Answer #1

I am in awe of the incredible support and love already being poured out to me and my family after sharing about my health junk. There is this recurring feeling that so much goodness is in store. 

I am overwhelmed with gratitude to report the first huge answer to prayer! There has been a cancellation in the surgery schedule which has been offered to me for 03.17.2021. That is NEXT WEEK! It is also the 3rd anniversary in which Jack and I got married in the church. What a relief as the anxiety has gotten the best of me in many ways, along with the pain and sleepless nights. The scheduler said it had been a really busy morning but she felt that I needed to be the one to take the date. Through my tears, she knew it was the right call. Answered prayer. 

There is so much more in store. And we now pray that the surgery is a success with absolutely no evidence of disease. I look forward to sharing all of the ways that God is (and has been) orchestrating such amazing details. 

But for now, I am saying a prayer of thanks. A prayer of thanks to and for all of you as well as for the God of details managing every step of the way.

Can't wait to celebrate on the other side!

Not Done Yet.

Celebrating my 14th cancerversary a few weeks back felt incredible as I have had so many great years of health and God's promises since that dreaded day back in January 2007. Ironically, it was right around that date this last January that I started to not feel well. I chalked it up to pandemic life and that I was feeling the weight of the worldly stuff leaning in on me. But the nagging voice continued. I needed answers as to why I was not feeling whole, especially since I had started the year with health and wellness in mind. 

After countless tests and so many medical appointments, all was showing within normal ranges, yet I have felt far from normal. And this last week, my gynecologist ran the blood work again, showing there was a small spike in my CA-125 (my ovarian cancer marker) from the previous test a few weeks back. My number had gone from 18 to 30. Though the spike still showed within normal range, I continued to advocate for myself with my doctors that something was off. Thankfully I have had great medical care and support from my health team along the way. I was sure hoping my instincts we wrong, but I am glad that my worries have been validated by the discovery of what looks to be two cysts on my remaining right ovary in addition to fibroids I already knew I had. 

The oncologist feels the best course of action is a full hysterectomy. We will now await a surgery date and with confidence, we believe that the results will show these are only cysts, with everything contained and easy to remove. We pray that God is using this another as a testament of His mercy and His healing so that I can be the best mom and wife (daughter, sister, friend, etc.) for many more years to come. 

I don't consider it a coincidence that Thomas woke in the middle of the night last night, which these days is a rarity. When I went in to check on him, he was crying asking me to hold him and rock him. I covered us both in his "dirt-dirt" (blanket) and rocked him to sleep. Best hour of my life as I held him close. It is that feeling of peace I pray continues in this next chapter. It is the same way I now approach God as I want Him to hold me close assuring me that all will be ok as I find refuge in His arms. I am beyond grateful that I get to be a mom to Thomas. He is and always be the most treasured gift in my life (along with Jack). I pray for so many more nights that we get to snuggle close. 

At this point, all of the love and prayers are greatly appreciated as we navigate next steps. We also ask that you trust with us that God is at work and that we will get the best news at the conclusion of the surgery. I will use the blog here to keep everyone updated so that we can streamline communication for the time being, but please feel free to text or call which I will answer as I can. Again, we move forward with great hope and confidence that all will be well. 

With love, peace, and hope and so much life ahead. 

.ellen.

Black.

The dreaded commercialism filled holiday has come and gone yet again. I absolutely hate the day. In fact, I wear black each year as a tribute to our dear friend, Julie Irene Nichol (a.k.a. Penny). Rest in peace, friend. She hated the holiday and boycotted it each year, so it was only fitting to wear black once again in her memory. But also this year, being single for the first time in years, it was all the more reason. Not as a scorned woman, but as a woman empowered. Screw you, capitalist holiday that creates crowded restaurants, overpriced goods, and pressure to need someone. Nope. Not having it. Instead, I spent the day doing things for myself. I went shopping. Ate a delicious meal. Got a pedicure. Met up with a friend. Had a few glasses of wine. And stayed up way too late texting Good Suit. It was exactly the way I wanted to spend the day.

