It's was not your fault.

Haunted by the memories, sleep eludes you. You toss and you turn, trying unsuccessfully to push the pain aside. Slowly, a tear slides down your face, then another and another until sobs shake your entire body and the cry of your tortured soul escapes from your lips.
"God, I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry!" The memories are flashing faster and faster now, and suddenly you find yourself back in that place, back in that room on that terrible, terrible day. You're small now, and fragile, so very, very fragile. You want to reach into your mind and shelter that small child, but as on that day, you stand powerless, powerless to protect, powerless to comfort, powerless to heal. 
The memories continue to come and you scream. You scream until you can scream no more. "Why, God? WHY???" The shame and the guilt flood over you like endless waves and you drown in the feelings of contempt and self-loathing. "Maybe if I'd stood up for myself! Maybe if I'd said no! Maybe if I'd run away!" Your heart is torn in anguish as you watch that child, that innocent, precious child and for the first time in your life, you realize that it was not your fault. You are not to blame. You are not filthy and wretched and broken. You are pure, and sweet and innocent. What happened to you all those years ago, what was done to you in that awful moment was not your fault. 
As the tears begin anew, light slowly creeps through the pieces of your shattered soul and the faintest traces of healing begin.

Having a snowcone day

Sometimes I think the best way to understand how God must feel is to be a parent. How many times have we bent over backwards to spoil our kids, only to have them complain about what they didn't get! I took the kids to a carnival the other day (one of my least favorite places on earth) and bought them dinner there. Instead of a thank you, one of them pouted because I said they couldn't get a snow cone. I wasn't too happy with my offspring right then. There I was giving them an evening full of fun, but instead of being grateful, the focus was on what they didn't get.
I thought of that today. Today's been a rough day for me. Lots of memories are associated with this day and my heart hurts. I was looking through some pictures, seeing people I haven't seen in months, people whom I believed were some of my best friends but disappeared from my life when things got really rough, and I cried. I cried for the good times of old. I cried for each stab to the heart I took over and over. I cried in shame and anger for the abusive treatment I put up with for too long because I so desperately wanted to belong. And I cried because I couldn't go back to the days when I thought everything was ok, when the magic of what I wanted to believe blinded me to the reality I refused to accept.
Then I realized I was crying over a snowcone. I have such a beautiful life right now. Take tonight as an example. We were invited to spend the evening with friends tonight, not because they want anything out of us, or because they are paying us back for something, but simply because they love us. 
We just got home from a camp where love was showered on us. Everywhere I go, I am loved just because. I'm loved by people who KNOW the love of God and because they know it, they LIVE it. They don't just talk it, they walk it. I am in a much better place. I'm healthier than I've been in a long time. 
God has brought me to my carnival and now I can decide if I'm going to enjoy it, or cry over frozen teeth-rotting sugar.

