Inconvenient: truth

I have cancer.  There, I said it.

Words have such potential over us, in us, through us.  Not power, only God has power.  But words, written or spoken or unspoken, can really impact our opinion, perception, our experience, our conceptions or preconceptions, our emotions. Satan wants to harness them to destroy. God uses words to build us up.

I am a big-picture-goals-oriented girl who loves to get lost in the detail.  I have always been blessed with the ability to compartmentalize (some might say 'conveniently forget') the multitude of levels of emotion or tasks or to dos in order to keep my focus on the overall goal.  That's not to say I don't get lost in any number of moments or emotions or stuck in mental loops and spin my wheels, I totally do.   But usually I freely give myself in to the emotion of the moment, live it (good or bad, love it or hate it, acknowledge it)  and then compartmentalize it and move back to 'eye on the prize'.  Sometimes the moment lasts a few minutes, some moments can last days or even weeks.  Some moments add their fragrance to whatever else is going on and sometimes they pull you under and leave you gasping for breath.

Life is feeling a fair bit like a Fac.eb00k game.  You know those "bubble*m0nster" kind of games... with the bubbles pressing down from the sky and your little monster needing to somehow burp his laser and destroy the bubbles as they inch slowly closer to the ground and 'game over'?

It feels like the emotions and moments are compartmentalized in little, pretty, helium filled bubbles.  My job is to keep those bubbles on the shelves... there's lots of emotions and thoughts and scarynesses and frettings and to do list items and desires and hugs-to-be-given and and and.   The balancing is in keeping all the bubbles on their shelves as the helium keeps floating them off their shelf and up to the ceiling.  In this bubble game, the ceiling is Kristin's ability to cope.  As more and more bubbles float up from their shelves, and as more bubbles start to congregate on the ceiling, the pressure builds in my chest, my heart starts to race a little, the tears well up and begin to spill.  A little heart racing and tear spilling is okay... but just like in the bubble monster game, if the ceiling gets full it's 'game over' for Kristin keeping coping with all this cancer reality.  Unacceptable, in my opinion, as a long-term plan.

What I am working diligently on is this: willpower and keeping my eyes open to God's hand in this... life... cancer... scary mess.  There are so many good things and blessings in my life... before this and during this.  I keep looking for them, grabbing on to them, stringing them together like garland, like pom-poms, like a pom-pom scarf I can wear around me.  A pom-pom scarf sheild!  How fun is that!

And, super cool part... As I'm working on keeping the bubbles on the shelf, God is adding two-sided tape to the shelves to help keep those bubbles there.  It's okay, He knows it and I know it, if some frets or worries or tasks or heart-wells-up moments get off their shelf... emotions are healthy and we need to allow and respect them.  But God is right there, reinforcing that tape, keeping the bubble-escaping ratio to a manageable level.  And... super-best part... when Satan is heckling me or hovering or trying to pick the tape off the shelves I can use the bonus: "Get behind me Satan, you shall NOT prevail because Jesus never fails!" and Satan gets sucked back, way back, behind the "wait here" tape line on the floor... and I can't hear him, he can't touch me, God's got it under control.

I am working on cultivating the ... whatever it is... that gets me to calling on God as the panic begins, like taking the meds before getting too lost in the pain.  The best part, whether I'm on top of it mentally and get to it efficiently or not, when I do call on God, He is there in that very instant.  I cannot imagine anything better.  I cling to Him.  Daily.  Even as I'm panicking, I'm clinging... life can be complicated that way, and God doesn't mind.

I am a cryer.  Cancer has given me, us, lots of reasons to cry.  It's scary if I let it get to my thoughts.  That word has a lot of potential for freaking me out.  Cancer also has brought so much love, crazy-huge love and kindness and caring and connection to us... we are working diligently to train ourselves to look more to the positive... sometimes that takes a boatload of willpower, sometimes I forget to skirt around the Forest of Freak-You-Out, with those scary trees with the long creepy branches and brambles that grab at your clothes, and the panic grabs for me and I have to get my bearings and call out.  Calling out for prayer, for a hug, re-reading your kind comments, crying out to Jesus. 

Bubbles... keeping them on the shelves... two-sided tape... God is with me, always.

Bonus Bonus: He is with you always.  I know it because I am praying His peace to you, too.