Summiting Mountains and Oasis...

I’ve climbed two mountains so far this summer and I just finished facilitating a woman’s summer Bible study group called Oasis using the book A New Kind of Normal by Carol Kent. What does summiting mountains have to do with leading a Christian book group? Well, they were both extremely challenging, totally rewarding creating new growth in my spiritual, physical and mental life.

I summated Mt. Shasta (14,162 ft) on July 2nd along with my brother, Timmy, friend Torree and her friend, Glen. This was followed by Mt. Adams (12,281 ft) on July 23rd with my Summit Sisters: Laura, Susan and Linda. These adventures have buoyed up my soul in ways I never imagined. Reaching the summit of Shasta brought me to tears as I thought about Jackson Hill, Amanda King, Gage Dole, Lesly Foster and of course, my son Joshua. These children are my heroes as they have battled cancer, some for years, some for months. Some have lost the war and are finally whole in heaven. Some are still waging war with haggard parents, neglected siblings and broken dreams. I wrote each of these children’s names in the summit book realizing how repeating their names over and over again in my mind propelled me to the top just when I thought I couldn’t take another step.

Mt. Adams was a little different summit story. My mental struggle was because of emotional fatigue. I had just experienced a few extremely tumultuous days navigating through multiple stresses each of which took their toll. The most significant stressor had to do with figuring out which risks are acceptable in my son’s life and which are not. How do you allow a boy with a tracheotomy to float down a river knowing if he fell in, his life would most likely be over? I wasn’t sure I was psychologically ready. But deep down, I knew I needed to climb, so I set out with my Summit Sisters and discovered I had the strength to accomplish the task due to Susan’s encouraging words. Just when I was ready to say, “This is good enough” she pushed me onward and upward. “We haven’t come this far to give up now”, she gently coaxed. I also found myself praising God by repeating a mantra of “Thank (step) you (step) Jesus (step)” during the steepest part of the climb. I speculate my soul chose these words as I was grateful to be out in His creation, on His Mountain. The crazy thing was we had decided to do the ascent and descent in one day instead of the usual two days. And 15 ½ hours later we arrived back at the trail head, where we had begun the trip in the dark guided by our headlamps. The feeling was indescribable.

Climbing mountains can be seen as a metaphor for life in many ways. We must persevere, never giving up, pushing forward, “running the race set before us” as the book of Hebrews so clearly reminds us. We all have “mountains” in our lives we desire to someday conquer. And people are key to this, key to our lives. People spur us on, motivate us, inspire us, and encourage us. God often speaks through people as we limp along, buoying us up with hope. Certainly the children of cancer have done that for me just as Susan did. I imagine the end of my life to be similar to reaching the end of the trail. My feet hurt, my body aches but my heart is soaring. I knew I had done my best with the help of others, people God has placed in my life just at the right time, children who have endured such suffering and yet continue to smile.

That first night of the book group at Oasis was heavy as eight women sat around a rectangular table introducing themselves. Tears streamed down each woman’s face as they shared their story, stories of their worlds turning upside down. I felt so overwhelmed hearing their heartache, knowing I couldn’t fix their lives just as I couldn’t fix mine. Childhood cancer, lifelong medical complications, the impact of cancer on my other children, an unexpected grandson and a daughter with a broken heart are the reality of my life. The loss of dreams, rebellious children, bankruptcy, the sudden death of a child, a hurting marriage, a severely disabled child, an abused child and much more were the realities of these women’s lives. “What did I get myself into?” I thought as I drove home that first night. “What can I possibly do? There is so much hurt in this world, Lord. Help me. Help these precious women.” The second night was better as we forged into Carol Kent’s book. She has a way of pointing us to Jesus telling many shocking stories along the way. She herself has suffered tremendously, but has never given up, never walked away from God. She brought to light Mary the mother of Jesus in a fresh new way for me. She helped us realize we are not alone.

