One of Those Days

Today has just been one of those days. It actually started yesterday when I had trouble falling asleep (which I’ve had way too much experience with the last few months). I woke up this morning, tired, groggy, joints achy. My hair was misbehaving and everything I tried on looked wrong. My brain fog kicked in and it took me over an hour just to get ready. I totally forgot to pack a lunch. I was running late and as I gathered my stuff up, I noticed my bright orange cell phone holder, which is conveniently attached to my keys.

Apparently noticing it was not enough to actually make it get into my bag. I ran downstairs, firmly shut the locked door, and hoped that I had remembered everything I’d need for the day. (Yeah, right) Got to my car—no keys in the bag. What?! This must just be “purse panic” and they’re buried somewhere in my bag. Nope. I emptied my bag out onto my car hood twice. No keys. No cell phone. Locked door. Quite a conundrum, right?

I remembered that my Dad had put a magnetic key case under my front bumper somewhere when I first bought my car at age 16. It’s been 6 years and I never needed it. Now can I remember where it is? If anyone was watching from their home window, I’m sure it was quite a sight. I’m in a skirt, crawling around my car, looking underneath, praying that little black box will show up and save me.

I don’t see it and I give up for a few minutes, sitting on the curb, looking equally ridiculous. Should I knock on a neighbor’s door and ask for help? Should I just start walking to the office? Should I just hang out on the Barnette’s back porch all day? Thankfully my “can do”-Africa personality came through (and the Holy Spirit helped too) as I wracked my brain for where that key case was supposed to be. I decided to get my hands dirty and start feeling around underneath the front bumper of the car.

Lo and behold, I felt a little plastic box and after yanking on it—found it to be the box of my salvation (just kidding; nothing heretical here)! Again, if anyone was watching or listening, I’m sure they were entertained as I did a little dance in the street and yelled “Thank you Jesus!”.

A year ago, I’m pretty sure this morning would have set a frazzled and annoyed tone for the whole day. But perspective changes, thank goodness. Instead of panicking, I found myself praising Jesus for being with me in a sticky little predicament. I wasn’t particularly bothered by the whole thing because in the full realm, it’s not even a blip on the radar. Much worse things have happened. And I also found myself praising Jesus because the whole situation proved that I had begun living again. a) I had somewhere I need to be b) I had the energy to get out of bed and get there and c) stress is proof that you’re alive. If you have a completely stress-free life with no sticky situations, you are either not living, you’re in denial, or you have the most boring life ever.

So as strange as it may sound, today I am thankful for getting locked out of my car. For seeing a change in my perspective and for seeing life again. And of course—as I arrived triumphant at the sending center, the elevator refused to work  :)

Wishing for Omnipresence

If I could have a super power wish list, I’m pretty sure omnipresence would be high in the ranking. I’m highly skilled at not living in the moment and being discontent. I’ve learned that I am a future focused person, which can be channeled for good, but often leads to me fixating on “what ifs” and continual anticipation rather than joy in the moment. I’m also quite good at being discontent—aren’t we all? Whether it is over something as small as wishing you could indulge in a food craving or wanting an entirely different life, we all experience different moments and levels of discontentment.

Right now, I wish I could be about four places at once. Probably more if I had the option (I’ve always wanted to visit Greece and Morocco :) Anyway, of course I wish I was in Uganda with my team, serving and living that crazy lifestyle that makes most people cringe a little. I wish I was in Kenya, with Anna and Jessica right now, experiencing a new part of Africa but mostly just being with them. Right now I’m in Philly and I don’t want to leave, despite the appointment I have to be home for on Thursday. And no matter where I am in the world, I always have a wish in the back of my head to be in Maryland with my family.

I’m pretty sure a large part of being a missionary is learning to be okay with feeling torn between a lot of places. I think it certainly makes me look forward to glory in our True Home—a place with all who are in the body of Christ; a place of total contentment; a place without tears; a place with an omnipresent God.

Paradox Continues to Ring True

Today I sit in a Panera, on the outside looking much like a typical 20-something American. Earbuds in, listening to the Avett Brothers, wearing jeans, mascara, and flip flops with pedicured toes. I edit photos of my nieces and nephews that were taken a week ago at an amusement park—family tradition since before I was born. I peruse facebook and finally decide to look at some photos from the interns’ summer in Uganda. It hurts, like I thought it would. I download the most recent version of iTunes. Sipping iced coffee, chilly from the air conditioning and the cardigan goes on. I sit alone, ignored by the majority of white faces around me.

