How am I really doing?

I'm sure that most of you have been updated through my facebook, but I thought I'd start with an update and some explanation.  I had a small reconstruction procedure in January that was supposed to be a simple last step to the whole reconstruction process.  Ever since then, I have not been able to heal from the wound on my left side.  I've gone from disappointment and frustration to resigned acceptance as I've tried various methods to help the healing process, eventually starting wound therapy up at our local hospital.  While this has been inconvenient, it really hasn't gotten in the way of me living like a healthy person, and I have been so thankful for that. 

Last Tuesday, I woke up in the middle of the night in lots of pain.  I went up to the wound clinic in the wee hours of the morning, and through various phone calls and visits to doctors that day, I ended up in front of my plastic surgeon on Wendesday afternoon (thanks to my sweet daddy who dropped everything to take me to Medford and my superwoman gramma who dropped everything to watch Sawyer and Everett--Liam was worried about me and came with us).  By this time I was feverish, in intense pain and very obviously sick.  My normally optimistic surgeon told me, "This is really bad."  And so, into the hospital I went to be put on IV antibiotics and regular pain meds (yuck and phew!)  Ryan made the trip from San Franscisco in record time and was with me by late Wednesday night!

Over the next few days, I truly felt like I was in a battle.  Sometimes the antibiotics and I would be winning and I would feel so much better; sometimes the infection was definitely winning and I would feel wiped out.  But, on Saturday, God used the antibiotics to get the better of that darn infection, and they let me out to enjoy the romantic birthday weekend Ryan had planned before all this happened.  For 24 hours, Ryan did an amazing job of spoiling me rotten and distracting me everytime the despair would threaten to overwhelm me.  We laughed, because it felt a lot like when we sometimes are trying to hold off an impending melt-down with the boys by pointing out pretty stuff and handing them candy (which NEVER really happens, because we would never bribe our kiddos into good behavior with candy;-)

The sense of despair and doom comes from the fact that next Monday I have to undergo a surgery called a latissimus dorsi flap surgery.  I consulted with all of the doctors who have helped me battle cancer, and they agree that this is the best and perhaps only choice in moving forward.  As soon as I heard that I had a dangerous infection, I requested that they just take out the left implant and be done with it.  I know that I would have to grapple with the self-esteem issues that would arise with that, but I definitely did not and DO not want to go through major surgery again.  But the real problem is not trying to make sure I have what looks like a left breast; the real problem is that the skin on my left side has been so damaged by the radation that there's not much hope it will ever heal.  There's no blood supply, so there can't be any healing either (I'm sure there's an awesome metaphor in there somewhere...stay tuned:-)

The LAT FLAP surgery will create a new source of blood supply to my left side, giving me the best chance of ultimate healing.  So after much prayer, Ryan and I decided we agreed with the doctors.  Unfortunately, I know what this means: I know the pain that is in store for me through these next few months; I know what this will do to my loved ones, even though they are happy to be there for me; I know this means relying on everyone around me to meet my needs and my sons' needs; I know this means my husband having to serve me in hard ways, which he always does valiantly; I know that I will need to be brave and strong when I feel like my resevoir of those qualities is used up instead of stored up.

Fortunately, I know what this also means.  I know that I am never closer to my Lord or more comforted by his Spirit than when everything else--especially my health--is stripped away.  The instensity of my reliance on him is never stronger than in times of pain and dependence.  And this knowledge helps me to keep pushing forward.  

I also know that God never stops giving me reasons for joy, even when things are a bummer.  I have the best family and friend support in the world!  Every time the nurses came into my hospital room, they said, "Wow! It's a party in here!" because I had so many visitors (all the way from Klamath!)  I got balloons, flowers, gift cards, and--best of all--tons of encouragement through emails, phone calls, and texts.  My husband loves me like crazy, my boys think I'm amazing, and my family is ready to help in any way I need.  I am so blessed.

One of my dearest friends, Denise, emailed me this verse that I am claiming as my own through the next few months: "And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus" (Phil. 4:7).

May you all feel this peace as you pass through your own valleys of pain and fields of joy.

TV shows and pillars of salt

I love TV, movies, Entertainment Weekly, People Magazine, YA novel series (I said that one in a whisper), and awards shows.  Ever since my much younger days when my brothers and I religiously watched Rugrats, I have had 3-5 shows that I loyally watch, and I’m definitely prone to binge reading a series of books in a few days that prove teenage girls are our only hope if the world falls apart (just finished the Divergent trilogy).  Just like my mama before me, I can tell you all about the social lives of celebrities and their movie resumes as well as a movie’s behind-the-scenes trivia.  I’m not sure where this fascination comes from, but I admit it—the entertainment business really entertains me.  

Two months into my stint as a mostly single mama, though, I am finding that I simply don’t have time for all of this.  The detectives of Law & Order: SVU have had to struggle on without me, and I have a mountain of unread magazines by my bed.  Not to mention that I haven’t even watched one single episode of this round of The Voice!  My TV thrills have come solely from wondering if Doc McStuffins will save her toys, as Disney Junior has become a very handy assistant in helping me distract my sons when I need to get something done. 

