Still Standing

Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.

James 1:2-4, ESV

The storm wasn’t visible from shore, but it swirled over the ocean miles away. Growing bigger and stronger, threatening everything in its path as it edged closer. Steadily closer. Meteorologists watched it, looking for changing patterns and shifting winds. Predicting exactly when it would make landfall, and determining how strong it would be when it hit was impossible.

No one really knew for sure.

When it did hit, there would be no shelter strong enough, no preparation guaranteed to protect. Shutters installed, sand bags placed. Evacuation wasn’t an option. All that was left to do was to wait. Continue reading “Still Standing”

Living My Best Life

I learned long ago that I could smile through what life brings me, or there is no point in living.

I learned long ago that I have a choice. I didn’t choose cancer, but I got to choose how I reacted to it.

I learned long ago that I can live, or I can wait to die.


And I commend joy, for man has nothing better under the sun but to eat and drink and be joyful, for this will go with him in his toil through the days of his life that God has given him under the sun. 

Ecclesiastes 8:15


Every three months I have scans to check for cancer progression.

Every three months, I am reminded that I am a cancer patient.

Although I have tolerable, yet uncomfortable, side effects and I visit my oncologist every month; I lead a pretty normal life. I gave up my career, but I keep busy writing my blog and freelancing for local publications. I am so tired that I become one with my couch sometimes, but I manage to care for my home and family as best I can.

Continue reading “Living My Best Life”


I still had the rainbow patchwork blanket Mom crocheted me that covered my bed as a teenager, but my favorite blanket is a pink one Mom made when I had cancer the first time.  I took that blanket with me to every chemo treatment and wrapped myself in her love. Over the years, she crocheted blankets for my kids, family members, friends, and even strangers donating her creative gifts and her time for charitable organizations.  I was not sure what it was about those blankets, but they were ‘magical’.

Continue reading “Unraveled…”

This Little Light of Mine

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. 

(John 1:5)

We were away for the weekend, tagging along with my husband on a work trip to Ocean City, Maryland. Since it was mid-October, we didn’t expect a typical summer beach day; but we were pleasantly surprised with a glorious sunny day when we arrived. The sky was blue. The waves were mesmerizing. The beach was practically empty too. We sat on the beach, looked out at the waves, and took it all in.

Continue reading “This Little Light of Mine”

Seasonal Shift

This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.

Psalm 118:24


It was that time of year again…


It seemed like summer was going to hang around forever; but the weather outside and the date on my calendar were finally in sync.  Cooler weather arrived, just in time, on the first day of autumn.

Continue reading “Seasonal Shift”

The White Spaces…


Be still and know that I am God. (Psalm 46:10)

When I was little, we played a board game called Hi-Ho Cherry-O.  Each player had a basket with a number of holes in which to put the plastic cherries from a tree that was in the middle of the board.  I never liked board games much but it was a simple game and it was over quickly.  When you filled your basket, you won!  We played it over and over again, trying to fill in the holes and fill up our baskets as quickly as possible. That was the object of the game.  No one wanted to be left with an opening in his basket.  They wanted a cherry to fill every spot.

Funny how some things changed and some things stayed the same. I was still no fan of board games. I would have rather done 100 other things than sit, roll dice, or move pieces around a game board. I bought Hi-Ho Cherry-O for my kids, though.  We played that game a lot.  Filling up all the holes in our baskets was fun when we played a child’s game … but it wasn’t so much fun in real life.

We have a calendar hanging on our pantry door.  That calendar is where every appointment, ball game, school event, and my husband’s out-of-town trips were recorded.  Some people used the calendar on their smartphones but I was a visual person and I needed a real one. I had to write things down so I remembered them.  My whole family consulted the calendar because that calendar dictated our life.

Summer started and I was looking forward to the break from rushed mornings, packed lunches, and hurried evenings trying to get it all done.  As the school year was coming to a close, the kids started asking about our summer plans, inquiring if it was going to be a boring summer.  We had already taken our vacation in April.  I looked for things for them to do.  I enrolled my daughter in volleyball camp, my son in 2 science camps, and both of them in  a week-long vacation Bible school.  That was just June.

What was I thinking?

We spent the first three weeks of summer running around from one activity to the other. Softball games were still on the calendar and so were various appointments and events.  I was exhausted.  The kids were exhausted.  Although some of the activities were fun, we were all tired of running.  We were just as busy as we were during the school year.  My calendar was still full!  Summer was supposed to be relaxing. Summer was supposed to be the season where it didn’t matter what time, or even what day it was.

