Treasures Gleaned

Exactly two years ago (Dec 21, 2019), God delivered me from the fear that I struggled with since my diagnosis in January 2018.  It was truly a Christmas-time miracle, something only God could do.  Here is some background on the fear:

When I was diagnosed, it was such a dark time.  I felt like I had been given a death sentence.  I was truly ok with dying.  God has rescued me, and I will spend eternity in His beautiful and awesome presence.  There was no fear in that for me.  But when I thought of leaving our sweet kids (ages 5, 3, 1 ½ & 8 months when I was diagnosed), my blood ran cold.  I felt more than fear; I felt terror.  

As the months unfolded and I wrestled emotionally, I came to understand that I was not fully trusting God’s character and his sovereignty regarding my family.  If I truly believe God is good and He’s all-powerful (and I do), then He will care for my children and husband if I were to pass away.  Would it be traumatic for them? Of course.  But would God faithfully carry them through that difficult season?  Without a shadow of a doubt, I know that He would.  He’s a loving Father; He does not abandon His children during our times of great need.  God gently used cancer to reveal this inconsistency in my heart and to change it. 

As I described in the last post on “Fighting Fear”, God implanted the wisdom of Matthew 6 in my heart during this time.  Live one day at a time.  Celebrate today’s joys, mourn today’s sorrows, and handle the challenges of today only. Tomorrow will take care of itself!  The fears of the future were too burdensome for me to carry.

As the months of treatment went by, I felt fear often.  I frequently took them to God.  

“Lord, you know I’m anxious about this next round of chemo.  Thank you for carrying me through this.  Please give me your peace.”

“I’ve never had surgery before, God.  I’m sad…and afraid of the effects of the mastectomy.”

When my imagination ran wild, and my fears ran ahead to the future, I tried to faithfully “take every thought captive to obey Christ” (2^nd Corinthians 10:5).  My sister mentioned recently that practicing this was simply self-control, a fruit of the Spirit from Galatians 5:22-23.

“Oh God, I feel so sick, and I’m afraid of not surviving this.  I don’t want to leave those four beautiful kids while they’re so little.  Thank you for giving me enough grace for today.  Please help me not to worry about tomorrow, and to trust your future grace.  I know you will give me, Gabe, and the kids enough grace for every challenge that will come on this journey.”

As I write this, it almost makes me sounds strong, or at least strong spiritually.  I was exactly the opposite.  

I was weak.

I was desperate.

I was scared.

I ran to the Living God, because He’s the only one strong enough to carry our fears.  

“Come to me, all of you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.  Take up my yoke and learn from me, because I am lowly and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”  (Matthew 11:28-30 CSB)

He was my only hope, because He alone has power over life and death.

“Don’t be alarmed,” he told them. “You are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified.  He has risen!  He is not here.  See the place where they put him.  But go, tell his disciples and Peter, ‘He is going ahead of you to Galilee; you will see him there just as he told you.’” (Mark 16:6-7 CSB)

To understand my Christmas miracle, I’ll need to tell you about my beautiful friend Sha (pronounced Shay).  

Over the past few years, I have had the privilege of walking alongside several other women as they have been (or are being) treated for cancer.  Sha was 30 years old when she was diagnosed with Stage 4 ovarian cancer.  We met very briefly when I was in Austria in the spring of 2019, and we share a sweet mutual friend who told me about Sha’s diagnosis.  I reached out, and we became fast friends through phone calls and texts.

Sha was desperate for the treatments to work, and had so much she still wanted to do in life!  She longed to get married, have children, enjoy making more memories with her dear mom and sister.  She dreamed of going back to school, changes in her career path, certain countries she wanted to visit (Japan).

I empathized so deeply with my friend.  That is exactly how I felt shortly after my diagnosis.  

From our first conversation, I felt so strongly that I was in Sha’s life to hope for her during such a dark season in her life.  That is what so many of you did for me!  You hoped and prayed when all felt dark.  I then had the opportunity to do that for Sha.  We prayed together when fear seemed to overwhelm her.  Some days we laughed, and others we cried as we swapped stories about treatment.  She was so grateful for a friend who could relate.  I was so thankful to be able to.

The weeks went on, and Sha was in and out of the hospital frequently.  The cancer compromised her lungs, making it difficult for her to breathe.  She underwent scan after scan, treatment after treatment, and still the cancer spread.  

I chose to never give up hope and prayed passionately for her.  Since Sha had a relationship with Christ, I knew that she would experience healing.  Either God would heal her of the cancer and she would live more years on Earth, or she would be completely healed the moment she stepped from this life into God’s presence for eternity.