Therefore I have gone through an unintentional entertainment detox that I’m starting to think I may have desperately needed.  That coupled with reading three life-changing books (Love Does, More or Less, and Forgotten God) over the last few months has challenged me to ask myself in what ways I need to purify my life.  This has led me to then ask the even harder question: does my life look any different from the lives of those without Christ? 

I believe that, yes, overall it does.  But I do not think I have been as diligent or intentional as I need to be.  Recently, in a delayed-New-Year’s-resolution fury, I started reading the Bible from the very beginning.  I realized that pretty much ever since I had children, my Bible reading had become very sporadic and nonsensical.  I opened the Word and read it wherever my finger landed.  This isn’t necessarily bad, but it also meant that I was forgetting a lot of the stuff in there.  Many sermons or other people’s blog posts would make me wonder, “That’s in the Bible?!” I felt convinced I needed to figure that out for myself. 

Honestly, it has been one surprise after another, and I’m only in Genesis.  I was a lot younger the last time I read through Genesis, and I definitely don’t remember ever thinking that many of the stories applied to me.  I didn’t feel in danger of pretending Ryan was my brother in order to save my life or offering up my children to the horny men in my village in order to save my angel houseguests (Genesis 12:14-20 & 19:6-8).  The people in the beginning of the Bible were two-dimensional “heroes of faith” or “villains”, and their actions were puzzling. 

Lot’s story in particular always struck me as plain weird (Genesis 19).  God decides to destroy the evil cities, Sodom and Gomorrah.  Abraham pleads with God to spare the city if as many as ten righteous men can be found.  God agrees, but unfortunately, not even ten remain in the city walls.  But God does show mercy by sending two angels to go fetch Abraham’s nephew, Lot, and his family.  Lot tries to convince his daughter’s fiancés to escape with them, but the men laugh at Lot and remain in the city.  Right as Lot and his family walk out of the city walls, everything and everyone is destroyed.  Oh, and Lot’s wife looks back at the destruction and is turned into a pillar of salt.  Like I said—weird. 

Many thoughts clung to me this time through.  First of all, Lot did not seem all that righteous or worthy of saving.  I mean, I’m pretty sure it’s never been an admirable thing to offer your daughters up as sex slaves.  Realizing this helps me to recognize that it is not about Lot’s righteousness, but God’s mercy.  Also, the people in Lot’s life were not at all convinced by his pleas to save them.  They laughed at him and thought he was joking.  This shows me that Lot had not led a life that moved others to trust him.  Even though God chose to save him, perhaps for Abraham’s sake, Lot had let his surroundings mold him instead of the other way around. 

I recognize myself more often than I would like in this and other Genesis stories.  The themes of the people’s lives resonate with my own struggles and triumphs.  I, too, have daily opportunities to act out of fear or trust in God; I, too, need to choose to show my allegiance to God and not the world; and I, too, need to recognize that even in my “heroic” moments, God is the true hero of my story.  It really is never about my righteousness; it is always about his mercy. 

I am truly not sure how this will affect my choices about what I watch and read once I have more time to conscientiously make those choices (or maybe I won’t have “more time” until the boys leave the house and this will all be a non-issue for awhileJ), but I do know that I am feeling very convicted that I want my life to point to the Holy Spirit’s work in me, from the entertainment I pursue to the way I spend my money.  I want to live a life that so clearly points to God as my hero that if I told you all to leave your city and save yourselves, you would believe me. 

And yet, I know that I am very much a work in progress.  Because even as I am seeking to figure out what actionable changes this will mean for my life, I am a lot like Lot’s wife, looking longingly backward at The Bachelor and wondering if there’s a way to keep that around.  Perhaps I’m still just a pillar of salt. 

So, I invite your wise thoughts into this issue of being in the world and not of it.  I know I have definitely not landed on any solid conclusions, and I would love to know how you all navigate following God in a fallen world.  How does it affect what you watch? Buy? Do with your time? 

Wherever you fall on these issues, may you feel filled with the one who is truly the hero of all our stories.  May you feel rescued by a God who has pulled us from destruction.  And may you see that Jesus came in order that we “may have life, and have it to the full” (John 10:10).

A letter to Grief

Sweet Grief, 

I shrink from you and welcome you
as a reminder of the beauty that once filled the hole in my heart.
For at the start, dear Grief, you were my only connection to the life I had before
I was torn apart.

On that day, when she went away—never to play again on earthly piano keys—
My heart’s cry became, “Please, Lord, please: peace, release, make the pain cease.”

But it doesn’t stop; instead there’s a change
and a surprising range of forms and shapes you take.
And honestly, your fluidity, the way you rake across and shake my soul,
makes me wish I could toss you to oblivion
and close this hole
for good.

But would I really want you gone?
You know, move on?
Like some books say I should?

What would forgetting be like?
Setting my mind free from the spike of loss
might actually be nice.

But immediately I know the price would slice away too much of my life.
I am the wife, mama, sister, friend I am because of her;
every truth would start to blur without the anchor of her hand in writing my story:

God’s glory in the face of pain would dim for me if I pushed you away
just to allay this season of aching.

So with quaking spirit, I accept it: here we are.
You pound on my scar, and yet—oh Grief—I will not deny your place.

For you stay
because she lived with grace.

Sincerely,
Caitlyn