I was feeling overwhelmed.  I was one of those people who needed downtime, that relished alone time … quiet time.  On top of all the planned activities, there were invitations for lunch dates, pool dates, play dates.  It was too much.  There was no time.  I was constantly running from one thing to the next to the next, juggling scheduled activities and fitting in extra activities that popped up along the way.

One day, I was putting away groceries and I glanced at the calendar on the pantry door.  There were 30 days in June.  There was something written in every one of those 30 blocks in June. Every. One.  I turned back to May .. 29 of those 31 days were filled.  April … booked!  I didn’t bother to go back any further.

No wonder I was overwhelmed. I was exhausted.  My whole family was — and we were all on edge.  Just like in Hi-Ho Cherry-O, all the holes in my basket were filled.  Only, this wasn’t a board game.  This was my life.  I knew I never liked board games.  I didn’t want to play any more, not like this.

When I was first diagnosed with cancer, my priorities changed.  I didn’t worry so much about work and all those career goals I had set for myself.  I spent more time doing things with the people I loved the most. I looked forward to a brand new life – one focused on what really mattered. I was living in the moment, learning to prioritize the good stuff, and letting the rest go.  I was thankful for the wake up call to start living the rest of my life the way I was supposed to live it. When I found out my cancer was back, that I was terminal, and that I probably didn’t have much time left; my priorities became even more laser-focused.

I stopped working to spend time with my family.  I started doing things I enjoyed but hadn’t made the time to do – like writing, reading, and art projects.  I stepped away from activities that weren’t meaningful anymore, that were time-consuming, that didn’t bring me joy.  I wanted to make memories with my kids and strengthen relationships with my inner circle. I vowed to cut out all the fluff, the ‘time suckers’, the inconveniences.

I was doing a great job of that … and then the last month happened.  Right in the middle of all the camps in which I shouldn’t have enrolled the kids (even though they requested it), I had a petscan.  Any cancer patient knows how scans create a lot of anxiety –  before, during, and after while waiting for the results.  We had family matters that needed addressed.  My husband was traveling a lot for work.  I had friends asking to plan get-togethers for my kids.  I was running all over the place. It just didn’t stop.

I was particularly worried about this scan.  There were some things going on that indicated there might have been progression.  The days leading up to that scan, those days filled with so many obligations, were difficult.  My heart was praying for good news but my mind was preparing for the worst.  The question about how much time I had left always popped up around scans.  The outcome of those scans could have meant the number of month’s left in my personal calendar was going to be fewer than I had hoped.  Fewer months, fewer blocks. Thankfully, my scan results turned out to be the best case scenario.  Hallelujah! My lesson was learned again though.  I had to make some changes.

When I was overscheduled, I was anxious.  When I had too much on my plate, I wanted to retreat.  When I was overbooked, I couldn’t breathe.  I loved my friends and family but it felt like that one afternoon, that one 2-hour block, or any times that I had available were being sniffed out and everyone was staking their claim on my time.  It sounds terrible but when my schedule was full, nothing brought me more angst than the loaded question, “What are you doing next Wednesday?” or “Do you have any plans for the weekend?”.  It felt like people were trying to steal from me – not money, credit cards, and jewels … but something even more valuable — my time!

I was a people pleaser.  I didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. I didn’t want someone to feel like they didn’t matter or I didn’t want to spend time with them.  I wrestled with the thought that I was blessed that my kids had so many outside interests and that so many people wanted to spend time with me and my kids.  The last thing I wanted was for my loved ones to think I didn’t care about them — but I needed some space, some rest, and some peace.


I needed to do what was best for my family and my health.  I needed to conserve my energy for things that mattered most.  I needed to clear my calendar.

I needed to learn to say, ‘No”.

I looked ahead to July.  There were a few appointments peppered through the month but there was a lot of white space.  I was comforted by that ‘white space’.  I promised myself that I would keep it on my calendar.

I spoke to a friend about how I was feeling.  She reminded me that I didn’t owe anyone an explanation.  God was the only person to whom I had to answer.  When I was saying “no” with a pure heart, I was making a decision to put myself and my family first.  There was nothing wrong with that. It was okay for me to say that I didn’t have the energy to do something or that I preferred to focus on something else.  I thought maybe a part of me didn’t like to turn people down when I wasn’t feeling well because that was admitting that I was sick and that there was something that I couldn’t do because of my illness.  I had to accept that there would be days when I didn’t feel up to leaving the house.  That was okay.  Friends and family who cared for me would understand that and those that didn’t weren’t worth worrying about, right?