Often, after a conversation with my friend, I was in a surreal space emotionally.  On one hand, I knew exactly how she felt – desperate to survive this bout with cancer.  But on the other, I began to think more frequently about her future (and mine) in light of eternity.  Death feels like it robs us, but does it really for the believer?  Instantly, my friend’s intense suffering would be shed for unimaginable joy and peace.  Perhaps she would not marry here, but her loving Bridegroom would be waiting to usher her into a perfect relationship with himself.  Our marriages on Earth are simply glimpses, imperfect pictures, of that ultimate relationship.

A few days before Christmas 2019, Sha traded her suffering for unimaginable joys.  As she breathed her last on Earth, I believe God carried Sha through the veil into eternity.  All of those things she longed for have been forgotten or seem like rubbish in light of her present reality.  Do I understand why Sha died at age 30 from cancer, while I have been healed?  Of course not.  There is nothing wrong with questioning, but I do not think we will have answers to those types of questions on this side of eternity.  God’s perspective is so vast; ours is incredibly limited.

On the day of Sha’s death, as surely as wisps of fog are burned up by the morning sun, God delivered me from the grip of fear.  I knew immediately what had happened; it was as obvious as a weight lifting off my shoulders.  That day, I told Gabe about God delivering me from fear with a hushed sense of awe.  How counterintuitive and a bit confusing (wasn’t dying young from cancer exactly what I’d been afraid of?).  And yet, the God of resurrection power is the only one who trades beauty for ashes, freedom instead of bondage, and brings life from death.  

“Truly I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains by itself. But if it dies, it produces much fruit.” (John 12:24 CSB)

This unexpected deliverance, my Christmas miracle, was a fruit of Sha’s death.  What mystery. Thank you, dear one, for sharing your struggles as you journeyed toward eternity.  It was a privilege to walk alongside you in your final days here. Thank you, Lord, for such an unexpected Christmas gift.  It is enough that you are Emmanual, “God with us”.  Yet you continue to pour out immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine (Ephesians 13:20 NIV).  Thank you.

Cancer did not change my personality, but the trauma of the experience certainly left its mark.  On one hand, our lives have returned to normal.  I am back to doing all of those things I longed for when I was undergoing treatment…and I have energy for it all.

As I write, I am on a plane with Gabe, Abby, Will, our niece Ashley, and my parents.  We are traveling home from a dream trip where we visited San Francisco, Hong Kong, Korea, Japan, and New York.  This is the trip we’d anticipated for a year, and then had to cancel a few weeks  before leaving due to my diagnosis.  I calculated that by the time we greet 2020, I will have spent about 3 months of 2019 traveling.  That sounds like a nightmare to some, I know, but it speaks of life returning to normal for us.  We love to travel near and far!

On the other hand, there are bouts of wrestling with fear that were not present before cancer.  Some have been irrational: life returned to “normal” so easily; will it always be this way?  On some days, I feel afraid of what is around the next bend in the road.

Other fears are related to a symptom.  In mid-June, my left arm began tingling.  After a week, I notified my radiation oncologist.  Immediately, he called me in for an exam and then ordered an MRI to rule out the possibility of a tumor causing the symptoms.  I wrestled with fear and dread intensely those ten days.  All was normal on the MRI.  Praise God.

I was then referred to a neurologist.  My physical exam was “non-impressive”.  My EMG results were normal.  She seemed unconcerned.  I thought I was at the end of the road.  Then, a Monday morning phone call made my heart drop: “Mrs. Chong, this is Duke Radiology.  I’m calling to schedule the brain and spinal MRIs that your neurologist ordered.”  Fear lay ready to pounce.  When it comes to cancer, surprises like those can fill your heart with foreboding.

I was driving.  Ten minutes away from an appointment.  I remember praying, “God, I’ve spent so much energy wrestling fear these past few weeks.  This time, I want to trust.  Will you help me?”

I know the results may not always be the ones I want to hear.  I am not trusting that I will live as long as I would like to or that I will never have cancer again.  I am choosing to trust that regardless of the outcomes life brings, God is faithful, loving and here with us.  Therefore, we have nothing to fear.

God answered that day in such a precious and tangible way.  Ten minutes later at my appointment, I met a young man who has a rare passion and enthusiasm for his work.  He is in the home health industry and approaches each client with a true servant’s heart.  As we continued to talk, my dad asked out-of-blue about this young man’s tattoo.  He shared about a difficult season in his life and how he had learned to take “one day at a time”.  Instantly, God reminded me of the truth that dropped so deeply into my heart during the year I was in treatment.

Matthew 6:34 NIV

“Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself.  Each day has enough trouble of its own.”

I love how the Message paraphrases this same verse:

“Give your entire attention to what God is doing right now, and don’t get worked up about what may or may not happen tomorrow.  God will help you deal with whatever hard things come up when the time comes.”

