Wasn’t Expecting That…

A few weeks ago, I found myself in my family doctor’s office, tears streaming uncontrollably down my cheeks, passing it off as trying to deal with the pain from my sore throat. Both the doctor and I knew that was a lie but he went along with it, nodding kindly with a compassionate half-smile. His sense of urgency at my physical state triggered something in me that I didn’t even know was there.

The similarities were too much. It was mid- October and it was rainy. I was going to the doctor expecting some antibiotics and an annoying wait at the pharmacy to follow, only for it to be implied that it was something more. Something more. He suggested I see my ENT immediately and even called and scheduled the appointment for me so that they would see me as soon as I got there. “I don’t see anything abnormal in your throat. With your level of pain in your neck and transplant site, I think you need a CAT scan.”

Mid-October. Rainy day. Thinking I’m going on for an inconsequential “tis-the-season” type of illness. Furrowed brows. Concerned whispers. An ENT visit. And now recommending a CAT scan.

“I can’t rule out some type of malignancy, given your history.”

There is was. The thing that broke the seal. That made the dam burst. That made for an awkward rest of the appointment, to be honest.

The tears began to flow immediately, rushing down my cheeks and soaking my sweatshirt. They wouldn’t stop.

Kim. Pull yourself together! Seriously, how many times have family doctors said something just like this to you and it’s been nothing! Why are you crying?! Get a grip! This poor guy is seriously worried about your mental state right now…

The doctor looked uncomfortable and like he felt really bad. Like he had just accidentally ran over my dog or something.

“I’m fine, it’s just a lot of pain.” He nods and smiles. It’s not a complete lie, but we both know what started the crap-show he was witnessing now.

A kind nurse comes in and offers me the whole box of tissues and pats me on the back. He walks out into the hallway with her and I hear them whispering. I hear him on the phone in the hallway.

“Yes…Yes…History of stage 4 melanoma. Yup, that’s her.”

Yup, that’s her.

The tears flow without breaks to the point that they are no longer individual drops but instead a steady stream.

He pops his head in, “can you head over now?” I tell him I can. He pauses and quietly asks, as though he’s embarrassed for me, “are you ok to drive?”

Yes, it was that bad.

I assure him I am and again remind him it’s just the physical pain and that I’ll be fine.

I got in my car and began sobbing. To the point of dry-heaving and physically shaking. Kim, what is WRONG with you?? This is literally the thousandth time this has happened to you. Get a grip!!

But it was all too much. The similarities between this appointment and the one that set everything in motion 6 years prior was just. too. much. 6 years after being diagnosed with terminal cancer, here I was again.

Mid-October, just after Brit’s birthday. Rainy. Going in expecting antibiotics and a wait at the pharmacy in my near future only be met with legitimate concern. An ENT appointment. A CAT scan.

The doctor’s sense of urgency triggered something in me that I didn’t even know was there.

And it hit me like a ton of bricks.

Fear.

It was pure, unadulterated fear seeping from my body, causing me to shake and dry-heave. It was as if he had ripped off a bandaid and I was expecting to see an all-but-healed scar but instead I was pulled under by the rush that came from underneath. But this was coming from within.

I drove home and laid in a ball on my kitchen floor and sobbed. Full-on ugly cry. As I wept, I began to rebuke myself.

You never even did this the first time you were diagnosed! And this guy didn’t even diagnose you with anything! What are you afraid of??

It was then that I realized just how far I had let myself slip into a safe and comfortable faith. Into a faith that means well, does good, is sincere in all forms, but had grown complacent somehow. I was doing the right things and avoiding the wrong things but without realizing it, my faith had become so small.

People see me as having a strong faith. And I do, don’t get me wrong. There was never a point where I turned from God, not at all. But I think I had hidden behind the image that everyone has of the Kim who had cancer. Brave. Strong. Fearless.

Fearless.

As I lay on my kitchen floor, I cried out to God in a way that I hadn’t in a long time. I felt small and weak. Helpless and not just fearful, but truly overflowing with fear. I felt God speak into my spirit “But what are you afraid of?”

In that moment, I felt a sense of calm. There’s no other way to describe it besides God had heard my cry and like a parent rushing to a hurting child, picked me up and held me. The mess I was. Small and full of fear. Fear of facing it all over again. Fear at what my family would have to endure yet again because of me. Fear of no longer identifying with that confident fighter that I once must have been.

