The life and stories of a cancer ninja
Hey! If you’re new to e-family or even if you’re not new and you just haven’t had a chance to catch up on this, here are the different chapters from my testimony of God’s faithfulness over the last several years. Make sure to come back tomorrow as well because there’s another chapter that I’ve been working on … short and sweet … but NOT TO BE MISSED.
A Time of Joy in Shifting Sand
If You’re Lucky, You Get A Phone Call
Coming tomorrow [05/23/2011] … “Child of Grace“
Missed “March 5th, pt I”? Read it here.
Something that is only too apparent to those who know me is that I’d FAR prefer a root canal to public speaking. I don’t know why … my husband is the exact opposite … but public speaking petrifies me.
This was my biggest obstacle: speaking as Daryle had asked me to speak had to be done, but I really, really wasn’t looking forward to getting up and speaking in front of the whole church. The date was set for Sunday, March 5, 2006 (trust me, this date IS significant … but also for a future blog), so I had a week or so to prepare my thoughts and come to term with my nerves.
The morning of Sunday the 5th, I was overwhelmed by God’s grace. I was not alone in any possible way. The entire elder board as well as my parents stood behind me as I spoke briefly. Daryle had prefaced what I said with some thoughts on church support, encouragement, and most importantly accountability (this is a word that you, if you’re around me for any length of time, will hear me use a LOT). After I spoke, they gathered around me and prayed for me, my precious daughter, and our church.
These few sentences seem to be way too short a description of that incredible morning. It was a momentous day but, in truth, I remember very little of it. It passed in a blur. I recall impressions, like hearing my own voice, the heat of the lights on the stage, appreciating our college pastor’s hand on my arm while praying as I started to feel faint, the almost deathly quiet in the room, the absence of fear, feeling no condemnation.
God’s lavish grace and faithfulness through my church family was incredible. Again, I was overwhelmed. They gave me a baby shower … so many people and so many gifts … as I looked around my living room late that night (after the shower) and saw what I would learn in future was most of my baby’s first year of life completely provided for, all I could think of was Isaiah’s response to the Lord’s presence in Isaiah 6: he realized his own sinful heart in the presence of God’s holiness. Yes, baby gifts are hardly holy, but God’s provision for the sake of His glory is. I was humbled in such a beautiful way.
Why discuss in such detail the role my church played in these months? My hope then – and now, even as I write this – is that my talking about what happened in my life and seeking accountability will encourage others to do the same and/or reach out to those around them in need. We do need each other, and as my wise father often says, “Churches should be hospitals for sinners, not museums for saints.”
“Make this your common practice: Confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you can live together whole and healed. The prayer of a person living right with God is something powerful to be reckoned with” (James 5:16-17—The Message).
I spoke publicly. The issue was an issue no longer. It was now a picture of God’s faithfulness.
The baby could be anticipated with joy.
Far from being settled, I felt like the last weeks of my pregnancy seemed even more in a state of upheaval than the fall.
February had passed in a blur of family events and the settling of my grandma’s estate. There were now only a few weeks until the baby was to be born and I was still receiving phone calls and e-mails and having conversations in which it was becoming increasingly obvious that there were very few people around me who were at peace with unwed pregnancy in general and my unwed pregnancy in particular. Occasionally, speculation would reach me: “Where is she at spiritually? Does she understand what all this is about? Does she know how hard her life will be?” It was almost as if people needed a place to categorize me (repentant sinner, rebellious sinner, fallen, etc.) in order know how to process my life and know how to deal with me.
This was disconcerting at best.
Not just for me, but this especially plagued me for my unborn daughter. How would they treat her? When she was two and going through the “terrible twos,” would they say, “Oh, that’s so normal, every child goes through that”? Or would they say, “Oh, look at that child acting out! It’s clear she has a non-traditional family atmosphere and has no father-figure.” Would she always carry the weight of my bad decisions? This horrified me!
Yes, a little dramatic, I know, but I really thought about these things!
This was still being viewed a problem. My child was an ISSUE.
I believe that one of the most amazing aspects of pregnancy is the mother’s joy in the feeling of life. Sooner or later, no matter how difficult the stress surrounding a pregnancy, all women (or something like 99.875% of women) begin to enjoy and anticipate their child. However, any impending joy in the amazing feeling of life and my imminent motherhood was interpreted as some kind of disconnectedness from the seriousness of my situation and prospects. How long before it was appropriate for me to feel joy over my baby? Was it not possible to fully realize the gravity of my situation, the grace covering my sin, and still, STILL to feel joy at God’s gift of a child in the midst of it?
I remember one conversation with my mom in particular where I just sobbed to her, “When will my baby get to be a baby and not an issue? Will I ever be able to feel joy at her life?!”
How much time I wasted in worrying …
At the end of February, I met with Daryle (my senior pastor – I think I’ve mentioned him before) again. We talked through several things, and at the end of our time, he spoke of what he felt was the need for the church to hear my heart. He knew where I was, and my close friends knew where I was, but he and many with him felt like the church as a whole would greatly benefit from hearing where God had brought me.