During a season when looking too far down the road resulted in emotional overload, I learned the wisdom of God’s tender instruction in Matthew 6.  Live one day at a time.  Enjoy today and celebrate its joys.  Handle today’s challenges only.  And leave tomorrow’s challenges in the future.  Life is simply more manageable and much more enjoyable this way.

Laura and I went to UNC together.  We were both very close to a mutual friend, Jennifer Yin, and so saw each other quite often during our four years in Chapel Hill.  From the time she was young, Laura loved all things Chinese and knew she wanted to move to China one day.  She took Asian Studies classes at UNC.  I also remember her taking Mandarin classes, and being so impressed she was learning such a difficult language!

She moved to China soon after college graduation, and taught English (as well as many other things).  I heard updates from Jennifer as she fell in love, married, and began her family with her husband Haodong.  About as quickly as Gabe and I welcomed our little ones, they were welcoming Joshua (8), Elliana (6 ½), Sophia (5), and Ian (3) half a world away.

Since Laura’s parents lives in North Carolina, she and her husband would bring their children to visit when able.  Last summer (2018), they came for a visit.  After spending time with Laura’s family, they went on a road trip to visit friends and share about their work in China.

It has been exactly 9 months since a nightmare crashed into their world.  They were visiting Kansas City, and her husband Haodong shared one evening at an International House of Prayer.  The children were tired, so Laura left with them to put them to bed.  Haodong finished talking to folks, and walked the few blocks back to the home of the family who was hosting them.  It was early evening.  7pm?

Shots rang out.  A teenager on PCP shot and killed Haodong as he walked home from the service.  He was 38 years old.  He was killed a few steps away from the home where Laura was with their four children.  Laura told me her young children were excited by the sirens of the emergency vehicles that responded; they ran out to see the ambulance before she shooed them back inside.  Praise God they did not see their father laying face-down on the sidewalk where he was murdered.  My heart aches that Laura has that image of her precious husband emblazoned in her mind.

I’ll never forget Jennifer’s call last August to tell me the news.  We wept for Laura and her beautiful children.  I remember so acutely feeling sickened by the total depravity, the evil, that took Haodong’s physical life.  He and Laura were married only 10 years!  And those sweet children who are desperately missing their daddy.  It struck very close to home for Gabe and me since Haodong was exactly our age with four little ones so close to the ages of our children.

That evening, as I almost tangibly felt the vile depravity of sin, the light of the Gospel shone so brilliantly.  Romans 5:6-11:

“ ⁶ For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly. ⁷ For one will scarcely die for a righteous person—though perhaps for a good person one would dare even to die— ⁸ but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. ⁹ Since, therefore, we have now been justified by his blood, much more shall we be saved by him from the wrath of God. ¹⁰ For if while we were enemies we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son, much more, now that we are reconciled, shall we be saved by his life. ¹¹ More than that, we also rejoice in God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have now received reconciliation.”

While we were sinners, Christ died for us.  While we were enemies, we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son.  The Gospel is the complete opposite of Laura’s nightmare; it is news that is too good to be true.  But it is true.  Christ defeated evil, death, and sin through his death on the cross and his resurrection.  I remember in one of the interviews that Laura did the week her husband was killed, she quoted John 12:24:

“Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.”

What perspective Laura had only hours after this tragedy!  If you are interested in seeing my beautiful friend and her children, here is an interview she did a day or two after Haodong’s murder.

https://www.kansascity.com/news/local/crime/article216053660.html

As I mentioned, Laura and her family were in the United States on a visit.  Their home is in China (and has been for over 15 years for Laura); her children are Chinese.  When Haodong was killed on August 1, the children were a few weeks away from commencing a new school year in China.  In shock, they moved in with her parents in coastal North Carolina, where she enrolled the children in school (only to be uprooted a few weeks later as much of the NC coast was evacuated for Hurricane Francis).

As she and the children grieve Haodong’s death, they also dearly miss their life in China.  That is where Laura has lived since college, and where she thought she’d spend the rest of her life.  Her friends, the children’s friends, schools, their community, Haodong’s extended family…it’s all in China!  Please join us in passionately praying for this beautiful family.  For:

• Discernment and direction for Laura regarding her family’s next steps. Her work and her life has been in China for so many years.
• All those difficult “firsts” they are walking through this year (the first birthdays without Daddy, the first anniversary of Haodong’s death, etc).
• Peace for Laura and her children during the sentencing of her husband’s murderer (scheduled for June).
• God’s extraordinary provision for Laura and her children in every way: financially, emotional healing, a place to belong and to thrive.