April 2, 2011

Today has taken me back in time to a day a little over two years ago, April 2, 2011. I remember that day vividly because it was one of the happiest days of my life. I remember thinking that day that life really couldn't get any better. This picture was taken that day, and I was happy, happy, happy.
It was the day of the very first Love Modesto I ever attended. A small group of us from Church in the Park made up our own project last minute and we drove around town in the CITP truck delivering ice cold water to strangers. Then we got some tacos from Taco Bell and delivered them to some of the homeless in town. I had developed two new friendships that were tighter than any friendships I had ever had and was certain they would be friends for life. I was happy, so happy! I would wake up every morning SO excited to be alive! I couldn't wait to see my friends, to volunteer at the park, to, well, live! I had recently lost fifty pounds. I looked good. I felt good. The world was my oyster. I felt like a kid again and was on top of the world. Little did I know what was lying in store for me.
Fast-forward two years to today, April 27, 2013. Love Modesto has come around again, a day I look forward to every year. There is just something about thousands of people coming together to love on their city that makes me smile. Today, though, it's bringing with it some painful memories.
Two years and twenty-five days later, I'm twenty pounds heavier and two boobs and a head of hair lighter. Since that blessed, amazing, joy-filled day two years ago, I have lost those two "forever" friends (and several more). I have attempted suicide once and been in the psych ward twice. I have been hospitalized for seizures we thought might be a brain tumor and turned out to be psychosomatic (we think. We still don't know for sure what caused them).  I have lost my ability to walk and then regained it. I have been diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder with Reoccurring Episodes, and then stage 2 Breast Cancer. I have had two major surgeries and a minor one and three rounds of chemo. A "millionaire benefactor" for CITP turned out to be a con-artist and swindled several of our friends out of thousands of dollars and left many of our dreams for CITP shattered into pieces. Jason's best friend died. Someone very dear to us was raped. Jason's grandma and grandpa died. Jason's job has been a mess of law suits, counter-suits, slander and uncertainty. I nearly lost my marriage. I was kicked out of the ministry that I loved with all my heart. James was hospitalized for pneumonia a couple times. 
On that day a little over two years ago, I had no idea, no premonition of the things to come. Sometimes I think I would love to know what the future holds. Today, I am thankful that I had no idea, because there is no way on earth I would have been able to handle the load of knowing what was just beyond the corner for me.
It is my natural tendency to remember the excruciating pain of the last two years that lingers on into today and oftentimes I want to sit there, to dwell in it, to grieve over it and scream about it, but I'm trying, today, to remember what else happened during the last two years.
My dad, whom I thought was my harshest critic and whose approval I have sought my whole life, has been one of my strongest supporters and has made his love and acceptance known on multiple occasions over the last two years. My husband has shown me the true meaning of unconditional love and my marriage has been restored. I have learned in a way that can only come from hands-on experience what grace really means. I have developed a love for and understanding of the mentally ill that I never had before. We have moved from an apartment into a house that we love and that is truly a home for us. We have been brought to a church that displays love in action. My children are thriving in a great school. I have hugged and loved on hundreds of homeless people and been blessed beyond measure for it. I have learned SO much about friendships, boundaries, and self-respect. I have made new friends from various areas of life, people I never would have met had I not had to go through the storms of life. I have been blessed by several incredible doctors, decent insurance and a new chance at life.
I'm not going to claim that I am happy today because I'm not. I feel tired, and old, and emotionally, physically and spiritually scarred. I'm not going to claim that if I had to do it all over again, I would go through everything that I've been through to be where I am today because I wouldn't. I don't know if I will ever get to that point. I would love to think so, but I'm not there today. I miss April 2, 2011. I miss that happy-go-lucky, ecstatic-to-be-alive girl. If I could go back in time to that day, I would. I feel like I've aged decades over the last two years and I am tired to the core of my being. My body's tired. My mind is tired. My heart is tired. My spirit is tired. I miss the naivety of the me of two years ago. I miss the heart that took people at face value and believed every word they said. I miss the me that woke up every morning excited to see the world. I don't know if that person will ever be back. I hope so. I pray so.
I started this blog posting hoping I could turn it into one of those "life was super hard, but it was all worth it" Chicken Soup for the Soul types of posts, but I just can't. Earlier this week, however, I was reminded of are lyrics of a Petra song. A friend and I were texting about life and I had mentioned that I really missed working with the homeless and didn't understand why God had benched me at this stage of my life. When he got my text, the Petra song "No Doubt" was playing on his iphone. The irony of that was not lost on either of us. It was one of those total God moments and so, as I walk down memory lane of the last two years for the thousandth time, wondering if the pain of it all will ever go away, I play this song, and hope.

No Doubt, by Petra

(Verse 1)
There are times when you fell like you can't go on
There are times when you fell like giving in
And there are times when you feel like you can't try anymore
There are times of trouble in believing
This test of your faith will last
As long as it takes to pass
Till you have no more doubt you'll endure
And you faith will emerge true and pure

(Chorus)
No doubt it'll be alright
With God it'll all work together for good
No doubt in the end it will be understood
No doubt it'll all work out
With faith He can move any mountain for us
No doubt in the power of Jesus
And after all is done we find out
All we really need to have is no doubt

(Verse 2)
There's a time to take a reckless leap of faith
There's a time to be cautious and wait
And there's a way of learning from the past
That this time of trouble won't last
And sometimes we want to think we know
The ways He will choose to make us grow
But it's never the way of our choosing
And we can't always see what He's using

(Repeat chorus)

There will be winters in the seasons of our soul
With a cold and bitter wind that chills our lives
But our faith can be building a fire
That will warm us till spring time arrives

(Repeat chorus)

