Numbering Days, Week 201-214

One thing I love about the Bible is that it is "alive and active". A verse I've known since I was a child will arrive to me with a new and different meaning than it ever has before. 

For weeks, this verse, reminding me that God is with me wherever I go and whatever happens, has been rolling around in my heart. And honestly, it seemed out of place because I was feeling neither afraid or discouraged. 

Then I had a call with my spine doctor, who delivered the results of my latest scans and went on to reiterate the fact that radiation and surgery are not considered reasonable options for dealing with this tumor, things I already knew but were nonetheless difficult to hear again.

A week later I met with my oncologist who agreed with the findings and and said, Lisa, I know you hate chemo, but your body still responds well. (Makes me wonder, though I don't ask...do most of her patients not mind chemo??)

The news of a growing tumor and upcoming treatment was disappointing though it did not shake me. I've learned and am currently learning that life is hard and unexpected and at any moment things can happen that our joy and peace. 

In truth, I feel like much of my life has and hard things. And I really mean this...I'm thankful to have been given a life that makes me feel like I'm in over my head. It has kept me needing Jesus. And not in a church way or an inspirational way or a hobby way, but in a deep and abiding and desperate way. 

The "trick" I've learned, and its no trick at all is ahead of time...ahead of the crisis, the phone call, the unexpected circumstances, I have been spending time getting to know the character of God, learning that He is good and He can be trusted. 

The telehealth did not go how I'd hoped and I mourn the news, but I do not crumble because I have spent time daily building my life's foundation on Jesus and I've learned how to fight for gratitute.

In our family we call what we're in "bonus time". It's been nearly 12 years since I was first diagnosed and 4 years since they told me the recurrence was terminal. And here I am, doing extraordinary, beautiful, painful, mundane, miraculous life.

I've been here for the joy of daily life and to witness my kids cross life-milestones and, wonder of wonders, I'm going to be a grandma in December to a baby boy!! Its all more than I ever could have asked for or hoped to be around for. I hold this vapor of a life loosely, my heart set on eternity.

I start back on chemo next week, my usual every two week deal. Beginning now will ensure I'm done for the holidays and the arrival of a grandbaby and all the wonderful, difficult things this life holds.

The immensity of what it means that people still ask and pray and care is more than what I can take in. I get so sick of me and I don't know how others continue to lean in. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

Numbering Days, Week 191-200

Its been since February since I posted. When I'm being cynical, I scoff at the weekly posts I started out with. Back when I first got diagnosed there was so much happening and I sincerely thought it'd all be wrapped up and behind us in a couple months. Turns out, one cancer post a year for the last twelve would have sufficed.

But I know the truth...so many of you have genuinely cared and wanted to pray and partner with us and that truly means so much. Thank you for wanting the updates and for following along on this very twisty journey.

This was the first tax season in a couple years that I wasn't doing treatment. Even still, every day felt like a little more than I was capable of. Amy gifted us with a fridge full of meals each week, enough to last most of the week. What a treat! Though I love my work, the days took much out of me and it wasn't long each evening before I was in bed, sleeping. I think my record was 35 minutes, from the time I arrived home from work to the time I was sleeping soundly.

At the suggestion of my doctor and the encouragement of a friend, I started physical therapy. It has been a gift and really has helped with the pain. It's hope-filling to be gaining some mobility. Walking, getting in and out of a chair, standing at the sink to do dishes, stooping to pick something up...I'm so grateful for these everyday things I can do with more ease. And amazingly, I've hit the streets again, walking with the dog in the mornings.

I also have worked with the pain management team (two incredible doctors!), adding more pills and injections.

I'm eating like my life depends on it. Who knows...maybe it does? The research and information out there is vast, overwhelming and largely conflicting...what to eat, what to avoid, when to eat, etc. Eating purposefully every day is within my control and helps keep my body fighting.

Beyond all that, I've been experiencing miracles. Its a miracle that I am moving, that my pain is lessened, that, even though its been fourteen months since I've had chemo, my scans show that things continue to hold steady. That's not something my doctor is able to explain. Its a miracle. In our family, we call these weeks and months Bonus Time. Its more time than we thought we'd have, more than I deserve. 

And in these last few months I've witnessed some big milestones....

Aiden got his license!

Amanda graduated!

And we're going to be grandparents!!!

(Yes! We're VERY excited!)

When the sea is calm and all is right

When I feel Your favor flood my life

Even in the good, I'll follow You

When the boat is tossed upon the waves

When I wonder if You'll keep me safe

Even in the storms, I'll follow You

I believe and I have seen Your unchanging heart

In the good things and in the hardest part

I believe and I will follow You

Numbering Days, Week 186-190

Last year I was certain I was experiencing my last birthday. Though it was my 50th, I could not bear to do a celebration...I was so weary and sick and worn down and didn't feel I had strength to go on. 