The women in my Oasis group amazed me. Their strength, wisdom, hope and tenacity have spurred me on. I bonded with each one thrilling at the knowledge of God working in their lives, gleaning from them the deep knowing and joy that comes from those who suffer. As we completed the book we vowed to survive, persevere, be vulnerable, forgive, trust, hold those we love with open hands, be thankful and choose purposeful action just as the book had taught us to do. By our last gathering I realized Jesus is active in their lives, seeing them through, helping them run the race, helping them accept their “new normal” finding new purpose which enables them to summit their mountains.

Summiting mountains and Oasis…

Living in No Man's Land...

When I was 16 years old I spent the summer in a small border town between Austria and Hungry. One country was free the other was not. And in-between the two was No Man’s Land, a space belonging to neither region. It was a barren place seen clearly by both countries, yet unclaimed by either side. And now I live there.

It’s odd living in No Man’s Land a world between. A place guarded on both sides by those who KNOW what it means and those who DON’T. Each side equal in value and goodness, but one area much harsher than the other, a tougher place to live, ripe with heaviness. The other side is more untroubled, care free, lighter. The liberated side doesn’t understand the heavy side, always hoping they never have to cross over. Everyone who lives in the difficult area remembers when they existed on the easier side, but they can never go back. Eventually, they too will end up in No Man’s Land.

Just like me living in No Man’s Land a world between…

Somehow I’m able to step into each region for a time, connecting with both sides. Just this week I walked beside moms and children struggling, confused as they navigated their journey trapped for now on the heavy side. I gave out hugs; I cried with the moms and put on a loving smile for the children, their glowing beauty dazzling my heart. I listened feeling the burden, but knowing it wasn’t completely mine. Then it was time to enter the lighter place and I sat laughing, joking, listening to the silly talk, but the underlying hollowness ruined the lightness. I don’t fit into this world anymore. I never will again. But I don’t entirely fit into the weighty side any longer either. I cross the borders at will and join in moving around each region, never fully present. I’m in-between, isolated from both districts.

Living in No Man’s Land…

It's been a while...

...Since I updated.

Life has been full and challenging and more. Tonight I'm alone sitting here at this kitchen table thinking many different thoughts:

The Sports Outreach Institute fundraiser golf tournament today raised more money than we ever dreamed possible for the poorest of the poor children in East Africa...ONLY GOD.

Amanda King, a precious 18 year old is taking her last breath on this earth surrounded by her loving family...ONLY GOD.

My oldest has moved into an apartment with her husband and baby, yet they struggle in their marriage talking about co-parenting...ONLY GOD.

My second is dating a wonderful young man and I'm hoping no hearts are broken...ONLY GOD.

My third is facing the SAT yet again tomorrow morning...ONLY GOD.

My fourth has a life full of fun, drama and fun...may her spiritual life grow...ONLY GOD.

My husband sleeps in the Tree House with our son, exhausted yet feeling fullfilled again knowing God's blessings...ONLY GOD.

Joshua sleeps beside him, ready for his Lego class tomorrow, hoping the kids won't point or ask him questions ignoring the tracheostomy he lives with...ONLY GOD.

Two of my dear friends struggle against the monster that threatens to devour their only children...ONLY GOD.

And I marvel at my life with a grateful heart...ONLY GOD.

Healing has come to my home...

It’s very difficult to put into words what has happened over these last four days, but I will attempt it. My husband works for a Christian non-profit and two of his national staff came to visit us from Uganda, Africa. Aloysius and Esther Kyazze work in northern Uganda with war traumatized children, adults, HIV mothers and child mothers. I cannot express in this short space all they do for their people. But I can tell you they have both been gifted by God to see into the hearts and souls of hurting people, bringing healing and peace.

Our time together was short, but full of many meetings, speaking engagements and times of sharing. One morning we asked Aloysius to enlighten us with how he reaches out to these African children who have known nothing but war. Many of the children have been abducted by the rebel army and forced to become child soldiers. Many of them have been forced to butcher their own parents. Many have been forced to become sex slaves of the adult rebels. After escaping they are left emotionally, physically and psychologically damaged. The HIV mothers have been infected through rape or unfaithful husbands. The child mother’s have been tricked by unscrupulous men to have sex for food or a small treat then abandoned by the man and even their own families when they become pregnant. These girls are as young as 13 years.

