Monday, October 13, 2014
Weapons of mass destruction
When I was a child, I loved going to Vacation Bible School every summer. It was a time when our church reached out to the neighborhood spreading the gospel of Christ to children who may never have heard the good news before. It was a fun time with games and crafts. It was also a time for memorizing Scripture and hiding God's Word in our hearts. Those dedicated men and women who volunteered their time to teach us will always have a special place in my heart. This morning, one of the songs from VBS popped into my mind:
I'm in the Lord's Army (sung to the tune of the Old Gray Mare She Ain't what she used to be)
I may never march in the infantry
Ride in the cavalry
Shoot the artillery
I may never fly o'er the enemy
But I'm in the Lord's army!
Yes Sir!
I'm in the Lord's army!
Yes sir!
I'm in the Lord's army!
Yes sir!
I may never march in the infantry
Ride in the cavalry
Shoot the artillery
I may never fly o'er the enemy
But I'm in the Lord's army!
Yes sir!
I remember that song so well! We would march up and down the aisles of the church singing at the top of our lungs. Little soldiers proud to be part of the army of the Lord. Little did I know that more than 48 years later, I'd still think about that song. As an 8 year old child back then, I was a new Christian and I was just learning how to prepare myself for spiritual battles that would come my way in the future. I'm a very visual person and as we sang our little song, I imagined myself suited up in battle gear...a metal helmet upon my head, a rifle stock in my hand, and heavy leather boots upon my feet. I was ready for action...or so I thought. Childhood games, what fun they were to play back then.
Today, I'm still a visual person. As I lay under the linear accelerator, receiving one of my last 3 doses of radiation, I began to hum "I'm in the Lord's Army." I began thinking, as the beams of radiation were being carefully aimed at my body, about the recent war I'd been engaged in and how my surgery had removed the immediate threat of Cancer when the tumor was taken out. Although the initial threat had been removed, there were surely rogue enemy Cancer cells lurking in my body. The battle raged on but this time, we'd pulled out weapons of mass destruction....radiation that would find those hiding warriors and wipe them out. As I hummed the chorus of the song, I found myself getting louder as I visualized the radiation zapping each and every single Cancer cell that remained in my body.
The radiation tech came in to adjust the machine and she'd walked so softly, I hadn't been aware that she was there. She made a comment about the song I was humming and I had to laugh to myself. She commented that she had never heard someone humming while going through treatment before and that I must be in a really good mood. I told her that I was and that I was just visualizing the radiation doing its work. I found that the more I visualized the radiation obliterating the Cancer, the more positive my thoughts became. Instead of focusing on the negative, the radiation burns, the fatigue, and the pain, I was focusing on how wonderful it was to know that the Cancer was being destroyed.
I couldn't help but think about Vacation Bible School again, but this time, I was remembering the story of David and Goliath. David was a young boy who loved his slingshot. He had practiced shooting it over and over again and had gotten to be pretty good with it. I imagine he used it to kill small birds or knock stacks of rocks over in fun but one day, his good aim took down a huge Philistine giant. Even though David took out the biggest threat, just like my initial cancerous tumor, the rest of the army still had to be dealt with...and that's where the radiation came into play.
Sure, I've had an occasional thought about the possibility of one rogue cell digging in and finding the perfect hiding place only to appear at a later date...but that is just fear taunting me. I remember once reading an acrostic for the word fear and this is what it said:
False
Evidence
Appearing
Real
Even though at times fear can seem to be very real, it has no power over me. My weapons begin in my mind when I hold every thought captive. If I can remember that my mind is where the battle begins, I'll have begun to win the fight even before it gets into full swing. Only 2 more radiation treatments to go...as I buckle up my boots and prepare to march, I know God's already got those radiation beams aimed exactly where they need to go and those nasty stragglers are going to be forced out of hiding and into the light where they can be zapped to kingdom come!
©bonnie annis all rights reserved
"He who is in me is greater than he who is in the world" (1 John 4:4).
"The LORD is my light and my salvation— whom will I fear? The LORD is the strength of my life; of whom will I be afraid?" Psalm 27:1
Sunday, October 12, 2014
He's the glue
Earlier this year we decided to put our house up for sale, the one we'd loved and lived in for over 21 years. It was time. Time to downsize...time to prepare for retirement...time to move on. In preparation for the sale, I began going through the house, room by room, looking for things that needed to be repaired or replaced. Living in a house that long, you don't notice the doors that creak, the floorboards that are loose, and the wallpaper that has yellowed...you just live there day in and day out because it's comfortable, it feels like home. So I decided to go out the front door and walk back into the house with "new eyes"...eyes of a guest...what would I see, where would I look, if I was someone else, what would I criticize?
I walked through the house into the entryway...nothing out of the ordinary there, except maybe a few touch ups of paint for the walls after our photographs were taken down. Those little nail holes would be nothing to fill in and paint over. Moving up the stairs, toward the bedrooms, I noticed more minor cosmetic flaws that would be easily taken care of by a little paint or glue. When I walked into the master bedroom, there was nothing that needed attention except the wallpaper I'd foolishly put up around the vanity area. I'd put up a more modern print to cover the 70s paper the past owners had used. Ten years or more had gone by since I'd glued and hung that first strip of paper. I examined it closely. At the seams, there had been some loosening. Wallpaper upon wallpaper...I had never been taught the proper way to hang it, so I'd done the best I could. I thought I'd done a fine job, but I noticed that the places where the seams overlapped had some gaps. The glue hadn't held well where the paper didn't meet the wall properly. Vinyl upon vinyl didn't hold together well. As I looked closer, I tried to decide whether I need to just add more glue or if I needed to take down the entire area. The perfectionist in me decided to remove all of it. The vanity area wasn't very large, in fact, it was probably only a 12 foot by 12 foot area. The wallpaper covered 2 entire walls and then partially covered the area around my husband's closet and the alcove. It shouldn't be too bad to tackle...maybe a day's worth of work.