So many have been generous with the Hao family in the wake of this tragedy.  If you would like to make a contribution to their GoFundMe page, simply click on this link.  There is also an organization that has placed Laura on a one-year sabbatical.  Contributions to that organization are tax deductible through July 2019.  I’d be happy to provide more information on that if you message me.

Thank you for praying for Laura and her children.  They are such precious ones!  Here they are with some of our kids a few months ago.

Sophia (and Will)

Joshua

Ian

Elliana (with Abby)

Thank you for continuing to pray for us!  Life is rolling along, and it is good.  I’ve wanted to write more frequently, and yet, I’m doing my best not to put too much pressure on myself.  Just to live, enjoy, and to handle the things that must get done each day.

My scans at the end of January were all clean!  Praise God.  Truly, an equally big miracle to me was that I wrestled with very little fear during that week of scans, waiting for results, etc.  Last September as I was finishing the bulk of my treatments, I thought fear would be a semi-permanent resident for quite some time.  It was a miracle to me that my heart was calm during the scans and while waiting for results.  I’m certainly human: when I was sitting with my oncologist, and he was silently and thoughtfully reading over my scan results, I literally held my breath.  Talk about tense.

Experiencing that peace was evidence of the work God has done in my heart this year.  A year ago, the cancer diagnosis (and the ensuing fear of dying young and leaving my family) made my blood run cold.  And it is still the opposite of what I want!  I told my Uncle Jay today that I pray often for 61 more years for me and Gabe.  Seventy sweet years of marriage is what I want; not ten.  Ninety-nine years of living, enjoying these beautiful children, watching as our extended family grows and changes.  That’s what I want.

But as I tell our children often, “we don’t always get what we want.”  This year, God has grown my trust in His love, His plans, and His wisdom tremendously.  I pray with my whole being that I’ll get to be the one to raise these four beautiful children.  I also truly believe that God can make beauty from ashes, and has good plans for my husband, myself, and our children.  I never could have imagined the good God brought from such a serious cancer diagnosis.  God grew my relationship with Himself, our marriage, my parenting, the way I prioritize, my perspective toward life and eternity.  For any one of these, I would journey through 2018 again.

I wonder if it’s easier to have this perspective because I am doing so well, and have such hope that I will survive this bout with cancer.  Perhaps.  If I was battling cancer, and the outcome was quite grim, would I still feel this way?  Have this strong confidence in God’s love, His goodness, and His plans?  Oh, I pray that I would.  I also pray that cancer is an enemy I’ll never face again.  That this is one hypothetical I will not know the answer to first-hand.  One thing I know: there is truth regardless of how I feel.  God IS love.  He IS good. And His plans can always be trusted.

I began an oral chemo pill in March that I will take for a year.  It is called Nerlynx, and was FDA approved recently (within the last few years).  My oncologist discussed the side-effects, as well as the fact that the patients who did the best in studies of the drug were “estrogen positive” patients.  My cancer was estrogen negative.  So it may not be as effective for me as it is for other patients.  I think that’s why my oncologist seemed “on the fence” about me taking the drug: he was not sure the hopeful benefit outweighed the side-effects that I’ll experience during the year I’m on Nerlynx.

It was still really important to me to take Nerlynx.  Truly, to do ANYTHING I can in this fight against cancer.  I do not mind the side effects.  I think it is one way I am practically demonstrating my love for Gabe and our kids – I’ve done everything I know to do.  Treatment-wise as well as changing our lifestyle / diet where needed.  Now, I can have a quiet confidence as I move forward in life.

And what a sweet life it is!  This picture is from earlier today.  Abby and Will earned treats from our treasure box today (happens once every week or two).  They both chose water guns and were testing them out.  As cute as the picture is from the back, I wish I could have been one of our neighbors walking by.  I wondered what they were thinking of Nate in his “big-boy underwear” as he potty trains, or the cluster of kids in the open doorway squealing with delight…until all broke into a little fight that Mama got to mediate.  Thank you, God, for such a sweet life.

I was diagnosed with cancer on a Friday in 2018.  That week was the darkest of my life so far.  When I say that now, it feels a bit melodramatic!  The worst of the treatments are over, and I am doing so well.  I look forward to a full and healthy life.

But a year ago?  My life had taken a very unexpected turn, and frankly, I did not know what lay around the corner.  I remember the first time we went over to the Phipps’ home, who became mentors on this journey.  I cried so hard that I struggled to talk to Gabe through my tears, “If I knew I would survive this, I really don’t care what I have to walk through.  No matter how bad the treatments are, I’ll do them.  I only want to live!  To raise these precious children and grow old with you.”  Boy, the emotions of those first few weeks.  They were DRAINING.

