Where AM I?

 So many things to post on...! THIS is what happens when you are LIVING LIFE! Everyday an adventure! It's March here in Alaska, although for this past winter it now feels like April or May. The sun is shining warm, the cat stretched out in the dining room, the homeschooled teenage tucked away in her room. And me... taking a glance every few minutes at my beading table. Cluttered with beads and notions, a lamp from my dad shining- beckoning me to come sit and release creativity. Also! Also! My books from school not far, reminding me of a test next week.

So yes, school! I enrolled in our church's ministry school in the fall of 2022. I completed one full semester and then the need to pull back and focus on the teenager. As she grows closer to finishing with school, we enjoy the freedom of mid-day coffee times, visits to Bill, and hanging out with other homeschool friends. We practice driving now and then... More then times than now...

Bill and I celebrated 26 years of marriage in December. 26 years of love, kids, church family, family-family, long drives, fishing, Lord of the Rings, sickness (you all know about that), health!, joy, sorrow, strength and weakness. We've spent the last few years, since covid, traveling and camping (fishing) in the summers. We've found ourselves with all the kids and nieces and nephews and times of just the two of us, grateful, thankful for every trip. Our winters have been spent in Spiritual growth, individually and together. 

My dad passed on in November of 2024. I was able to spend the last two months of his life with him, praying with him and for him. He came the last week in August and I realized in those first few days I would need to be there when he first woke in the morning. He would wake, confused as to where he was at. If the confusion set in for too long, he would become anxious and exacerbate the emphysema/ COPD. This caused more anxiety and stress and worsen the breathing. So, if I was there when he woke up I could explain to him where he was, what was going on, and that I was there to help and we would make it through the day. He woke most days shortly after 8:00AM. Now, I find it such a blessing that of all the places my father could have come--God choose Maple Spring Wasilla. It is 1 mile from our church and it just so is planned by God that our church has Early Morning Prayer Monday-Saturday 7-8AM. So I went to early morning prayer and then to my dad every morning. One morning about a week after he had got here, I was in Early Morning Prayer and the call was made for anyone sick to come forward for prayer, but then they added, OR if you know of anyone sick and would like to stand in for them, come forward and we will pray for you. THAT was my sign. I marched up, stood there with my hands up and received prayer. When I got to my dad's room that morning, I took his hand and asked if I could pray for him. I took all those prayers prayed over me that morning and gave them to my dad. We said AMEN and he smiled. "Now, tell me where I am!" he said. I sit here laughing. He made me laugh everyday I was with him. EVERYDAY. See, I believe God saw I was going to need healing (read the last post), so I could freely laugh with my dad, everyday for 2 months. Now I sit here crying. Maybe this is why I find this blog so challenging! I go from laughing to crying to laughing. But OHHH WHAT A JOY IT IS! Two weeks after he got here and about a week after going in and praying with him first thing, I asked him "Dad, you know Jesus right? He is your Savior right?" "Well yeah I guess so" was his answer. "Well you want to know for sure right, you want to be sure He is your Savior and you are going to heaven one day, right?" He coughed and just looked at me. In that moment I could feel the presence of God in the room. Ask him again, "So dad, I would want to know, I would want to be sure, don't you?" Again, another cough (like a clearing his throat, like, I'm-trying-not-to-cry cough). "Dad, I could say it with you and I would know and you would know". He looked down at my mom's blanket and back at me. "We could do that"...Now for those of us that have gone to church pretty much all of our lives and have heard and SAID the sinner's prayer hundreds of times, nothing quite prepares you for that moment when you lead SOMEONE else into the prayer. I lead him through. My brain going everywhere, trying not to forget anything, my heart happy, so very happy and yet tears in my eyes. Voice quaking, ears attentive and amidst all of that I heard God say, "My son, my son, finally." I wanted to run around the room and hug him I wanted to shout, instead I opened my eyes to see him, wiping his eyes and clearing his throat. "Well, I just have to ask you something Rhonda," "What's that dad?" "WHERE AM I?"

~~~To be continued~~~

Love you, love me, love you, love me.

