I am a big fan of new beginnings. For years, there have been certain markers in my life that bring me a good measure of joy at the thought of a clean slate and a fresh start. Mondays hold a special place in my heart, offering a new week full of opportunities to try again. I'm fond of August because for over twenty years, it meant the beginning of a new school year, both as a homeschooling and public school family. And for as long as I can remember, January has always felt like a big ol' door swinging wide open into twelve months of possibility. New beginnings are the best. However, this December, like no other December I can remember, I have struggled a bit to be excited about turning the final page on a calendar year and diving into yet another January. On December 31st, 2020, at 4:39 p.m., I received the news that would drastically change the next new beginning I would face. January 2021 still felt like a new beginning, but it was obviously different. Unexpected. Unwelcome. Unknown. Last January would lead me into the most difficult year of my life, and while I am able to see so much good that has come of the past twelve months, it is impossible to completely shut out the memories of pain, sorrow, anger, and intense disappointment I have wrestled with. And if I'm being honest, I have had some fear about what the next January might bring. I have spent quite a bit of time thinking about what 2022 might hold. It would be easy to let the worries of the past year creep into those thoughts and become afraid of what is coming. When you've been beat up and seen those you love beat up as well, fear can be all-consuming. But I've been working hard to let the voice of hope be louder than the voices of doubt and pain. Doing that work has looked like dreaming big and making plans. I've also been remembering how I've been cared for because the ways I've been loved makes me want to love others better. I am a different person going into 2022 than I was going into 2021. Thank God for that. I wanted to leave this year with a song as a message for January - both January 2021 and January 2022. I asked Houston if he would take this song and put together a video using some photos throughout the past year because all of it is worth remembering and reason for celebrating. Even the pictures of the tougher days are worth acknowledging because they remind me how far I've come and that fills me with more gratitude than I can possibly express. I pray your January brings you a beginning filled with fresh starts and new adventures. I pray you are able to turn the calendar page with gratitude for what you've survived and with excitement for the path set before you. And however you are ending 2021, I pray you will walk bravely into a new year with great joy, hearing the sound of hope, loud and clear. There are good days ahead. HEY JANUARY Gina Boe Hey January 2021 I never dreamed you'd come And put up such a fight You did your best to take me down with you And some days I thought too That you just might I gave you tears and sleepless nights But I'm still here and I'm all right (And I'm) Stronger Better Wiser And maybe even gentler Than I used to be 'Cause I believe Hope is bigger Louder Deeper Than pain and fear will ever be So I want you to know As you come and go You don’t scare me January Hey January 2021 I'm not the only one You shook to the core You knocked my people down but we got up And all of it made us Closer than before You took your shots, and left your scars But we’re still here and now we are CHORUS Hey January 2022 I'm coming after you And I’ve got dreams to chase And what you give and take will never be Enough to silence me So hear me when I say I might bend but I won’t break And what you do will only make me CHORUS
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Today, as I sit here in my writing room, feeling pretty well, sun shining in the windows, with my kids in the other room doing things that make them happy, it is a little easier to see some of the good that has come from the past 12 months. I honestly never doubted good would come out of this season, but what I have come to define as good, isn't necessarily what I expected. Would I change how I came to appreciate these new definitions? Of course I would. Good grief, I wouldn't choose the events of this year for anyone, let alone my own family. But do I have a glimpse of purpose in how 2021 went down? Yeah, I think I do. I have noticed how people are often attracted to one particular attribute of God's character. Some people tend to talk about His power. Others focus on his love and goodness. Some naturally default to talking about His grace or even His judgement. As for me, I find myself regularly falling on God's sovereignty. I don't believe there are accidents or coincidences, but I do believe in the working out of a plan that is perfect, even when I don't like it. In all honestly, I haven't liked His plan for me this year. But just because I haven't liked it, doesn't mean I haven't trusted Him with it. What has been harder for me, has been trusting Him with His plan for the people I love who have walked through their own personal hells this year. I've found myself having more talks with God