Exactly a year after I was diagnosed, Gabe and I sat together again with different dear mentors.  Once again, we held hands.  Once again, I was crying.  But instead of blubbering and sobbing and struggling to talk, I sat hushed and full of joy as I witnessed one of God’s sweetest miracles: two people becoming one.

I’m fairly confident Stephen and Lauren had no idea when they chose their wedding day that it was the anniversary of when I was diagnosed.  But God did.  And in His love, He allowed me to be at a wedding celebrating my heart out exactly a year after I experienced my greatest sorrow.

And how sweet it was.  These are no ordinary friends.  These are the kind who are hard to come by!  Brett and Carol (the groom’s parents) have been mentors since I was eighteen years old.  I have known Stephen (the groom), and Josh, Andrew, Kelly, and Mareah since they were children, and watched them develop into adults.

The wedding day was perfect.  A sunny, blue-sky day in Orlando.  The bride was beautiful; the groom captivated.   As they made their vows before God, I squeezed Gabe’s hand.  We’ve grown as we’ve walked out our vows this year.  “In sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part, according to God’s holy ordinance.”

We loved connecting with so many dear friends (the Rays, the Philips, Jen), and celebrating Stephen and Lauren’s big day.  When I woke up that morning, a verse was on my heart.  So much so that I googled it to find out the reference.  Ps. 34:3 “Glorify the Lord with me, let us exalt His name together!”  I needn’t have bothered.  Look at the sign that greeted us when we arrived at First Baptist for the wedding:

 

 

I mentioned that Brett and Carol Ray have been mentors for many years.  One of my favorite parts of their ministry is Brett’s “Tuesday Tiny Tips” – a free email delivered to my inbox each Tuesday.  Each week, he has a short tip on one of four topics: faith, family, marriage, or parenting.

He’s had such great feedback from the Tips, and so many folks wanting to know more, that Brett recently launched 10 minute podcasts that will give more details on the Tips each week.  I’ve had the privilege to review the first few, and have been blown away.  Really relevant, extremely helpful content.  (Its actually been on my to-do list for the past few days to sign up as a subscriber, so we can stream them anytime, share them with our small group, friends, etc).

Feel free to check out the Tips at: www.BrettRay.com.  You’ll love them.

 

When I was diagnosed last January, our family was only a few weeks away from a big trip.  We were planning to take Abby (5 at the time) and Kai (who was nursing) to visit Gabe’s aunties, uncles, and cousins who live in Hong Kong.  Gabe’s mom and my parents would all be meeting us in Hong Kong, and one of our nieces Ashley would be traveling with us.  The trip had been planned for almost a year, and all of us were really, really looking forward to it.

One little girl was by far the most excited!  Not only had Abby made a calendar to check off the days until the trip (see picture below for an example), but Hong Kong was all she talked about.  Every night when we tucked her in, she had a new question about the trip.  She was packing and unpacking herself daily, and would drag her suitcase around our home pretending it was the day we were leaving.

We planned a fun morning to our local kids museum one weekend.  And as we were at breakfast, I told Abby and Will that “the doctors found a sickness in Mommy’s body.  There’s very good medicine for it, but we have to stay in Raleigh and not go to Hong Kong so Mommy can get the special medicine.”  I knew this would be one of the bigger disappointments of her little life, and was so heart-broken to tell her the news.  Her response was surprising, and hurt my heart even more.  Instead of the tears I expected, she smiled really widely, blinked back tears, and said “I’m ok, Mommy.  I’m not sad.  I’m ok.”  It was as though I was watching her stuff all her disappointment deep down inside her heart.  She was not sure what to do with it.

The tears came later, the sadness, even the anger.   It was hard for both of us.

At one point, I remember telling her, “Abby, when Mommy is all done with treatment, we are going to take you on a special trip to celebrate.  Just you!  Where would you want to go?  We could go visit Auntie Anita and Uncle Allen in Chicago, Auntie Jill and Uncle Brett and the cousins in Colorado Springs…”

With no hesitation at all, she said, “Disneylord!”

Of course.  Disney.  Spoken like a true 5 year old.

We made no promises to take her to Disney, but when I heard that a good friend of ours was getting married in Orlando, I saw it as an opportunity to keep my promise to take her on a celebratory trip.  We booked the tickets, and began to look forward to it.

As January approached, I naturally began to think about being diagnosed a year ago.  Of course, I knew that I had the mammogram on a Monday and was diagnosed on a Friday.  Those and many other details are burned into my memory, and I believe always will be.  At some point, I checked a calendar to see what date it was – and was both stunned and delighted by God’s precious heart for us.  We would be at Disney celebrating in 2019 on the exact week that was the darkest of my life in 2018.