I'd like your help. Therapeutic Thursday

I mentioned in one of my previous posts that God is using my cancer to heal me of some past hurts. I was pondering this last night when I couldn't sleep and I came up with an idea that I'd like your help with. Let me explain how.
One of the outcomes of the two years leading up to my cancer was that I really began to believe that most people are cruel and heartless and that most of us really don't care about others. My cancer journey has helped me to realize that this is not the case. Many, many people, even perfect strangers, have shown me so much love, and I would like to take this a step further. I'm hoping you will join me.
I'm going to start Therapeutic Thursdays. Every Thursday, no matter how sick, weak, or tired I feel, I plan to intentionally show love to a stranger. The reason I decided to do this toward strangers is that I find it easy to love on the people I like. It can be much harder to do if I don't know if the person "deserves" my love or not. I've also found that some of the moments that have warmed, and healed, my heart the most have been when I've been shown love from someone who didn't even know me.
Sometimes, Therapeutic Thursday may mean paying for the coffee for the people behind me in the Starbucks line. Maybe it will come in the form of flowers and a card on the doorstep of one of my neighbors that I have never met. Perhaps I will pack a picnic lunch, head down to a park, and have lunch with a homeless person. On a cold, rainy day, I may buy an extra cup of coffee and give it to someone, with a hug. (By the way, you would be surprised how many people are receptive to hugs from strangers. It's a free way to put a smile on someone's face, but make sure you ask first, or they might call the cops ;-).) I'm hoping many of you will have your own ideas of what Therapeutic Thursday could look like. The sky is the limit, really. Every Thursday, I will blog about the experience and am hoping that many of you will jump on board and comment about your own experiences. I'd like to show the world that love still abounds and I'd like to inspire us all to make a conscious effort to spread it.
It would mean a lot to me if you would join me on this journey. Do your own deeds of kindness and comment on the Therapeutic Thursday posts with your own stories. If you would like a reminder, comment on this post and I will email or text you (whichever you'd prefer) a reminder every Thursday morning, starting tomorrow. Let's bring some smiles back into this world!

I gave you this cancer because...

One of the most common questions that people ask when going through tough times is "Why?" "Why me?" "Why now?" "Why this?" "Why? Why? Why?" My case is no exception and many times, those questions go without answer. The other night, however, as I was laying in bed struggling with some non-cancer related issues, I believe God gave me a little insight into part of His plan for this cancer.
Most of you know the last two years of my life have been brutal. I lost friend after friend after friend. The people I thought loved me the most threw me away and I was left raw and bleeding, only to be pummeled again, with a broken heart that I didn't think could be put back together. I came to believe that I was expendable, replaceable, that the world would be, if not a better place without me, at least perfectly fine without my presence there. I believed Jason could find a better wife who would be just as good if not a better mom to my children. I believed what my "friends" showed me time and time and time again over two years: that the world was a better place without me, that I caused nothing but heartache and that I wasn't worth their time.
Fast forward to a night a few days ago. Jason was gone to Massachusetts. I hadn't slept well in days. It was late. I couldn't sleep once again and the weight of the world came down heavier and heavier on me. The thought that used to be ever so common an occurrence in my life flickered through my mind. "You don't have to stay here, you know. You could end all this pain once and for all." Without skipping a beat, I mentally responded: "NO! I am loved. Look at this quilt on the wall that was painstakingly made for me in love. Look at these drawings from my children who love me more than they could ever love another woman in the world! Look at these cards from people I've never even met who would be saddened if something happened to me! Look at these window treatments that my Mother-in-Law hung with love. Look at this overflowing basket of chocolates brought to me by people who love me, who care about me. Look at this blanket sown together with love by a fellow cancer survivor I've never even met. No. If I weren't here, the world will miss me. I'm going to fight. I need to fight. If I become too overwhelmed that I can't fight for my own benefit, I will fight for the benefit of others." And then the thought that had entered my mind on a couple of other occasions hit me again. "I gave you this cancer because I needed to put you back together." "I GAVE YOU THIS CANCER BECAUSE I NEEDED TO PUT YOU BACK TOGETHER."
I pondered that for some time. I came into this cancer diagnosis a very broken person. My heart was mush. My trust in humanity, especially fellow Christians, was shattered and I was limping my way through life. The cancer diagnosis came and people started coming out of the woodwork, showering me with love everywhere I went and slowly healing the brokenness within. I'm not going to lie. The pain is still there, real and vivid at times, but I can tell that healing is taking place. I know that God is slowly putting me back together. Like the cancer nurse told me at the beginning of this journey, everything has a silver lining. Sometimes we just have to look for it. My cancer has a silver lining. It is healing me.
I would like to encourage you all to take the time to love someone "just because". Show them that they are important in your world and don't wait until they are sick to let them know. Many people are very good at hiding what is going on inside and it is very possible that someone desperately needs to know that their life makes a difference in yours. Send them a text. Write them a card. Drop off flowers or chocolate "just because". Maybe God wants to use you today to let someone know they matter. Maybe God will use someone today to let YOU know that you matter. Love is powerful. Let's spread it.