Take Me Home
This picture was taken two days after I was diagnosed with stage four cancer, right before we left behind nearly everything we owned & everyone we knew to do specialized cancer treatment in Los Angeles. We ultimately completed my treatment in Atlanta and after almost two years I was finally declared ‘in remission.’ But what I didn’t realize was that when I was declared ‘in remission,’ another healing process would begin.
The girl in this picture dreamed of the day she would be told she was in remission, but what she didn’t realize was that when she finished cancer treatment she would then begin ordering her life around preventing it from coming back. I didn’t know that a cancer diagnosis is a lifelong sentence of wondering whether or not the cancer is back, daily consuming medication to help my body function normally after being doused with poison & regularly having flesh removed from my body to test for cancer as a precaution. In 2020 when I was declared ‘in remission’ we embarked on a different kind of healing journey- a journey to wade through what life looks like now, post-cancer, after our naively blissful life was taken from us and we were abruptly awakened by the brokenness of this life.
After my specialized treatment in Atlanta was finished, we decided to permanently stay instead of returning to New York because we saw so much opportunity for our family here. And we have seen God bless that decision over and over again. But, some days I find myself longing to go back to New York. To pretend like cancer never happened. To return to the life we were living in 2018, because in 2018 I thought I was invincible. I felt so safe because '“_____ could never happen to me,” but after the gruesome battle that cancer was, I’m all too keenly aware of the suffering & pain that is possible for anyone in this life.
It’s tempting for me to idealize a comfortable life in New York – near our family, near lifelong friends, near our church family, near familiar places and faces, where Ben & I got engaged on August 3, 2013 and married August 9th, 2014, where Willow was born and where we created so many precious core memories as a family of four. It’s tempting to believe that life in NY would be our perfect ‘happily ever after.’ But I know, deep in my heart, what I’m truly longing for is home. Not New York. Not Atlanta. Not someplace else here on earth, but home with Jesus. Where we won’t experience trauma ever again. Where there’s no chance of sickness or fear of sickness or losing loved ones.
The last two years of our lives have been devoted to our recovery and over the past two years I’ve often had many out of body experiences; When we are living through trauma, we’re not able to process all that is going on in the moment, but once we get through the trauma, we’re left picking up the pieces and trying to understand what is reality and what is fear. So our current life looks a lot like intentionally recovering and processing all of the changes cancer has brought. And often I criticize myself for being overly pessimistic, maybe a bit hopeless and defeated, because if I’m honest, that’s where I find myself some days. But what I’ve come to treasure is that my fear constantly brings me back to our good Father. It reminds me to trust Him with all things. To be anxious over nothing. That if my biggest fears became a reality I would be oh-so-safe because He would be there, sweetly present in the fear. It reminds me of all the times He has been so faithful and that he will continue to be. That the victory over death has been won and because of that I don’t need to be afraid. In fact, it is cause for celebration- a solid reason to live a carefree & joyful life, fully surrendered and fully living in the perfectly numbered days He has intricately planned for me.
Some days my desire for all to be made right immediately is overwhelming. Some days the searing pain of losing sweet friends to cancer is unbearable. The sadness of all we’ve lost is crippling. The temptation to doubt that God has purpose for us in Atlanta is sly. The frustration that we’re so starkly aware of all the can go wrong in this life rears its ugly head often, but I must remind myself of the blessings that come from being brokenhearted and having the privilege of weeping with those who weep. But God… Because of His goodness we can continue, one breath at a time in faith, knowing that as we walk with Him, he is recreating- not just this earth, but our minds, hearts and bodies here and now. He is our home on earth and soon he will bring us home with him- home home.