A Spring of Joy

Summer has been amazing. And while I can be just a wee bit prone to exaggeration, amazing really is an understatement.

I can’t even begin to describe what it has been like to no longer be a bystander in my home and to live life out and about with my family again. I told several people that if all I did all summer was spend time with my family I was okay with that. And that’s what I did. Lots of family time. Lots of catching up and diving in and finding strength and joy and love and rediscovering who my children and husband are.

Did I mention how amazing it was?

Recently I met with my counselor to talk with him about this whole new normal thing. How do I do this? How do I live a life that is completely different than the one I’ve always known? How do Bri and I learn to thrive after years, three very long years, of only surviving?

His words to me were hard to hear but very helpful. He explained that while I am through the worst of this, there are still days, actually years, of healing. “Has anyone told you how long it will take to actually recover from all this? Emotionally, physically, spiritually, mentally?” When I shook my head, he said, “Two years. It will take you two years to recover. It might take 2 1/2 or it might take 18 months, but the norm with your kind of suffering is two years.”

I had to catch my breath.

It was hard to hear, but good to hear.

Hard because I don’t want it to take two years. I want it to be over now.

Good because it means I’ll give myself a break in the expectations department and will ease myself back into life.

I only hope others will understand that it will take me that long, too.

The last few weeks have been busy. Full of celebrations and days at the lake with friends and weddings and parties and visits with friends and family. It has been a whirlwind. A good whirlwind, but an exhausting one, and I am seeing exactly what my counselor meant about not jumping right back into everything. I’ve had a few days of rest this week and a glorious 2 1/2 hour nap this afternoon.

The whirlwind continues this weekend with a wedding for one of my dear youth group girls who should really still be in middle school but is a college graduate about to embark on the adventure of a lifetime. There will be a Sunday picnic for college students at our church, and then I round out my weekend with a Cowboys/Redskins game and the hope that our marriage will remain intact through yet another football season.

Breathe.

Three days.

Then surgery. Yes. Surgery.

Both my breast cancer and thyroid cancer are considered glandular cancers. Endocrine system related. Know what other cancers are glandular? Ovarian and uterine. So my surgeon has recommended and my oncologist has concurred that I am at a high risk for cancer in both those areas, and I am having preventative surgery to remove them and prayerfully be done with cancer forever.

Not fun, but I am at peace with it. I know it needs to happen. I know it will help me in the long run.

I also know it means weeks of healing.

It means adding more time to the two year recovery process.

It means weeks of being a bystander in my home again.

And I don’t want to lose more time with family.

I am wrestling with that. Wrestling a lot.

I also know it means being still even when life is swirling around me.

And it means hearing God’s voice speak to me through the whirlwind.

I know He will.

He always has.

No winds or whirlwinds, He will show me His glory.

And I will trust Him.

No matter what.