This was not to be a public confession; it was about sharing the faithfulness of God in MY life and also beautiful moment of awareness for those around to support me in prayers and encouragement as I looked forward to raising this child. He said that from that point on (marking the time that I would be sharing), I would be able to look back and point to that day as a day of remembrance – I would look back and see the goodness of the Lord and could direct others to do the same. It would cease to be an issue, and start to be a baby over whom we could all feel great joy!
I remember that my mom and I looked at each other in speechless awe. We hadn’t told Daryle about our conversations.
Looking back, I’m still amazed at how God had all of us arriving at the same place from so many different directions.
My mom’s voice on the other end of the phone was heavy with emotion and exhaustion. “It’s time. Your dad and I want each of you to talk to her tonight and say goodbye.”
Valentine’s Day …
My mom’s voice on the other end of the phone was heavy with emotion and exhaustion. “It’s time. Your dad and I want each of you to talk to her tonight and say goodbye.” 
There was a sick feeling as the logic of her words hit my heart … How ridiculous! I couldn’t say goodbye because Grandma wasn’t going to die. She couldn’t! She had been doing so much better, and she was so close–literally just a few weeks–from seeing her first great-grandchild!
I remember very little of my final conversation with my grandmother. She couldn’t speak at all, so it could hardly even be called a conversation. I spoke to her about the baby, and told her I loved her. I think I might have even talked to her about how soon the baby would be born. As I consider it now, I wish I hadn’t done that. I can’t imagine being in the final hours of your life and having someone else bring up some of the things you’ll miss in the near future.
Within 24 hours, she was gone.
Another loved one, another death, another moment when I pleaded for her to not go … but there was a vast difference this time. I wasn’t bitter or resentful. My heart, while sad, was ultimately peaceful because, rather than blaming God, I was trusting Him.
I would add only this in closing – if you have someone you should have talked to by now, a relationship you need to restore, a person you need to forgive, even someone you’ve been meaning to catch up with and you haven’t … do it. Do it today. Because you’re almost never lucky enough to get a phone call.
I listened to the strange voice on the other end of the phone telling me that it was a doctor at a hospital in Arkansas and my mind went blank. Just days before Christmas, my name and number had been with my grandmother at the time of a nasty fall, so she’d given the information to the hospital as an emergency contact. That was all it took to alert the whole family. She’d slipped on some ice. It was just a broken hip. I’ve since learned that there is no such thing as “just” a broken hip…
My parents had to go be with her. My parents … the glue holding all the craziness together … left right before Christmas. It was awful. That was probably one of the worst Christmases I can remember. We were so sad, but in some ways, for the first time in months, my sisters and I had to see each other and communicate. So, it was painful but good all at the same time.
The original thought had been to get Grandma Poole installed back in her house post surgery and return to Chicago, but there were complications, and so, despite being back in town briefly over New Year, my parents began logging what would be a little over two months of their lives in Arkansas. During this time, we talked almost constantly on the phone. I’d call on my way to work in the morning, and on my way back in the evenings, and sometimes on some days (depending on the circumstances), I’d call several times in between. Our communication was strong and my ability to stand on my own in this (by God’s grace) got better.
Two really big events occurred in my life during this separation as well.
First, after much deliberation on the part of the board and discussion between the leaders of the institution and my pastor, it was decided that the institution at which I was employed, while Christian, was not a church and could not exercise authority over this issue the same way a church potentially could and so I was told that they would be happy if I would keep my job and receive all the maternity benefits therein. I would like to stress this point as a wonderful thing – this decision alone helped me talk to students (for the rest of my time at the college) who felt as if they were drowning in a sea of legalism – there was hope – God was at work in the hearts of many. Having this piece in place also freed me up to finally make the decision on the potential of adoption.
Over the holiday season, I had talked to a couple adoption agencies, and though they were wonderful and encouraging, I couldn’t shake the feeling of almost nauseous unease. Every reason for adopting (for me) ended with the phrase “get on with your life.” This felt so selfish and wrong to me. How could I ever “get on with my life?” This was HUGE and life-changing. Besides this, the best reasons for adoption (as I listed them) were to provide a good home atmosphere with a loving family for the child – something that I had to give between my nuclear family, my extended family, and finally, my church family! At this point, I don’t feel the need to go into detail about the aspects/influence of being raised in a non-traditional or single parent family, but that was a serious concern that I definitely considered and even sought counsel on. [Please note: I would also very much like to stress that these arguments are my personal feelings on my personal situation and cannot/should not be applied to the concept of adoption in other situations without deep and prayerful consideration.]
It came down to this question for me: Was this child in need of rescuing?
Birth mother is over 21: check.
Completed college degree: check.
Gainfully employed: check.
Loving and supportive family: check.
No! I could not find a strong enough reason for the necessity of a rescue.
Now came the time for prayer: “Lord, I feel that our home would be a good atmosphere for this little girl – is that what you want for her?” …
I’ll never forget the night I was sitting in bed, working on a bible study, and a verse that I was reading stood out to me with the answer. I called my parents in tears, my heart finally at peace – the burden of decision gone! This baby was my firstborn, my daughter, and she would stay with me.
God’s timing on that decision and the peace it brought was perfect and good.
I would need that peace with me in the coming weeks.