The Fire Storm

Before you begin reading, Watch this video.  (Thank you so much to the incredible fire-fighters!!)

What you see is a building and a water bomber and a plume of ominous smoke. 

What I see is our beloved camp severely threatened by forest fire.  The fire is pressing in, pushing closer.  It is massive and powerful and uncontained. 

 Those buildings it threatens to obliterate are more than buildings- they are a dream realized by the camp’s founders, their establishment birthed over 60 years ago.  Those buildings are witness to some of my husband’s most cherished childhood memories.  Indeed, it was also Oshkidee which cemented Ryan and mine’s relationship.  It was here we experienced our mutual joy of camp and of waterskiing.  We did crazy teenage, rule-breaking stuff (Shhh, don’t tell---…and my children I wince in dread and fear that I did these things and hope that you are smarter than us and thank God for His protection).  We had fun and we sought God and it was good, it was so good!  I sat in chapel, my first days at Camp Oshkidee, dreaming and brainstorming how a wedding here would look.  I was in love with Ryan; but, also with this beautiful camp.  That was the summer of 2000.  The following summer at camp, 2001, Ryan and I went for a dirt bike ride down the trails (which are currently engulfed in fire).  We stopped at an opening that overlooks the lake and here Ryan said to me, “I think we should get married.” And I replied without hesitation, “me too.”  Upon returning home, we shared our intention with our parents and my father-in-law booked the camp for the following June 22.

 The chalet was the perfect setting for our truly perfect day: our wedding. 

 But that was just the beginning, or perhaps the middle…

 We were youth leaders at camp the following year and my in-laws rented out the camp for spectacular family time a couple times years following.

 Then we moved to BC and didn’t return to camp until Ryan suggested we go when I was on Mat leave with the twins.  I thought he was crazy (and really many elements of that week at camp were pure chaos and craziness!)  But there was still something special about being in that place, Camp Oshkidee, where “we” first began as a 2 person family.  That year at camp I felt God give me a message, “Cheryl, I will give you years in the lake filled with joy with your kids.”  At the time it was an encouragement to press through the crazy days of motherhood, where I wasn’t able to enjoy being in the lake; but, a couple months later when I was diagnosed with brain cancer with a prognosis of one-year survival, those words, that promise of years, became a life-line of hope.  We returned the following year, last summer, and similarly, God spoke. There was one evening at camp where the moon was full and spectacular and reflected off of the lake.  It was if God was saying, in the darkness I am the beacon of light.  There is no darkness in me.  I have overcome the darkness.

 We are registered for camp again this summer.  We discussed whether to go or not, it is a long trip to get there; but, we decided yes, it is worth it.  It is always worth it.

 A few days ago we received word that the camp is in a fire storm.  Blazes are penetrating closer and it does not look good.  As you see how meaningful this place, this camp, is to me, to our family you can understand how this situation is an allegory of our life!  The fire rages; flames licking into our lives, trying to consume us and it looks dismal.  The fire is powerful and raging and pressing and unrelenting.  The wall of smoke ominously threatens suffocation.  But.  Yes, but.  In it all our hope in God does not waver. 

The morning after imminent threat on the camp was apparent, the camp director shared this:

View devotional here

 "If there’s one thing I’ve learned in life it’s that God is in control...even if it doesn’t appear so. As the sun comes up I haven’t heard any update about the fire situation at the camp. So we eagerly await news.

However, I do believe I heard from God this morning! Every morning I get a devotional emailed to me from pastor Rick Warren, who’s from California. It’s uncanny how often it relates to what I need to hear. And today is no different. The promise that God is with us through our fiery trials. I am confident the plans He has for Oshkidee will be seen.
The picture used almost even looks like that trail to the camp! God’s got this!!"

Huh! God speaks.

 As I was contemplating this and the whole Camp Oshkidee situation I was reminded of how God spoke to Moses in Exodus 3 through a burning bush.  As Moses approaches the burning bush God says to him, “take off your sandals, the place where you are standing is holy ground.”  Immediately I was reminded how being at Camp Oshkidee, truly feels like walking on holy ground.  God’s presence is so very tangible there; it is holy ground!  (I’ve already mentioned how God has spoken to me at Camp Oshkidee. It was surrounding the burning bush which God was speaking through that required Moses to remove his sandals.  I thus conclude where God speaks, it is holy ground.)  Whatever happens to our beloved camp, I know that holy ground cannot be consumed by fire!