2.13.2021 Tomorrow's Journey

I sit here. Day 4 of isolation. So many thoughts, from ptsd to loneliness, abandoment, fear, anxiety. I thought I could do it all. I thought I had it all, I did. I had it all. And in a moment I was silanced. Silenced by a virus. Like tape around my mouth. Like a sock shoved deep into my throat. My breathing labored, my eyes dilated. I was back in the place I fought so hard to get away from. For two years I laid in bed most days, fighting to stay alive and one day I woke up and I didn't feel as sick, but my brain told me I was, so I medicated. Day in and day out a fog settled over my mind, I didn't want to be awake for my body ached of the memories. The joints in my body sore and tired, it hurt to move, to think, sleep. If I could just sleep for a little longer I would make it until tomorrow. Tomorrow I would get up, tomorrow I would fight, tomorrow would be my redemption and I would be saved. Tomorrow I wouldn't take as many pills, tomorrow I could look in the mirror and see beauty. And everyday I could only think about tomorrow. For I was living today only to get to tomorrow. Only tomorrow was getting farther and farther away-- like water slipping through my hands. It rushed over my palms and through my fingers and yet it felt slow and warm, comforting me and easing me through this day. But the calm, the slow, it didn't last as long today and everyday went slipping by. The peace, the sleep now haunting. The more I slept, the more exhausted I became and the less enjoyable it became. I found myself praying for sleep to get away from sleep. After many, many sleep filled nights and days, I awoke one day to look at my phone. I had take 17 steps that day. Although my brain was still in a fog, I could see clear as day. 17 steps. I took the TV out of the room that day. For tomorrow had come. I cut the pill in half that night and for 1 long year I suffered through shaking, sweating, double vision, the pounding in my head and the every noise beckoning me to just quit. It didn't happen every night, I would have nights that felt like a long sigh, like a walk on the beach with my feet in the sand, like a cat stretching in the sun. And a night or two later the head shakes would start up and so returned the surrounding feeling of,  "what was I doing here?", "How had I got here?" and "When would this be done?" On good days I could drive my highschoolers to school, and once I looked up "Celebrate Recovery Meets Here. I had been there, I knew the drill. I'm not in control, Work the steps, and on and on. So one night I pushed the double doors open and like a warm breeze, like a long, deep, full breath one foot stepped in front of another. I had found my home. I found people who loved me. For one evening, I could share these secrets with this group and no one judged, no one laughed, and they too had these same challenges. It was a moment I needed just to go into the next few months turned into years breathing became easier, the little orange pill once used to help me not be angry at cancer, used to help me not be sad at what I had lost. That little orange pill that wouldn't let me laugh or cry, wouldn't let me stand or speak-- it faded into the dark. And so now here I was learning how to laugh, how to cry, how to stand on my own feet and how to speak my truth. The learning to laugh came easy-- seeing my kids walk through the trail and into the house. And learning to cry-- never far from this sensitive girl's heart. I cried at church and with women from my Wednesday night Bible Study. I cried at the alcohol ruining my love one's lives. I cried to God and sometimes tried to cry away from God. Anger also came in quickly. I could find anything, at anytime to be angry about. Alcohol was the easiest. I could get mad at alcohol for ruining other people's lives and it had this way of lying to me that because they abused alcohol, then it was ruining my life. I found another set of double doors, on these it was labeled "Al Anon". I walked in full of tears and anger. I walked out with phone numbers for life long friends. I felt the need to return to Celebrate Recovery. I needed help relearning to feel and my biggest lesson to relearn was just around the corner... 

10.13.2020 Committed

 Here I sit committed to this blog. I read a blog once, about a man who was diagnosed with brain cancer. I found the blog because I wanted to know if tums helped with chemotheraphy drugs. His wife blogged that the only food he could hold down was tums and grapes. During chemo, the only thing I could eat would be grapes and tums. And I read through this blog. Then one day it stopped. Did he pass, what happened? Where did my friends go? I had started my blog by then and decided I would not let it fall away like that. Be it 1 reader or thousands. So here I am committed. Committed to telling this story. This crazy, wonderful story. Tonight I live and I reflect on what the last few years have looked like. I tried working for a few months and it took it's toll on my health, my family, just life in general. I got into counseling to heal from the emotional scars cancer had left in it's wake. For a good year I would say, I was in intensive therapy. I cried and cried and cried. I cried for myself, for my family, for Bill. Of all that I thought I had "lost" from the cancer. And sometime later I cried less and less. I smiled more. I had much more peace. Like that leaf floating away, the hurt, the pain I allowed to float away. Amazing things started happening after this. God was blessing me. I had a new committment to my faith. I held fast to HIS unchanging hand and my spiritual life was renewed with hope and grace and mercy. And about 6 months ago the corona virus broke out. I had some fears and hesitation at first mainly for my father who has lung issues. But I kept holding onto what I know to be true, Jesus came that I would have life, that my family would have life and life more abundantly. Again, soaring with HOPE and freedom. And now I am over six months out from my last appointment. I am in a place of complete trust again with my FATHER. I am trusting and having FAITH that I will be walked through this time of my life an unknown season, a season of reward and love. A season in which the enemy has to repay what was stolen from me. I am waiting on my FATHER, trusting HIM. CONTINUEING IN LOVE. He surely brought me though it and i cannot help but be ONLY COMMITTED to HIM. Love you, love me, love you, love me.