And then a miracle happened. My body stabilized and I was given this past year, largely treatment-free and somehow, quite unexpectedly, the days stacked up into a year and I came to another birthday.

January 15th. Its also the day, now four years ago, that my doctor called to say the cancer was back. It was a Saturday and I was sitting in the car with my family, having just finished my birthday breakfast. Five months later another call, this time as we were loading suitcases in the car to catch a plane for family vacation, saying "there's nothing we can do".

Truly I don't have words to describe what its like to reside in that tension. Our family counselor calls it "anticipatory grief", the profound sense of loss, sorrow and anxiety experienced before an impending death or major life change. Loss, yes. Also, so much gratitude to still be here, experiencing life, watching my kids grow into amazing adults. Also, so many moments wondering, how long?? My brain and my heart cannot process that we've been fighting this reoccurrence for four years.

I used to think joy and sorrow needed to be separate, but I've learned that its not just ok, its necessary that I enjoy the joy because its going to help me with the sorrow. I'm not being disloyal to the sorrow because I take the opportunity to have a moment's joy. Actually, I look for joy like its my job.

This year, I was so happy to celebrate my birthday. 51! I love being old! Against the delicately-delivered advice of my teen niece, I am keeping my hair gray. My middle is soft. I like seeing age spots on both of us when I hold my husband's hand. It reminds me, I've witnessed God's faithfulness.

Recently I did a round of scans and labs and follow-ups. The affect of having four months "off" was interesting...when I walked in the building to do the tests I thought, I HATE this place. All of it. Days later, after one of the telehealth visits Shaun shared with me that he was driving and thinking how much he hates cancer. It was unusual because most often we reserve our strength, not for hating, but for getting through...doing the next thing. But also, there's just lots of layers.

We were given the gift of stable results and a continued pause in the treatment that is buying me time. Its all a bonus and I'm so grateful for it.  What I know is there is no such thing as an ordinary days.

So teach us to number our days, That we may cultivate and bring to You a heart of wisdom.

Numbering Day, Week 171-185

A fresh, new calendar year used to excite me greatly. The New Year was a symbol of a fresh start...new goals coupled with new resolve and a planner and goal tracker to prove it. 

My reality changed the year we turned to 2015. I was right in the middle of my first set of chemo treatments. I'd been at it for months and still had some ahead of me so when the ball dropped in NYC to welcome in the new year, nothing felt fresh or new and I was incapable of creating a list of goals and resolutions that would help me do more and be more. It was my first realization that sometimes January 1st does not always mean a fresh new start.

Last January found me in the middle of yet another set of chemo treatments. I was so very sick and my body was so wasted and worn down. I had already been through far more than I ever thought I could bear so as we rang in 2025, all I could think was, I do not want to do this for another year.  I wrestled with, how can I do more of "this"? And also, how can I not?  Of course, I've asked these questions so many times, but last January was different. I could scarcely even pray, but it was a plea for mercy.

In March I took a break from treatments, in June we pursued pain management and finally in October I began to have reliable relief from the pain. Since then, my pain has decreased and my mobility has increased, both dramatically.  I haven't had to filter my whole day through the lens of pain, trying to gauge what activities would cost me in both pain and energy. My body is no longer keeping score of how many times I get up out of a chair. I'm able to stand comfortably in one place for a reasonable amount of time. When I drop something, I can bend down to pick it up. My balance is more stable. And it goes on. I'm still in awe everyday as I go about doing basic things without pain. I feel so free!

Last January, I thought the answer to my pray for mercy was that I would not see 2026. This January, I'm so grateful that the answer to my prayer for mercy was relief from treatments and pain. I'm so grateful I had each of the 365 days of 2025. 

None of us knows what this new year holds. But we can live with a bright hope that there is wholeness ahead. 

Numbering Days, Week 158-170

 

Now that the posts about our lake house project are wrapping up, now that its been three months since I've written about cancer here, and now that I have some good news to report...here I am. 

If we were keeping score, bad news has handily outweighed the good in my health journey. For whatever reason, my body generally prefers the hard way...the road less traveled, if you will. ;)

 BUT, yesterday I went to New York for labs and a PET scan and, year-over-year, the scan shows  "unchanged"!! AND the tumor marker number went down. 

This is miraculous, truly! It defies what *should* be happening.

So, we are giving thanks for a good report, pausing to celebrate and delight in the process and what we do have. Its true that we can train our hearts to experience delight that is not outcome-dependent. 

Often without thought, or sometimes with great effort I ask myself, what is good in my story? Today, reading test results, the good was easy to spot. Today, flipping the calendar to October and knowing the splendor we are about to witness in New England, the good was easy to spot. Today, hugging all three of my kids, the good was easy to spot. Today, when tears of joy were shed on my behalf by people deeply invested in our story, the good was easy to spot.