We keep waiting for updates on what is going on with the forest fire and the camp.  In the waiting I was reminded of another “fire story.”  It’s the story from Daniel 3 where there are three men who refuse to worship the gold statue which the king has decreed must to worshipped when music sounds.  At their refusal the king is enraged and gives them one more chance “But if you refuse you will be thrown immediately into the blazing furnace.  What god will be able to rescue you from my power then?” says the king. 

 The men’s response is striking. 

 “If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God whom we serve is able to save us.  He will rescue us from your power, Your Majesty.  But even if he doesn’t, Your Majesty can be sure that we will never serve your gods or worship the gold statue you have set up.”

 These words penetrated me.  They are the words I needed for my own fire storm!  They are exactly the words that speak to how I feel about being cured from incurable cancer.  I trust my God is powerful and that indeed He can heal me.  I pray that God takes my brain and obliterates and banishes the cancer.  I pray for those years in the lake to celebrate joy with my family!  But even if I am not cured physically, my soul has been healed in a brilliant fashion!  We can celebrate this!  And even if the cancer consumes me, I will worship my God for what He has done for me!   Why? How?  I wrote the following, called “Lift my head” I think it helps explain.

 The only way to have fulfilled life on earth is to believe that there is life beyond this earth.  To believe the heavens hold something bigger and brighter than humanity: God Himself full of Mercy and Love, waiting to hold me in His arms and lift my head up high.  This truth not only gives me a future beyond the grave, it gives me strength and sustaining courage to truly live while I’m alive.

Psalm 3:3

“But you, oh Lord, are a shield around me, my glory, and the one who lifts my head high.”

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(Remember too, we are not in trusting in God in order to escape the flames.  He is not our safe-guard, He is our everything!  We are trusting in God because we believe in Him.  We are trusting in God as the only One worthy of complete devotion and highest honor and praise!)

The story of the three men in the fiery furnace doesn’t end here.  They are indeed pitched to burn in the flames.  But in the furnace, they are joined by a divine being!  (And they walk out and are not even singed!)

“Didn’t we tie up three men and throw them into the furnace?” 

“Yes..indeed!”

 “I see four men, unbound, walking around in the fire,  They aren’t even hurt by the flames! And the fourth looks like a divine being!”

In the fire storms of life, it gets hot.  (My friend describes the chaos of her life as a “hot mess.”)  In these hot messes we are accompanied.  Do not forget the great Comforter who goes with us and the angels who protect us (Psalm 91:11).  Do not forget that through the fire storms of life the chaff of life is burnt off.  God baptizes us with the Holy Spirit and with fire so what remains is the most valuable parts of life (Matt 3:11-12).  Life like God intended for us to have.  In a society adverse to pain and hardship, this is a difficult lesson to learn.  Sometimes I don’t like to admit it (because who really likes to admit that good comes from pressing through difficulty); but, this cancer journey continues to burn off the chaff of my life and polish the rich treasure in my soul.

I Peter 1:7

“These trials are only to test your faith, to show that it is strong and pure.  It is being tested as fire test and purifies gold – and your faith is far more precious to God than mere gold.  So if your faith remains strong after being tried by fiery trial, it will bring you much praise and glory and honor on the day when Jesus Christ is revealed to the whole world.”

Oh God I raise my hands in petition for Camp Oshkidee and for petition for my life; but most of all I raise my hands in honor of You, to whom be the glory! Amen!        



Update: I wrote this a few days ago, the camp is still very much threatened as the fire engulfs the area

    

Good MRI Results!!

Good news from my MRI and a lovely appointment with my wonderful oncologist.  (He said as we were leaving: it's my secret hope that everyone is cured.  It's my hope to see this building empty.  I am perfectly happy to learn new skills. ) He's so fantastic!

My oncologist is pleased with continued healing in my brain.  My immune system is doing a good job keeping the cancer at bay.

Always trusting in God's faithfulness ❤️

MRI

(FYI: MRI results tomorrow, I wrote this post last week on the day of my MRI)

MRI

Here I am waiting for my MRI.  I've started to despise coming to this hospital.  As the frequency widens my dislike seems to increase.

The institution. The bright lights.  The beige floors.  The hospital-ness of it all.  I want to run away.

Funny thing when I first started coming here daily for my radiation treatments I liked it.  It was a break, oh the much needed break I had needed for months-- a break from mothering. 