Picking at a loose seam, I tore at the wallpaper thinking an entire sheet would easily come off in my hands. Instead of a large sheet of wallpaper, all I got was a tiny sliver...the glue held tightly. This wasn't going to be as easy as I thought, so I went to the hardware store and bought some wallpaper remover, a couple of large sponges, and a scraper. When I got home with my supplies, I spread a plastic drop cloth out over the carpet. I knew this was going to be a messy job. Donning my rubber gloves, I dipped the large sponge into the huge bucket of wallpaper remover and slapped it against the wall. Rubbing in large circles, I spread the remover around to cover a large section, as the instructions explained, and waited. The wallpaper remover had to soak through not only the vinyl wallpaper, but through paper backing and into the glue beneath. There were many layers and they did not want to let go easily!
When the wallpaper looked wet enough and ready to peel off, I took the scraper and pushed against the seam. Gently, I worked for fear of gouging the wall underneath. The vinyl paper and the paper backing came off fairly easily, but the glue did not want to let go at all. It took another application of the remover to loosen it to the point of being able to scrape it away completely.
What started out as a partial day's job, turned into a week's worth of work. Diligently, I applied wallpaper removed, waited, scraped, and reapplied it. It was soggy and messy and wet. Stips of wallpaper and gobs of wet glue lay splattered all over the drop cloth and on me. No matter how neat I tried to be with the project, it was insanely messy. I hated wallpaper and I vowed never to put it up again in my life.
Finally, after days and days of work, I had removed every tiny piece of that wallpaper. I stood back and looked at the naked walls. They were smooth and clean, ready for a coat of new paint. I envisioned the buyers remarking at how perfect the walls were and how they loved the paint color I'd chosen.
I waited a few days to make sure the walls were completely dry before applying a coat of primer and then the 2 coats of paint. When I completed the job, I stood back and looked closely. It was difficult to tell there had ever been wallpaper on these walls. If I had not known it was there, I would have thought these walls had only held paint for all these years.
Today I was reminded of those wallpapered walls. As I applied the Silvadene to my radiation burns. Instead of taking off, I was putting on. I glopped the thick, white cream on top of my burns in an effort to soothe the burning and itching. Layer upon layer, I applied the cream, waiting for it to sink in deep and do its healing work. The scars from the burns are deep and have made permanent marks upon my skin. I'm wondering if they'll fade way over time. Maybe when the radiation treatments are over, my skin will heal again, completely hiding the fact that I ever was burned. I'm hoping that over time my skin will look new again...fresh and rejuvenated, just like the walls with the fresh coat of paint.
Cancer has been messy. It has stripped away my dignity. It has robbed me of my femininity...but it has also revealed layer upon layer of deep seated emotions. As I peel back one at a time, I learn something more about myself. The glue that has been holding me together has been my faith. Instead of wanting to strip away the glue, as I needed to do with the wallpaper removal, I don't want one tiny smidgen of my faith glue to be removed...in fact, I want more to be added!
There are layers of hurt and pain that have needed to be removed and I am thankful that Cancer has brought those to light. Without the experience of this deep level of physical suffering, those layers may have remained unexposed for years and years....but now I am able to peel them back one at a time, process them and move on. When all the layers, the protective layers that I've put up over the years, have been stripped away, all that will be left is my faith...the glue that holds everything together.
The buyers will never know the walls of their new house were recently covered in hideous, ugly wallpaper. All they will see is clean, nicely painted, smooth walls. And just like the vanity area, only I know all the hard work that went into peeling off layer after layer. Only I know the hard work that was involved in stripping it all away and it's the same way with this Cancer...only I know how it's changing me...stripping me bare and revealing weak spots that need a healing work...no, that's not entirely true...Jesus knows too because you see, He's the glue!
©bonnie annis all rights reserved
I walked through the house into the entryway...nothing out of the ordinary there, except maybe a few touch ups of paint for the walls after our photographs were taken down. Those little nail holes would be nothing to fill in and paint over. Moving up the stairs, toward the bedrooms, I noticed more minor cosmetic flaws that would be easily taken care of by a little paint or glue. When I walked into the master bedroom, there was nothing that needed attention except the wallpaper I'd foolishly put up around the vanity area. I'd put up a more modern print to cover the 70s paper the past owners had used. Ten years or more had gone by since I'd glued and hung that first strip of paper. I examined it closely. At the seams, there had been some loosening. Wallpaper upon wallpaper...I had never been taught the proper way to hang it, so I'd done the best I could. I thought I'd done a fine job, but I noticed that the places where the seams overlapped had some gaps. The glue hadn't held well where the paper didn't meet the wall properly. Vinyl upon vinyl didn't hold together well. As I looked closer, I tried to decide whether I need to just add more glue or if I needed to take down the entire area. The perfectionist in me decided to remove all of it. The vanity area wasn't very large, in fact, it was probably only a 12 foot by 12 foot area. The wallpaper covered 2 entire walls and then partially covered the area around my husband's closet and the alcove. It shouldn't be too bad to tackle...maybe a day's worth of work.