Because they have known nothing but war for 25 years, this community of people have forgotten how to farm, how to raise livestock, how to be self sufficient. The NGOs in the area have handed out food and aid, but are now closing their offices as the crisis is over leaving these people with no knowledge of how to take care for themselves or how to get on with the business of living. The government is telling them to go back to their villages when their villages have been destroyed. Aloysius and Esther along with their staff and volunteers help teach their people the tools and skills they will need to begin again. They also walk along side of them to help bring emotional healing.

As Aloysius began to teach us how he encourages a traumatized person and helps them begin the healing process, my husband and I realized how broken we had become through Josh’s cancer diagnosis, treatment and continuing medical issues. We had already known this, but it became clearer as Aloysius was sharing with us. The trauma has also impacted our four daughters in various ways. If you have read this blog at all, you will know through my writings of our pain, heartache and struggles. Just the confirmation by Aloysius of our brokenness was enough to begin softening and covering our hearts with the balm of healing. I know we have not endured the atrocities these poor people in northern Uganda have, but our trauma is just as real, just as painful and just as much in need of help as theirs. In my world there are many hurting families due to childhood cancer and I desire to acquire the tools to be able to reach out to them with love, compassion and hope through the Holy Spirit.

Late last night, Esther spoke intensely and from her heart with our two high school daughters imparting an African Mama’s perspective and wisdom on life and God. What a special time that was! As I crawled into bed late in the evening, tears filled my eyes and a song I hadn’t sung in a long time filled my mind. It is titled “There is a Balm in Gilead”. I looked it up this morning and low and behold, it’s an African American Spiritual! I have copied the powerful words below. Aloysius and Esther left early this morning leaving behind a husband and wife who now feel a wholeness returning. Our focus, energy and purpose have been revived.

The healing has begun…

There Is a Balm in Gilead
By: African American Spiritual

Sometimes I feel discouraged and think my work’s in vain,
But then the Holy Spirit revives my soul again.
There is a balm in Gilead to make the wounded whole;
There is a balm in Gilead to heal the sin sick soul.

If you cannot preach like Peter, if you cannot pray like Paul,
You can tell the love of Jesus and say, "He died for all."
There is a balm in Gilead to make the wounded whole;
There is a balm in Gilead to heal the sin sick soul.

Don’t ever feel discouraged, for Jesus is your friend;
And if you lack for knowledge, He’ll never refuse to lend.
There is a balm in Gilead to make the wounded whole;
There is a balm in Gilead to heal the sin sick soul.

Sacred Sacrifice...

I recently attended a women’s seminar taught by a published author who focused on helping Christian women become Biblical lay counselors. I signed up for this event for two reasons: First, I find myself in the world of childhood cancer, connecting with mothers whose child has just been diagnosed with cancer or who have lost a child to cancer or whose child seems to be losing the battle against cancer. I ache for these women with deep empathy and some understanding of their hurting hearts. I want to serve them in some capacity. Secondly, I need answers, help and Biblical truth myself. I long for peace in my soul after years of inner turmoil. I struggle with “survivor’s guilt”. Why is my son still alive? I am no better than any other mother who finds herself in a similar nightmare. My son and I are no more deserving.

The speaker surprised me with her small grandmotherly stature and gentle, quiet way of speaking. She was funny too, as she reminded me of many Biblical truths I have heard over the years. But when she took us to the book of Job in the Bible, tears began to slide down my face. Just before Josh was diagnosed with cancer, I had been wrestling with the verse in Job where he states, “Though He slay me, yet will I hope in Him.” I remember thinking I wasn’t so sure I could say those same words, yet I felt a stirring in my soul to say them out loud. Then my son became seriously ill.

