God is Not a Butt Hurt Teenager

When I became a mother I quickly found that EVERYONE has an opinion on how to raise my child. Other mothers spewed out advice that, quite frankly, I didn't give two you-know-what's about. It's extremely annoying. Don't get me wrong, I like advice on being a mom so long as I either asked for it or it doesn't come from one of those moms. You know, the one's who are nice enough to give advice but really it's only so you will put them on some kind of pedestal for being so awesome, perfect, all knowing, yada, yada, yada, blah, blah, blah. A good friend of mine told me to just say, "oh, I'll have to keep that in mind!" I'm not that nice. And if I did say that verbally, my facial expression would say, "go blow smoke up someone else's (explicative.)
I don't take kindly to self ego boosting "do-gooders." ESPECIALLY when they come in the form of a Christian. I mean, I'm a Christian but I can sniff out a Fred Phelps in a heart beat. (For those of you that already know the story or what I'm getting at, was that too much? Who cares. I said it.)
Now, I shall revert to the real reason I wrote this blog as it seems I'm venting and not talking about cancer. This very much so has to do with cancer.
I have been made aware of a person whom I know that has told another person I know, that if my Father dies from Cancer it will only be because his faith in God was weak because God heals ALL believers. Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. WHOA. My first reaction when hearing this was to get a hold of her and go ape shit on this lady. Verbally, of course. Who the hell says things like that? Other than Mr. Phelps and his psychotic culties. Then, I wanted to rip her apart in my blog and make sure she saw it, but alas, I decided to take the high road and use this as way to reach out. To turn this woman's crazy talk into a positive.
So this is me being an adult and not lashing out...
As a person dealing with cancer or watching a loved one deal with it NEVER let someone's opinion, advice, or bible thumping tear you down. Most people who say such hurtful things think they are acting on God's behalf, but they are just pumping themselves full of their own righteousness.
NEVER feel like you aren't worthy of being healed by God.
NEVER question whether your faith is enough for God. Whether you or they believe in Him with your whole heart or don't believe at all, God still has the situation under control. God is not a butt hurt teenager that decides to let people die and suffer because they didn't pick Him to be on their team. You're not hanging on a string of healing until you piss God off.
Now, I'll be honest with you. There's a flip side to this. Just because you do believe in God doesn't mean you will be healed. God has His own plan that we don't get to know about. Sometimes we see it as it unfolds, sometimes it's years later, and well, sometimes we don't get to see it at all. But that doesn't mean that there wasn't a reason for someone not being healed. It's hard to hear that and even harder to comprehend. Trust me. I know. I had a hard time with it until a week or two ago. It's still hard to think about the possibility if losing my Dad, but it's easier to know that if I do, God has a reason for it.

Here's to the Next Day

First you hear it. Then you try to make sense of it but that doesn't exactly happen right away. Actually, I'm not too sure that it ever really does make sense. But there's more to it. For me, there's tears for a few seconds. Then salty streaks on your cheeks are left as anger sets in. God and I have a nice little chit chat where I talk and He listens to me blame Him. Once that's over I beg Him to heal my Dad and tell Him I know He's in control but I'm still angry with him. Now comes the numbness. The staring into space. I think my brain decides to shut down as a coping mechanism. It's just had so many emotions going on at once that it stops. That and it takes pity on my broken heart. The only thing that goes through my mind is usually a verse of whatever song I've been listening to lately. It just plays over and over again until I remember what I've just been told.

People think that hearing it a second time is easier but it's not. It's different, but it sure as hell isn't easier. This time I had flashbacks of my skinny eyebrowless father. My Mom's teary eyes. My brother, sister, and I waving good bye in the driveway knowing it will be at least a month until we see them again. Phone calls as updates. Holidays and celebrations spent apart. This time I am bitter towards God. The first time I was upset and confused. A month or so ago we got some bad results only to have doctors say it was a false alarm. To us it was a miracle. But now, now I can't help but feel like I've been fooled. I think I feel that way because I truly believed my Dad would never have cancer again. I knew he was "high risk" but I thought, "that's a doctor's term, not a term someone with God on their side uses." So now I'm lost. I'm stuck wondering how this happened again to someone so selfless and humble. I'm sitting here wondering how I'm supposed to feel. How to be strong again...
Shoot, I don't even know how to finish this rambling. Usually I try to end on a positive note, but not today. Today I'm raw. Tomorrow I'll be bitter and calloused. But the next day, that will be a better day. Here's to the next day.