As a Mom with a terminal illness, I worried that I wouldn’t be there to see them grow up. Like other Moms, I wanted to see them graduate, get married, start families of their own but the odds of seeing any of those things were not in my favor.  I thought about things that others didn’t think about, that others took for granted.  I stared at the ceiling in the middle of the night thinking about who was going to comfort my son when he got his heart broken the first time and who was going to help my daughter pick out her wedding dress, or even her prom dress.  I thought about what they would remember about me when I was gone.  I thought about things I could do now that would help them feel my love for them long after I had left this earth.  Not everyone had to fit in a lifetime of mothering into the unknown amount of time before the cancer came back with a vengeance.  Not everyone understood my desperate need to control what I did with my time.  All I had was right now — so as much as it went against my selfless nature, I had to learn to be selfish… with my time.

I used to want to make memories.  I used to think I had to plan special events and exciting activities — but when I got sick again, I knew that special moments were best unplanned.  Memories couldn’t be manufactured.  The most precious of memories were those that unfolded before us without effort, like those conversations that happened as you tucked your children into bed or those Saturday morning snuggles with bed hair and sleepy eyes. In order to enjoy those moments, I couldn’t be exhausted all the time and neither could my children.  The best of times happened when we stopped scheduling magical moments and allowed life to happen.

We were going to do just that.

Let Life Happen.  

I didn’t want my children to think that having a full calendar was normal.  I didn’t want my children to spend their lives always busy, even if they were busy doing fun things.  I wanted my children to know how to be still. Life didn’t happen from 1 to 3 on Monday or every other Saturday at 10am.  Life didn’t happen when we rushed from lunch date to play date or from day camp to evening practice.  Life didn’t happen when we squeezed in one more ball game.

Life didn’t have a chance to happen when we filled up all of our blocks.

Somehow we had it mixed up.  This world taught us that in order to win at life, we had to fill up all of our blocks. Just like the board game, we only won if we didn’t have any spaces left. It took me a second cancer diagnosis and an overbooked schedule to remind me that life shouldn’t be that way.  When we were always in a rush, we could not fully enjoy ourselves.  We were worried about what was next and if we were going to make it on time.  We were too tired to be open to the joy of the moment.  We were falling into our beds at night, our bodies and minds completely exhausted, the whole day just a blur.  It was a full day … but a day essentially wasted. If I thought back to those crazy, hurried days; it wasn’t the events, the practices, the appointments that stuck out in my mind- it was the few minutes in the car on the way to the field; it was the quick stop at the fast food restaurant to refuel and reconnect; it was the 5 minute conversation about why the sun seems brighter in the summertime while my kids helped me put the groceries away; it was the spontaneous hug from my son as I carried the laundry basket through the kitchen.  That was what was important.  We needed to remember to allow more time for those moments to happen.

Having a full calendar didn’t mean you had a full life .. it meant that your life was not a life at all, but just a series of appointments.

I wanted a life open to possibilities … not a life compartmentalized into hour-long segments.

I was going to make some changes …. again …

I was going to change what that calendar looked like on my pantry door …

because life didn’t happen in the pen-scribbled blocks on my calendar…

Life happened in the ‘white spaces’.

Come to me, all who are weary, and I will give you rest. (Matthew 11:28)


Pasta … with a Side of Patience



Wait patiently for the Lord.

Be brave and courageous.  Yes, wait patiently for the Lord. 

(Psalm 27:14)

I was making spaghetti and meatballs the other day.  The meatballs were mixed and rolled, and baking in tomato sauce.  The garlic bread was prepared with butter, garlic, and seasonings.  It smelled like an Italian restaurant.  Everyone was hungry.  I filled the pot with water and set it on the stove top.  Once the water boiled, I could add the pasta and put the garlic bread in the oven to broil.

I turned on the stove and I waited.  I set out the plates and silverware.  I set out the glasses. I checked the water in the pot.

Nothing. Just water.

I looked through the mail.  I cleaned some items from the refrigerator.  I checked my phone messages. Then I checked the pot again.

Nothing. No bubbles. No steam.

What was taking so long? I needed to finish dinner.  I still had to help the kids finish homework and drive them to their evening activities. I didn’t have time to wait so long for the water to boil.  As I watched the clock, I thought about skipping the pasta and just throwing in the garlic bread and having meatball subs. I even thought about putting the spaghetti on hold and having a late dinner.  But everyone was hungry now. How was I going to get all this done?  The water wasn’t boiling fast enough … and I was tired of waiting.

Then, just as I was about to change my plan for the evening, … finally … the water was boiling.  It started out as little bubbles dancing around the bottom of the pot and then the bubbles got bigger, floated to the top, and soon, the whole pot of water erupted into a rolling boil that signaled it was time to add the spaghetti. I put the garlic bread in the oven and then a few minutes later, dinner was ready… just in time.