1.2.2020 KNEW

And like that, 9 years later and 1 year after stopping chemo. I am still getting better. I am still fighting cancer. I'm not fighting cancer on the scan or from the blood draw. I am fighting the cancer that was. The cancer that stole years of motherhood and dreams.
I had dreams once of a degree, of writing a book (and getting it published). I had dreams of the big city, dreams of traveling. Dreams of becoming someone, dreams of making a difference. I KNEW it was going to happen. I KNEW I was going to make it out of the village and do something big with my life. And as the years crept by it didn't bother me, I still had time and I loved the life carefully carved out for me. Then the diagnosis. I refused to let it get to me. I refused to let it steal my life, I refused to let it steal even one moment of time. I lived, I breathed in and out 15 minutes at a time. I REFUSED to look at life passing by. I HAD to make it through, ONE more day. I KNEW I was going to live. And I did day by day, moment by moment. One day I woke up and realized I wasn't sick anymore. I realized I didn't have to fight the blackness in my body. So I got out of bed. I physically got out of bed and decided not to let the images force me down. I started to live this life again. I started to live the life of laundry and dishes, carpooling and laughter. I started to live the life of Church and LOVE. I started to live the life of running and... life. A few years passed and I found myself back at work. I decided it was time for MY comeback. I was going to be someone. I was going to share my story and I was going to travel and inspire others. Cancer was going to PAY for what it had done to me physically. And in a moment, in a flash and yet over time, like a slow, slow growth I began to look inward. My brain. Thoughts encapsulated me... What was I thinking, how was I ever going to live like this, not with physical cancer but mental cancer. The reminding thoughts of where I had just been and what I had lost. I was still taking chemotherapy drugs every 3 weeks and it was wearing me down, mentally. I had to stop working. The cancer was gone from my body only memories remained in my head and every three weeks the reminder came around. So I fought on, this time mentally. And I realize I had to stop the chemo. I KNEW I was healed, now it was time to walk it out. I found myself in counseling with a therapist I trusted and I found my way back into Celebrate Recovery. See, I still had hurts, habits and hang-ups and I needed to release. As the layers came off, I saw. I saw that cancer had stolen my motherhood. I missed years of my kids growing up and I missed loads of laundry and dishes and carpooling. I missed working and advancing into becoming someone. And here tonight, I cry for what was stolen and like all woman at some point in our lives we look up and see our kids growing, making their own mistakes. I have cancer to blame. Most times I have chosen to be thankful for this journey, but tonight I am angry. I am angry at cancer and what it stole. I am coming to terms that I may never get published or get that degree. I am coming to terms that I have thousands of loads of laundry left to do and dishes clean tonight will be dirty tomorrow. I come to terms that I missed basketball games and poetry readings. I come to terms the missed opportunities to save a dollar, hug a neck, catch a tear. Maybe, maybe I can think of it though as that which I lost for a moment I can have for many, many, many years to come. But like I said tonight I cry for those moments lost.
I remember as a child I would play with leaves and put them in water and watch as they floated away. I wondered where they would go and if they would catch their dreams. Tonight those moments lost are like those leaves I let go. Watching as they float and HOPING for the best... KNOWING there has to be hope in all of this...
Love you, love me, love you, love me...

8.13.19 Cards in the Top Drawer

I have this drawer in a nightstand. Cluttered with chargers for various electronics, a lightbulb for "mom's lamp", favorite books and devotionals, pens and journals, batteries. A typical mom drawer. but tucked away are letters and cards. These letters and cards don't belong in the box of birthday cards in storage. These cards are the special ones. I have to keep them close. They are little reminders of love. A valentine's card from Bill, a few letters from a penpal in Fairbanks, and 16th Birthday card for my daughter. They all say love. There is a note in tucked away with a prayer that I would be blessed and have comfort in knowing how strong and powerful I am.