Memories continued to flood me as the milestones approached.  How sweet to be making such fun new memories to overlay those dark days from last year.  Exactly a year after that mammogram that shocked me to my core, I was driving the boys to meet Uncle Greg, and finishing up our last minute packing for Disney.  The next three days were a complete contrast as well: the endless waiting, bitter disappointment, wrestling, and tears from 2018 were traded for the joy of treating our little princess to Disney in 2019.

There were many magical memories, but I’ll share only two.  The first was before the trip even started!

Abby was over-the-top excited the morning of our trip.  The boys were already in Charlotte enjoying their cousins, and it was only Abby, Gabe, and I in the house getting ready to go.  We’ve got our system down before leaving town.  Gabe carries all the bags down and puts them by the door, before he heads back upstairs to do his pre-travel check-list.  I was in the kitchen making sandwiches to eat on the plane.  I heard Abby talking to herself as she finished her “packing” in the hallway.  She finished, and brought her bag of crafts and toys into the kitchen.

“Can I put my bag in the car, Mommy?”

“Sure, Sweetie.  I’m sure that’ll be a big help to Daddy.  Here, let me raise the garage door.”

I went back to packing snacks and lunches, and by the time I tuned back into what she was doing, she had the whole car packed!  I guess we weren’t moving quickly enough for her.  I still not sure how she muscled all those heavy bags into the trunk!

The second day at Disney, we went to Hollywood Studios.  She had watched videos of the new roller coaster “Slinky Dog Dash” and couldn’t wait to ride it.  We got there for the rope drop, and ran straight for the ride since it always has such a long line.  Of course, we assumed it would be the only time that day we’d get to ride it.  As we were waiting in line, Gabe checked our FastPasses on the Disney app, and noticed one for…Slinky Dog Dash at 11:00!  What??!  It’s impossible to get FastPasses for the new rides.  He grabbed them, and we were thrilled we’d get to ride it a second time.

After a full day in the park, we had ridden everything we wanted to, and told Abby we had time for just one more ride.  Of course, she picked Slinky Dog Dash!  So, back in line we went for another 90 minutes.  We were all excited to end on such a great ride, and enjoyed talking about the two days we’d spent at Disney while waiting.  We arrived at the front of the line around 7:55, 5 minutes before the park closed at 8:00pm.  It was a completely different experience to ride it in the dark, and we all had a ball!  As we got off, she started asking to ride it “just one more time!”  I glanced at my phone, and showed her it was exactly 8:00pm.  The park’s closing time.

We passed the entrance to Slinky Dog Dash where a Disney cast member was standing.  On a whim, and already knowing what the answer would be, I called out:

“The line is already closed, ma’am?”

“No, you’re still fine.  You can get in line.”

Abby yelled a “YES!!” and zipped into the line as Gabe and I started laughing.  Four times on Slinky Dog Dash?  And we got in right before the line closed…maybe five or six people before the end.  We laughed the whole time we waited about what a gift it was that we got to ride Abby’s favorite ride four times!  And the final ride was the most magical yet.  As we pulled out of the station, an outdoor show began its grand finale complete with fireworks.  The whole time we rode, fireworks and laughter intermingled and stood in such stark contrast to the dark days of 2018.  Pure joy.  Celebration at its best.  Thank you for the precious way you love us, Almighty God.

 

Monday was chemo treatment #17.  The last one.  The first six rounds were the brutal ones.  I was on four different drugs:

• Taxotere
• Carboplatin
• Herceptin
• Perjeta

After I completed those first six rounds, I have continued to go in for infusions every three weeks like clock-work to receive maintenance doses of Herceptin and Perjeta, which both target Her2+ breast cancers.  I received the 7^th one a week before I had the double mastectomy.  I did the 8^th four days after my reconstruction surgery.  I did several while I was undergoing radiation…and every 3 weeks since then.  Though Perjeta especially can have some unpleasant side effects, I’ve tolerated the regimen extremely well.

On Monday, I received my second dose of Zometa, which I have not had since chemo treatment #7 (in June).  It is a bone density drug that can help to counteract some of the damage chemo can do to the bones.  My oncologist also said there are studies that show that when it is given in conjunction with chemo, it can help to lower reoccurrence rates.

My good friend Susan came with me to the last infusion.  She has been such a faithful encourager on this journey.  It was fitting she was there for the last one: she and her husband Monte, and another couple we look up to at church (Pat and Karen), were the first people we saw at church the day after I was diagnosed.  I remember all four of them praying for us fervently that afternoon.  I did not know until later that both Karen and Susan have walked through cancer, and could truly empathize.  God, in his goodness, made sure we “bumped into” the four of them that afternoon.  What a precious and loving God!

Another friend (Anne) who has walked the breast cancer road, told me that on this journey there would be quite a few sprinters and a few marathoners running alongside of us.  Both are so important and needed.  In the early days after my diagnosis, we needed the army of sprinters who came alongside providing meals, child care, prayer, and support.  What an indescribable gift!