The Calm After the Storm

2 years ago I had the opportunity to go to Haiti and visit a few orphanages. It was my hope that I would end up living there and do whatever I was called for, regardless of the danger.
People always warned me how dangerous it was. They said that I would get there and realize it's a different world, hate it, and never go back. They would tell me I was crazy and I would never do it because they would never do it.
I could understand where people were coming from, however none of it made sense to me personally. Danger? If it's my purpose God will handle the danger. So, to me, there was no danger. And of course I knew it was a different world, that was the point of going. What good would I do going somewhere comfortable for me? And the fact that people said I shouldn't go is because they wouldn't is the whole essence of why I absolutely should go. Not many people would. Not many people dream of going to a 3rd world country and living life rough while serving others. But I did. I craved it. So, if that was a desire I possessed, I should do it, because so few others are willing to.
The other day it hit me. My father's outlook on his journey might be like my outlook on Haiti. Not that I think he wants cancer, but he's taking on the task of reaching out to other's in the middle of an undesirable circumstance. He's praying with people. Talking to them. Being honest and raw about what he's gone through. He's making them laugh and smile. Giving them hope. He is being a light to others. And I think if given the choice, he would choose the path he's on now rather than a cancer free one. I think he knows this is his path God has laid out for him and that it's bigger than whatever he will endure from the cancer.
Until now I've had a very hard time coping with this. I couldn't understand it. Because of that I couldn't even begin to process it. It started to eat at me. But now I get it. Now, I can move on and process. It's still not a desirable place that I have to see my Dad be in. It's quite hard to watch actually. But, it's what I would do. And I suppose my desire to do good despite hardships that I may have faced, come from my Dad. I mean, I am his daughter. So here's to a new outlook and respect on what my Dad is going through. And to finally being Ok enough with it to move on without my anger. In fact I'm pretty proud of him for taking cancer head on and being a light for others at the same time.

Hell Hath No Fury Like Me.

I'd like to confuse you for a second and say that my last post was unfair and also complete BS. Ya see, lately I've been struggling on how to cope with my Dad's cancer returning. I thought writing a positive entry would help me to trick myself into being positive. It didn't. I actually just felt like a liar. Don't get me wrong. There ARE times when you just can't help but be thankful and happy. But there are also times when you cry so much you go numb. I can't honestly say which one there's more of because I'm sure it's different for every person. Shoot, I can't even tell you if my family's journey has had more ups or downs. Right now it seems that we've had more of the latter, but two months ago I would have said we've definitely had more ups. Regardless of which is more prevalent, you still have to keep your head up. Am I hurt? Yes. Angry? Definitely. Bitter? You know it. Confused? Hell yes, I'm confused. Even with all that negativity I have to hold on to the hope that this will be Ok. That he will be Ok. It's not easy trying to stay positive while seeing your hero struggle. At times it seems damn near impossible. I think the hardest thing for me is not having the answers. I have always felt comfort in knowing why God allows us to struggle and bad things to happen. I am thankful for struggles because without them we wouldn't value our friends and family as much. We wouldn't have close bonds because they never would have seen us fall, and more importantly, helped us get back up. Hardships are necessary. I get that. What I don't get is why someone has to fight their way through cancer twice. And why is that someone my Dad? Once? No problem. He's got it. Consider it beat already. But twice? What did he do to deserve that? I simply don't understand. It's bullshit and it enrages me. It consumes with a bitterness I've never known. I trust that God knows what He's doing. I really do. But I also know that God does things His way, not my way. And for the first time, I'm not Ok with that.

Cancer and Scrooge Don't Mix.