Picking at a loose seam, I tore at the wallpaper thinking an entire sheet would easily come off in my hands. Instead of a large sheet of wallpaper, all I got was a tiny sliver...the glue held tightly. This wasn't going to be as easy as I thought, so I went to the hardware store and bought some wallpaper remover, a couple of large sponges, and a scraper. When I got home with my supplies, I spread a plastic drop cloth out over the carpet. I knew this was going to be a messy job. Donning my rubber gloves, I dipped the large sponge into the huge bucket of wallpaper remover and slapped it against the wall. Rubbing in large circles, I spread the remover around to cover a large section, as the instructions explained, and waited. The wallpaper remover had to soak through not only the vinyl wallpaper, but through paper backing and into the glue beneath. There were many layers and they did not want to let go easily!
When the wallpaper looked wet enough and ready to peel off, I took the scraper and pushed against the seam. Gently, I worked for fear of gouging the wall underneath. The vinyl paper and the paper backing came off fairly easily, but the glue did not want to let go at all. It took another application of the remover to loosen it to the point of being able to scrape it away completely.
What started out as a partial day's job, turned into a week's worth of work. Diligently, I applied wallpaper removed, waited, scraped, and reapplied it. It was soggy and messy and wet. Stips of wallpaper and gobs of wet glue lay splattered all over the drop cloth and on me. No matter how neat I tried to be with the project, it was insanely messy. I hated wallpaper and I vowed never to put it up again in my life.
Finally, after days and days of work, I had removed every tiny piece of that wallpaper. I stood back and looked at the naked walls. They were smooth and clean, ready for a coat of new paint. I envisioned the buyers remarking at how perfect the walls were and how they loved the paint color I'd chosen.
I waited a few days to make sure the walls were completely dry before applying a coat of primer and then the 2 coats of paint. When I completed the job, I stood back and looked closely. It was difficult to tell there had ever been wallpaper on these walls. If I had not known it was there, I would have thought these walls had only held paint for all these years.
Today I was reminded of those wallpapered walls. As I applied the Silvadene to my radiation burns. Instead of taking off, I was putting on. I glopped the thick, white cream on top of my burns in an effort to soothe the burning and itching. Layer upon layer, I applied the cream, waiting for it to sink in deep and do its healing work. The scars from the burns are deep and have made permanent marks upon my skin. I'm wondering if they'll fade way over time. Maybe when the radiation treatments are over, my skin will heal again, completely hiding the fact that I ever was burned. I'm hoping that over time my skin will look new again...fresh and rejuvenated, just like the walls with the fresh coat of paint.
Cancer has been messy. It has stripped away my dignity. It has robbed me of my femininity...but it has also revealed layer upon layer of deep seated emotions. As I peel back one at a time, I learn something more about myself. The glue that has been holding me together has been my faith. Instead of wanting to strip away the glue, as I needed to do with the wallpaper removal, I don't want one tiny smidgen of my faith glue to be removed...in fact, I want more to be added!
There are layers of hurt and pain that have needed to be removed and I am thankful that Cancer has brought those to light. Without the experience of this deep level of physical suffering, those layers may have remained unexposed for years and years....but now I am able to peel them back one at a time, process them and move on. When all the layers, the protective layers that I've put up over the years, have been stripped away, all that will be left is my faith...the glue that holds everything together.
The buyers will never know the walls of their new house were recently covered in hideous, ugly wallpaper. All they will see is clean, nicely painted, smooth walls. And just like the vanity area, only I know all the hard work that went into peeling off layer after layer. Only I know the hard work that was involved in stripping it all away and it's the same way with this Cancer...only I know how it's changing me...stripping me bare and revealing weak spots that need a healing work...no, that's not entirely true...Jesus knows too because you see, He's the glue!
©bonnie annis all rights reserved
Saturday, October 11, 2014
A bird with a broken wing
I find myself feeling wounded and broken lately. It feels as if I'm falling. I am the wounded bird with the broken wing and I wonder, will I ever fly again? I see myself struggling on the cold, hard, ground...flapping around in circles, beating my one good wing as hard and as fast as I can, but going nowhere. I long to be scooped up and carried to safety, laid gently upon a soft place where it's quiet and peaceful so I can heal. Time ticks away, day by day, and I wait. My brokenness is painful. I feel alone and out of place. I wonder, did that little bird feel the same way when I took it from the ground where the air was fresh? Did its little heart beat faster as I carried it inside? Was it terrified as I lowered the top of the box casting it into total darkness?
There in the dark, the little bird rested. It was quiet and calm and peaceful. There was no stress. The broken wing could mend. Daily, I checked on him, offering water and food but without any luck. And then one day, I heard a scratching noise coming from inside the box...movement. Slowly lifting the lid, I saw the bird struggling for freedom, but the time had not come...the wing was still mending.
Many days passed by. I was afraid the little bird would die for lack of food, but he did not. The movement inside the box increased. Soon my mother said it was time to set him free. "But will he fly again?" I said. "We'll have to watch and wait and see," said my mother, and so we did. I carried the box outside, into the front yard, and as I lifted the lid to the box, the bird flew to his freedom. He never looked back in thanks, he just keep moving...soaring overhead as he knew to do. I watched silently from the ground below with a thankful heart.
I am like that little bird in so many ways. Through circumstances beyond my control, I've become broken and bruised...damaged. It is in my nature to want to be whole again, to be healed and well. On Wednesday, I'll finish radiation treatments. My body will need time to recover from the burns. I'll need to rest and let my cells rejuvenate. I'll need a quiet, restful place. It will take time and I must be patient. I long to fly but it's not time just yet. Will I fly again? Will I be okay? I want to think I will. I'm praying for strength to get through this and I know God hears my prayers. I know He wants me to be whole again...He wants to see me restored, but I'll be changed. I won't be the same again...I'll be different.
Does God have a heart for the broken and wounded too? I know He does. He holds them close to His heart and loves them into wholeness. I may not feel like I'll fly again today, but there will come a day when I will fly again...in fact, I'll not only fly; I'll soar. I just have to give myself time.