Job lost EVERYTHING, his livelihood, his servants, his children and even his health. Yet, he continued to trust God. Of course, he also questioned all God had allowed to come his way. Believe me; I’ve questioned God a lot. There is nothing in this world quite as devastating as watching your precious child suffer. But even harder still is watching your child take his/her last breath. Thank God, I haven’t had to be burdened with that sadness, but I know many mothers who have. Though it doesn’t make it any easier, Job’s children died suddenly. It wasn’t a long, heartbreaking process like two mothers I know are enduring at this very moment.

God the father, on the other hand, allowed and watched His son, Jesus Christ suffer and die. He did not deny us the death of His son for the forgiveness or our sins. Mary, Jesus’s mother, must have born unbelievable agonies as she stood at the foot of her son’s cross. I’ve caught glimpses of this distress as Josh endured cancer treatment. The pain is literally tangible and alive. I sense other mother’s aching just as concretely, the women who are journeying a similar road. And I came to understand thru the speaker, this is my “sacred sacrifice”. I see myself prostrate before God laying down these years of heartache before Him, offering my son to Him, offering all my children and my husband to Him…essentially…offering Him my life. The answers of why or how could a loving God allow this or any of the other deep questions is still there. But it does alleviate, just a little, the “survivor’s guilt” I feel. It does take a little of the edge off of my distress. I’m settled in with knowing that’s all I have to offer Him, though out of my control. It boils down to TRUST.

(Please do not think I am comparing myself or anyone else with Jesus Christ and/or Mary.)

Jesus talks about counting the cost of following Him, but I see how just living life has a cost. For me it has come in the hurt of a child diagnosed with cancer, who has survived treatment, but deals with damaging, life altering side effects. It comes with the knowledge of his higher risks of heart problems, strokes and secondary cancers due to radiation and chemotherapy. It comes with the physical limitations due to a “compression fracture” of his vertebra and the fear of him becoming paralyzed. It comes with the balance of allowing my son to run and play; to be a boy, yet not putting him in a bubble. Would God have allowed this in my life if I hadn’t been a believer, I wonder? Just because I am a follower of Jesus Christ doesn’t mean I am spared any catastrophe. But I wonder why God allowed it. The speaker reminded me the Bible tells us how going through these agonies sifts out the junk in our lives helping us to become more Christ like. Part of me feels privileged with this thought…part of me feels downright angry.

The leader went on to emphasize how all things are for our good thru Jesus Christ. That’s a tough one for me as I watch "L" agonize over the choices she must make concerning her son’s cancer relapse. They’ve been fighting this beast since 2004 with prayer, medical doctors and alternative treatments. "K" whose daughter is in the hospital again due to complications from a trial chemotherapy drug for her daughter’s relapse, debates “quality of life” and what’s best for her little girl. "M", an 8 year old, is weary of the battle as she faces life and death questions with the help of a counselor. Though strong in her faith, she doesn’t want to die and is filled with anxiety. I must trust good will come of this?

I climb into bed telling God I just don’t understand. How can I become more Christ like with such anger in me? How can I become more like Him with this confusion? I hand it over to Him again and again, because there is nothing else I can do. I try to love these hurting mothers with words of encouragement, sending up a thousand prayers a day. I stand beside them sometimes in spirit sometimes in body. The compassion and heart I have for these women surely is Christ in me. This is how I know Christ I am Christ like, by sharing in their affliction.

As a believer, we are to thank God in all circumstances, but I cannot thank God for childhood cancer. It is not from Him, but He has allowed it. What a fine line of meaning in those words. I know we are His creation. I know compared to His holiness, we are deceitfully wicked. I know we really have no rights to ourselves. I know He is just, holy, sovereign and on and on. But I find myself balancing on that fine line trying not to fall off. I can only offer Him what I have endured with His permission as my “sacred sacrifice” being grateful of where I am. My friend "M" has given the ultimate “sacred sacrifice”, her 12 year old son.

I have not abandoned my God…He has not left me.

That’s my sacrificial thanksgiving…