The other day at work I made a pessimistic joke to my friend to which some brand new guy said, "happiness is a choice." Now yes, I'm a positive person but I'm also a person who gets very perturbed by people who jump in conversations that don't concern them. So, his words were not words that gave me some sort of an epiphany, but words that annoyed the hell out of me. One, because of the aforementioned reason and two because, as my mom always reminds me, I don't like to be told what to do or that I'm wrong. Which, is very, very true. Either way, his words stuck with me out of my dislike for them. I thought about them a lot. They're honestly words I've thought to myself before, but like any good inspirational quote there is a time when it's true and a time when it's not.
From my experience with my Father's cancer I'd say that happiness is not a choice. You don't get to choose if you're happy or not, more times than not you are forced to be happy. And if you're not happy, well the ghosts of Christmas are coming your way because you are Scrooge.
I can't tell you how many times we've been stressed about the next step, worrying what to do next until answers were literally handed to us. The first answered prayer and "forced happiness" came to us during Dad's first week at UAMS. Everything that week happened so suddenly. Mom and Dad had to leave for Little Rock ASAP. Dad would start intense testing and his first rounds of chemotherapy. Mom wanted all 3 of us kids there to spend time with them before Dad started getting weak and sick from it. So, we all packed up and met the night before to make plans. I'm not sure who brought it up first but I remember the concern of gas money. We were going to be driving Jeff and I's SUV to Wichita and dropping it off, taking Mom and Dad their pacifica, and taking Taylor's Jeep to Little Rock. 3 SUV's, 16 hours round trip for each one. Hella gas. I knew I had enough money to get us there but wasn't sure about the drive back. Taylor and I talked and decided we'd just have to pray about it. I was hoping for a "fish and bread miracle," that I would wake up and my account would have multiplied overnight. I knew it was unlikely but God had to pull through somehow. That next morning I woke up to find no difference in my account. I headed over to my parent's and my sister told me she had received a call from Robyn at the KHP. Some of the troopers and, I believe, some of the recruits from Dad's class had gotten together and raised enough money for gas, food, and probably even enough for a hotel if we needed it. Happiness was forced upon us. We didn't choose it, we were handed it. Sadness? Anger? Woe is me? Those weren't even options. We had no choice but to be happy and completely elated.
That's just one of several stories where happiness was our only option. Cancer may crappy, and it certainly isn't a happy thing in itself, but with the life of cancer comes a life of blessings and happiness. So, in my thoughts, you don't choose to be happy, but you choose to have faith and not to give up, and with that comes the happiness.

The Situation Just Got Real.

"We just wanted to let you guys know that Bill has Cancer." As I stared off into space my mom continued to talk and explain all the things the doctors had shared with us. But then something happened. Something that I think about every day. The husband's eyes teared up and he shook his head as if to say no, that he didn't want to hear  anymore and that he was angry with what my mom had just said. Then he got up, left the room and the rest of us sat there wondering what had just happened.
I replay that moment in my head every single day. And every day, it makes me cry. Every day I try to make sense of it, but I never can. The only conclusion that I come to was that it was a beautiful display of anger. It was real and it was raw. It left us all in shock, it made things awkward. No one knew what to do. I remember looking at my dad and seeing his face. Looking upset, like he was helpless. Knowing his friend was hurt but not knowing how he could possibly do anything. The situation was real. It wasn't going to go away no matter how much we wanted it to. I think he also knew his friend had left out of true love. We had seen a lot of people cry with sadness but I think this is the first time we saw someone react out of love and anger at the same time. Saw someone truly breakdown in disbelief and respect. It's rarely seen and hard to explain. That's why I still think about it every day. It's like an image I saw recently of Mike Brown's father at his funeral. Hands in the air, screaming with tears rolling down his face. It was a moment of raw heartache that gripped me. But in the instance with our friend, it wasn't just an image. It was real life.
A little while later our friend returned, composed, and apologized with fresh tears in his eyes. From there the conversation began again and my parents shared what all they knew while the couple sat there and listened with support.
I know it sounds crazy but I'm thankful for his display of anger. It shook me then, and still does now. It wasn't a moment where someone tried to be strong and keep it together. It was a moment of weakness. A breakdown. A display of love. It was refreshing. It was confusing. It was a moment that I will never forget.