It has been years since my diagnosis and just recently (the last 10 months or so) I have found myself on a journey of letting go of my diagnosis. See, cancer didn't end for me the moment my doctor's said "No evidence of disease". It didn't end with the last round of chemotherapy. Cancer didn't end when I started running or went back to work, or even when I wished it and willed it. It's not even that I am afraid it will come back. It won't. I'm not afraid of that. I don't EVER want to live my life in that kind of fear. I want to LIVE, I want to LOVE, unbashedly and unashamed. So I am finding in order to get there, it's not just about living unafraid of cancer, it's about living unafraid of who I am, NOW. Who I am without cancer, without being a survivor. I will always be a survivior, but I don't have to LIVE like one. I can live, I can breathe and walk and run. I can carpool and do laundry. I can LOVE by finding a charger or a lightbulb. I can love by sharing my devotion and by writing my story here. And, I can love myself  and believe the words written and tucked away in this heart... Love you, love me, love you, love me.

4.25.19 Read

I have begun to read through this blog, this journal of sorts. And I cry. I cry for her, this woman who showed so much strength. She is wounded you see, she was wounded in this battle and didn't even realize it.
I stopped the drug herceptin in December. December 28, 2018. Exactly 8 years to the day I found the lump. I know I am healed. I know I'm done with that chapter in my life. And it is quite the journey letting go. It is a mind blowing experience learning THAT strong woman was me. I didn't feel strong going through it. It was necessary. There were no other options. Living every day was all I could do. IT WAS ALL I COULD DO. And now that I can do so much more, I feel lost. Cancer stole so much and gave so much, I feel so very lost in this survivorship. I do know that I will grow from this. I can ONLY grow. I didn't go through all this crap to just come out wounded and not stronger. For this minute I will read back through and cry. Will you read back with me? Take my hand as you did 8 years ago and we will journey through...

https://myjourneythroughbreastcancerdiagnosis.blogspot.com/?m=1

Love you. Love me. Love you. Love me.

9.21.18 Overcoming moment to moment

Wow. It's been a long time! There was this band, Backyard Tire Fire, and I loved their song, "Been a Long Time". I can't seem to find this song anywhere.
It reminded me of over-comers. I think part of the lyrics were, "It's been a long time since the skin I've been in felt like mine".
So here we are today.  I've been doing more soul searching, I've been doing some house cleaning on this soul of mine. I have been for some time, I just now realized I am taking the next steps. I will one day find the time to read through this blog and I am sure I will find hope and inspiration!
I have heard in the last two days, "Who are you?"
"What is your story?"
"Do you know who you are?"
"Do you know what has happened?"
And I have been answering these questions, pondering them, and answering them.
My first answer is, "I am Rhonda, I am a survivor. A survivor of more than cancer. A survivor of sexual abuse. A survivor of addiction. A survivor of life."
My story is long, sometimes boring, sometimes funny, sometimes or a lot of times challenging. My story includes you the reader and those who have yet to hear this story.
What has happened? Life. No bigger, no smaller than anyone else. No more challenging, no less challenging.
I really do feel as though I have been awakened at times from this crazy dream. Other times I just glimpse back and feel so very, very grateful.
I have also asked myself, what is my calling? What is my destiny? My calling is to love others, to proclaim to others God's grace, love and mercy. It sounds so cliche, and I'm sure it will coming from a computer screen. But to hear me, to hear my story is another thing. To hear of how much I love you, you would then see.
My destiny. Who do I have a heart for? People. That too would also be the cliche answer. My heart is for those who are hurting. Those who are fighting addiction. Those who have been sexually abused, those who are fighting cancer. My heart is for those whose mothers, sisters, wives, friends are fighting cancer. I can tell you a little of how they feel. They feel overwhelmed and loved. By YOU loving them through this. YOUR love is getting them through. For the addicts, YOUR love is getting them through. Day by day, moment by moment.
When I was going through the really crappy chemo, I would pray, "Lord, help me to make it through until 4:00PM when Bill gets home. I just need to make it to 4:00PM." God said, "Just make it through this next 15 minutes. You only have to make it through the next 15 minutes, and then the next 15 and the next 15." And I did that. Minute by minute. And here I am 7 years later, living moment by moment hoping I can make a difference THIS moment!