Speaking of Emerging Icemen...

James recently reemerged on Facebook after a two and a half year hiatus, and I quipped on my status that the Iceman had emerged. But if he's a Facebook iceman, then I suppose that makes me a blogger Icewoman. Encino Man style!

If I even get started trying to make excuses for why I haven't blogged for the past ten months, I'll never actually blog. Besides, to make excuses is to assume that there is someone out there holding me responsible or even watching this blog anymore (which I highly doubt). However I have recently begun to restore my view of blogs as being a tool to write giant letters about yourself to the people who are around you and care about you, but whom you may have a hard time keeping in contact with. I am awful at emailing (as many of you can attest to), and chance encounters with me are more and more likely to happen at Starbucks while I make your Decaf Triple Tall in a Grande Nonfat Half Sweet, No Whip, Extra Foam, 190 degree, Pumpkin Spice Latte, which of course is a recipe for highly in-depth conversation. (breath, that was a run-on sentence!)

Another good reason for me to blog is that over the last year and a half, I have largely become an introvert. This is definitely a new development for me and I am often surprised to realize that I have become more comfortable to not say anything at all than to aimlessly chatter. I used to feel uncomfortable around people who were quiet. I thought that it was my responsibility to fill the silence with whatever came to my head, and that if I didn't, things would feel awkward. Then one day, I had this startling realization: "Wait a second, this quiet person is not feeling awkward... they just don't have anything to say!" While that was a mind blowing realization in and of itself, an even greater extension was to realize that if THEY were comfortable being quiet, I should feel comfortable being quiet too.

So I began to practice feeling comfortable with silence. But that is what it remained, a practice. Not a natural inclination.

Not so anymore. I have tried to analyze why this sudden change has occurred, but every analysis takes me on meandering rabbit trails and leaves me dangling. The best one I can come up with is that over the year of being sick and the internal processing that followed, my words usually felt inadequate to express my thoughts, so I just stopped trying. Often that is still the case. Whatever the cause, the outcome is that my introvert/extrovert side has done a complete 180, and its been a strange thing to observe. I've always considered myself to be an extrovert. I can still pull it out on a moment's whim (usually at Starbucks), but it is no longer my default setting.

So what has happened in the last 10 months? Plenty! I will make a short list here without offering explanations for any of them. I have tried to start blogs with explanations and they all come out sounding like I am very disappointed with the world, which is definitely not true!

1) In July James left for four months of research for his Master's degree in... Bali! James' stepmother gave four months of her life and devoted it to caring for the boys and helping me on the home front. Although I've tried to say it many times... thank you to that wonderful and loving woman, Theresa Frey! You will receive your honorary Master's Degree sometime in the next few months.

2) Three days after James left, I started working as a shift supervisor at Starbucks. Not the job I dreamed of or trained for, but God provided nonetheless. Rather cry about the doors that closed in my own field, I'd rather be grateful and do my best at the job that has been given to me. Besides, after a year of being "sick" I just needed something to make me feel useful and alive. However after living in China, dealing with my health, questioning God and just being a parent and wife in the midst of it all, it was a bit of a shock to my system to return to the world.

3) Working where I do has taught me a lesson in humility. Even though I was "groomed for bigger things", it turns out that our working world doesn't consider me to be such a hot commodity. Thus, I've learned that I am no better than anyone else. But there is a bonus to this. The flip side to not being superior to anyone else, is that no one else is superior me. I used to feel intimidated by those with "better credentials" than I, but my lesson in humility has taught me to look for the human being in everyone, instead of looking at their credentials. The outcome is that I feel a lot more confident around a myriad of people, and less concerned about what their opinion of me may be. I find myself to be far more interested in people's LIVES and their HEARTS.

The funny thing is, I can't count the number of incredulous looks I've received to hear that I have a Bachelor's Degree in Nutrition, I speak Chinese, worked with an NGO, come through a cancer battle... and yet work at Starbucks. But the truth is that I don't owe an explanation to anyone. My mantra has become "And whatever you do, in word or deed, do it all unto the Lord Jesus Christ whom you are serving." I used to hate it when people said that because I thought that it was just a Christian-ese way of making mundane tasks seem holy. But the way I see it now is that God is the only one who truly sees my heart as I go about my work. So whatever it is that I find myself doing, my goal is that he would find my heart to be pure.

4) While James was in Bali, we were limited to email contact. His access to internet in poor rural fishing villages couldn't support anything nearly so sophisticated as Skype (or even Google chat) and the phone was inconceivably expensive, so other than my visit to see him in September, we went without hearing each other's voices for four months. Only in retrospect do I realize how crazy this sounds. Right after a year of fairly traumatic and life changing events for us, we were essentially cut off from each other. Our only communication was through email.

