Call me a fool...

It has been a long time since I have found the words to write about my experience. Its possible this is due to the fact that my time with cancer has left me more raw and vulnerable than I have cared to disclose.  My silence could also be due to the fact that my recovery (physically/ mentally/ spiritually) is a journey that is still playing out and I prefer for pain to be resolved before I reveal it. Showing unresolved pain makes one truly vulnerable and that is scary. Past pain is easy to talk about. Current pain and struggles are a different story. And yet, words are flowing with my tears tonight and begging to escape. So here we are. 

As most of you know, I have been fighting cancer on and off for the past 8 years. This most recent relapse has lasted for nearly 3 years and has stolen more of my identity than I honestly care to admit. Never have I felt pain, despair, and hopelessness like this. It's not always dark, but when it is, it is so consuming that I lose sight of who I am as a person. That may or may not sound dramatic, but it is what it is. I am a big fan of science and research- so much so that I have made a career out of it. So here are the facts about my health status (spoiler alert: Science does not seem to love me as much as I love it.)  According to the research, it is incredibly rare for Hodgkin's Lymphoma to be unresponsive to treatments. When it is, the prognosis is dire: 2-5 years life expectancy, at best. I have been battling this cancer for 8 years, so the math for my long term survival is not super great. 

Walking my family through this fact is challenging at best, but mostly, its just plain old heart-breaking. A lot of the turmoil stems from the fact that we have had so many moments of false hope. Treatments will nearly eradicate the cancer from my body and then the next scan will show that my cancer has spread so quickly and aggressively that I was worse off than when I started. This has become a common occurrence over the past 3 years. Mostly, I am able to just go with the flow but there was once specific incident a few years back that left me reeling. My cancer had started spreading, so in response, I doubled down in my faith. I BELIEVED healing was around the corner- I was so sure it would happen. Many others prayed and believed with me. I trusted what I was told and I trusted what I read in the Bible- that God is a God of healing. But Science won the day and the scans showed that my cancer had spread to every area of my body at an alarming rate. I lost my faith that day. Completely and utterly. How could a loving God look at my struggling family, at my children who have endured so much loss, at my students who have been labeled too traumatized to be loveable, and say that removing me from the equation was acceptable- that me not existing was His plan all along? Believing that left me feeling unloved and alone. I was unable to trust that God cared for those I love the most. I could no longer believe that He had a plan for their good... or worse, that His "good plan" was to label me as expendable and thus imply they would be better off without me in existence. It was not something that I could accept. I couldn't (and still can't) get on board with a plan that would cause so much heartache and trauma to the ones that I would move mountains for. A god that I cannot trust is not a god that I can serve. So I rejected Him in totality.

That loss of faith had a devastating impact on me and my family. I was unrecognizable- angry, bitter, lashing out at those I love most. I self-medicated in ways that I now recognize as unhealthy and damaging. Over the span of a year, I searched for meaning, for something that would bring me fulfillment. I threw myself into a frenzied pursuit of knowledge, into my career, into being the perfect mom and wife. None of these things were bad endeavors, but they failed to help me while I continued to grapple with my pending expiration date.  I floundered without a sense of purpose, because if all my effort and striving, all my work and passion were going to disappear when I died, what was the point? 

Through much research, seeking, and a few personal experiences, I eventually found God again. My relationship with Him looks completely different than the one that I left 2 years ago. It is tender and raw. It is not self-assured or presuming. I honestly wouldn't even classify it as a strong relationship- it is merely the relationship that I chose. He was thing that I decided I did not want to live without, because life without God was dark and bleak. Abandoning my belief did not resolve any of the pain or uncertainty that cancer leaves at my doorstep. Conversely, choosing to believe that there is Higher Being with a higher purpose, one that will remain long after I am gone, brings me a sense of calm. Sometimes. Call it a crutch if you will, but I think it is much more complicated and precious than that. Deciding to believe in the existence of a God that loves me did not resolve any of my tangible problems. I still have cancer. I still ache on a visceral level to see the damage that my illness inflicts on my husband and my children. I still question God's "plan" for my life and the longevity of it. It hurts to feel expendable and I routinely call God out on the direction that my life has taken. When reading through the New Testament, I feel bitter at all the miraculous healings that seemed to take place when Jesus walked into the room. He was like Oprah on steroids: "YOU get a healing and YOU get a healing." However, here I remain, begging for a different narrative and still dying.

 Today I am 4 days from coming home from one of Science's last ditch efforts to delay that death. (None of the doctors anticipate that this clinical trial will put me in long-term remission. It is more a stalling tactic so that we can find other treatments that may or may not cure me for good.) I have been tearing up all day. Physical and emotional exhaustion could be playing a role in my emotional state, but I think that it goes much deeper than that. Tonight, I sobbed while reading a story about a stranger experiencing a healing that was considered a medical anomaly. As I wiped my tears and laughed at myself for being an emotional nutjob, a realization dawned on me that has been years in the making: 

The truth is that I have stopped believing in God. Though I have found my faith again, I still do not believe in a God that listens, a God that is not bound by the rules of this world. I do not believe in a God that heals. Instead I have chosen to trust in Science. I believe it when Science tells me that I will never meet John's children. I have painfully accepted the fact that I will never watch Jeff walk Olive down the aisle or see Michael accept his high school diploma. I have listened as Science told me that I may never know what career Sam decides to apply his unique brilliance to or be able to watch BB's fierce tenderness change lives. I have written countless letters in my head for my children as they live out the various milestones life will bring their way. I have planned videos so they can remember my face, my voice, my mannerisms. I have tried and failed to figure out words of encouragement to tell Jeff when he faces the reality of raising 5 children on his own. I have this clock always ticking in my head- stealing my life from me one second at a time. I have bought into Science's timeline for my life hook, line, and sinker. BUT...

But, what if I'm wrong? What if Science knows a whole lot but there is a God that does not have to answer to Science? What if I am resigning myself to a lesser existence by not stepping out in faith that God can heal ME? This realization has undone me because the life that Faith would have me lead is a life of hope, which is a feeling I desperately miss. Dare I hope for a life where I have a future I can look forward to- a life where I grow old alongside my family and see them accomplish all of the beautiful achievements I am confident their futures hold? Honest introspection allows me to recognize that while I found belief in God again, I haven't yet started believing Him. Sure, I can cognitively recognize that medical miracles occur, incidents that Science is hesitant to explain. But I am terrified to ask that God extend those miracles to me. I have been down that road and the result was catastrophe. What if I believe and the result is the same? It is a terrifying proposition. No one who has ever dealt with personal trauma would willingly sign themselves up for a scenario where that exact same trauma is likely to reoccur. It is foolishness. And yet, choosing to believe in a God that I cannot prove the existence of is a little foolish too, isn't it? One of my favorite verses has always been 1 Cor. 1:25, where it says, "...the foolishness of God is wiser than human wisdom, and the weakness of God is stronger than human strength." So, cheers to being a little foolish! 

By no means, do I expect these personal realizations to change the state of my health or make my current situation more tolerable. Dying blows, there is just no getting around that fact. But I am realizing that I am in control of the demons that come knocking on my door. I can choose to live the rest of my life listening solely to Science, and try to cope with the despair that brings. OR I can step out in faith, and ask a God who professes to love me like crazy, to give me hope for a future- one that is good and meaningful and complete. And preferably lasts another 50 years or so.