©bonnie annis all rights reserved
The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit. Psalm 34:18
Friday, October 10, 2014
The eye of the beholder
beauty...having qualities that delight the senses, especially the sense of sight, having beauty; delighting the senses or mind...definitely not me. no...i'm not full of beauty, but he tells me i am. every single day of our lives together, he's told me that i am beautiful...even when i know i'm not, when i know the inside of me doesn't match up with the outside of me, when i'm broken inside and unlovely...when i can't even look at myself in the mirror. he sees past the countless number of bruises on my body from failed needle sticks...my last visit to the emergency room. his eyes don't focus on the ugly, angry red burns from radiation...he chooses not to see the massive, screaming scars across my chest...instead, he looks me right in the eyes and says, "do you know you're beautiful?" he does this several times a day and each time he asks me the question, i always say, "no," as i hold my head down in shame. what does he see that i don't? sometimes i think he sees straight into my soul...his gentle hand holding my chin steady as my lip quivers and tears stream down my face. he's seen my pain, he's seen my hurt, he's wiped away my tears. i am so touched that he chooses not to see only the outside of me, but the inside of me that is wounded, too. my heart is covered with scars that have healed over from past hurts, rejections, and pain...though they are healed over, they are still there...etched permanent reminders. i don't deserve such love...he is so giving, so kind, so loyal, so tender, but i am so thankful that he's mine. he loves me unconditionally, always. even though he knows the real me, the one who is often unlovely, unlovable, unacceptable...he loves me anyway. i don't even remember when he started to tell me i was beautiful...it must have been even before we were married but this i do know, he's never let one day slip by without reminding me...not...one...day. hearing something thousands of times doesn't make it believeable, but oh, how i want to believe...maybe one day, i'll be able to see what he sees. maybe one day, my heart will be completely whole and all the scars will be erased....forever. maybe one day, when he takes my face in his big, manly, hands and forces my eyes to catch his, i'll hear his words, "do you know you're beautiful?" and i'll be able to finally say, "yes...yes, i know....yes i believe...yes...yes...YES!" maybe, just maybe that day will come...i am hoping it will because i desperately want it. i want to know that i am full of beauty inside and out. i want to be able to see what he sees and i want to believe...
©bonnie annis all rights reserved
©bonnie annis all rights reserved
Thursday, October 9, 2014
On death and dying
Yesterday I received a phone call from the Newnan Times Herald asking to do a phone interview with me on my struggle with Breast Cancer. For over an hour, I listened as the journalist asked me one question after another. I could tell by the sound of his voice that he was a young man in his late 20's or early 30's. Each question he asked allowed me to share my story. As I was speaking, I could tell he was quickly jotting down notes because I could hear the distinct sound of pen set to paper. I tried to speak a little slower so he wouldn't have to struggle to write so fast.
I was honored that the journalist wanted to include my story in the series for October. October is Breast Cancer awareness month and the paper was trying to include true life accounts of women going through different phases of treatment. I think I shocked the young journalist when I told him I didn't like the way celebrities glamorized Breast Cancer and I referred to the recent People magazine cover done by Joan Lunden. I'll be curious to see whether or not that comment makes it into print.
As the interview was winding down, I couldn't help but think of the people I've known in my life who have succumbed to one form of cancer or another. Sweet people who struggled valiantly. Christians who chose to use their faith as their primary method of fighting. Some of the bravest women I know include my Great Aunt Myra and my grandmother. Both of these ladies died from brain cancer. Then there are two other women I was honored to know, Rachael Ross and Debbie Jackson. Both of those women were fairly young when diagnosed. Both of them fought hard to live. Both of them carried their faith with them on each step of their journey. Both of them died a painful death.
All over the Internet and in the news has been the story of another young woman, Brittany Maynard. A 29 year old woman dying of brain cancer who plans to take a pill given to her by her doctors as she wants to choose her own death and avoid hospice and the suffering her brain-tumor cancer may entail — Her story-gone-viral speaks of her plan to swallow the pill and choose death on her own terms in her own bedroom with her husband beside her and her favorite music playing in the background. Her story is raw — and she has all our love and prayers…. Before she dies by assisted suicide, Brittany states that she wants to use the rest of her time on earth to lobby for every American to have access to assisted suicide services.
That story greatly disturbed me. I wondered, when I read it, whether or not she was a Christian. I think she probably was not. How can someone who has faith in a loving, kind, and merciful God usurp His authority over her own life? How can she not trust that He has a plan for her as she goes through this trial? And even if He chooses not to heal her, why can't she trust Him to carry her through the valley of the shadow of death?
After I read Brittany's story, I read another story. A story that spoke to my heart. A sister in Christ was so moved by Brittany's lack of hope and direction that she chose to reach out to her through her own painful journey with cancer. This story is of Kara Tippetts. Kara is dying, too. Read the email she wrote to Brittany:
"Suffering is not the absence of goodness, it is not the absence of beauty, but perhaps it can be the place where true beauty can be known.
In your choosing your own death, you are robbing those that love you with the such tenderness, the opportunity of meeting you in your last moments and extending you love in your last breaths.
As I sat on the bed of my young daughter praying for you, I wondered over the impossibility of understanding that one day the story of my young daughter will be made beautiful in her living because she witnessed my dying.
That last kiss, that last warm touch, that last breath, matters — but it was never intended for us to decide when that last breath is breathed.
Knowing Jesus, knowing that He understands my hard goodbye, He walks with me in my dying. My heart longs for you to know Him in your dying. Because in His dying, He protected my living. My living beyond this place.
