Whew! What a whirlwind. It tricked me at first, giving me a few low key months before everything began to unravel in March. I never imagined at the beginning of this year my NYE festivities would include hanging out at the Cancer Center getting radiation and visiting with my oncologist. This girl knows how to party.
We all have those memorable milestone years with which we mark time by.
If someone mentions 1994, I immediately picture myself, blue cap & gown, getting my high school diploma.
1998- black cap & gown crossing the stage at SBU and in a wedding dress a few weeks later.
'02, '04, '06- bringing home newborns.
Of course, 2018 will be forever remembered and marked with the "C" word.
I finished chemo, got my port out, started the next phase of treatment, and I felt amazing. Or that's how I thought I'd feel. My emotions have actually been all over the place.
If you look at me wrong, I'll cry.
If you smile at me comfortingly, I'll cry.
In fact, if everyone could just stop making eye contact with me altogether for awhile until I feel semi back to normal that'd be best.
Some have complimented my outlook. But I can't take credit for that. That's God.
He's got this.
He writes my story.
He's carrying me through.
I would have a much more defeatist attitude if my hope wasn't in Him.
A few months ago we sang a new (to me) song at church. I am team "traditional hymns" all the way and am slow to embrace new songs and choruses. But this one grabbed a hold of me and made me wonder, "Wait, has Matt Redman met me?". His song Never Once certainly hit home.
"Kneeling on this battle ground
Seeing just how much You've done
Knowing every victory
Was your power in us
Scars and stuggles on the way
But with joy our hearts can say
Never once did we ever walk alone
Never once did you leave us on our own
You are faithful, God, you are faithful"
And all the mental snapshots of this past year come flooding back.
The room where I waited in my gown while they reviewed my additional mammogram images.
The Hen House parking lot I called David from to tell him I needed a biopsy.
The parking lot at work where I was standing when I got the call it was cancer.
The MRI tubes.
I wasn't really alone any of those times. He was right there with me.
I know others of you are still reeling from the events 2018 tossed your way. But we made it! Tomorrow we turn the page. It certainly doesn't erase the effects of this past year but it's a fresh start and a new number. With all sorts of adventures and possibilities in store.
2018 was a hard year.
But it was also an amazing year.
And I would go through it all again just for the friendships I've made, laughs I've had, hugs I've received, encouragement, support, the list goes on.
The sweetest little old man has radiation right before me. We smile and exchange pleasantries as he exits and I enter. Today he said, "Good Morning. Have a good New Year!"
I held back the tears that threatened to break through (he's going to be excluded from my "no eye contact" decree because he's precious) and wished him the same.
To 2019 I say, "Bring. It. On."
