Onward!

PSA: The “Sherra is officially cancer free” tour is in full swing! Coming to a city near you!

OK, there is no tour, but I AM officially cancer free. And, that, my friends, makes me want to sing and dance…

To say that it has been a long nine months is an understatement. Having cancer is one of those things that affects everything – physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually, and even socially. A cancer diagnosis shakes you, it creates doubt and fear; it takes away your confidence, your hope, your security; it wreaks havoc on your body, your soul, your spirit; it taxes the best of relationships. There are questions and times of angst that I haven’t even shared with my husband that I hope to soon be distant memories. In short, cancer is traumatic and devastating in more ways than I have words for. And it’s ME, so there’s that.

The truth is, part of me feels like the Aggie football team, busting onto Kyle Field at the beginning of the first game of the football season; but the other part of me feels like a wilderness woman on one of those crazy wilderness reality shows: my clothes all torn up, dirt covering my entire body, emaciated from lack of food, and limping along with a gnarly walking stick. And, that is not a good look for me.

Soon after my last chemo treatment at the end of May, I began asking the Lord,

“What now? What does post-cancer life look like for me? Wait, let me answer that; I want a vacation!”

See, while I’ve been fighting cancer, like all of us, I’ve had other stressors. Some of the biggest stress has come from loving and caring for my parents as they age. My parents’ health has started to really decline and my husband and I are the caretakers. This is a job that I’m thankful to have and feel privileged to be able to give back to them even a percentage of what they have given to me, but caring for them while fighting cancer…well, I don’t recommend it.

I had many, many conversations with God that went something like this,

“God, while I appreciate Your vote of confidence that I can handle the pancreatitis, the cancer, and caring for my parents all at the same time, I would respectfully like for You to reconsider. Physical death at this point almost sounds like a relief.”

So, my husband and I became, maybe for the first time in our marriage, the masters of our schedules. We had to. We cut out anything that wasn’t of great importance and said “No!” a lot. Over the past month, I’ve had some anxiety over expectations, now that I’m cancer free – others’ expectations of me, but mostly, my expectations of me. This included lots of questions, like

“Who am I now, God? I mean, I’m different than when this began nine months ago.”

“What do I do now, God? I’m not 100% yet, You know that. Heck, some days I’m not even 50% yet! What if everyone expects more of me than I can give? I mean, I expect more of me than I can give…”

“Do I go back to all the old stuff now, God? I’ve enjoyed only being involved in the most important things, but what if others don’t understand or respect that decision? Now that I’m really thinking about it, maybe I should just stay in my dark valley, under my rock. At least for a few more months. What do You say?”

And much to my dismay, the only word I really heard in my spirit was,

“Onward.”

Onward. Seriously? Onward? Okay…

My first little bit of excitement came shortly after this when I met with the friend that set up my website to discuss a devotional I began writing before my cancer diagnosis. I was so nervous to share it with her, with no confidence, honestly, in my ability to form a good sentence after chemo, let alone write a whole devotional. But to my sheer delight, she loved it! As of now, all the work for that devotional is turned in except for my “About the Author” page. When I called my husband that afternoon to tell him about my meeting, I just burst into tears! That’s when God finally, gently spoke to me, saying,

“See? Your life, your calling, your work is still here. It’s never been in jeopardy, I never even once thought of giving it to someone else or changing it in any way. This is your destiny, you’re the only one who can do it. Yes, you’ve been truly traumatized, I know it’s been hard, and I’m so sorry. But it’s time, Kiddo; pick yourself up, dust yourself off, keep those eyes on me and let’s goooooo! Onward!”

Unfortunately, if you’ve lived, oh, I don’t know, 30 minutes here on this earth, you’ve been traumatized by something – some way more than others. We’ve all been hurt, scared, shocked, abused, cheated, slandered, etc. – the list could continue. And, yes, it’s easy to feel like,

“I got through that by the hair on my chinny chin chin, God, so I’m taking a breather. I like it under my rock!”

But, here’s the $6,000,000 question,

How does letting our trauma paralyze us further the kingdom of God?

Um…well…yeah, I got nothin’.

It does make me think of Paul, the Apostle. We know and have read and studied many of his letters to the early churches in the Bible and, to me, he’s this giant in the faith – a little intimidating, honestly. But if you know much about what he went through as an apostle, you know he went through it – beatings, was shipwrecked, stoned and left for dead, bitten by a snake, imprisoned numerous times, then finally martyred - all to further the Gospel. But Paul never, ever hid under his rock! Check out what he has to say about his trauma in 2 Corinthians 4:8-10,

We are pressed on every side by troubles, but we are not crushed. We are perplexed, but not driven to despair. We are hunted down, but never abandoned by God. We get knocked down, but we are not destroyed. Through suffering, our bodies continue to share in the death of Jesus so that the life of Jesus may also be seen in our bodies.

Sigh…so that the life of Jesus may also be seen in our bodies. Paul understood there was no time for hiding, or taking a breather, or letting our trauma paralyze us; what mattered then and what matters now is furthering the kingdom of God and spreading the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Lord, let it be so!

So, yes, I’ve been somewhat traumatized by this 9-month journey, and yeah, it’s left its mark. I’ll have a scar on my body for the rest of my life in the spot where I now have a port. The port was the line used to take the chemo to the cancer. When I look at it, I’ll remember the cancer, but more than that, I’ll remember the healing – medicine, God, most likely a combination of both. But when I’m willing to move forward, not letting fear stop me, that suffering is not in vain, but can and will be used by God to bring others to Jesus Christ. And, that’s the mission, that’s the kingdom. So, I’m glad for the scars, visible and invisible.

So, let’s do this, shall we? Onward! Talk soon, gotta go dig out my Aggie jersey…