You have been told a lie. A horrible lie, that your dying will not be beautiful. That the suffering will be too great.
Today my oncologist and I spoke of your dying, of my dying, and of the beautiful partnership I have with my doctors in carrying me to my last moments with gentle care. For two thousand years doctors have lived beside the beautiful stream of protecting life and lovingly meeting patients in their dying with grace.
The doctor that prescribed you that pill you carry with you that will hasten your last breath has walked away from the Hippocratic oath that says, “first, do no harm.” He or she has walked away from the oath that has protected life and the beautiful dying we are granted. The doctors agreeing to such medicine are walking away from the beautiful protection of the Hippocratic oath.
There are also people who are speaking in ugly tones that make those of us who believe in Jesus seem unsafe, unkind, or unloving. Will you forgive us for the voices that feel like they are screaming at you from a heart that isn’t loving.
But in my whispering, pleading, loving voice dear heart- will you hear my heart ask you, beg you, plead with you — not to take that pill. Yes, your dying will be hard, but it will not be without beauty
More importantly, will you hear from my heart that Jesus loves you. He loves you. He loves you. He died an awful death upon a cross so that you would know Him today that we would no longer live separate from Him and in our death. He died and His death happened, it is not simply a story.
He died and He overcame death three days later, and in that overcoming of death He overcame the death you and I are facing in our cancer. He longs to know you, to shepherd you in your dying, and to give you life and give you life abundant- eternal life.
For everyone living knowing death is eminent- that we all will one day face this it – the question that is most important. Who is this Jesus, and what does He have to do with my dying? Please do not take that pill before you ask yourself that question.
It’s a question we all must ask, as we are all dying.
I recently wrote a book, The Hardest Peace, and I also blog about my journey of my living and my journey towards my last breath. It is not simply a story of dying of cancer, but of living this breath. It’s a book for each of us that has breath still to breath, to embrace our living, and to look upon our dying with grace. Living in BIG LOVE and meeting my end in love. Stunning, important, love.
But more than my book, I would jump on a plane tomorrow to meet you and share the beautiful brokenness of my story and meet you in yours if you would ever consider having me.
I pray my words reach you.
I pray they reach the multitudes that are looking at your story and believing the lie that suffering is a mistake, that dying isn’t to be braved, that choosing our death is the courageous story.
No – hastening death was never what God intended.
But in our dying, He does meet us with His beautiful grace.
My heart hurts that they have decided to swim from the shores of grace that it protected in our living and dying.
I get to partner with my doctor in my dying, and it’s going to be a beautiful and painful journey for us all.
But, hear me — it is not a mistake —
beauty will meet us in that last breath."
Do you see the different perspectives? Brittany has no hope. She thinks she's making a wise decision, planning her own death, taking matters into her own hands. She wants to be in control on the last days of her life. She's chosen exactly how and when and where she wants to leave this earth. Kara, on the other hand, has chosen to take one moment at a time. To trust God every step of the way even when the way is unclear...and in her trusting, she has peace...she has hope...she knows her Savior loves her and wants the best for her...even if that means dying.
I hung up the phone from the interview and went into the living room to talk with my husband. I told him I didn't know how I really felt about the notoriety I'd receive from the newspaper article when it was published. Yes, it was an honor to be asked to share my story and hopefully, the journalist will include the statements I made on my faith. I want others to know that I, like Kara Tippetts, am choosing to trust God with each step of my journey and no, the steps aren't easy. They are steep, and hard, and burdensome...but I choose to trust. Unlike Brittany Maynard, I am choosing to continue on with my battle. I would never presume to know God's will for me by planning to take my own life.
I can understand Brittany's desperation. I can understand that given her prognosis, of terminal stage 4 brain cancer, that things seem bleak...but on the other hand, I know the power of my God! I have seen Him completely heal and I have seen Him allow people to die. His will is His alone. His ways are not our ways and if Brittany could understand that, I'm sure her story would be very different.
In the days ahead, I will be praying specifically for Brittany. I will be asking God to become so real in her life that she can't help but know Him personally. I will be praying for her to make a radical change in her life and to cancel her plans of taking her own life. I will be asking God to give her a clear understanding of His plan for her. If He so chooses, God could completely, in an instant, heal her body and remove every speck of cancer from her life. I have faith to believe this because I know God's Word to be true. I am thankful that I don't have to walk in darkness, as Brittany does. My God is bigger than my cancer and I am so very grateful that He is!
©bonnie annis all rights reserved
I was honored that the journalist wanted to include my story in the series for October. October is Breast Cancer awareness month and the paper was trying to include true life accounts of women going through different phases of treatment. I think I shocked the young journalist when I told him I didn't like the way celebrities glamorized Breast Cancer and I referred to the recent People magazine cover done by Joan Lunden. I'll be curious to see whether or not that comment makes it into print.
As the interview was winding down, I couldn't help but think of the people I've known in my life who have succumbed to one form of cancer or another. Sweet people who struggled valiantly. Christians who chose to use their faith as their primary method of fighting. Some of the bravest women I know include my Great Aunt Myra and my grandmother. Both of these ladies died from brain cancer. Then there are two other women I was honored to know, Rachael Ross and Debbie Jackson. Both of those women were fairly young when diagnosed. Both of them fought hard to live. Both of them carried their faith with them on each step of their journey. Both of them died a painful death.
All over the Internet and in the news has been the story of another young woman, Brittany Maynard. A 29 year old woman dying of brain cancer who plans to take a pill given to her by her doctors as she wants to choose her own death and avoid hospice and the suffering her brain-tumor cancer may entail — Her story-gone-viral speaks of her plan to swallow the pill and choose death on her own terms in her own bedroom with her husband beside her and her favorite music playing in the background. Her story is raw — and she has all our love and prayers…. Before she dies by assisted suicide, Brittany states that she wants to use the rest of her time on earth to lobby for every American to have access to assisted suicide services.