And it felt reminiscent of working on campus at the cancer center research lab as a biochemistry university student.  I pretended this was my new job and as I navigated the building for treatment and various follow up I felt young and free, I suppose.  A strange freedom, perhaps a coping mechanism.

Humph.

And as I enter the MRI scanner tube prepared to be still, hoping this post nasal drip from my cold won't be too bothersome.  Strangely, I feel peace.  It's stillness and I sing "oh God you are my God and I will ever praise you..." In my head, a song by Rich Mullens that somehow became the song I would sing in my head when I used to do yoga.  In the backdrop is the clunking of the machine.  It’s seemingly speaking: "dup dup dup." "Meek Merk Merk." Whhiirr, whhiirr.". And I find stillness within. My body is still, but my heart has also found rest. 

I envision Hawaii.  I chuckle. In preparing for the birth of my first child I had planned to envision the serene ocean and the rhythmic waves during labor (we even had relaxing ocean waves playing in the background).  Envisioning Hawaiian beaches did NOTHING to help alleviate and manage my labor pain; but, picturing those beaches today does wonders to relax me into my MRI experience.

I envision I’m at Luna float.  Luna float is a business recently opened in my neighborhood.  You pay around $100 for an hour and a half of floating in a hyper-salt saturated tub.  I don’t anticipate I’ll ever go, but I see the value: forced relaxation.  I pretend my MRI tube is a Luna Float tub.  I mellow. 

I pray. 

I relax.

I relax and remember the fear that used to overcome my mind surrounding MRIs; the fear of all the “ifs” and the wondering, oh the agonizing wondering. In that fear there was no peace.  In that fear I tried to pray; but I was gripped.  To think of Hawaii and Luna Float, well that would have been laughable.

But not today.

 Why? Because I am choosing to believe that it will be okay.  That no matter what the doc says next week, it will be okay.

I'm choosing to make the most of my 40 minutes of necessitated stillness.

And I emerge

Renewed.   

And yet the first thought in my head is: the tech wasn't very chipper as she helped me out, maybe there's bad news. (I've had various encounters before, it means nothing....)  I tell this thought to shut up.

I choose to enjoy this sunny day I've been given.  No, I'm not going to hang around the hospital any more than I need to, but I am going to keep looking up. Always.

Happy Birthday, Ryan!

Tomorrow is my husband’s birthday.  The following post is for him.  (But rudely, first I will talk about me)

Birthdays have always been special to me – like really important.  (Of course, selfishly it’s always my birthday that’s particularly important.)   My expectations for my birthday were always extremely high.  I didn’t realize until recently how much of a perfectionist I am, but oh I am! - and with birthdays I have a particularly low tolerance for deviation from perfection.   I remember crying on my 16^th birthday.  Why? I can’t remember exactly, but 16 is supposed to be an epic birthday and I was disappointed.  I was around 23 or 24 years old when birthdays slowly became less important to me.  In my mid-twenties I had a low-grade sorrow that this special day no longer held the same value.  But I got used to it.  I celebrated turning 30 with a bunch of friends and that was great fun.  Then 31, 32, 33 came and went.  At 34 I had just given birth to twins a week prior, I was nursing whilst eating cake, receiving gifts I knew I wouldn’t be able to use for who-knows-how-long.  Thirty five was looming and the twins’ first birthday was coming.  I stated to my girlfriends, “I need a party for surviving the twins’ first year!”  My twin mom friend laughed knowingly and encouragingly.  A few days later I was diagnosed with a brain tumor.  One week post-op was the twins’ first birthday.  Ryan and I went out to Earls for my birthday.  He was drab.  I had no idea he knew I probably had cancer, as we were awaiting the pathology results.  Birthdays….

So for my 36^th birthday I wanted to CELEBRATE!!!  The importance of birthdays was reignited.  There was so much to celebrate.  Being alive! My one year survival.  It was huge!  With Ryan I planned a party for the weekend after my birthday and my expectations were also HUGE.  I was disappointed when the actual day of my birthday was low-key.  Oh I’m sorry, Ryan, I’m a hopeless creature when it comes to my birthday.  And the party was great, but we had a bunch of people over and to be honest a quiet gathering is probably a better bet for me going forward…

All this to say: birthdays in our family matter deeply to me.  I had a great time throwing Rayna a party in March.  And in working to set aside perfection (hopefully I’ll do better at my 37^th birthday) but in need of celebrating well: I’m excited for Ryan’s birthday (hopefully he is too!!!).