But He was there. Just like He had always been. He had never left.

My tears turned to those of gratitude and repentance. God, I’m so sorry! Forgive me for my small faith! Place in me, once again, a faith that is fearless! I don’t know how I still had tears to cry and they didn’t seem to be stopping anytime soon.

But I felt amazing. Any believer knows the bitterness of the brokenness but how the tears that come afterwards can be so very sweet. I felt renewed, like a burden had lifted and a fog had cleared.

And I felt ready to face the ENT. A visit there, a CAT scan, a whole mess of antibiotics and steroids showed it was just some “tis the season” type of illness.

And better yet, the next week my PET scan and brain MRI came back clear once again.

So why do I share this? Well, for a few reasons actually. I never intended, through sharing my journey, to ever come across like I was handling things perfectly. With any diagnosis comes a lot of complex emotions and that’s ok. I don’t want anyone to think of me as like a gold-standard for how to deal, because, well, did you just read the above account? Yeah….

I’m just sharing this in the hopes that maybe it can encourage someone who is feeling that paralyzing fear. I never told anyone but my husband because I was so ashamed, but God is bigger than my shame and for sure bigger than our fears. I realized I could stand in church and sing “no guilt in life or fear in death” and maybe not mean it in that moment. I’ve been spending my nights when all is calm and quiet in the Psalms and it’s been so refreshing for my soul.

“When I said, ‘My foot is slipping,’ Your unfailing love, Lord, supported me. When anxiety was great within me, Your consolation brought me joy.” -Psalm 94:18-19

I hope you all are well and if you made it this far, you truly deserve a medal! In all seriousness, I know many of you have been along on this ride with us for these past 6 years and we are so grateful for your prayers, encouragement, and support.

It’s MY cancer, not hers.

It’s my cancer, not hers.

I wish she could understand that, but I know deep down that this story is not just mine but that it belongs to my children, too. That this is theirs just as much as it is mine.

We ran head-first into an unexpected trial of a “cancer parent” tonight. I’m not much of a cryer and wasn’t expecting to cry tonight but I write this as tears flow steadily down my cheeks.

Brit just had a complete breakdown because she’s going back to school tomorrow after Thanksgiving break and she’s going to miss me. Well, that’s where it started.

If you know me well, you know that I have severe separation anxiety from the kids. Absolutely and without a doubt in my mind a side effect of my trying to reconcile having to leave them – in the form of death – just a few short years ago. I’m still plagued by nightmares of them calling for me but I can’t get to them. And my anxiety grips me each and every time they’re away from me. Regardless of the circumstance. I joke “yes please take them! They’re driving me crazy!” (Which, to be fair, they are) But the jokes are simply a cover for the fact that I’m miserable and worry-stricken every single moment we are apart. They don’t know I struggle with this EVERY DAY and I’m not planning on making it an issue for them ever! But while Evan can, for the most part, go off and enjoy his independence and then come back and let me know he missed me and tell me all about his adventures, Brit is just not quite like that and it kills me to see her broken down at the thought of us being apart tomorrow. This is may just be your classic “nature vs. nurture” psychology sort of issue (is this her natural personality to be anxious and worried or did she develop that because most of her life has been marred with the threat of losing her mom? Or hey, let’s be honest, did she just learn these habits from me?). All possibilities seem plausible when you dwell in them long enough.

Today, I had to go to the doctor for a flu shot and when he looked in my right ear and asked me why it looked the way it did, Brit chimed in that it’s “because Mommy has cancer”. She was matter-of-fact and unemotional, it didn’t seem to phase her, it was just a fact. But I cringed so hard because as much as you try to protect your kids from these realities, they still know and understand. And it’s really hard to watch how MY cancer has affected them. It wasn’t supposed to. It was supposed to me mine! But here we are. Just since I’ve sat down to write this, she has come out 3 separate times just to make sure I was ok and that I am still here.

And, update, now I sit on the edge of her bed writing this as she drifts off because she wanted to be able to see me. She had to know I was there.

This wasn’t supposed to be her burden, but as they grow I am beginning to see how all of this is shaping their story too.

And I feel so guilty.

Snapchat was the only thing that calmed her down a few minutes ago. I’m thanking God for His provision, for health, for my still being here with my children, and for His steady hand holding me in the moments where I can’t actually take any more.

It’s MY cancer, not hers.

It’s my cancer, not hers.