Go Away, God.

I have a little secret that I'd like to share with you. Now, before I do I don't want you getting all pissy with me or even to cheer me on. Because, regardless of your feelings towards God, what I'm about to say remains the same. Ok, here it is. It is more than Ok to be angry with God. People approach God in different ways when it comes to dealing with such traumatic events. And there is no wrong approach. Some people, whether atheist, agnostic, or a believer, humbly get down on their knees, pray for mercy and a miracle and put their faith in God. That's a very hard thing to do. Some, even the strongest of Christians, blame God and turn their backs on him. Me, personally? I was more in the middle. I knew this was a battle that could be fought without God, but not won. But I also felt hurt and betrayed. My Dad was, and still is, one of the most kind hearted and loving people that anyone has ever met. He fears and loves God. He prays and goes to church. He lives his faith out loud. He displays Christ's love on a daily basis. Why him? How could such a shitty thing happen to him? How could God allow this to happen? It wasn't fair and it wasn't right. And I had no problem letting Him know. I told God to leave me alone. To let me be, but to never leave my Father alone. I needed time to process how this could happen, but I also needed Him to work miracles on my Dad. I was angry. But it was Ok. You know why?
Because, He is a big God. He can take it. Yell at Him. Cuss if you want to! Tell him you hate what he did to you or a loved one. Tell Him you don't think you can ever forgive Him. Tell Him everything. When he created you, He gave you the ability to be angry. He also knows how you're feeling and He'd rather you be real with Him then falsely and halfheartedly pray to Him with anger in your heart.
Be real with God. So many times in Psalms David got angry with God. Told him exactly how he felt. That God had betrayed Him asking Him why he let such horrible things happen. But God never stopped loving David. He still blessed him and showed him His favor. Just like God has showed His favor on my Dad and our family. We've been hurt and we've shed thousands of tears. But we've danced, felt joy, and praised God far more.

It's Just A Word. Right?

People have always told me about someone they love getting diagnosed with Cancer and each time they do I always wondered what it would feel like to hear that phrase, "I'm sorry, but you have Cancer." The more I would think about it, the more I decided that I would just look at Cancer as a word. I would strip it of it's scary, ominous connotations. Then, it would just become a six letter, two syllable word. Just like pencil. I would look at it as a sickness, but not a deadly one. Just a pesky one like the common cold. It seemed like a good plan, and it probably would have worked if I had been told the I had cancer. What I had been told was worse.

*****

June 22, 2013.
I had spent the last few days visiting my Dad in the hospital while they tried to figure out what was wrong with him. He was initially admitted after answering a few questions at his doctors office and being told to immediately check into the hospital. They had found that his kidney's were failing, but didn't know why. It seemed like a million tests had been ran with no answers. That day my sister was back to town and the whole family would finally be together. Kobe and I hung out in the room and at some point Taylor showed up. Mom had stuck a sign on the door saying Dad was sleeping and to please let him rest. We just wanted some alone time. Earlier, I exaggerated and said they had ran a million tests but I think it's not too far of a stretch to say that Dad had a million visitors over the last few days. We enjoyed the alone time for a little bit but it didn't last too long. Mom and Dad gave each other this look and turned and looked at us with purpose in their eyes. I knew they had found whatever was wrong with Dad. Honestly, I can't tell you anything they said other then the C word. Hearing that my Dad had this strange "Multiple Myeloma" wasn't something I could strip down and turn into meaningless syllables. It sounded so official. Mulitple Myeloma. I hated it. I loathed it's name. I wanted it to die, and not take my Dad with it.
Cancer had honestly never crossed my mind as an option. To me, my Dad was invincible. He was a fighter. Literally. At the age of 50 he was training in Jiu Jitsu and had taught Karate and self defense for most of my life. He ran. He worked out. He didn't follow a strict diet, but he didn't have to. My Father was the perfect picture of health. I just thought it would be something small that had turned into a huge nuisance only because it had gone unnoticed for so long. He'd take a couple pills, spend a few more days in the hospital and go back to fighting and training and relief would come for him and our whole family. Instead, we got Cancer. M. F-ing cancer.