 I will start the celebration here! (and it will continue to the next post, the forgotten battle, in a different sort of celebration)

I love my husband deeply and dearly.  He has given so much for me.  He places me first time and time again.  He is a gentleman and at the same time he loves me fiercely.  We’ve celebrated much in our lives together and we’re not going to stop celebrating now.  Grab a glass and toast this amazing man I’m privileged to call husband.

Happy Birthday, Ryan.  It is my hope that your birthday is filled with the joys that a birthday ought to have.  I hope and pray that your year ahead finds you the strength you need for your mornings (oh the strength to rise to your mornings!), the wisdom you need for your days, the fortitude you need to endure the nights.  My hope and prayer is that this year finds you richer in the soul, richer in relationships, and that it finds you satisfied in ways that are both new and exciting. 

Ryan, you are a natural at living boldly and confidently.  As Isaiah 40:31 promises new strength, may you find new strength this year to live boldly and confidently! I’m with you, 100%, wherever your dreams and hopes take you. 

What a blessing to write this post.  38 and celebrating hon! 

I love you!

XOXO

Love Cheryl        

The Forgotten Battle

 Really, this is not my story to tell; but, because I feel this story is not being told I will take this opportunity to share what I see from the outside.  And I ask you to please listen, please see, please hear and support; because, behind every patient is a care-giver, a partner, a loved one.

She

She is the cancer patient and she is seen so clearly.  She is doted on, celebrated, adorned.  She is championed and bolstered.  She is highlighted and praised for her bravery. She is thankful, so thankful for this but please see him…

He

He is the caregiver.  See him.  He is the partner, the spouse.  See him.  He is the one who is left to process what life may look like if his loved one dies.  See him.  See him and give pause here.

Give much pause here because he gives much pause here, without notice. 

Please notice.

Them

 As long as she, the patient, is alive the spotlight shines bright on her.  The loved ones, the supporters, the caregivers get lost in the struggle of attending the needs of her, the sick one.  Her needs are urgent and beckon immediate attention…..

Amongst the busy commotion is him.  He is left to contemplate a life of single-fatherhood to a young and oh so needy family.  He is left to at the same time contemplate a life of losing a lover.  And it is gut-wrenching for me to think of.  But he is living this!

She is lavished with words and gifts and overt love.  He gets the left-overs.  And at the same time he is called to be strong for her, because she is the sick one.

The Battle

It’s like he is in the battle, just as she is: but without armor.  Without reinforcements. 

(The attention for him comes only after she dies and she is no longer there to steal the spotlight.

And by then, he’s so worn out and battered ---remember he had no armor.)

My petition

I suppose this is my petition.  Do not forget him.  In general terms do not forget the caregiver, the spouse.  In specific terms.  Do not forget Ryan.  Please, however my battle unfolds do not forget my husband, I beg you.  As I needed SO much through that first year I was blind to “the forgotten battle”, Ryan’s battle.  I was blind to the exhaustion and drain and stress of his situation.  And now as I see glimpses of the forgotten battle I am compelled to announce it.  As I fiercely love my husband and also know that my kids desperately need a healthy father, I ask you: Remember Ryan.  Remember him in your prayers and in your encouragement.  See him and all that he is doing!  And when I can no longer ask and when so much is demanded for my care, don’t forget him.  Please don’t forget him.  As he loves on me, love on him.  (remember, he’s a man, he probably won’t even realize what he needs  --- take a look and if you see a need ask if you can fill it.)

And Thank You.  My utmost and sincere gratitude and thanks.

I’ve been given the unique situation of being a patient with a grave disease who still has her voice.  This is a gift.  With this gift I’ve been given I want to say with my “patient’s heart” to all those lost in the forgotten battle, Thank you.  Thank you, thank you, thank you.

As I mentioned, I really feel this is not my story to tell.  So when caregivers speak up, when people voice their forgotten battles, listen.  We need to hear their stories.  They comprise the rich other half of the survivors’ stories.

And thank you Ryan, for warring beside me with all your might.  There’s no one else I’d rather be in battle beside.  I love you.

Disappointment

(Preamble:  note that this post is NOT reflective of any new news.  Next MRI results are end of next week, everything else is still status quo.)