But guess what! Letter writing turns out to be quite a therapeutic measure for recovering from trauma. Everyday, James and I wrote letters to each other. He would describe the people he was meeting, the places he was going, the scenery, the work, his motorbike rides etc. I, in turn, would write about the people I met at Starbucks, the garden, and the boys. And of course, we wrote about our thoughts. Through our emails we conducted our own sort of Couple's Therapy for Couples Recovering from Traumatic Events. It was amazing how honest and open we could be in our letters. We've always been very communicative, but sometimes in a marriage it is just hard to have a conversation without interruptions, misunderstandings and offense, especially when you are on opposite sides of the same coin. When you write a letter, however, you have all the time in the world to express yourself the right way (as opposed to whatever pops out of your mouth). When you read the letter that comes in return, you have time to process what was in that letter instead of having to respond immediately, or risk hurting the other person.

I went to visit him for two week in Bali, and it was a very good time. I rode around on the back of his motorbike, hugging him for all I was worth, and he took me to beaches with beautiful black sand, high terraced mountains, and tiny poor villages.

By the time he came back in the beginning of November we were more than ready for a family life again, where Mom isn't sick, and Dad isn't far away in Bali. However, for all the trials of that time, I truly believe it was a good thing, at a good time. Since he has been home, we have coveted our family time, feeling protective of our quiet evenings at home and savoring our new family dynamic.

And it definitely is a new family dynamic. Its funny. At times I have felt like I fell asleep on the day of my seizure in Beijing and only just woken up recently. During the time that I was sleeping (aka dealing with stuff), the boys changed dramatically. When I "fell asleep", Ari and Jude were still significantly dependent on us and not very good at expressing themselves. Now they have well developed personalities, and a great sense of humor. They know how to contribute intelligently to the dinner table discussion and they make us laugh all the time with their jokes. Ari is reading and writing stories (both in French and in English!). They don't wake up crying during the night anymore. They can clean up after themselves (not that they always do!) They play board games together!

For now, James is the primary caregiver, since he is at home writing his thesis and I am still working. But I have been amazed at how well it is working out. James missed the boys so much while he was gone, that he seems to have gained a limitless ability to enjoy them. They in turn think he is the funniest man alive. (the real secret is that James can finally indulge in his little boy humor!)

And that brings us to today (sort of, by way of numerous short cuts), where I have a day off, the boys are recovering from some kind of flu, and James is off guest lecturing at both Providence College and the University of Manitoba. I'm hoping that writing this blog entry will break my reticence to write. After maintaining a "cancer blog", its easy to forget that this blog was never started for that purpose.

We'll see how it goes from here!

In the Aftermath

Many may have noticed that I was not paying very much attention to the blog over the last few months. I figured that anything I had to say was old news, and that with all the other interesting blogs out there to read, I was probably not high on anyone else's priority list. But that doesn't mean that I have not been writing. On the contrary, I have been writing more than ever. With all that has happened in the last while, I have things pouring out of every part of me. For the last few months

What Happened After the Fire Swamp?

Hello All.

I bet I know what you are thinking... "What a place to leave off!" This big thing happens in her life and then she doesn't say anything about it!

Well, that's not really true. I have a lot to say about it, but nothing comes out logically or in order. Any one thing I may say is not representative of what is happening. It's a big tangled mess. Who am I to say that I understand what has happened? Am I a theologian? Not a chance. The only word that comes to my mouth is Jesus. I have actually been writing like mad in the last while. Lots of things are spilling out of me, faster than I can type. But at this point it is not sensical, and wouldn't make sense to the outside reader. All of my emotions are spilling out. If I am away from home, I get to a computer and write myself an email. If I am not near a computer, I jot it down on paper. If I don't have time to write it out, I make a mental note to myself.

All these events remind me of an interview that I read with Brad Pitt after the filming of Seven Years in Tibet. The interviewer was anxious to know what Brad's opinion was on the political situation in Tibet. After all, he is a big Hollywood star, and after filming a controversial movie about the Dalai Lama and Tibet, he must have some deep thoughts about the whole issue. I thought his response was very clever. He basically said, "Why would you ask me about such a loaded topic? I'm just an actor, I don't know anything about this situation, except what happened in the movie." For the record, that is the first time that I have ever quoted Brad Pitt as being profound! (I don't dislike him, but I have never really thought of him as wise! After all, he is just an actor.)

