Encouraging weary women to hope in Christ alone
Do you hesitate to reach out to a friend with cancer because you’re scared you’ll say the wrong thing? Here are three things not to say, based on my experience as a cancer survivor and friend of cancer-fighters, and served up with a big dose of grace. This was recorded as a Facebook Live video in September 2017.
For more information on this topic, check out my book, Loving Your Friend through Cancer.
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It was one week before Christmas 2010. I sat in my oncologist’s office at MD Anderson Cancer Center in Houston, 600 miles from my home in Arkansas, clutching my husband’s hand as tears streamed down my face.
My oncologist had delivered the great news first: after two rounds of high-dose chemotherapy, the rare and aggressive tumor in my breast was much smaller. But there was bad news. My platelets were dangerously low from the chemo, and I still needed at least four more rounds to have a chance at survival.
My doctor had a solution.
In a clinical trial at MD Anderson, I would receive an experimental drug to boost my platelets. But I would need to spend two out of every three weeks in Houston. At that time, I feared I wouldn’t live long enough to walk my 18-month-old daughter into first grade. I certainly didn’t want to spend any of my time in a Houston hospital room.
But I didn’t have a choice.
I’m sharing God’s story of faithfulness in my life over at (in)courage today! It’s a wonderful community and provides rich devotional content daily–I hope you’ll continue reading there, check out their other posts, and subscribe to their devotional emails.
ShareWhen a friend goes through chemo, radiation, or other cancer treatment during the holidays, how can you support and serve her well? Here are some ideas, based on my experience as a cancer survivor, recorded as a Facebook Live video in November 2016.
For more information on this topic, check out my book, Loving Your Friend through Cancer.
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Last October, I sat across from my husband at a small, white-clothed table, the stars above hidden by thick clusters of palm trees. I’ve cried in some bizarre places, but I never thought I’d cry while dining on a tropical island. And yet, I fought back tears as I was serenaded by one of the restaurant’s employees. As I listened to her mellow voice crooning out the words to “Happy Birthday,” the sound took me back to 2011, a Houston living room, and a bald young mom with desperate prayers.
I can still see the twin upholstered chairs with stacks of magazines between them, the coffee table books, and family photos on the built-in bookshelves around the television. I spent countless hours there in the living room of my “Houston parents,” the strangers-turned-family who let me live with them during my months of treatment at MD Anderson Cancer Center. When your body is wiped out from chemo and your husband and young children are 600 miles away, there’s not much to do but watch television.
So there I sat, curled up under a blanket with a knit cap covering my head and a central line coming out of my chest, watching for hours. I used to love TLC, but I had to avoid “Say Yes to the Dress” and all those moms picking out wedding dresses with their daughters, bickering and not appreciating that they were alive to see their daughter’s wedding. Cooking shows might trigger nausea. HGTV was usually safe territory.
But without fail, I’d see at least one commercial for the American Cancer Society. That year they ran an ad campaign featuring celebrity musicians singing “Happy Birthday to You.” Their tagline was “Here’s to a world with more birthdays” and they were the self-proclaimed “Official Sponsor of Birthdays.” I remember watching Celine Dion, alone on an empty concert stage, belting out her acapella rendition with emotion and heart, as my own emotions ran down my face.
I came undone each time I saw those commercials. I was diagnosed with cancer the day before my 34th birthday. I didn’t expect to celebrate many more. Because of my treatment in Houston, I missed each of my children’s birthdays that year. I watched them open gifts via webcam as they turned 7, 5 and 2.
Every single day, I begged the Lord for more birthdays. I pleaded with Him to let me see my children blow out more candles, to let me live long enough for my two-year-old daughter to remember me. My idea of growing old had changed dramatically. I wasn’t shooting for age 70 or 80. In my mind, turning 40 was more than I could dare to dream.
But God. BUT GOD. But God, in His mercy, has done more than I could have hoped or imagined. I’m turning 40 tomorrow! You’ve never in your life seen anyone as excited to be 40 as me. Being “over the hill” doesn’t bother me, because I’ve spent years thinking I might already be near the bottom. I’m thrilled to find I’ve got more of the hill still below me.
With all due respect to the work of the American Cancer Society, my Heavenly Father is the official sponsor of birthdays – He is the one who gives me life and breath. I’ll take each and every birthday He gives and proclaim the power and glory of His name. Through it all, He is good and faithful.
Happy birthday to me. (And many more!)
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