Your prayers and love and support help to sustain me. The fact that you (still!!) follow our story and care...it means alot.

Numbering Days, Week 153-157

Heading to the hospital in Hartford, I drove through part of the route I have run several times in the Hartford Marathon. It sticks out because the fun runners would let out a little whoop to hear the echo in the "tunnel" (it goes without saying I was not one of the whoopers). Even after all these years, my heart wrenched for the loss of running. 

That morning the Psalm I read had been a psalm of lament. I've been trying to grow in my lamenting...my complaining and honesty with God... so, out loud in my car I said, Fine. I will lament. This stinks. I miss running so much. There are innumerable losses on all fronts and they keep coming. I've been on the edge of what I can take so many times. Its all been so much. God, I know you don't make mistakes and you have trusted me to carry this story. I need you to make good on your promises. I need you to take all of this hard and loss and pain and suffering and use it for good. 

I arrived at the hospital and drove around and around the parking garage with no spots. Of course the plethora of handicap spots would be taken at a hospital...its the same at the cancer center. I eyed the incline of the regular spots, could feel the pain of walking it and decided to bail on the visit, to try again tomorrow. As I was exiting, there on level two was a handicap spot tucked in the corner, right next to the door to the elevators. Okay!

When I walked into Diane's hospital room, I saw someone covered with casts and braces and bandages and tubes, but out of ICU. Having fallen down a flight of stairs more than a week earlier, Shaun's dad's wife was pretty banged up. We spoke for a bit and, amazingly, she seemed happier and more at peace than I'd seen her in a long time. I commented on her smile and attitude and she said, well, I've been learning a lot from how you handle what you're going through. 

We talked some more and then the visit ended abruptly when a flurry of nurses came in to do whatever nurses do. (Its a weird thing being in a hospital. I hate the whole scene and it feels like home...a terrible, comfortable and familiar place).

On the drive back, I passed by the same spot and only then did Diane's words come back to me I've been learning a lot from how you handle what you're going through. I teared up and thanked God for such a swift, direct answer to my prayer. It was the needed reminder that He is such a personal God...He sees and hears; it was the needed encouragement that somehow all of "this" matters and is being used for good.

Early the next morning, word came that Diane had passed away from a pulmonary embolism. I don't understand it all, but God's presence was clear to me that day. I pray it meant something eternally.

Amy had been gently pushing me for a while, so when I was given this chemo break in March, I agreed to use the time to work with the pain management team (again). Since mid-June its been a difficult trial and error process, but recently I've experienced a dramatic decrease of my pain. Its imperfect, but I've gotten some mobility back, a cloud has been lifted and my thoughts feel clearer. What a gift to have some freedom from that constant drum beat of pain. I'm very grateful (and I may have even let out a whoop)!

Thank you for your prayers and love and care. It means so much.

Numbering Days, Week 138-147

Its been a long while sine I updated. Sometimes, I feel full of words and they spill from my heart as fast as I can type. Other times, it just feels like its all been said or maybe doesn't need to be said at all. 

But I know so many of you continue to care and pray and support us. The weariness I feel in our story is strictly my own. Our community just continues to pour out love. Thank you for that.

Yesterday we went to Pennsylvania to pick up Amanda from her freshman year at Summit, the Bible College where she spent the last year. What a special, beautiful, sacred place. 

My mind couldn't help but recall just one year ago when my girls and I stepped on campus for the first time to witness the graduation of our friend Sarah. Sitting in my seat that day it was on my heart that Amanda could go there but it seemed so far from a possibility. But God has worked miracles in these last 365 days! He has shown such extravagant and personal love. He has answered prayers and showed me I don't pray big enough prayers.

After the graduation ceremony, I had a few moments alone while I waited for the rest. As I took in the beauty of the campus and the joyous celebrations of graduates and their families, an unbidden lump rose to my throat. Briefly I wondered, will I be here next year when Amanda walks across that stage to receive her diploma?

Hours before, an overflowing congregation and graduating class sung, with great gusto, In Christ Alone. Its a powerful song that I can't sing without crying. From my favorite stanza:

No guilt in life, no fear in death

This is the power of Christ in me

From life's first cry to final breath

Jesus commands my destiny

I don't know all of God's ways and this weekend it struck me how grateful I am that God doesn't take our prayers as his to-do list. He is good and does things I wouldn't even know to ask for. Though I don't understand how it all works, I take such comfort in knowing he is sovereign and Jesus is the one who commands my destiny.

The power of Christ in me means I can have sturdy suffering. I can't find where I heard that throw-away phrase, but I've latched onto it. Our pain, the hard of life, does not need to be our undoing.  You will have suffering in this world. Be courageous! Sturdy suffering.