I think his words sum up my own. I may have received healing in my body, but other than saying "to God be the Glory", I'm not sure what to do from here or what to say about it. I won't be diving into healing debates any time soon. Remember the man who was blind from birth? When people asked him for details of what had happened, all he could say was this. "I don't know what happened. All I know is this: I used to be blind, but now I see."

And truthfully, my thoughts lie predominantly with the rest of my comrades who are still in the thick of their struggles. My heart goes out to them as they hear about my story. If I have a testimony, it is this. Jesus' words are true. Whether we are sick or healthy, he is there with us.

I had no special recipe for the way I approached God in this. All I wanted was his will and his blessing. I wanted him to be glorified in my body, be it through Death or through Life. If I was going into the Valley of the Shadow of Death, then I wanted the guided tour. Frankly, I'm a little terrified that healthy people will take my story to those who are sick and say, "Look, God healed her!" My message is about healing, yes, but it is primarily that he heals our sinfulness and brings us back to God, sick and healthy alike. My message is that God is good, whether he heals or doesn't heal. My message is that God is not afraid to walk with us through illness and hard times... but we need to let him.

I'm also afraid that some people will accuse me of not giving God glory for the healing work he has done in my life. But I beg to differ. I want to give God glory for Who He Is, not only for what he has done. He has not given me a reason to praise him... He was already worthy of all my praise, and I would have died praising him if that was his will.

We may tell stories of healing, but we rarely think about what happens to the people after they have received healing. We just assume that after it happened, everything was fine and dandy. But here are a few thoughts for you. What did the man who was healed from paralysis think the first time his legs fell asleep? Imagine what he thought during the first sensation of pins and needles traveling up and down his legs! Imagine his amazement that muscles can ache and that stubbing your toe hurts like the dickens. Or again, this man who was blind from birth. Was he afraid that if he closed his eyes to go to sleep, he would never see again? What did he think the first time he personally witnessed injustice done to other people, a starving human body, or when his eyes ached in direct sunlight?

I bet the once-blind-now-seeing man noticed every blind person he saw after that. I bet the once-lame-now-walking-and-leaping man took special note of every lame person he walked past. Because they understood where those people were at.

My heart remains with those who are sick, and I want them to know that it is not their fault that they are sick. I want them to know that God can be glorified in their life, regardless of their circumstances, and in fact, that God can be glorified even if they are never healed. When Jesus was asked who was at fault for the man being born blind, this is how he answered. "It was not because of his sin or his parents' sin. This happened so that the power of God could be seen in him."

God's power is shown through our lives when we submit to him. Whether or not outward healing occurs, it is the inward healing that matters the most. Followers of Jesus get sick like everyone else. The difference between a follower of the Christian God and a non-follower is this: followers of the Christian God continue to have hope in their lives, regardless of the desperateness of their outward situation. That hope means that we are not afraid of Death, even though we approach it with alarming speed. 1 Peter 1:3 says "Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead"

Healing is only a small measure of God's goodness. But his conquering of Death and guidance in our lives is the hope that sustains us and the unlimited source of power that backs us. If God is for us, who can be against us?

My message is this: As Followers of Jesus, we have the hope and the power not merely to survive hard times, but to actually thrive in the midst of them. Think about the popular movie, The Princess Bride. The brave Wesley leads Princess Buttercup through the Fire Swamp. As they journey together through the swamp he saves her and protects her from the three fears: the fire spurts, the quicksand and the giant rats. My question is this. When Buttercup told the story afterward, what do you think she would emphasize? Would she sigh with relief and never want to think about it again? Or would she tell all of her friends about the Wesley's daring bravery and how he saved her again and again? I think the latter. She did not just survive in the Fire Swamp, she actually fell in love in the Fire Swamp. I would call that thriving.

In Psalm 23 (The Lord is my Shepherd...), there is a line that says "He prepares a table before me, in the presence of my enemies. My cup overflows". Here is my version: "He prepares a table before me, in the presence of a brain tumor, of Death, of chemotherapy, of disappointments, and of loss. My cup overflows."

If I get diagnosed with another Krang tomorrow, this will remain unchanged.

New Frontiers: Shell shocked and very emotional

I went to see my doctor yesterday with James to get the results of my MRI from Wednesday evening. What the doctor had to say took us by surprise to say the least!

Evidence of the tumor is gone. There are no visible signs of it, except for the hole in my head.

They don't seem too surprised by this. This is a very good sign, but apparently I am not out of the woods yet. The tumor itself is sort of like the tip of the iceberg, so there are still cells there that could grow back (statistically speaking). I will be continuing treatments until November. My doctor said that something will probably grow back over time, but that it would likely happen over many years.