That story greatly disturbed me. I wondered, when I read it, whether or not she was a Christian. I think she probably was not. How can someone who has faith in a loving, kind, and merciful God usurp His authority over her own life? How can she not trust that He has a plan for her as she goes through this trial? And even if He chooses not to heal her, why can't she trust Him to carry her through the valley of the shadow of death?
After I read Brittany's story, I read another story. A story that spoke to my heart. A sister in Christ was so moved by Brittany's lack of hope and direction that she chose to reach out to her through her own painful journey with cancer. This story is of Kara Tippetts. Kara is dying, too. Read the email she wrote to Brittany:
"Suffering is not the absence of goodness, it is not the absence of beauty, but perhaps it can be the place where true beauty can be known.
In your choosing your own death, you are robbing those that love you with the such tenderness, the opportunity of meeting you in your last moments and extending you love in your last breaths.
As I sat on the bed of my young daughter praying for you, I wondered over the impossibility of understanding that one day the story of my young daughter will be made beautiful in her living because she witnessed my dying.
That last kiss, that last warm touch, that last breath, matters — but it was never intended for us to decide when that last breath is breathed.
Knowing Jesus, knowing that He understands my hard goodbye, He walks with me in my dying. My heart longs for you to know Him in your dying. Because in His dying, He protected my living. My living beyond this place.
Because in His dying, He protected my living. My living beyond this place.
Brittany, when we trust Jesus to be the carrier, protector, redeemer of our hearts, death is no longer dying. My heart longs for you to know this truth, this love, this forever living.You have been told a lie. A horrible lie, that your dying will not be beautiful. That the suffering will be too great.
Today my oncologist and I spoke of your dying, of my dying, and of the beautiful partnership I have with my doctors in carrying me to my last moments with gentle care. For two thousand years doctors have lived beside the beautiful stream of protecting life and lovingly meeting patients in their dying with grace.
The doctor that prescribed you that pill you carry with you that will hasten your last breath has walked away from the Hippocratic oath that says, “first, do no harm.” He or she has walked away from the oath that has protected life and the beautiful dying we are granted. The doctors agreeing to such medicine are walking away from the beautiful protection of the Hippocratic oath.
There are also people who are speaking in ugly tones that make those of us who believe in Jesus seem unsafe, unkind, or unloving. Will you forgive us for the voices that feel like they are screaming at you from a heart that isn’t loving.
But in my whispering, pleading, loving voice dear heart- will you hear my heart ask you, beg you, plead with you — not to take that pill. Yes, your dying will be hard, but it will not be without beauty
Yes, your dying will be hard, but it will not be without beauty
. Will you please trust me with that truth.
More importantly, will you hear from my heart that Jesus loves you. He loves you. He loves you. He died an awful death upon a cross so that you would know Him today that we would no longer live separate from Him and in our death. He died and His death happened, it is not simply a story.
He died and He overcame death three days later, and in that overcoming of death He overcame the death you and I are facing in our cancer. He longs to know you, to shepherd you in your dying, and to give you life and give you life abundant- eternal life.
For everyone living knowing death is eminent- that we all will one day face this it – the question that is most important. Who is this Jesus, and what does He have to do with my dying? Please do not take that pill before you ask yourself that question.
It’s a question we all must ask, as we are all dying.
I recently wrote a book, The Hardest Peace, and I also blog about my journey of my living and my journey towards my last breath. It is not simply a story of dying of cancer, but of living this breath. It’s a book for each of us that has breath still to breath, to embrace our living, and to look upon our dying with grace. Living in BIG LOVE and meeting my end in love. Stunning, important, love.
But more than my book, I would jump on a plane tomorrow to meet you and share the beautiful brokenness of my story and meet you in yours if you would ever consider having me.
I pray my words reach you.
I pray they reach the multitudes that are looking at your story and believing the lie that suffering is a mistake, that dying isn’t to be braved, that choosing our death is the courageous story.
No – hastening death was never what God intended.
But in our dying, He does meet us with His beautiful grace.
But in our dying, He does meet us with His beautiful grace.
The Hippocratic oath matters, and those that are choosing to walk away from it need to be challenged.My heart hurts that they have decided to swim from the shores of grace that it protected in our living and dying.
I get to partner with my doctor in my dying, and it’s going to be a beautiful and painful journey for us all.
But, hear me — it is not a mistake —
beauty will meet us in that last breath."
Do you see the different perspectives? Brittany has no hope. She thinks she's making a wise decision, planning her own death, taking matters into her own hands. She wants to be in control on the last days of her life. She's chosen exactly how and when and where she wants to leave this earth. Kara, on the other hand, has chosen to take one moment at a time. To trust God every step of the way even when the way is unclear...and in her trusting, she has peace...she has hope...she knows her Savior loves her and wants the best for her...even if that means dying.
I hung up the phone from the interview and went into the living room to talk with my husband. I told him I didn't know how I really felt about the notoriety I'd receive from the newspaper article when it was published. Yes, it was an honor to be asked to share my story and hopefully, the journalist will include the statements I made on my faith. I want others to know that I, like Kara Tippetts, am choosing to trust God with each step of my journey and no, the steps aren't easy. They are steep, and hard, and burdensome...but I choose to trust. Unlike Brittany Maynard, I am choosing to continue on with my battle. I would never presume to know God's will for me by planning to take my own life.