Rewind exactly 6 months. I walk along a dusty, bumpy road to the market. Sweaty and sticky, long skirt swishing, hoping for a breeze. Toes have dirt between them, heels so callused they laugh at the prospect of a pumice stone. I ignore the staring eyes, greet some fellow pedestrians and thank women carrying massive loads on their heads “Webhale milemo”. I expect the shouts of “Mzungu!”, “How are you? I am fine!”, and “I love you!” and practice selective listening. I leap out of the way of massive lorries barreling by—if they are speeding unsafely, I shout and wag my finger. I peek into Bahati’s shop to see if she is there; we chat. I enter the market, searching for green peppers, knowing it will be like looking for a needle in a haystack. I haggle, refusing to pay 25 cents for a shriveled little pepper.

Rewind another 6 months exactly. I move in a bit of a frenzy. I have about two weeks until I leave for a place I’ve never been. It’s got a great name though—Bundibugyo. Packing, frantic emails with lists of questions, trying to preserve memories with friends and family that can last for the next two years. Struggling to enjoy last moments in America, grieving good-byes, facing the total unknown. So busy I choose to ignore the dry mouth and trouble I’ve had swallowing lately. It’ll go away on its own.

I’m not sure what the scene will look like if I was to fast forward 6 months from now. I guess that’s something I’m learning—God guides my steps, even if they end up going in directions that I don’t expect, want, or to really painful places. And right now, each day is one step—where it takes me, I don’t know but I think it’ll be okay.

G-nut Sauce and Bodas

Okay…time for a little break from the attempts at spiritual thoughts while having trouble stringing words together to form sentences. It kind of feels like those nuclear medicine doctors snuck my brain out while I wasn’t looking. Supposedly my eloquence will return—we’ll see!

I’ve decided to go with a list post since I’ve always been a fan of them. And now that my brain is in a continual fog, they’ve become pretty imperative! So the list for today…drumroll please…

Things I Miss About Uganda

>groundnut sauce, Asita’s cabbage and Krest bitter lemon soda: Upon arrival back in the U.S., I wanted steak and seafood. The other night, I had my first Ugandan food craving—I miss that peanut sauce over rice, the smokey cabbage, and I could really go for a Krest :)

>boda rides: They terrified me the first couple of times but I miss hanging on the back of the motorcycle, wind through my hair, sun beating on my back, and watching the beautiful landscape whiz by. I even kind of miss the kiddos yelling “Mzungu!” from the side of the road.

>the mountains: I love Maryland and the beauty found in water (which is everywhere!) and long expanses of flat cornfields. But I miss the mountains of Bundi jutting up everywhere you look, catching a glimpse of them when the storm clouds roll back or the sun rises behind them. God’s majesty is undeniable!

>pizza night: I remember feeling sweaty, sticky with bug spray, and generally a little gross after most team pizza nights. A shower was a must before bed. But, they were awesome too! Pizza has never tasted so good or been so creative; I’ve been kind of disappointed by it here in the U.S. And of course the company was pretty great too :)

>Chuck and a gin and tonic: Yes, I’m a missionary who occasionally enjoys an “adult beverage” :) I will fully admit to loving the nights when Anna and I would make ourselves a little g & t and cozy up on the futon to watch Chuck. A mindless, cute, and addictive TV show about a regular guy turned special agent. Pure bliss.

>Singing in church: Once I could at least differentiate between Lubwisi and total gibberish, I had fun trying to sing along in church. It was a huge accomplishment to even follow along in the hymnal. I missed worshipping in English while there but I miss worshipping in Lubwisi with drums now.

>Friendly people everywhere you go: Sure, some people were a little more friendly than I would have liked (ex. Men shouting “Mzungu! I love you!” from the side of the road). And it was easy to be frustrated by the inability to go anywhere without talking to at least 10 people along the way, 10 more at your destination, and 10 more on the way back. Not exactly efficient. But, I hate how I can go to the store here in my car and come back without having spoken to anyone, if so desired. Of course, I don’t do that but I kind of miss the uber-friendly norm.

>The people: I could probably write 100 pages about this topic alone. My Ugandan friends. My team. The relationships that became my life and are now cut off by distance. I pray for them often and hope they know they are not forgotten!