about that stuff than my own crap. I've prayed a lot over the past 12 months, for myself and for people I care about. Some of those prayers have been answered. Some have not. Some of the answers have made life feel better. Some have not. God's kindness doesn't always look like I think it should. His grace shows up differently than I'd like it to. And I've come to see His blessing doesn't always mean my comfort. The thing I try to remember is that God is ultimately motivated by love. So if learning more about that love takes teaching me some new definitions for words I thought I understood, then so be it. 2021 has been hard. But I think I know more about God's hand of blessing because of how hard it has been. I'd sure like next year to look differently than this year has looked. But more than that, in December of 2022 I'd like to be able to say I trusted God even more because of what the new year brought my way. THE THORN
Gina Boe I begged I pleaded I prayed Believing You would come and take away this pain You heard You listened You knew How this would help me learn to trust your perfect ways Sometimes your kindness is the closing of a door Sometimes your grace is in the raging of the storm Sometimes the answer isn't what I'm praying for Sometimes the blessing is the thorn This need This aching This road Is taking me to places I don't wanna see This hope This waiting This faith Is making me into who you want me to be Sometimes your kindness is the closing of a door Sometimes your grace is in the raging of the storm Sometimes the answer isn't what I'm praying for Sometimes the blessing is the thorn So if you choose to take it Or if it should remain You will love me through it either way Sometimes your kindness is the closing of a door Sometimes your grace is in the raging of the storm Sometimes the answer isn't what I'm praying for Sometimes the blessing is the thorn Health update: Feeling much better after adjusting some meds. I haven't had to take a nausea pill in about three weeks and for that I am incredibly grateful. I continue to hope for more energy, less pain, and better range of motion in my shoulder which has been an issue since my last surgery. All those things are getting better, for sure...just not at the pace I would like. Patience is not my thing. All in all, progress is happening, and for that I am so, so thankful. I'm coming up on the one year anniversary of my diagnosis, which, as you can probably imagine, has led to a wide range of emotions as I consider what this past year has meant for me and my family. I plan to spend a little more time in the writing room as that day approaches so you'll see a little more activity here on the blog. There are things to say and songs to share. I hope you'll stop by often.
For now, I leave you with a random list of thoughts about the past year. And a really random thought about something else. 1. Every medical professional I've dealt with over the past year has been an amazing human. I can't say enough kind words about the level of care I've received and the true angels God has put in my path. From radiology to surgery to oncology to phlebotomy. From receptionists to pharmacists to physical therapists to occupational therapists. Not one jerk in the bunch. God forbid any of you need a recommendation for your own cancer journey, I would love to tell you about my people. 2. I remember my diagnosis day like it was yesterday. Where I was standing when I got the call. Where my kids were. What was said. I remember every detail. I also remember only having about 45 minutes to digest the info before some of my kids' friends came over to spend New Year's Eve at our house. I have always loved having my kids' friends over, but that night, they were the absolute best distraction possible. They had no clue about the bomb that had just been dropped on our family and I wanted it that way. My boys needed them to be there and I did too. I wanted to end 2020 with laughter in my home. Thank God for those kids. 3. I am growing my hair out. Many of you have asked, and no, I haven't cut it since it started growing back except for a quick snip of the rogue long hairs that were getting annoying. It's just taking forever to grow out. I haven't minded having very short hair, and maybe one day I'll cut it that short again. But if I do, it will be on my terms, darn it, and not because stupid cancer took it from me. 4. Finding balance in the area of nutrition has been a challenge. I understand the importance of treating my body well, considering what I am fighting. But dog gone it, sometimes I just want a burger and fries from Freddy's or a jumbo margarita or a sharing-size peanut M&M's which I have no intention of sharing. So, sometimes I indulge, savoring every last calorie. Then I get back on the health wagon. 