In fact, days like that seem few and far between right now. I have been running on empty with all that my schedule has been packed with these days. I had Jane for 10 days. I have been working weekends doing merchandising and other projects. I moved finally. Again. (And HALLELUJAH!). And I have been trying to catch up with friends and maintain some semblance of a social life. I love the busy-ness of it all, but it is not so good for the time I need to myself. To think. Draw. Paint. Read. Sleep. Reflect. Pray. So as we have entered the season of Lent, I have decided that rather than give up my indulgences or vices like wine, shopping, eating out, sweets, coffee, etc., I am taking back. I am going to start saying no. It is unfortunate, but I have taken a few valuable pages from the book of the boss man. He has empowered me and reminded me to do so. In fact, in recent conversations, he has also shed light on other aspects of my life. Amazing how he is not only an amazing creature as a boss, but speaks such wisdom and demonstrates such care for me as a human. He is one of my Top 10 favorite men I will know in this life.

Recent conversation with boss man led me to finally surrender my "key." Months ago, I took a key during a series at church about the "Key to..." I had been holding on to the key until I could forgive. Trust me, I was white knuckle fisted around this situation of hurt. I had been struggling to forgive someone for years and that also ultimately led to a struggle to forgive myself. And after talking with boss man, he said that the last 12 years of my life, pain and all, have led me to this place where the pieces have all fit. He said that all he sees in me is joy. And rather than hold on to the hurt, I should be thanking that person for freeing me to be where I am now. Ding. Ding. Ding. I have let it go (Go ahead, sing the Frozen version). But truly, I have been able to let the walls down and realize that it is all part of the journey. I am done hurting. I am done harboring. I genuinely miss you. Wish the best for you. And hope our paths cross from time to time. But I am riding the Tsunami of Awesome instead. So thank you. And, for what it is worth, I forgive you. But more importantly, I forgive me.

I am enjoying this new chapter with the Daughter Girl. Suit. Jitana. Deeder. Lita Pita. Inked Writer. Hot Nutz. Gusband Bestest. Spirit Animal. Listen Linda. The Mister. Ronny Tornado. And all of the other people that make my life so colorful.

So, Valentine's Day, you are dumb. You will always be a holiday to wear black. Again, Let's Be Rad. 2015.

Giants.

"Measure your giants not by our abilities but by the greatness of God." --Pastor Kurt

What a morning it was to return to church. Never anymore is God's timing surprising. Nor do I bat an eye anymore when I hear God's message that seems to speak directly to me. Of course, I highly doubt that Pastor Kurt (or as I know him as Kurtle, with rights to call him as such) writes his messages specifically with me in mind, but God definitely uses him to convey messages that pierce my soul and rock me to the core of my being. It isn't often I get on my spiritual soapbox, but there are moments that keep happening that shake me.

And so, like David defeated Goliath, we have Jehovah Sabaoth--God and His armies. There are giants in our lives that are far greater than anything we can slay. Instead, we have a God that has armies ready to lay (lie, lay, whatever--I retired my English teaching career) out flat. He wants to defeat the giants that are before us. Those giants might be people--bullies. I have bullies that I am currently facing. The things that I want to put to my rest. I am tired of the things that haunt my sleep. Perhaps the giants are finances. You (I) wonder how finances will be provided. And as Pastor Kurt said, the bills may not have the bank account to pay it, but it is not about OUR money that we need to consider. God's got you covered.

I wonder how things are going to play out. Where will I end up? What will I do? It is confusing. It is an act of complete faith and trust. We can't figure out what tomorrow will bring when God has already taken care of our todays. This season of life for me, as challenging as it may be, is a moment when I get to be in the homes of others. I still marvel at how I get to be part of families. I get to see the moments that make a family work and the things I want to model for my future. I am thankful I get to sit at the tables of others for meals. That I get to continue to spend time with friends near and far.

There are moments when I struggle thinking I had all the security in the world, or what I considered security. A full-time job. Benefits. A home of my own. A great car. Today, I don't have a steady full-time job. I am trying to start a company (great people have been part of that journey--bringing attention to the happy juice you have to drink when the highs and lows hit in entrepreneurship). I am navigating Obama Care (gotta do it). I live with friends (thankfully--and what a godly example they are to me and others. What a gift it is that they offered up their home to me as I am making some different decisions that have been unexpected). And my car is now always on the fritz these days (a current smell of mildew is lingering as there is a new leak--it is pretty amazing. Take a whiff). But in all reality, as I have been stripped from my comforts and routines, this is most definitely teaching me to give my heart FULLY to the God that created me. I have started the process to give Him part of it, but here I am, ready to give Him ALL of it. Back where I started. Home (which has a crazy new meaning). And ready to finish what has been started.