I don't really care about the details. Whether we realize it or not, all of us have a "Will Die" label tattooed on our foreheads. On my label it looked like the date was about to expire. I still have the label. I will die at some point in some form or fashion. That threat has not been removed from my life. But for whatever reason, Jesus has touched me and said, "Not now".

Many thoughts, many emotions. I'll try to describe them for you.

I will not merely proclaim the healing powers of Jesus Christ. What I will proclaim is the He is God over this world and over the heavens. I will proclaim that he is always Great and Good and that even in my suffering, He was Great and Good. He is no more worthy of praise now that my tumor is gone than he was while it caused uncontrollable twitching in my body. He is no more my friend and my advocate now than he was two days ago. He didn't need to prove himself to me. I already believed that his goodness extends beyond my circumstances. But for some reason he has.

Christians like to quote 1 Corinthians 13 a lot. "If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but have not love, I am but a resounding gong or a clanging symbol. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and hand over my body to the flames so that I may boast, but have not love, I gain nothing."

Without the love and the presence of Jesus in my life, this healing would mean nothing. The greatest thing he has done is to redeem me from my sin with his death and restore me to relationship with him, giving me access to the most awesome power and love in this world and beyond.

I will tell of the kindnesses of the LORD,
the deeds for which he is to be praised,
according to all the LORD has done for us—
yes, the many good things
he has done for Israel,
according to his compassion and many kindnesses.
He said, “Surely they are my people,
children who will be true to me”;
and so he became their Savior.In all their distress he too was distressed,
and the angel of his presence saved them.
In his love and mercy he redeemed them;
he lifted them up and carried them
all the days of old.
Yet they rebelled
and grieved his Holy Spirit.
So he turned and became their enemy
and he himself fought against them.

From the beginning, I have felt the assurance that however my story might end, I would pass through Death to Life. Either I would physically die and find life in the hereafter, or my "life" as I now know it would die and I would be given a new physical life. Either way I win.

But now that I have "won" (at least for this particular battle), I feel weak and shell shocked. It's like I've come home from the war. I've survived. I am alive, and life can now continue. But I've seen so much death in the past 10 months. I've seen my comrades fall dead (my dreams and ambitions), I've seen myself disabled from well aimed shots. I may be "home" and I may be alive, but I can't just fall back into my life. I don't recognize it. I have been living on autopilot. Yesterday I had to let myself cry and weep and scream for all that has been lost. Like honoring all the soldiers who have died. I recognize the awesomeness of what has happened, but only yesterday did it really hit me how terrible and bloody this battle has been on my life and on my emotions. I can't go into detail about what has been lost - there is much more than I've talked about on here. It is raw and it is personal and it doesn't even make sense. But as I sat there mourning, I could feel God's presence beside me, comforting me and acknowledging with me all that has been lost. I need emotional healing too.

That's all for now.

In Which Being Able to Laugh at Oneself Pays Off Tremendously

I've been informed by an old acquaintance that I am overdue for a blog entry. The mid-winter stretch is upon us and this of course makes daily life seem rather uneventful. I recently looked back at some of our blog entries living in China and re-realized how many "abnormal" things happened there on a daily basis. At the time it seemed normal enough, and blogging about it seemed very natural. I remember that one of my close friends remarked that either we had a very interesting life or we were just really good story tellers. I'm now of the opinion that it was the former. With the cancer thing slowing down and living back in North America, it seems like there is not much to write about.

This was never intended to be a Cancer Blog. It began primarily as a way for us to relate our lives in China to our faraway friends and family. I really disliked the idea of writing group emails or of having to explain the same things over and over again to different people.

Cancer blog is not a bad thing. In fact I think our readership probably multiplied by a factor of ten or so. It was a little overwhelming when I suddenly realized that we had acquaintances of acquaintances reading, or people that James or I not seen for ten years or so reading it. For a while I was receiving emails almost daily from people that I didn't even know saying that they were reading and praying. I wondered then, as I occasionally still wonder now, what it was about my story that made it more interesting than the thousands (dare I say millions) of other cancer victims out there. Or better put, what is there interesting to read about cancer? What person whose life is untouched by cancer really wants to read about another person's life that is (and a stranger at that)?

Nonetheless, this blog fell into its new role as Cancer Blog. As in China, there was plenty to write about... changing emotions, thoughts about the future, new treatment plans etc, etc. These things have not ceased, but they have markedly slowed down, and they have also had a decreasing impact on our lives. With the continued and growing knowledge that God continues to be God, despite my physical health, the fact that I have a brain tumor has slowly lost its power in our lives. Its not something we spend hours thinking about anymore, even though its medical prognosis over our lives has not changed. Theoretically, I'm still dying. But I do spend hours basking in the Truth that I have in God; that I am not afraid of Death, nor am I afraid of Life.