I wish she could understand that, but I know deep down that this story is not just mine but that it belongs to my children, too. That this is theirs just as much as it is mine.

We ran head-first into an unexpected trial of a “cancer parent” tonight. I’m not much of a cryer and wasn’t expecting to cry tonight but I write this as tears flow steadily down my cheeks.

Brit just had a complete breakdown because she’s going back to school tomorrow after Thanksgiving break and she’s going to miss me. Well, that’s where it started.

If you know me well, you know that I have severe separation anxiety from the kids. Absolutely and without a doubt in my mind a side effect of my trying to reconcile having to leave them – in the form of death – just a few short years ago. I’m still plagued by nightmares of them calling for me but I can’t get to them. And my anxiety grips me each and every time they’re away from me. Regardless of the circumstance. I joke “yes please take them! They’re driving me crazy!” (Which, to be fair, they are) But the jokes are simply a cover for the fact that I’m miserable and worry-stricken every single moment we are apart. They don’t know I struggle with this EVERY DAY and I’m not planning on making it an issue for them ever! But while Evan can, for the most part, go off and enjoy his independence and then come back and let me know he missed me and tell me all about his adventures, Brit is just not quite like that and it kills me to see her broken down at the thought of us being apart tomorrow. This is may just be your classic “nature vs. nurture” psychology sort of issue (is this her natural personality to be anxious and worried or did she develop that because most of her life has been marred with the threat of losing her mom? Or hey, let’s be honest, did she just learn these habits from me?). All possibilities seem plausible when you dwell in them long enough.

Today, I had to go to the doctor for a flu shot and when he looked in my right ear and asked me why it looked the way it did, Brit chimed in that it’s “because Mommy has cancer”. She was matter-of-fact and unemotional, it didn’t seem to phase her, it was just a fact. But I cringed so hard because as much as you try to protect your kids from these realities, they still know and understand. And it’s really hard to watch how MY cancer has affected them. It wasn’t supposed to. It was supposed to be mine! But here we are. Just since I’ve sat down to write this, she has come out 3 separate times just to make sure I was ok and that I am still here.

And, update, now I sit on the edge of her bed writing this as she drifts off because she wanted to be able to see me. She had to know I was there.

This wasn’t supposed to be her burden, but as they grow I am beginning to see how all of this is shaping their story too.

And I feel so guilty.

Snapchat was the only thing that calmed her down a few minutes ago. I’m thanking God for His provision, for health, for my still being here with my children, and for His steady hand holding me in the moments where I can’t actually take any more.

Scans and Results

Hey guys! I’m updating here because I know some of you have been following this journey with me for quite some time through my blogs and I wanted to share the good news with all of you! My most recent scans came back completely clear – check it out in my oncologist’s own words!

This is always a great thing to hear, obviously! The truth is, scan time brings about a lot of anxiety. My life is pretty much back to normal now and one little blip on the radar would mean the start up again of scans, treatments, and endless appointments. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for modern medicine! But every time I see my results in and I’m about to click I have to take a deep breath and I think to myself “ready or not…”

Because I’m truly not ready for the implications of a bad scan. There’s always that fear that something is still lurking although in my heart I know that’s not true. God is good regardless, but I’m thanking Him for His provision in this moment. God has taught me so much in all of this and has given me so many opportunities to speak at churches and proclaim His goodness and I’m so grateful for that and am ALWAYS blessed and encouraged by the people I meet in these times. The Spirit is working in my life in big ways and so I’ll continue to trust and follow 💕

“As for me, I trust in the Lord” Psalm 31:6

Scans are never fun, but my heart and prayers are going to those who got bad news, who aren’t feeling well, who feel hopeless. If you’d like me to pray for you or a loved one, leave a message here or email me at morelikecantcer@gmail.com or if you know me in person, get at me!

I know some of you feel me here!! Wishful thinking, I suppose 😊

A Season of “No.”

Imagine if God gave us everything we wanted right when we wanted it starting as soon as we repented and accepted Christ. At first, this sort of sounds awesome, right?

But what would we ask for?

We would, no doubt, destroy ourselves with indulgences and whims and would turn from Him to live in our selfishness, glorifying only ourselves.

I think back on things I’ve prayed for and can see where His unwillingness to yield to the foolish whims of my heart were ultimately in my best interest. I also see clearly where seasons of suffering, that I prayed to be delivered from, were painfully drawn out and have brought much fruit that otherwise wouldn’t have flourished if left to my own will.