I could keep going and going but I’ll stop here. Bundibugyo often feels very far away. But no matter what happens, it is a place that will always be close to my heart.

Future Praise

Cancer forces you to live in the present. Each day becomes a struggle for survival and not in a “Let’s all focus on our inner-strength, wear pretty ribbons, and talk about warm, fuzzy objects bringing us comfort” kind of way. Nope. Unfortunately, it’s a lot uglier than that. I didn’t know how horrific cancer was until it found its way into my body. And the “cure” is what often makes you feel worse than the cancer itself. At least, that is how it went in my case. (I’m continuing to learn that everyone’s story is so very unique—I’m just sharing mine :)

My muddled brain is trying really hard to get to the point. I guess the point is that I’m continuing to figure out what “cancer survival” is going to look like for me. Some days I just have to live entirely in the moment and focus on making my body move. Other days I dwell in the past and grieve the things that are forever lost (like what I pictured my 2 years in Uganda being). And other days I find hope in the fact that God is writing a truly amazing and beautiful story that has my name as the title—the chapter that is currently being written is full of craters and valleys and confusion. But a few chapters from now, there is the potential for beautiful flowers to spring up out of the craters. And I find hope in the future. Whatever it may hold.

Most days involve a little bit of all of the above. And lately my spirit has been a mess of confusion and mixed emotion. But I keep going to Psalm 13. Read it:

How long, O LORD? Will you forget me forever?
   How long will you hide your face from me?
How long must I take counsel in my soul
   and have sorrow in my heart all the day?
How long shall my enemy be exalted over me?

Consider and answer me, O LORD my God;
light up my eyes, lest I sleep the sleep of death,
lest my enemy say, "I have prevailed over him,"
   lest my foes rejoice because I am shaken.

But I have trusted in your steadfast love;
   my heart shall rejoice in your salvation.
I will sing to the LORD,
   because he has dealt bountifully with me.

Of course, my soul resonates with the “How long” phrasing. But the last few verses were what really got to me a few days ago. David uses the past tense when writing about trusting in God’s love and how God has been gracious to Him. And he uses the future tense when writing about praising God. That’s how I feel these days. I have trusted in God’s love and grace. I continue to trust in them—even when I ask “How long?”. I cannot fathom being without God’s steadfast love. But in this moment when I’m asking “How long?”, it’s okay to not feel like bursting into a praise song. I know the day will come when I feel like shouting His praise from the rooftops. But right now, I’m full of the “how long”-questions and not so full of praise and adoration. Thank goodness the rocks will cry out if necessary :)

David was kind of an exemplary guy in the Bible. Fully human—that’s for sure. I mean, really, with Bathsheba? But, he also did some great stuff for God’s kingdom and I’m pretty sure we’ll find him in heaven. So I think for now I’ll follow his example and be okay with asking “How long?” and know that praise will come eventually.

If my hypothyroid-brain-addled post was not quite enough for you—read this. It’ll be a little more eloquent and it also discusses Psalm 13 and suffering. Thanks Ed Welch!

A (Late) Summer Reading List

I can tell it’s been a while since I updated my blog because every 20 minutes, I find myself composing a blog post in my head. Or maybe that has more to do with the careening thyroid levels I currently have which has led to moments of bone-crushing exhaustion followed by near-manic episodes of energy and inspiration. Either way, in the last few days I’ve been writing down blog post ideas in a word document entitled “My Brain”. Another symptom of thyroid levels being all over the place is brain fog/difficulty concentrating and in my case difficulty formulating sentences. Words just leave me. So in an attempt to adapt, I’ve started the continuously open word document in which I can write down any and all things that I know will leave my brain in about 10 seconds—everything from questions for my doctor to blog post ideas to a shopping list.

I’m getting to a point. What was it again? Right—I’ve got a list of about 10 different blog post inspirations that have come to mind in the last 48 hours. We’ll see how many actually get written. My hope is to post every day this week; we’ll see!

For today, a reading list. Not required reading. Just a bunch of suggestions. I’ve found as a cancer patient that I’m stuck flat on my back more often than I’d like. TV gets boring but a new book is always helpful to pass the time and occupy the mind. I’ve had a wide variety of book suggestions and have read a ton of wonderful fiction novels in the last few months. But I’ve also had some great non-fiction finds; some were sent to me by loving friends, others were suggested, and some were just found along the way. Here’s a few…read them, send them to others you know who are suffering, or whatever!