5. Chemo brain is a real thing. One day, at a follow-up appointment with my surgeon's office, the nurse asked what medications I am currently taking. I couldn't think of one. Mind you, I take six different prescriptions or supplements every day and I couldn't recall one of them. Not even Tylenol. "I swear I'm not an idiot," I said. "Just give me a minute and it'll come to me." She smiled and said, "It's okay. It happens." I have had moments when I can't remember a student's name when they are standing right in front of me. I've grasped for dates and details and numbers and other information I have always had easy access to. This frustration has given me a new level of compassion for anyone struggling with memory issues. Losing the ability to remember absolutely sucks - and I've only had a glimpse of it. Oh, the ways we learn to care for others. 6. Speaking of not being an idiot, I've been increasingly bothered by something on social media so I'm just going to vent about it here. I am vaccinated. I have a lot of friends who are not vaccinated. Some of my best friends aren't vaccinated. And you know what? They're still my best friends. And I wouldn't dream of calling them out on social media for making a personal decision. Lately though, some folks I consider friends have said some really hurtful things on social media about people who are vaccinated, and I just want you to know I've seen it. And I would also like you to know I'm not a sheep, a communist, or an idiot. I'm a human being who made a personal decision based on the information I had. I literally don't have the ability to fight infections right now. I have a 90-year old mother I'd like to see over Christmas. I hate wearing a mask. But if you see me wearing one, it isn't because I'm stupid or weak. So please, when you are about to post comments intended to be funny, or to make fun, or to blatantly imply I'm a completely ignorant ass, just think twice. There are real people reading your words who are fighting battles you aren't aware of and your comments sting. One of the best things I've learned in my 54 years on this planet is that most people are doing the best they can with the information they have so it's best to just show everyone a whole lot of grace. Health update: I am two months into my new meds and let's just say it's been an adjustment. I suppose I thought things would be a little easier during this stage. I think I just had in my mind that once you've been through chemo, two surgeries, and radiation, how hard can it be to take a few pills a day? Truth be told, radiation was a breeze compared to this phase. I am grateful to my doctors who've listened, done more tests, and made changes. I've got a long haul on these meds, if I choose to stay on them, so it would be nice to get to a place where I can be more active. Things are definitely better now, but I'm certainly not capable of what I thought I would be at this stage. Very frustrating. However, I am hopeful, persistent, and really angry at cancer, which I believe will serve me well in the days ahead. Pressing on... The page has turned on a new month which brings mixed emotions for me this year. December now feels like it will forever be defined as the month I was diagnosed. I hate that, and yet it feels a somewhat appropriate as well. In 2019, I wrote a song called O Dark December, which I'll post below. Having no idea what was in store for 2020 or 2021, I wrote what I knew at the time - that December, specifically in regards to Advent, is supposed to feel dark. We trod through suffering and sorrow, waiting for light. Then light comes and we rejoice at seeing the hope we have been offered. I've thought a lot about how I want to live out these last 31 days of 2021. I've thought even more about how I want to dive into 2022. It feels good to have plans. Dreams. Now if I can just have the energy to see them through. I know it will take some hard choices. Some change. That's where it gets difficult. But I know now with more certainty, many things that I claimed to know 11 months ago. And the things I am more certain of now demand I live differently. These next 31 days will be filled with reflection and sorting through what has and hasn't happened in 2021. I will talk with people I trust. I will gather information. I will make lists. I will keep dreaming. This may be a season of darkness, but I do believe 2022 will be brighter than ever. If December is feeling dark for you, hold on. Light is coming. I recorded the video below a few hours after having received the life-changing news I had breast cancer. Sometimes I watch this video and think, "I miss that girl." I miss her energy, her hair, her ignorance to what was happening inside her. Then I think a bit longer on who that girl is today - what she's been through and what she knows now. And aside from a few really awful moments, I wouldn't change a thing. I know God to be kinder, His people more loving, and His grace bigger than I ever thought possible. So grateful. O DARK DECEMBER O Dark December, how long is the night The silent wait for promised light We cling to hope of worlds aright O Dark December, how long the night O Dark December, how heavy the weight Of bitter winds and fleeting days We brace our souls for such dismay O Dark December, how heavy the weight And yet there is in hearts distressed A solemn, sacred confidence In strong, unwavered faithfulness Which steadies us to peace and rest O Dark December, how blessed and kind Your brutal mercy still reminds We weep assured of joy we’ll find O Dark December, how blessed and kind |
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