This is why I will trust His “No.” or His “Wait.” Whatever it might be. It is most certainly for my own good.

The problem is I’ve grown impulsive in my faith, all because of cancer. I no longer see any need to sit around and wait, I want to be shown where to go and I want go. So being told “No” or “wait” is most definitely bothering me more than I’d like to admit.

But just as these two pictures of our lane show, clarity will come. It won’t be foggy forever. And so I’ll seek Him in prayer and scripture. I will continue to serve Him the best I know how.

And I will wait.

.

Cancer, a Birthday, and a Secret Prayer

I was dying.  And I knew it.  I was under no delusions that healing was on the table for me and I had accepted my lot in life.  Or death, I suppose, as it were.  Cancer was “exploding” all over my body, in the words of my oncologist, and I had a few good months left – at best.  My brain tumor was wreaking havoc in the way of grand mal seizures that left me for minutes on end without oxygen, leaving me to try to regain my body functions and memory after each one.  And after each one it got increasingly harder and had more long term effects that didn’t dissipate.  I had tumors in my lungs that were so inflamed that any exertion left me in a coughing fit and I found myself night after night sleeping upright on the couch because laying down in bed next to my husband, where I longed to be, would result in painful coughing fits.  My hip and back ached constantly, crying out in pain, and reminding me that the cancer was eating my bones.  Little by little.

Each day I had to relinquish more and more control of my life and the life of my family over to family and friends.  I thank God endlessly for the selfless love we received, but there is no 30 year old mother on earth who wants this for her family.  And so I struggled mentally with my lack of involvement with my kids at the level I had wanted for myself.

My body and my mind were both betraying me more and more each day.  And there was no hope in healing.  And so we faced each day as we had to.

I watched my kids, then 2 and 4, living a seemingly normal life.  At least, as normal as we could provide in the midst of all my treatments, scans, and appointments.  We tried to build a sense of normalcy around the fact that Mommy was dying and we treated it as a fact of life rather than a scary and sad event.  I bought them a book called “A Kid’s Travel Guide to Heaven” and we read it every day.  And while it’s certainly not scripture based, it did help open the discussion and help the kids to see that that was where Mommy would be.  Waiting for them to come.

I needed them to know that if they understood the gospel of Jesus Christ and that if they accepted the gift of salvation that we would be together again.  And I needed them to know that although Mommy was happy to go to heaven, that it would never be my choice to leave them.  Never.  I was desperate for them to understand this.  And the tears would fall.  Rolling down my cheeks in silent protest.  Just as they are right now as I write this.

A sibling squabble was a reminder that I wouldn’t be there to help them bond as they grew up.   Setting the kids in front of a Veggietales so I could get a break because I was in too much pain was a reminder that I wouldn’t be a spiritual influence for them for very much longer.  A sweet hug goodnight and even the frustration of trying to put young kids to bed were all too painful reminders of all I would be missing out on.  And selfishly, this tore me up inside.  Everything in me longed to be there for them as they grew up, and so the tears fell.

People often ask me how I did it.  How could I face this?  How could I cope?  There is truly no good answer to that.  I know we did what we had to do but looking back it seems so impossible.  It really was too much.  How did we do it?

There was a profound acceptance on my part that this was the end.  Mind you, acceptance certainly did not mean gladness.  I was tired and I was sad.  But I was ready.

I remember one sleepless night very clearly.  I had propped myself up on lots of pillows so that I could stay in bed with Eric, and as was so often the case when I could manage to stay in bed, I would listen to him rhythmically breathing as he slept and I would be soothed by the fact that he, at least for a few hours each day, had calmness and rest.  On this particular night, just like I had on so many others, I would pray.

But tonight would be a little bit different.

I lay there with my eyes closed tight, silent tears falling faster each second, cascading down my cheeks only to puddle up onto the sheets.  And in my desperation I reached my hand up to heaven.  And I begged God with all I had in me, to give me until I was 34.

34 years old.

Please God!  It would be about 3.5 years at that point and I felt like I was asking for the moon.  I felt like I was asking God to turn me into a unicorn or something equally as impossible.  I felt like I knew I was asking for too much, that it wasn’t possible, that it was absolutely ridiculous.  But that for some reason in my head that was the perfect amount of time.  That if He just allowed me that window of time that the kids would be old enough to have some good, solid memories of me.  At that time, this was the number one tug on my heart.  Selfishly, I wanted nothing more than for the kids to remember me.  That’s just the way it was.  Eric and I would have been married 10 years when I was 34, and that was just an astonishing feat to me.  It sounded so glorious.  Perfect.  The perfect amount of time!  I kept apologizing to God because I knew my request was so silly and so selfish.  But as I continued to pray, my desperation simply grew as I begged and begged God to please just give me until I was 34!