I can understand Brittany's desperation. I can understand that given her prognosis, of terminal stage 4 brain cancer, that things seem bleak...but on the other hand, I know the power of my God! I have seen Him completely heal and I have seen Him allow people to die. His will is His alone. His ways are not our ways and if Brittany could understand that, I'm sure her story would be very different.
In the days ahead, I will be praying specifically for Brittany. I will be asking God to become so real in her life that she can't help but know Him personally. I will be praying for her to make a radical change in her life and to cancel her plans of taking her own life. I will be asking God to give her a clear understanding of His plan for her. If He so chooses, God could completely, in an instant, heal her body and remove every speck of cancer from her life. I have faith to believe this because I know God's Word to be true. I am thankful that I don't have to walk in darkness, as Brittany does. My God is bigger than my cancer and I am so very grateful that He is!
©bonnie annis all rights reserved
Wednesday, October 8, 2014
Total darkness
At 5:35 this morning, I jumped out of bed. I remembered this morning, the second — and final — total lunar eclipse of 2014 would be starting soon. Quickly I got dressed, grabbed my camera and headed outside in the dark hoping to get a few good shots of the moon in all it's glory. It was eerily quiet outside. As I looked at the sky overhead, I was amazed with the spectacular view of thousands upon thousands of brilliant stars. The nighttime sky was so beautiful.
I set up my tripod and got two cameras ready. I was going to take photos with both my Nikon and my Canon and compare the two later. I glanced at the moon and saw the eclipse was just beginning. A small sliver of a shadow was covering the left side of the moon. It was hard to get a clear view from my backyard. There are so many tall trees that obstruct the view. If only there was small patch of high ground I could get to for the shot, but there was none.
I sat in my folding camp chair waiting for the eclipse to progress. I felt a little nervous sitting all alone in the dark on my patio. As I waited in the dark. I listened. There was a crunching sound just off to the right of me. Quickly, I turned my head only to see a deer grazing in the woods. The night sounds are so amplified early in the morning and I was jumpy.
The earth's shadow was beginning to slide across the moon now and I stood up to take a few photos. I knew I wasn't going to get the shot I wanted when I looked through the viewfinder because of all the trees. I resigned myself to not taking any photos and chose to just sit down and watch this spectacular event with my eyes. I sat for a long time before the surface of the moon was completely covered and it began to turn a bright, coppery red. This is another blood moon. (It looks red because of all the sunsets and sunrises from the Earth that will reflect onto the lunar surface. During the eclipse, although it's completely in the shadow of Earth, a bit of reddish sunlight still reaches the moon.
The Sun, the Earth and the full moon form a nearly straight line so that the full moon passes through the Earth's shadow, called the umbra.)
Earlier this year, I read a book called "The Four Blood Moons" by Pastor John Hagee. In it, Pastor Hagee talks about Biblical prophecy and how the blood moons correlate with Jewish holidays. It was a very interesting book and gave great insight into the coming days. Pastor Hagee mentions scripture that points to "signs in the sky" that are given by God. As I thought about some of the information I'd read in that book, I wondered about the future. There have been so many strange things happening in the world this year. The Ebola virus has been spreading like wildfire in many African countries, taking the lives of men, women and children. An Enterovirus has put hundreds of children in hospitals all around the United States. Isis has become the topic of dinnertime conversations while beheadings continue to take place all in the name of the Muslim's Allah. Weather changes have been erratic and unpredictable with droughts, flooding, hurricanes, tornadoes, and earthquakes popping up unexpectedly in various places. Surely we are living in the end times.
The eclipse is complete now and the stillness of the night is overwhelmingly quiet. I wonder if the animals are affected in any way. Do they stand like statues in the dark wondering and waiting? I look around and try to adjust my eyes to the pitch black darkness. I'm glad the eclipse will soon be over. Although it's a beautiful, mysterious thing to watch, it's a little creepy too.
I gather my photographic equipment and go back inside the house. It's a little after 7:00 a.m. now. The eclipse has been over for a little while and the sun is starting to rise. I'm so thankful to see its light on the horizon...the dawning of a new day...but what if the sun didn't come up one day? What if we had to face a day of complete darkness? How would we react? Would crime increase? Would people become paralyzed with fear? I shudder when I think about it.
There's an old saying "it's always darkest before the dawn." Although I'm not sure who gets credit for it, a man by the name of Thomas Fuller appears to be the first person to commit the notion that 'the darkest hour is just before the dawn' to print in his religious travelogue A Pisgah-Sight Of Palestine And The Confines Thereof, 1650. That statement not only refers to the physical realm, it can also refer to the spiritual realm. To me, the statement provides hope. In my circumstance, I have found that when I am going through a very trying or difficult time, I am reminded of the dark...where I can't see what's coming next...where the shadows are eery and scary. But as I pass through the trial, just like an eclipse, I begin to see a glimmer of light...a sliver of hope. Then, before I know it, I've passed completely through the ordeal and I'm coming out on the other side of it. It's just as if I've had a personal eclipse in my life! The darkness doesn't last very long and soon the light will come.
As I wind down my radiation treatments, I am realizing as each day passes that hope is just around the corner. Soon all of this will be over and I can begin to live again. I can't wait for the day that shines bright to get here. I keep holding on and waiting. I know it will come, just as I know the night will turn to day and the cycle will repeat. I'm so grateful I don't have to face a lifetime of darkness...one trial after another with no end in sight. Without hope, there would be nothing to look forward to in life and we have to have hope.
©bonnie annis all rights reserved
I set up my tripod and got two cameras ready. I was going to take photos with both my Nikon and my Canon and compare the two later. I glanced at the moon and saw the eclipse was just beginning. A small sliver of a shadow was covering the left side of the moon. It was hard to get a clear view from my backyard. There are so many tall trees that obstruct the view. If only there was small patch of high ground I could get to for the shot, but there was none.
