If you knew what it was like

It has been nearly two weeks and I have only been to the doctor twice. My life is starting to look normal again. This past long weekend, I spent New Years in Breckenridge, shared time in the company of friends, watched the snow fall in giant flakes, I joined a fancy new gym, ate tacos, had margaritas and cleaned my house. It seemed no matter what I did. How many errands I ran, I was just trying to find enough things to pass the time between now and next week.

You beat cancer by how you live, why you live, and in the manner in which you live.

Yesterday I woke up to learn of the passing of Stuart Scott. I cried. A cry that aches for this horrible disease. For how to robs. For what it requires of you. For what it demands and what it can take away. Just last week I learned that Kara Tippets, writer of the book The Hardest Peace, (my favorite book I have ever read) with stage IV breast cancer is dying. You may read what may be one of her last posts here.

Two years ago today, my dear friend Amy Patwa, of who I have spoken of before, died from her battle with breast cancer. Connected by a summer spent together at Younglife camp in Florida, I had the joy of sharing a bunk bed and serving meals in a dining hall alongside her. When it came to battling cancer, Amy did cancer well. (Not that it was in her nature to do anything less than well). She braved cancer like a badge of honor. Declaring the goodness of who God is, inspite of cancer. Inspite of hopelessness, she hoped, for something beyond a disease but to a father who loves his children dearly and weeps alongside them. She believed that until the very end. 

Amy's sister and I have connected and exchanged stories. The two us connected by her sisters legacy. Like my family, they are also BRCA 2 positive. Her sister and I have shared mastectomy tips and tricks. (She underwent a prophylactic mastectomy). Amys sister has shared her own grief in the passing of her sister and like me admires the life she lived so very much. Listening to her speak about Amy brings tears to my eyes. To have simply known who she was, was such a gift. I love listening to her speak about her and Amys relationship. Amy and her sister are just like Brittany and I. Amy being the younger sibling fighting breast cancer.  And her sister older looking down at her.

A strange connection of cancer. Of knowing what it is like to be sucummbed to a life threatening illness. To have one choice only and that is to fight. Three people, one whom the world has honored in the last twenty four hours, Stuart Scott, another who is grieved by families and the christian community, Kara Tippets and another who was my own personal hero, Amy Patwa.

Just yesterday in the locker room at the gym I was changing my clothes. I have never changed in front of anyone since my surgery. My giant scars felt like a big sign. A giant sign that says I had cancer. Although I am sure not many women looked or thought about it. I found myself covering up. Turning around the other direction...... Yet at the very same time I wanted to say something. I wanted people to know what it is like. To be robbed. To have this taken away from you. To not feel like yourself anymore. To have to make choices about your future, the children you desire when you are not married in your 20s. To no longer have feeling in your chest. To be embarrassed by your own skin. I want others to know my grief. To understand my fears. To know what it feels like to long for normalcy. What it feels like to watch everyone else moving on with their lives. To have trouble trusting in anything anymore. To have a hard time dreaming about a future that is beyond cancer.  I want someone to know, to ache with me... but they can't (you can't) and truthfully I hope you never ever have to know what this feels like.

Today I suspect will be a hard day. I long for those who have passed. For Amy. For her family. And I am just feeling a bit out of it today....

I will be in an all day planning meeting for work and to be honest I am a bit nervous. Planning for anything anymore is hard to do. I often wonder what the point is, when so many things go different ways anyway.

One week from today I will be in chemo clinic. I cry thinking about it. 

Oh heart how I long to feel different. 

May this day find you hopeful. For someone like me who finds that so impossible today.

Three Hour Nap. Amy.

It is a bit of strange thing to imagine someone writing your obituary. What would they say? People love to use this as a segway to challenge us to think about the legacy we leave. Pastors use this to motivate us to be good people, to make good decisions..... if I had a dollar for every time I have heard this used as a platform for a sermon.... welp....

But, what I find most compelling about an obituary is we are not the ones writing. An obituary is someones retelling of what they saw in you, who you were to others, the person you were to the world....

I came across this writing about my friend Amy Dibias Patwa who lost her battle with cancer just weeks ago..... one could only hope to have someone say such things about them when they are gone..........

Because she didn't wear a mask. She was real. She was quick to invite others into the home of her heart, even though there were dirty dishes in the sink. Amy knew she was broken and she was willing to share her pieces. 

Amy was relationally brave. Willing to risk. Willing to fight. She was irreverent. She chose truth over couth. She plunged head first into the lives of her friends, not fearing the messes she might find. She wasn't foolish enough to believe she could clean up herself, or anyone else, but she was confident in the One who could.

During Amy's funeral, her pastor, Mark Upton, shared a quote from Bill Goans. "The more serious you take the Gospel, the less serious you take yourself." That described Amy to a T.  She was so convinced she was Abba's beloved that she lived with the passion and joy of a child. One can only imagine how big she's smiling now.

thanks Amy.

as well happy Wednesday to all of you. i just woke up from a three and half hour nap. something must be wrong with me! kidding but I have to admit I take way too much pride in how badly I am at taking naps, but today I think I have stepped up my game. Longest nap ever............ here's to trying to sleep now.

Home. Dancing With The Angels

back to reality. reality being in true honduran fashion.... being left at the airport with nobody to retrieve me. yes this happened today. I waited... waited some more and watched as the airport cleared. No bus. No sight of anyone looking for a gringo like me. With two large bags in tow I went to the nearby phone  kiosk and asked to borrow the charger for my honduran phone (it was dead). I called my roommate who confirmed that our bus driver was indeed meant to fetch me but if he was not there it must meant they got the time mixed up. This is indeed what happened. Without a second thought I got in a taxi, asked him to drive me an hour and half to my house because I was not ready to get on the bus. When your ready to be home, your ready to be home.

So home I am. Home being the ever growing mold on the ceiling, the hot humid weather, the lights that dont work, brushing your teeth in the dark, but most of all the best roommates homecoming anyone would be lucky to have. I have missed them. It is good to be here. It has not changed (suppose its been only three weeks) but with all of its idiocracies it is home and for that I am grateful.

So tonight I rest my head on my pillow... with the fan on full blast, my bags still nearly full, next to faye in our room. Tomorrow I will get to see my kids and will be giving them big hugs because it feels like ages since I have seen them. I cannot wait. My mom grabbed some airheads for me to take to them and I hope they are excited about the mystery flavor ones as I was when I was their age. (The white package is a surprise flavor). It will be chaos I am sure but I am looking forward to their sweet faces.

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As well your warmest thoughts and prayers are asked for the family and friends of Amy Dibias Patwa. I spoke of her before on this blog here and here ...

Months ago Amy wrote this:

"i have my opinion and desires for how i’d like our stories to be written. but i trust God more than i trust myself. i know He loves us and desires way more for us than I could even fathom. now there are times where i’d take the boring life with nothing impactful happening. but that’s not what He’s got in store for us." - Amy DiBias Patwa 

With tear filled eyes, I mourn the loss of a dear friend. Amy thank you for being who you were. For living life deliberately. So joyful knowing you are dancing with the angels tonight.

To watch an incredible video of her and her daughter and hear of a friends afternoon spent with Amy click here. (warning tissues are needed)

May you too sleep soundly in whatever you call home... Warmest Kristina