Heavy and weary.  We are oh so heavy and weary.  Our lives are ripe with disappointment and loss.  For 2 and a-half years we’ve wrestled these trying days…..and there’s no end in sight.

Ha.  I write these words and realize the irony: thank God there is not an “end” in sight; but oh God how we need you to be able to keep stepping one foot in front of the other.

I’m remembering those early days with the twins.  I’ve sugar coated the difficulty of being a twin-mom, a twin-parent.  Oh yes, I’ve shared my struggles, but there’s a reason there’s camaraderie amongst parents of multiples: Because you don’t realize you don’t have an inkling of what its like until you’ve lived it.  We have close friends who had twins 2 years before us.  I had NO IDEA what they were going through though I watched their lives play out. 

It is so *%#!ing hard.

One day in those early-ish months (who knows exactly when it was because the craziness all blurs) we were at church.  We went to church every week even with those twins.  Inevitably Ryan and I would both end up in the lobby rocking, carrying, soothing, (nursing) a screaming baby.  Our hands tied.  The effort of going feeling entirely futile, (and yet out of habit week after week we repeated this…) The particular day I think of Ryan left “his” baby with a lady at the welcome desk and left church to go for a walk.  He was literally on verge of going crazy.  He told me on that walk he felt like walking out into traffic and letting himself get hit by a truck.  Then he told me that his choice was either that or to turn around and come back in to the building and keep on keeping on with being a father in an overwhelming situation.

The twins upheaved our lives.  I knew Ryan didn’t “do well” with little babies; but as we talked about having a second child, in my self-capable perspective I figured I could manage the baby until Ryan was capable of engaging more (as he had proven he was so good at as Rayna became a toddler).  Ha.  Could I manage 2 babies by myself? Ha.  (But oh how I tried….to my detriment I still tried.)
And there disappeared my ideals of traipsing around, jet-setting for visits, with my lovely preschooler and a baby in tow.  You can hardly leave your house, never mind your city, with 2 babies!

Then toddlerhood began to loom on the horizon, I was moving beyond a period of anxiety and life began to **maybe?** (please!?!) be looking UP for our family.

Ha!

It’s like we were holding the crystal ball of our future, desperate to see sunnier skies when the ball dropped and shattered into a wreckage of pieces.

CANCER.

 Numb disbelief gave way to a gut-punch of sorrow.

 Grief.

Loss.
Disappointment. 

And now our lives look like nothing we expected. 

My future evaporated.  Yet the present is still so present and pressing, and challenging, and demanding. 

Our hopes and dreams are in purgatory.

We are do-ers.  Oh we do not sit still.  We squeeze every drop of goodness out of our lives.  That’s who we are.  Is that who we are?

Certainty became anger, denial, fear, apathy. 

It became uncertainty. 

Who are we, now?

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 This is my open book today.  This is real life. I feel this needs to be seen; because, it’s not what we experience or what life throws at us, it’s how we choose to respond.

My life is shaped by how I choose to respond!

(this is what Ryan and I teach our children.  We use our real-life examples.  You better believe I have good replies for “that’s not fair”.)

In our family we choose optimism, we choose joy, we choose hope, we choose love.  The darkness comes.  And it is heavy.  And it is thick.  And it is weighty.  And it is trying.  And it is ripe and rotten.  And it makes us want to give up.  We are not “practiced” or “superior” or “what-ever” (that’s an eloquent word, right?) that we do not experience and feel these things!!!  Oh we feel them!

But:  

 Our church is discussing “hazards” that can trip you up in life (1).  They trip you up so you’re not able to squeeze all goodness out of life that is there to bless us.  This week the sermon was on disappointment.  Disappointment is real.  It is good to feel the feelings that come our way.  BUT it is NOT good to get stuck in these feelings.  So while this sermon gave a name to the weight of these past years it also reminded that disappointment does not have the final say.  

Habakkuk 3

¹⁷ Though the fig tree does not bud
    and there are no grapes on the vines,
though the olive crop fails
    and the fields produce no food,
though there are no sheep in the pen
    and no cattle in the stalls,
¹⁸ yet I will rejoice in the Lord,
    I will be joyful in God my Savior.

¹⁹ The Sovereign Lord is my strength;
    he makes my feet like the feet of a deer,
    he enables me to tread on the heights.

  

In everything we are given a choice.  Our family decides to make the most of that choice.  We choose the Joy of the Lord.

1. http://www.firstave.org/listen

http://www.firstave.org/listen