I write this today.  On my 34th birthday.  I can honestly say I never thought this day would come.  I know God isn’t a genie up in heaven granting wishes, but I believe He heard my heart on that night.  I’m not sure I’ll ever know for sure how all of this has worked or why it has worked out this way, surviving this long isn’t something I believe I deserve or have earned.  It just simply is.  And as I sit here now with clean scans as of last week, I’ll accept it as the beautiful gift it is.

I didn’t want to tell this story.  In fact, I could count on one hand the number of people I ever told this prayer to.  Why?  Because it felt like a childish prayer.  Like a lack of faith on my part, and maybe it was.

But I wanted to tell it now because God is good and deserves all praise.  Always.  He has given me more than I could ever ask or imagine.  Think about those words, more than I could ask or imagine.  All glory to God!  And I give Him glory for this urgency He has placed in my heart for spreading the gospel.  It can feel like a burden sometimes because it was so much easier to live a lukewarm life, but I pray He never lets this passion for praising Him and spreading the Good News fade.  Christ has reconciled this sinner with a Holy God through His righteousness alone.  I’ll always be grateful and I want to only praise him forever.  Thank you, Jesus!

“Now to Him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to His power that is at work within us, to Him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever!  Amen.”  ~Ephesians 3:20-21

Prayer for Believers

May Your holy fire burn within us again;

And may Your love boil over in result, forcing us to action in Your name.

May we cast off the rotting corpses of shame, guilt, and regret,

And may we fully come to know that Your blood has washed us clean.

May we be ceaselessly burdened for those who don’t know You,

And may we make discipleship our priority.

May we take the Good News so far that our feet become sore and weary,

And may our arms ache and cry out as we reach farther and farther towards the lost.

May we keep our eyes fixed only on Him, our feet straight in His path,

And our lives set in His will.

May we see suffering and long to ease it,

And may we endure suffering in Your strength only.

May we experience unity as believers,

Recognizing that we all share the same goal.

May our lips speak to praise You,

And our words bring You glory.

May we meet contempt with love.

May our words build each other up in constant encouragement.

May we no longer pursue a world that is ripe with decay,

But let us seek revival in Your word.

May we experience hunger so that others may be fed.

May we serve with intent and selflessness,

Forsaking accolades and meaningless praise.

May our egos dry to dust and float away in the wind of God’s goodness.

And may our icy apathy and cold-hearted complacency towards Christ’s final directive begin to melt,

That we may thirst for the living water above all else to fill us.

My Revival Prayer

[I became a Christian at the age of 23 so that meant I was thrown into a new world with a new language – “Christianese” – that sounded awfully funny at first, but as I began to understand more deeply the changes I had experienced, I was able to speak it more fluently to the point now where it’s second nature.  There is one thing I find super weird though, and maybe it’s just a factor of where I live, but I find it so odd how the church today seems to shy away from the term “revival”.  Now coming into Christianity, I had no preconceived notions of revival whatsoever – not good or bad.  It was a neutral word to me, honestly.  Is this something within the church that keeps people from pushing for this?  I have experienced personal revival on several occasions and think that it is not only beneficial, it is necessary.  We have such a strong tendency to keep ourselves preoccupied with unimportant things that I think occasionally it’s important to step back, reevaluate, get right, and go from there.  And so, here below, is my earnest prayer for a revival of the Holy Spirit within all believers.]

Lord,

May the fire of Holy Spirit burn deep within our bellies, and may the love of Christ overflow from our hearts.

May our words bring praise to God and may each precious breath be spent in building others up in constant encouragement.

May our lips tell stories of His goodness, His mercy, His life-giving presence.

May we cast off the weight of the rotting corpse that is guilt and shame and fully finally dance for joy in the glorious freedom that is grace.

But may our backs ache with the burden of those who have yet to receive this rest-giving, life-changing freedom.

May we be guided by sound teaching and doctrine, but never fall into the trap of legalism.

May we solemnly grieve for those who are grieving and may we whole-heartedly rejoice with those who can rejoice.