Thank you, Pastor Kurt, for your words. And thank you, Ed Plant, for saying it through art.

And on a sidenote, it is no coincidence that there is an Art Show at church this Saturday, right after I blogged about needing to tap into my creative side.

(Stepping down from spiritual soapbox)

p.s. I also feel like in the near future, I am going to share some things that tend to lean on the funny and on the vulnerable. As of late, I feel as though I have been a bit reflective and introspective, which suits my journaling needs, but I say this as I plan to share the other humorous pieces to this puzzle.

Home.

Often in the last year or two, I've been struck with the sleepless nights. Anxiety and worry fill my every thought rather than dreams of puppies and unicorns. Recent nights are no different. Perhaps now, the nights feel worse, even with my toolbox of self help skills, a great support group, and CR. I spend the wee hours of the night awake. In the sleepless nights, I scroll through countless Pinterest images, play my Simpsons game on my iPhone to exhaustion, then after I've stalked the Facebook and Instagram posts of the day, I'm left stirring.

These days my thoughts wander to a feeling of home. I left my childhood home at age 18 (and it was sold in the last few years after the divorce of my parents). Since then I've had 13 roommates and 10 addresses in the last 17 years. And to date, in a sense, I feel homeless. My life is in boxes and a 130 square foot storage unit. I no longer have a DVR filled with my trashy TV to watch, or a fridge filled with my own expired leftovers and jars of who knows what. I don't have family photos hanging on the walls or my piles of nonsense to sort. Most of my furniture has been sold off. And I sleep on air mattresses and couches. Sure, much of this could be filed under first world problems, but ultimately there is a deeply rooted longing for "home." The plans I had were quickly stripped and rerouted. 

In reality, I could take this in a spiritual direction as we all should long for our eternal home. But I'm on earth. And Lord willing, I've got some good years left on this planet. So until I'm at those pearly gates, I long to walk in the door of my own place and collapse. I would like to cook a good meal. I'd like to be surrounded by faces of those I love. I want Stella to feel settled. I'd like to kick my feet up on the couch and talk endlessly to a friend with a glass of wine. And though I want these things, I can see that these last few years (as the wheels fell off so to speak), I've slowly been stripped of my every comfort and identity. I no longer have a job. I am not identified by a relationship of years. My address is TBD. No wonder I stay awake wondering what to do. Where do I matter. Who needs me. Am I even needed. What is my worth. Am I making the right decisions. Do I apply for this job or that. Will this feel normal. How do I move on.

My sister said it well in that this is my chance to be creative. To discover more of me. That I'm not identified by the place I work. The career I had. Or the people I dated. Easier said than done, but the seed has been planted. 

I wish I could say that I was totally satisfied. That all of this is one great big happy adventure. Instead, I question God. I yell at Him wondering when enough is enough. And just when I think I've cried every possible tear and I'm left feeling so empty and defeated, I get a Facebook post of encouragement from an old friend speaking to me of God's grace and favor. And then I get a card in the mail of bunnies and rainbows. Not that it fixed every problem, but it did remind me that at the end of my rope, I find the faithful friends that will pull a hamstring trying to do the splits in the air for my support. I don't have to live at the end.

This plan isn't my own. And though pieces of it are far better than I can imagine, there is a sadness wishing for what was. And my nagging and longing for the sense of home. 

Celebrate.

Nine months ago, I started a journey at the very bottom. The rock bottom. In the pit of my lowest despair. I was sitting in my pastor's office. I had tears flowing down my face and I think I used just about every kleenex in the box that day. In the midst of our conversation, he said that I would look back on that day and see that it was the start to a new life and that I would actually be thankful for it. Through my tear stained face and hurting head, I thought he had to be crazy. Why would I be thankful for a day that was my most difficult yet? (I even think it was more difficult than my cancer diagnosis day.) How would it be possible that life could really change that much?! Though now, a long term relationship had been put to death (and not only did I NOT want it to die, but I fight, even now to keep it alive). I was struggling through loss. Trying to figure out how or where I fit in. And I couldn't get through an hour without tears. This had become my life for so many years. The mundane was the norm. Trying to fix everyone and everything was my gig. I hadn't even thought of fixing myself. I was left feeling vulnerably raw.