Susan has been one of the marathoners on my journey, and I cannot express how precious her friendship has been this year.  From that first day after my diagnosis until now, she and Monte have prayed for and supported Gabe and me.  She has come with me to chemo treatments, radiation appointments, lymphedema appointments (which I do not currently suffer from, praise God) and fittings for a compression sleeve (a funny, memorable experience!).  She came to a MUGA scan with me last January, and was at the hospital to greet us the day of my mastectomy (and waited with Gabe during the duration of the 3 or 4 hour surgery).  I remember a delicious meal she so carefully fixed to celebrate my birthday last February, when I was undergoing chemo and was so restricted in what I could eat.  It was a celebration when I did not feel like celebrating.  During this year, she has faithfully been a text away on the days when fear looms large, or I have needed prayer and perspective.  Simply because she walked through cancer 20 years ago, God has used her to represent hope to me, and has helped me believe this will simply be a chapter in my story – not my final chapter!

I am beyond grateful for the healing God has brought through chemo, surgery, radiation, and especially the physicians directing my care.  And I continue to be extremely thankful for each one of you who have walked this road with us.  We could not have done it without your prayers, support, love, meals, and so much other practical help.

The next steps are more scans, and a meeting with my oncologist on January 28^th to discuss the path forward.  I’ll keep you posted.

I was diagnosed with breast cancer last January.  On a Monday afternoon, I went in for what I thought would be a routine mammogram to examine a “milk-filled cyst” from nursing baby Kai.  I left shell-shocked: It was clear to me the radiologist thought the very large lump was cancer.  First thing the next morning, I had the biopsy and was told we’d have the results on Thursday.  Wednesday morning we woke up to a rare and beautiful sight in North Carolina: snow!  I knew it was a gift from God; few things delight me as much as snow.  But understandably, I felt numb that week.

I called our neighbor, Tracey Spampinato, whose gift and passion is photography.  She came over to photograph our family playing in the snow (the first 8 pictures below are hers).  We made a snowman, which I hadn’t done in years!  We never get a lot of snow in North Carolina.  Due to the weather, doctors’ offices were closed the day I was supposed to get my results.  So, I was diagnosed on that Friday afternoon.

Fast forward through the rest of winter, spring, summer, and fall 2018.  Chemo in the rearview mirror, two surgeries and radiation completed.  Only a few more “maintenance doses” of chemo to go (which has been very mild for me, thankfully).  When I heard it may snow in December, I was skeptical.  I always am until I SEE it snowing!

But sure enough, we woke up to a pristine, snow-covered wonderland.  It was similar to last years’ snow – quite a few inches of heavy, wet snow.  School and work were cancelled.  We laughed, played, made another snowman, threw snowballs, took pictures, drank hot chocolate, ate snow cream, and enjoyed a fire.  The December day was de-ja-vu, two snowy bookends for 2018.

My heart was in such a different place.  The sorrow, grieving, wrestling and fear of January were replaced by such celebration and joy in December.  God has brought the healing that we so earnestly asked him for.  It was a challenging year, yes.  It was filled with more physical pain than I’ve experienced so far.  But the year is over!  And God has faithfully walked with us through every moment of this trial.  We are grateful to our beautiful God for His love, hope, healing, and joy.

Yes, I know November has come and gone – like December has! – and that 2019 is around the corner.  Before it arrives, and while the memories are still so fresh, I’d like to capture November.

Abby’s birthday is in November, and as soon as the page turned on the calendar, her excited anticipation and planning intensified. She’s been talking about her birthday almost nightly since the spring.  It is so precious to see life through the eyes of children!

As her birthday neared, my overwhelming emotion was thankfulness.  I had frequent flashbacks to early spring starting chemo, when my daily goal was to see the children in the morning before preschool and to tuck them in each night. The first month of chemo was difficult emotionally for both Abby and me.  She did not like “sick mommy” any more than I liked feeling so sick.  Bedtime tuck-ins often came with tears and questions from Abby:

“Mommy, when will you be better?”

“Do you love me, Mommy?  I don’t feel like you really love me.  I haven’t gotten to spend any time with you today.”  (Talk about ripping my heart out!)

Since she brought up her birthday so often, I remember reassuring her frequently that Mommy should be all better by her birthday. And then we’d dream together for a few minutes about her birthday.  What we’d do, what gifts she wanted, what cake we’d make.

As her birthday drew nearer, and I remembered so many of those spring-time conversations, waves of thankfulness washed over me again and again.  I am better! I am well.  I was strong enough to walk out each birthday dream with my girl. We had a ball.  We made her cake together which was quite a production since she wanted a “rainbow cake”,  made homemade ice cream, had a few sweet friends over for a party at our house. She asked to sleep with Gabe & I for her birthday (so precious), and so we did.  It was special.