May we bring the good news so far that our feet are sore and weary and may our arms ever ache as we continually reach out to further the kingdom.

May we keep our eyes fixed on Him, our lives set in His will, and our feet planted firmly in the path He has set before us.

May we never forsake eternal and life-giving truth for the sweet-sounding lies of the devil.

May we not stew in our perceived grievances and count offenses, but may we extend grace always.  May even a gentle rebuke from a fellow believer be accepted with an open heart.

May we see in the harsh light of reality the suffering all around us and may it not discourage us but be a call to meaningful and fruit-bearing action.

May we understand that the cure for poverty isn’t simply money, it’s generosity.  It’s selfless, sacrificial, uncoerced, and unrequited generosity of time, energy, love, and personal wealth.

May we realize that life is too short and Jesus is too true to hold grudges or to be divisive and loud and stubborn and angry.

May we no longer conform to and pursue a world that is decaying and overflowing with death but allow ourselves to be renewed every moment by the living God who makes all things new.

May we experience hunger so that others are fed and may we serve with selflessness and intent, forsaking accolades, recognition, and meaningless praise.

May we become disgusted with our own complacency towards Christ’s call to go and make disciples and may we fall to our knees in repentance for this sin of apathy.

May we experience unity as believers all living with the same goal – to reach a broken and hurting world with the love and truth of Jesus Christ and to God be all the glory!

Jesus himself said to a group of people who believed in Him (v 31), “there’s no room in your hearts for my message”  (John 8:37).  Lord, may we cleanse ourselves anew and repent without shame or self-consciousness until there may be nothing else found in our hearts but Your message!

Amen. ❤️

  

The Psychology of Sin

A lot of you know that I’m purposely taking September to pray for others in a more meaningful and intentional way than I usually do.  And part of that was that I wanted to fast from sugar for the whole month (besides fruit) to help me remember to pray for people better.  My thought was every time I felt preoccupied by wanting sugar I would redirect my thoughts to the needs presented before me.  And for the first 6 days it went just like that.

Until last night.  I was home alone and I opened the freezer for ice for my tea and there I saw it.  Glimmering in its cozy frozen cave, the ice cream I’ve been dreaming about.  And in a moment of weakness, without someone to talk me down from it, I ate some. 

Was this a sin?  I don’t really know, but it sure feels like it.  I feel like I let God down and all the people who have trusted me to pray for them.  So I decided after that that I would start right back up and not fall into temptation again.

And then I woke up this morning and found myself thinking some weird things.  Thoughts of, “you already blew it, you might as well just give up” crept into my head.  I found myself thinking that it was already over, I already ruined everything, I might as well just eat everything in the house that contains sugar.  And then I had a truly scary thought, “Nobody would even have to know…”

Whoa whoa whoa stop right there.  I knew then that I needed to share this because it’s such a good representation of the poisonous thoughts that accompany sin:
1.  I wasn’t accountable in that moment and I didn’t want to be accountable.  I have a friend doing this with me but when the situation presented itself I wanted to relish this gloriousness where I was cheating.  I didn’t want in that moment to pray or seek the Bible or call my friend or any form of accountability, I just wanted the sugar.  Sounds so silly, right?  But if I had used the tools God has given me I’m certain I would not have slipped.

2. Sin makes us think illogically.  All of the sudden I was trash.  Unworthy.  Not good enough to even go before God on behalf of those who I had said I’d pray for.  I was believing the lies and had fallen into the trap of “well you’re already tarnished, might as well just go all the way”.  I think all of us have felt this before, and after working with teens for many years I can say that this is the especially destructive thinking common to when we fall into sexual sin.  It’s over.  I’m done.  I’m nothing.  I’m ruined, might as well just keep going.  But this overlooks the whole entire reason that we look to Jesus: grace.  Go and sin no more.  Stop it, turn the other way, and keep going in a direction towards God.  You’re not ruined, you just messed up.  Now go and sin no more.

3. Admitting that I failed sucks, and I’m truly sorry to those who trusted me to do this on their behalf, but I know I can regroup and finish this month out the best I can without reaching for the artificial comfort living within my freezer.  But I want to be open and honest and I can’t stand the thought that someone may look at me and think that I act like I’m better than anyone else.  In fact, you’re not even supposed to put it out there when you’re fasting because it makes you look like you’re bragging.  And I know this but I made the decision to go ahead with letting people in on that part because I know how I felt when people were fasting and praying for me, my heart was in the right place I assure you. 