So now what to write about? Do I write just for the sake of writing? That sounds boring.

James and I have fallen back into a very precious niche of ours, one we've had since we started dating. That is, dreaming about our future. I have mentioned before that this kind of dreaming is not an attempt to escape the present, it is merely an manifestation of the level of excitement we have for our lives. While I live, we intend to LIVE, not limit. Our most recent dreams have included: James doing an internship with the FAO in a few years (which would require us living in Rome), me in Med School (as you already know), or me doing an dietetic internship with the Dietitians of Canada.

Dreaming is just so darn fun! So many of the fun things we have already done started with the seed of a dream. Dreaming is often stigmatized as not being realistic. In our case especially, I think that some people would accuse us of being escapists. Recently, I asked the Dean of my university department to refer me for a dietetic internship. He agreed, but first he sat and talked with me in his office for close to an hour about my health condition and how I was doing emotionally. I suspect that he wanted to determine for himself if my optimism was a carefully crafted front, and if the peace that I display was genuine before referring me. What resulted was an extremely open discussion where both of us walked away feeling encouraged. I viewed it as an unexpected blessing. How many people walk away from a hour meeting with a University dean feeling spiritually encouraged?

In both Christian and non-Christian circles, there is a lot of discussion about the power of positive thinking. I agree, certainly, but my version of it is just to keep on living. We can talk about being positive, or we can just live positively. However, I don't think that positive thinking means rejecting the negative or rejecting Death. That would just be denial. Rather, I think that keeping a view of Death in our lives lends a certain sharpness and acuity to the way we live. In all of our dreams now, James and I always leave room for death. But this does not make us sad.

So we live by dreaming, and we also live in the day to day. There is a lot in the day to day that is also makes us feel very ALIVE. For example, two days ago, I had to go from the University of Manitoba to Victoria Hospital to get some routine blood work done. These two institutions are practically side by side, but in order to get to the hospital, you have to walk all the way to Pembina Highway, which then travels by the longest route possible back to the hospital( at least a 20 minute walk). As I walked the route, I couldn't help but noticing how close the hospital looked just across the field of snow. Impulsively, I took the road less travelled by (aka, there was no road, only a field of untouched hip deep snow).

It started out okay, it seems that one person had travelled part of the way through the field (but then wisely stopped), so I followed in their tracks. When I came to the unbroken snow, it looked hard enough to walk on top, so I gingerly tried to lift myself above the snowy depths. But then I started breaking through the snow up to my hips! We're talking Peter trying to walk on water here. Try as I might, I could not get back onto the surface of the snow, so I treaded through the snow, giggling to myself at how ridiculous I must look! Then my Canadian breeding kicked in, "If only I can increase my surface area, I can stay on top of the snow!". Half the field left to go and the hospital looked closer than ever! Perseverance Jessica! I spread myself out on my stomach and crawled commando style across the snow (still breaking through), clearly visible from two major roads, the hospital windows towering above the field and to the construction workers just across the... fence (oh no!).

At this point I was laughing out loud hysterically at myself and pouring with sweat. A grown adult, mother, nutritionist, and cancer patient unsuccessfully commando crawling over an open field and covered in snow, just for the sake of saving a few minutes! Finally I made it to the last impediment... the chain link fence (complete with wire ends at the top for the express purpose of deterring people like me). But I was not to be deterred. Going back now would mean going through the field again AND walking twenty minutes. And the hospital was right there!

Climbing over a fence is challenging at any time, but far more so when wearing thick winter boots and fighting to rise above the hip-deep snow that sucks you down. I finally made it up to the top, where I hovered on the spikes while preparing to throw my weight in one last concerted effort over the fence. After all, if I got hurt, I was already on my way to the hospital (how convenient!)

Rrrrip! Not my flesh thank goodness, but a large patch of my pants and long underwear had ripped open to the skin! Jessica's thigh exposed to the world! Walking the remaining ten feet to the hospital on concrete, open jeans flapping with each step, I momentarily experienced a sensation of "I wish I hadn't done that". But I quickly brushed it aside and proceeded to go to the blood lab in the hospital, ripped pants and all.

Anyone reading this story will have the same reaction that James did, "Why did you do that?". But, as ridiculous as it was, I hold that it was extremely fun laughing by myself as I crawled through the snow. Personally, I think it is a great example of enjoying living and feeling ALIVE.

Would I do it again? Probably not!