The best part was that as her birthday ended, we only had another week to wait until we boarded an airplane for Colorado, where we celebrated Thanksgiving with Jill & Brett’s family and my parents.  The airport and plane ride were fun for the whole family!  It has been exactly a year since we’d flown together (Thanksgiving last year was with Anita & Allen and Mom & Dad Chong in Chicago).  The kids were giddy and thrilled with every experience. Sure, it was a little busy and chaotic. It was a 4 hour flight with 4 little kids!  But I enjoyed absolutely every single minute.

It was precious to be strong enough and well enough to travel.  So much of this year, traveling did not appeal to me at all – it took energy I did not have. On the plane, thankfulness continued to wash over me.  I was here and well enough to travel.  I enjoyed the other passengers, who always give such classic reactions to one couple traveling with so many little ones.  I enjoyed talking to the flight attendants.  I enjoyed the kids’ excitement.  And I could not wait to be with the St. Georges!  It had been far too long since we’d seen some of them.  I had not been to visit them yet in Colorado, where they moved at the end of 2017.

We had such a special 9 days with them!  I loved seeing their home, the kids’ schools, hearing about all the latest accomplishments from my amazing nieces and nephews.  We got to see my cousin Cindy and her family, went to Garden of the Gods, Focus on the Family, Jill’s hand doctor, celebrated my Mom’s 70^that The Broadmoor and Mt. Princeton hot springs, and of course, celebrated Thanksgiving.  We played games, cooked, laughed, and shopped (my sister Jill and my husband Gabe, the Deal Master, make quite a combo on Black Friday).  It was sad to leave.

Thank you for praying for Jill’s hand and her second surgery. It is doing so much better!  She has much more mobility, and the doctor feels like the second surgery was a success.

Outside of three rounds of strep back-to-back in Oct & Nov (the first times I’ve ever had strep),  my health has been good.  There are a few pesky things left-over from surgery and radiation that I’m working through with a PT and personal trainer.  And I am still not running at full steam as before cancer.  But I am doing so well.  We are thankful.

It’s been almost exactly 3 months since Mom Chong returned home to Ohio in September.  She came during my first cycle of chemo in February, and except for a few respites visiting Anita & Allen in Chicago, she lived with us and served us the entire time of my treatment.  What a sacrifice on behalf of both Mom and Dad.

Dad, thank you for spending all your vacation time this year at our house in Raleigh.  You quietly and confidently step in to do whatever needs to be done: running kids to and from school, prepping meals, reading to the big kids, playing with the babies.  I will never forget how you were on a plane 48 hours after Mom Page came down with a bad case of bronchitis during chemo.  When we needed you, everything at home was put on hold so you could come.

Of course, the biggest sacrifice was not having your wife at home for seven months!  You worked, cooked for yourself, and made time to take care of all the household responsibilities that Mom normally handles.  All church functions were only you; the evenings and weekends were certainly more quiet and even lonely, I imagine.  Thank you for the sacrifices you made to enable Mom being with us.

Mom, there are no words sufficient to express our gratefulness.  Your presence alone was extremely supportive.  You were the “behind the scenes” person that made the household run smoothly.  There were a million little things you did that amounted to so much.

Thank you for taking such impeccable care of baby Kai, and bonding with him as though he was your own.  He was only a chubby 9 month old when you came, and you celebrated so many of his milestones with us: crawling, babbling, eating so many different things for the first time, first day of preschool, and now walking!  I remember one time this summer I was playing with him and he fell and bumped his head.  I held him as he cried big crocodile tears, but he would not be soothed until you held him.  Though it sounds sad, I am grateful Kai had you –  such a loving and nurturing “substitute mommy” during this season when I was often physically unable to care for him.

You blessed us by devoting yourself to my health and wellness during this season.  I remember hundreds of healthy snacks and meals you made, coaxing me to eat well even during chemo.  The fact that little Will thinks “you’re the best cook ever” (his words) means you really are!  If you can make vegetables appealing to a four-year-old boy, you’re pretty amazing!

You always made sure I had a fresh water to drink, supported me in exercising, cleaned and cleaned and cleaned to try and keep the germs away (no small task with four little ones around).  You kept up with post-surgical instructions, and made sure I was as comfortable as possible.  You enjoyed a revolving door as friends and family bought joy into the journey.  You lived this with us, walked with us, experienced with us.  Most of all you prayed for us and with us, believed with us, trusted God with us.

There will never be words to thank you for all you did, and especially all you are to us!  We felt so loved and supported by you both this year.  Thank you so much.