Funny how that happened.  I got anxious when I had to wait.  I got impatient.  I started to panic and thought about changing my plans.  Then, in the nick of time, the water boiled, dinner was cooked, and it all worked out fine.

When we find ourselves in a difficult situation and we pray to God for an answer, for relief, for change; sometimes, the answer to that prayer doesn’t come as quickly as we like.  Sometimes, the relief, the healing, or the solution doesn’t come in time.  Sometimes, what we ask for doesn’t come at all.

It was difficult when we were in that holding pattern.  Everyone struggled with something. Maybe they waited for someone to forgive them.  Maybe they tried to forgive themselves. Maybe they waited for the resolution to a personal problem, a new job, or a medical miracle. When they were left to wait, when they were left feeling lost, when they were left feeling desperate; they might have started to think God forgot about them, that He stopped listening, or that He didn’t care.

I have a dear friend who said something I always tried to remember in times like that…

“Don’t mistake God’s silence for His absence.”

That resonated with me the first time I heard him say it and it has stuck with me through the years.  Along with a cancer diagnosis, there are all kinds of ups and downs, twists and turns, and roads leading towards the unknown.  When I was first diagnosed, I had a lot of medical tests. I had to find out what type of cancer I had, what stage it was, and what my treatment options were.  I had to find out if my body could handle the harsh treatment that was prescribed. I had to spend days in the hospital and sleepless nights waiting for results.  I had to endure brutal chemotherapy treatments, surgeries, and procedures.  I had to suffer through excruciating pain, praying for the strength to keep going.  God was with me every step of the way. I knew that now and I knew that then, but there were many nights when the pain was unbearable and the tears wouldn’t stop, that I had to remind myself that God was still there.  I might have felt alone but He hadn’t left me. It may have been difficult to walk that path but God was holding me through it and leading me to where He wanted me to be.

I did it.  I made it through treatment and surgery and reconstruction. I made it through the sickness, the isolation, and the pain.  I was declared cancer free. I was slowly returning to my ‘normal’ routine and learning to navigate my life after cancer.  Things were going great. I was just about to hit my third year anniversary of being ‘cancer free’. Then, on that beautiful October day…

I heard my doctor say that my cancer had spread, there was no cure, and that my disease was now terminal.

Wait… What? How? Why?

Why would God allow this to happen to me again?  Why would God bring me through all those horrible things, give me hope for a brand new future…and then take it all away?

Had God forgotten about me?  Would He not keep those promises He put on my heart during those long nights while I was lying in silence and crying in pain?  Did I do something to deserve this?  Was I going to be okay?

I clung to my faith during that time … because that was all I could do. I didn’t hear any more messages from God. When I was first diagnosed, God sent an army of people to rally around me.  He made things happen.  He opened doors.  There were signs along the way that all was going to be okay… but now, there was only silence.  He was quiet.  There were times I prayed and checked in, hoping God would put something on my heart …

Nothing. Silence. An uncomfortable quiet.

But, I waited.  And I prayed.

I kept praying…because I knew that even though it seemed like nothing was happening, I knew that God was working.  He was working for me.  He was working for my good.

As my friend so perfectly explained…

It may have seemed that God was silent, but He was definitely not absent. 

Soon, my test results showed that my cancer was only in one bone and the spots in my lungs were small.  The test results showed that radiation to the bone lesion would bring good results. The test results showed that I was a candidate for a new drug that was proving successful for many patients.  I learned that my treatment was an oral drug, not an IV chemotherapy drug; and that I wasn’t going to have to lose my hair again.  I learned that there were so many people supporting me, praying for me, and willing to stand by me…for the long haul.  There might have been a period of uncertainty, confusion, fear…but God was there during that time. I just had to trust Him.

We can’t see what God is doing or how He is working.  We can’t know when He will act on our behalf.  He asks that we have patience.  He asks that we wait on Him.  He wants us to know that He will work behind the scenes and He will intervene on our behalf, but in His own time.

Remember that water that was sitting in the pot? No bubbles. No steam. Although the water was still and calm, its temperature was rising.  Unseen by my watchful eyes, that liquid was turning into vapor.  That vapor was forming tiny bubbles.  Those bubbles were growing bigger.  The water boiled.  That flame under the pot was working..not as quickly as I liked, but it was working…like God is always working in our lives.

It takes patience to wait for a pot of water to boil.  

It takes faith to know that it will. 


Jesus replied, “You don’t understand now what I am doing, but someday you will.”

(John 13:7)