Numbering Days, Week 135-137

We can own our sense of wonder. There are unseen blessings and miracles happening constantly. We can allow our hearts to be delighted, to remember the good and the beautiful. Its not a denial that life is hard, its an acknowledgement that fear and darkness do not have the final say. 

From the moment we take our first breaths, our days are numbered, so how we live matters. 

The decisions we make-the important ones and, yes, the mundane ones too-they all matter. 

Everyday decisions add up to the life we live. ~Sally Clarkson

This past week I did blood work and a scan. I helped a woman find the paper towels in the restroom and I marveled that it could be her first time in the building. I chatted with a woman who was a bundle of nerves waiting to get called back for her annual scan. Its a strange world to be so familiar with.

A few days later I had a lengthy conversation with my doctor, who I hadn't seen in a while. She is satisfied that the test results came back unchanged. And so, we'll stick with the on again, off again schedule indefinitely. I always hate to give chemo any credit, lest it motivates the doctor to keep giving it 😉, but I think the intensity of my pain has lessened in the last month and for any little relief, I am grateful.

There are two more infusions to round out this group of eight and then I will take a break...I'll be able to focus on tax season, on Amanda's graduation and Avery's wedding, and precious, beautiful ordinary days.

 

Numbering Days, Week 127-134

I've spent a good long time trying to piece together some thoughts that make sense and go together. The truth is, its hindsight that makes things clear and give me the ability to articulate what's in my heart. But when I'm in the middle, I find my mind is quite scattered. Or, often blank. My strength is limited, my focused compromised. I have no ability to multi-task and am easily overwhelmed.

Right now, I'm in the middle.

The short of what's actually long and very daily...I'm still doing treatments every two weeks. A few cycles ago we changed up my meds and its made a big difference in managing the effects of my body being poisoned. I'm grateful and relieved.

Thank you for your prayers, your love and support. I feel carried.

And I will give you treasures hidden in the darkness-secret riches. 

I will do this so you may know that I am the LORD, the God of Israel, 

the one who calls you by name. Isaiah 45:3

I am discovering the riches...the sweet presence of Jesus and the solidarity with Him, the Suffering Servant. I fix my eyes on Him, my only hope. I will have scans and tests soon, but my hope is absolutely independent of the outcome of the results. Every time I look, I find his faithfulness again.

Numbering Days, Week 118-122

There is always so much on my heart that I want to share. Sometimes its feels too personal to share in this space, sometimes it feels too heavy for you, my caring readers. Other times it feels too hard to explain or it doesn't feel like the right time. 

At any given time, there are so many things settled and being wrestled with in my heart. But today I just want to encourage you, if you haven't yet, to get your own thing going with Jesus. He and I have been through some things together, much of it I've shared and plenty will stay private.

Let your roots grow down into him, and let your lives be built on him. Then your faith 

will grow strong in the truth you were taught, and you will overflow with thankfulness.

Our secret lives with Jesus will make our roots grow down. Spending time reading scripture is getting to know the nature and the character of the One we're in relationship with. Don't settle for getting this second-hand once a week in church.

I experienced great pain and some frustration this week and with tears in my eyes, I can tell you that I also experienced His presence so real and loving, just sitting with me, somehow with nothing else to do and no other place to be. It changed everything, except my outside circumstances.

I met with a couple of my doctors last week and it was decided to start chemo back up. Of course I never want to do it again, and certainly I was hoping to wait until after the holidays but enough evidence was gathered to show that its time. I hate it so much but I'll do it anyway. And I am hopeful it will alleviate some of the pain. 

Did you know? We all have an 'I'm okay if that is okay' thing. I'm okay as long as my kids are healthy. As long as my presidential candidate wins. As long as I don't lose my job. As long as my spouse makes me happy. As long as the test results are positive.

What is your "I'm okay" rooted in? 

God invites us to be okay because He is okay. We can abide in Him and have Him be the source of our stability and rooted-ness. I am more fragile than I like to think I am but I can be stable because of an abiding union with God that never fails through all circumstances.

Having been deeply rooted [in Him] and now being continually built up in Him and [becoming increasingly more] established in your faith, just as you were taught, and overflowing in it with gratitude.

I've tested it out too many times to count. It turns out, God is enough when you need him to be. Maybe you haven't gotten to the point in life where you really need Him, but you will. From someone who has spent a whole lot of time in the trenches, may I encourage you? Decide some things about your relationship with God before you need Him, because you will. That ground you have your "I'm okay" planted in will get shaken. What you really will want is a relationship that is so tight that you know, with assurance He is with you and you can be stable. Get your own thing going with Jesus. He actually and truly is enough.