A Shelter in the Time of Storm: Meditations on God and Trouble by Paul David Tripp

I’ve loved every short meditation in this book and on nights when picking up the Bible seemed too overwhelming, it brought me back to the gospel in a manageable way. Each meditation focuses on a verse from Psalm 27 and has two short questions at the end of the reading for reflection.

Hearing Jesus Speak into Your Sorrow by Nancy Guthrie

The author buried two of her children before they reached their first birthday due to a rare genetic disorder. She writes from the heart and is clearly understanding of suffering, soothing, and brings you back to the truth of the gospel and God’s love gently. I am looking forward to reading her other books.

Everything Changes: The Insider’s Guide to Cancer in Your 20’s and 30’s by Kairol Rosenthal

Super practical and reassuring for me. It validated many of my feelings and helped me feel a little more sane in my experience of having cancer as a young adult. A compilation of first-hand stories and helpful resources. She also has a blog which I love reading. If you’d like to read a little more about my current situation click on this link.

You Gotta Keep Dancin’ by Tim Hansel

An encouraging read—I’m only 1/2 way through it but since I read that 1/2 in one night, I think it gets the thumbs up. It brought perspective and hope to me in a dark time.

…and two on my personal “To-Read” list—Place of Healing: Wrestling with the Mysteries of Suffering, Pain, and God’s Sovereignty by Joni Eareckson Tada and Radical: Taking Back Your Faith from the American Dream by David Platt. I’ll see how they are and let ya know!

I Think I’m Alive

I remain confident of this: I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. (Psalm 27:13)

I’ve never really felt this close to death before. I know intellectually that I am not going to die. But over the past few days, I’ve felt like I’ve got one foot in the grave. I guess I was a little overly optimistic going into my radioactive iodine treatment. I thought I’d take the pill, hang out in my room, and start feeling better as soon as I took that first synthroid pill. It’s been a little different than that.

I guess it makes sense to feel this terrible. Doctors have brought me as close to death as possible in order to kill any remaining cancer. My entire body was radiated for 2 days after spending 5 weeks without a thyroid and 2 surgeries before that. I guess that would make anyone feel a little crummy. But I think I was secretly hopeful that I would glide through this treatment into the picture of perfect health.

Instead, I sleep 12-14 hours a day. And when I’m awake the only things I can accomplish are: take a shower, brush teeth, eat, lay on the couch. The most basic things take astronomical energy. My mouth is dry and my saliva is thick (salivary glands also take up the radiation). Ironically, after 5 weeks of a basically salt-free diet, I have a continuously salty taste in my mouth. Immediately after my treatment, I enjoyed one meal of bliss. Which was awesome. Since then, I’ve been semi-nauseous off and on and my appetite has been slim. I was so worried about the 20 pounds I gained in Africa (which were awful, yes) but I’ve lost all of it and then some in the past weeks and months. I never thought I’d want to gain a little weight. My joints continue to ache but my hair seems to be falling out a little less.

I’ve been averaging about one emotional breakdown a day. Thank goodness I have a patient and loving mother. Depression is a symptom of hypothyroidism but I think it’s also an accumulation of months of struggle. It seems like I swing between being too tired to care, being angry, grieving, and attempting to hold onto hope.

There is a vague end in sight. My doctor told me “After 3 weeks on synthroid, you’ll feel better. After 6 weeks, you’ll feel normal.” Let’s hope it’s true. I’m also planning to receive some counsel for the emotional difficulty of this experience at my age.

I don’t write all of this because I want others to feel sorry for me. Or guilty because they’re healthy. In fact, I read a fantastic article about just that the other day. Read it here. You can always find someone worse off than you. But thank goodness God has an interest in every detail of our lives and a heart full of compassion, whether we’re dealing with cancer or wearing uncomfortable shoes that day.

Anyway, I write it for those of you who want to know how I’m really doing. And because it is easy to write vague entries that make me look strong and like the perfect, shining Christian through this dark trial. But I’m not. Right now, I feel like a shell of my former self. I know God will fill me in with better stuff in the long-run. But right now, it’s hard to wait. So pray for me. And pray that I would hang onto Psalm 27:13. I know I’m still in the land of the living, even if I don’t feel it. And I will see God’s goodness. My confidence waxes and wanes but He never does.