I sat in my folding camp chair waiting for the eclipse to progress. I felt a little nervous sitting all alone in the dark on my patio. As I waited in the dark. I listened. There was a crunching sound just off to the right of me. Quickly, I turned my head only to see a deer grazing in the woods. The night sounds are so amplified early in the morning and I was jumpy.
The earth's shadow was beginning to slide across the moon now and I stood up to take a few photos. I knew I wasn't going to get the shot I wanted when I looked through the viewfinder because of all the trees. I resigned myself to not taking any photos and chose to just sit down and watch this spectacular event with my eyes. I sat for a long time before the surface of the moon was completely covered and it began to turn a bright, coppery red. This is another blood moon. (It looks red because of all the sunsets and sunrises from the Earth that will reflect onto the lunar surface. During the eclipse, although it's completely in the shadow of Earth, a bit of reddish sunlight still reaches the moon.
The Sun, the Earth and the full moon form a nearly straight line so that the full moon passes through the Earth's shadow, called the umbra.)
Earlier this year, I read a book called "The Four Blood Moons" by Pastor John Hagee. In it, Pastor Hagee talks about Biblical prophecy and how the blood moons correlate with Jewish holidays. It was a very interesting book and gave great insight into the coming days. Pastor Hagee mentions scripture that points to "signs in the sky" that are given by God. As I thought about some of the information I'd read in that book, I wondered about the future. There have been so many strange things happening in the world this year. The Ebola virus has been spreading like wildfire in many African countries, taking the lives of men, women and children. An Enterovirus has put hundreds of children in hospitals all around the United States. Isis has become the topic of dinnertime conversations while beheadings continue to take place all in the name of the Muslim's Allah. Weather changes have been erratic and unpredictable with droughts, flooding, hurricanes, tornadoes, and earthquakes popping up unexpectedly in various places. Surely we are living in the end times.
The eclipse is complete now and the stillness of the night is overwhelmingly quiet. I wonder if the animals are affected in any way. Do they stand like statues in the dark wondering and waiting? I look around and try to adjust my eyes to the pitch black darkness. I'm glad the eclipse will soon be over. Although it's a beautiful, mysterious thing to watch, it's a little creepy too.
I gather my photographic equipment and go back inside the house. It's a little after 7:00 a.m. now. The eclipse has been over for a little while and the sun is starting to rise. I'm so thankful to see its light on the horizon...the dawning of a new day...but what if the sun didn't come up one day? What if we had to face a day of complete darkness? How would we react? Would crime increase? Would people become paralyzed with fear? I shudder when I think about it.
There's an old saying "it's always darkest before the dawn." Although I'm not sure who gets credit for it, a man by the name of Thomas Fuller appears to be the first person to commit the notion that 'the darkest hour is just before the dawn' to print in his religious travelogue A Pisgah-Sight Of Palestine And The Confines Thereof, 1650. That statement not only refers to the physical realm, it can also refer to the spiritual realm. To me, the statement provides hope. In my circumstance, I have found that when I am going through a very trying or difficult time, I am reminded of the dark...where I can't see what's coming next...where the shadows are eery and scary. But as I pass through the trial, just like an eclipse, I begin to see a glimmer of light...a sliver of hope. Then, before I know it, I've passed completely through the ordeal and I'm coming out on the other side of it. It's just as if I've had a personal eclipse in my life! The darkness doesn't last very long and soon the light will come.
As I wind down my radiation treatments, I am realizing as each day passes that hope is just around the corner. Soon all of this will be over and I can begin to live again. I can't wait for the day that shines bright to get here. I keep holding on and waiting. I know it will come, just as I know the night will turn to day and the cycle will repeat. I'm so grateful I don't have to face a lifetime of darkness...one trial after another with no end in sight. Without hope, there would be nothing to look forward to in life and we have to have hope.
©bonnie annis all rights reserved
Tuesday, October 7, 2014
Reckless words
“Reckless words pierce like a sword, but the tongue of the wise brings healing.” (Proverbs 12:18)
The Bible says that harsh words stir up anger. Although my words had not been harsh, they had been hurtful. Had I intended to cause hurt feelings? No! But had my words inflicted pain? Yes. What was I to do now? The only thing I knew to do, apologize. The Bible says a gentle answer turns away wrath. It was my hope that my apology would be accepted. I'm not sure it has been, but I hope it will be.
I've learned the hard way that words are powerful. They have the power to heal or to destroy. Once spoken, they can never be recalled. I've asked God to set a guard at my lips keeping hurtful words from ever coming out of my mouth and I've asked Him to guide my hand protecting it from writing words that may inadvertently affect someone else in a negative way.
We are all human and we all make mistakes. I'll admit that I've definitely made my share of them. The Bible tells me that love covers a multitude of sin so I am hoping that the person I've offended will find it in their heart to forgive me and know that I am deeply sorry because I love them. There's nothing that makes Satan happier than to cause dissension in relationships. Wherever he can get a foothold, he will do it. It is our job to realize when he's at work and call him on it.
The Lord knows the intentions of our hearts and He holds us accountable for our actions. We we admit our faults and ask for forgiveness, He forgives us. When we ask others for forgiveness they have the choice to accept our apology or reject it. If they refuse to accept it, then a root of unforgiveness and bitterness begins to grow and damage that could have been stopped early on grows to epic proportions.
You may never consider your words as weapons but they hold great power. Choose them carefully.
©bonnie annis all rights reserved
"Set a guard, O Lord, before my mouth; keep watch at the door of my lips. Psalm 141:3"
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