Failure is a part of the process, but it’s up to us if we let it ruin us completely or if we let God get us back on track.  I will do my best, with the Lord’s help, to get back on track!

Can’t Ignore the Call

Tomorrow starts September, can you believe it?  I’m super excited and here are some things you should know:

1.  I want to pray for you

2.  I’m mostly genuine in that statement

3.  I’m currently eating ice cream for breakfast.

Ok, why am I telling people this?  To be honest, sometimes God puts an idea in my head and I completely resist it.  And He persists.  And I persist trying to ignore Him (as bad as that sounds…) but yet He persists.  The truth for #1 here is that I really do want to pray for you.  If you read my last post, then you know that I’ve been dealing with chronic headaches and since I let people in on that I’ve had a lot of amazing people praying for me and that’s always awesome.

So if you’d allow it, I’d like to do that for you.  I’m going to be praying every day diligently in time I’ve set aside for the whole month of September for whoever needs it!  I only need as many details as you want to give me, I’m not looking for gossip or dirt, I just honestly want to give back to people in a way that they’ve given to me.

I’ve written on prayer before.  I know some people think that if there’s a need and God knows it then He should just fix it and we shouldn’t even have to pray.  But I want to remind you that God works in prayer.  I cannot and will never deny that, even if I don’t completely understand it.  He is faithful to us as we are faithful to coming to Him in prayer.  

That’s how it works, you don’t have to like it or approve of His methods. He doesn’t need your approval.  

Just sayin.  Felt like I should highlight this.

But even Jesus prayed, like a lot.  So I know it’s something that’s important for us to do as well.  I believe that praying for others makes us better followers.  It makes us more sensitive to the needs of others and how we can help.  Communing with God in this way is always very special, so yes there is a selfish element to it I suppose, but my true heart’s desire is to lift others before the Lord.  I’m not trying to make myself look good or like a “better Christian” than anyone else, that’s just silly.  I read in Acts 10 just this morning how God doesn’t have favorites.  And I’m not trying to make myself look good to others, I don’t really care anymore what people think, so there’s that.  But I have a pretty neat tool here on social media, so I’d like to use it.

As for #2, I wrote in my journal the other day about how I felt God leading me to do this but how I, well, didn’t want to.  I know how crazy that sounds because umm if God’s calling you to pray for people then just do it, right?  No big deal!  The problem is that He has lead me to do this twice before and each time something catastrophic has happened in regards to my health.  Maybe a coincidence but maybe not.  The first time I did this I was diagnosed with cancer and the next time I did it I was pushed to stage 4.  This is a mental block that I want to get past especially since God was so faithful – to me and to those being prayed for.  So yes, my heart’s cry is to pray for people right now.  But there’s also a little hesitation there that I believe God wants me to bowl over.  

I’m called to be obedient, not cautious, so I want very much to do this.  

And why in the world am I telling you about my horrible breakfast habits? 

 
There is good reason, I promise.  In this endeavor I’ll be giving up sugar for the month.  Totally and completely (hopefully).  This is kind of a long story and will be really, really difficult for me, but I will be fasting from all refined sugar and sweeteners in general as I pray for you.  So, since it’s August 31st, ice cream for breakfast it is!

So anyway, this probably didn’t need to be this long, but it felt good to get that off my chest.  Walking in God’s will is exciting and challenging and I am ready to pray for people!  Anyone!  Feel free to leave a comment here, or on facebook, or if you know me text or call me, or private message me, or email me at morelikecantcer@gmail.com.  There’s like tons of ways to get a hold of me, just don’t send a carrier pigeon, that’s super rude because I hate birds.

I want to thank everyone who took the time to respond after my last post.  It’s really difficult sometimes to let people in on things like that but your love and support and prayers have not gone unnoticed.  So thank you!  And I’d love to do the same for you…hit me up if you want some prayer!  If you don’t see this before Sept 1st, get at me after, I’d still love to pray for you.

I also read in Romans this morning:

Don’t just pretend to love others.  Really love them.  Hate what is wrong.  Hold tightly to what is good. Love each other with genuine affection, and take delight in honoring each other.  Never be lazy but work hard and serve the Lord enthusiastically.  Rejoice in our confident hope.  Be patient in trouble and keep on praying.  When God’s people are in need, be ready to help them.” 

~Romans 12:9-13