moment to meet me, assess the situation, and decide to order "happy drugs" for relaxation. Thank you, Jesus. Soon after the drug was administered I was cracking jokes and watching the biopsy with intrigue. I guess they found a way to plug that leak, after all. 

But it got me thinking, what's the big deal with tears, anyway? Those little drops caused a room full of well-trained professionals to scurry away in fear. Didn't Jesus weep when he found out his friend Lazarus had died? The crazy part is that Jesus already knew he could and would raise Lazarus from the dead! Why waste time on tears when he knew how the story would end? It sure sends a message for those who are hurting, even those of us that know God will someday dry all of our tears and make everything right. 

I think Jesus is trying to validate our emotions, saying that it's good to grieve: let it out! Yeah, we have hope. We know "God is good all the time, all the time God is good", but it's ok to cry right now because it hurts right now, and that matters to Him. There is something about expressed sorrow that even Jesus didn't choose to avoid. No clever rationalizations, exhausting distractions, or confusing denial. He embraced and expressed his experience of human emotion, so I guess I can too. 

I like what Dr. James Gills says in his book, God's Prescription for Healing. He compares crying to sneezing. Crying is another one of God's brilliant, built-in cathartic responses for healing. Sneezing expells unwanted invaders from our bodies so that makes crying the "big sneeze" for our emotions. It's like a reset button.  "Better out than in, I always say," to quote Shrek. I think that's why being tagged the Weeping Princess felt like an honor. I often tell my clients that it can take more courage to express our feelings than distract ourselves from them. Keeping a stiff upper lip is necessary in some situations, but it's not really my M.O. and I like it that way. I've been able to cry when I needed to cry, which has allowed me to experience joy, and laughter, and peace most of the time. I don't need to waste energy ignoring painful feelings because I have a Savior that says I am strong enough to handle them. Want to know the best part? When I'm not strong enough, he promises to meet me there. So far, Jesus has made good on that promise. 

I've recently been presented with many opportunities to admit my weakness. The challenge of last week was my port placement. I actually did ok through the procedure, far less "leaking" than the biopsy a few weeks prior. It is a bit disconcerting, however, to see this alien bubble under my skin, and it will take some getting used to. So I guess you can pray that I will make friends with this port. Some have recommended that I name it, which seems like a good next step. I'm taking suggestions! 

Chemo starts Thursday. I am looking forward to visits from friends on "chemo Thursdays" and will let you know how the first one goes. I predict some more appearances from the Weeping Princess- hold the kleenex, please- but also look forward to greater intimacy with Jesus and the people I love. 

In case you need a big emotional sneeze today, I'm sharing a link to this song by Jon Thurlow: 

My Little One

Jumping like Jenna

Hi friends,

Facts first:

We found out today that I have stage 2B of this cancer. "2" means it's not stage one, but also not stage four. "B" means I have symptoms, which I am convinced are unnecessary now since we have a diagnosis and am, therefore, fervently praying will go away. Want to join me in the fight? Pick your battle against night sweats, coughing, weight loss, anemia, fatigue, and general icky-ness.

The great news is that I can expect to see the mass (located in my chest, next to my heart) melt away after as few as two rounds of chemo! A round will consist of two doses, given once a week, every other week. This will continue for 6 months, at which point we expect a complete recovery.

Side effects will probably include hair loss, so I'll finally get an answer to a life-long question: do I have an even head? And I can try out a variety of new hair styles as my locks return. Other side effects should be minimal.

On to the deeper things of my soul:

A few days ago, one of my nieces was told by her dad, "Aunt Ashley is sick. Do you know who heals sick people?" This beautiful little blonde is a problem solver by nature, and it didn't take long for her to develop a solution to this very grown-up problem.
"In the Bible, Jesus heals sick people."
"Yeah, Jenna, he sure does."
"Ok. Let's pray. Jesus, please heal Aunt Ashley... Amen."

The end. It's done. Brush the dust off our hands, get up and go. A long, hard day's work is complete and Jenna is satisfied. Child-like faith, how refreshing.

I'm more of a "prepare for the worst, hope for the best" kind of gal. It works for me, usually. By imagining my worst fear, and watching myself live through it, I conquer it. It's sort-of a manufactured Abraham-and-Isaac moment in my mind. I'm challenged to give the thing I'm loving most to the One who loves me most.

I've cried with a friend during her own Abraham prayers. "Jesus, only you know how much I love my son, but if you want to take him through this illness, I will let him go." Not an easy prayer to pray. Heartbreaking, actually. But this prayer, this preparation for the worst, can lead to a surrender of ourselves. It can make things right in one's soul. It can show us the face of God.

Having said all this, God has been asking Jonathan and I to do something different lately. He's asked us to fight. He's asked us to jump into the deep end of an unfamiliar pool with abandon, to believe that He wants to heal me and that He intends to heal me. No room for doubt. No more preparing for the what-ifs, like I'm trying to fit God for a life vest that will save Him when we start to drown. We might actually rejoice in the journey. We might even have some fun.

So what happens if He doesn't come through? What if the valley I'm asked to walk through is darker than I imagine? I sit with people in my counseling practice that have experienced incredible suffering. Some have jumped but seem to have landed very hard. They feel "uncaught," bruised, and crushed. How do we heal from that? How do we climb out of that pool and (crazy!) jump again? Only by being in the presence of Jesus, because believe it or not, many have met a bruised and crushed Jesus at the bottom too. Many have found everything they ever longed for as they see Him restored to life.

Jenna jumped, but of course, she hasn't seen many falls. God is asking me to jump and I've seen a few more. It feels like He's taking away all of my efforts at self-protection, leaving me completely vulnerable in His presence. It's a good place to be.

It's not our responsibility to bail God out of a pit of our own expectations. We aren't really supposed to make sense of suffering, because we can't, although I'm sure we will continue to try. We are invited to be with Him, no matter what, to just keep being with Him...and if you've ever been with Him, you know that makes jumping so very worth it!

I'll leave you with a song, shared with me by a friend and on repeat in my iTunes library. Whether you are in an Abraham moment, or being asked to jump, I hope it encourages you.
If You Ask Me To, by Ginny Owens

"The one who formed you says, 'Do not be afraid, for I have ransomed you. I have called you by name. You are mine. When you go through deep waters, I will be with you. When you go through rivers of difficulty, you will not drown. When you walk through the fire of oppression, you will not be burned up; the flames will not consume you. For I am the LORD, your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior'" 
-Isaiah 43:2-3