Needless to say, I am now 9 months in. I have the chip to prove it. One of the tasks I had been given by PK was to attend a group called Celebrate Recovery. It is an amazing group of fellowship for those with hurts, habits, and hang-ups. There are people from all walks of life that attend CR. Celebrate Recovery is a group for those with any sort of issue ranging from adult children of family dysfunction, alcoholics, divorce, drug addicts, to anxiety, depression, addiction, etc. Truly, it is a group for humans. There is no shame in admitting struggle, hurts, or weakness. Every human being can benefit from such an incredible program. We all have baggage we deal with and carry, when in all reality, we should leave it at the cross. The price has been paid.  But I know, it is not easy. There are days I still walk back to the cross and try and pick up the baggage again like it is a lost appendage I just can't live without. You get used to carrying around the extra weight (and boy, I had been quite accustomed to carrying around a few extra hundred pounds). This is the beauty, however of CR (as well as church, great relationships, Christian fellowship, etc.). I need the constant reminder that I don't live in my past. The hurts are finished. The hang-ups are just that. Hung up. And my habits of old are replaced with good ones. I don't need to be anxious any longer. I don't have to live in the pits of despair.

I can't lie. This journey has been difficult. There are still down in the dump days. Insecurity still surfaces every now and then. Sorting through the past will be and has been painful at times, but it is also quite freeing. I have seen the patterns of chaos transform into healthier habits. It is incredible that God never wastes a hurt. Going through an intensive Step Study each week has revealed some ugly beasts that I am continuing to slay. Being in CR each week, I can see that God has redeemed the lives of so many, including my own. There is hope. I still walk in this journey with days of doubt. I still wonder why God is doing some of the things that He is within my heart and life. I still dabble in despair. The details of my future are often still unknown. I have moments when I mourn the death of certain relationships. It is normal (even though they were unhealthy, they still hurt). Those things were a huge part of me for so long. But this is my freedom walk. I am no longer bound by the chains that once kept me from pursuing dreams. I am no longer listening to the voices that say I am not good enough. I have ignored the "And if I just looked like this...Or if only I could be more like..." I am no longer helplessly chasing around believing in empty fairy tales, a false sense of reality and half-hearted promises that kept me hanging on for years. Instead, I can proudly say that Pastor Kurt was right. That hopeless day in July has turned out to be the best day of my life. It has allowed me to see that when I was finally ready to accept the change, that change truly has taken place. People see it in me. I see it in myself. I truly feel joy beyond all imagination. Life is full of hope and opportunity. I have formed lifelong friendships with my CR family. What a gift, a blessing I never imagined. They are people I get to lean on, learn from, and share with along the way. I have a new start and a fresh perspective. I've started creating again. Dreaming. Hoping. Living. Laughing. Enjoying. I am embarking on the best parts of the journey and starting to honestly reap the benefits of God's plan for me which has been far better than anything I could have imagined, hoped or dreamed. As cheesy as it may sound, I can see that His desires for me are so much more than what I could've planned for myself.

Though I struggle with anxiety, co-dependence, and other hang-ups, I am on the road to healthier habits. Nine months in and still going strong...

Scars.

In church on Sunday, Todd talked about scars. It is a rare occasion that I don't cry in church. Today was no exception. As Todd shared about physical scars of his past, he said there are some scars we have in life that we should be proud of as it is proof we are living.

And as I think of my physical scars, I think of my cancer scar. It is a crooked line etched into my stomach. It is not beautiful in and of itself. However, it is beautiful for the story it tells. 7 years ago I was diagnosed with Stage III Ovarian Cancer with less than a 20% chance of survival. Thankfully, my scar shows that indeed I have survived by God's grace. 

There are scars harder to see. The ones of the heart. Though they are easier to hide, they often hurt worse than the physical scars. I have wounds that are healing still. Yet as Todd encouraged, after a while, you will look, and the scars will have vanished. Though you've been telling the story so long, you may not have noticed. There are stories of my past I've carried for so long that I don't want to carry them any longer. And in fact, the pain has lessened and the scars are starting to vanish.