You don't always know what the purpose is for a piece of art when you begin making it. I certainly didn't know what would happen with the piece of art that became The Table. I just knew I had a story I wanted to tell and I got to turn it into a musical with two of my very best writer friends. What started in a little room in 2017 finally found it's way to a bigger room in 2024. I have no idea where it will go from here, but I sure hope there are other rooms in other places where this story can be told. We'll see. For now, I'm left with time to reflect on the process thus far and ponder the possibilities. Having my co-writers, Lee and Tony, and their wives (and a surprise guest) here for a couple of shows made the experience incredibly special, and the moments we spent together before and after the shows are my favorite kinds of moments. Having my kids join us and offer their enthusiastic support of our work made my mama's heart nearly burst. We made a conscious effort to celebrate the moment, but it didn't take long before we dove into evaluation mode, considering any changes that could make our show better. We'll be letting things simmer for a bit, then figure out next steps. I've had a few people ask if The Table will be a book and the answer is yes. I've been working on it for a while and was hoping to have it finished by the time the musical hit the stage. Didn't meet that deadline, but yes, it is coming. I've also been near tears a few times when I think of all the people it took to pull of this production. The production team, the cast, the crew, and all the volunteers who put in hundreds of hours doing things no one will ever see or know about, in order for a few hundred people to be entertained. I see it happen show after show at our community theater, but to have them put in all that effort for something you wrote is a kind of humbling I can't put into words. There will never be enough thank-you's to express my gratitude. One of the most gratifying things I've heard people after the show is, "I'm gonna start doing what Laura did, and have a group of friends over for dinner once a month." One of the most heartbreaking things I've heard after the show is, "I don't have friends like that in my life." If there is a truth I hope people leave with after seeing our show, it is how deep and widespread the need for connection is, and how easy it is to be the catalyst to help meet that need. We all live in a world of Eleanor Rigby's. And we can all be Laura's. My favorite thing about my job is the fact that I get to dream. I get to think up stories and songs and figure out a way to unleash them out into the world. Just last night, Lee and Tony and I were texting about the next story we want to tell. It's about...well... I can't tell you. But I'll say this....okay, I'd better not say anything. Yet. Ugh...I want to. But I can't. Just trust me, it will be worth the wait. There is usually a post-event dip for me, regardless of what the event is. A day or two of sadness over something being over. Sometimes even a time of wondering if I'll ever make any art worth sharing again. But in all honesty, I woke up today feeling more motivated than ever. There's a to-do list on my desk that makes me very happy. It is filled with a bunch of administrative work, which I almost always detest. But today that list is a reminder that I get to spend my days making art and helping others make their art. What a gift. And when you've walked the road I have for the past three years, even a to-do list filled with things you might not enjoy is a blessing you don't take for granted. I also get to have a meeting online with a friend and co-writer about a new project we're diving into, and later today I'll be sitting at someone's table drinking coffee and catching up, which feels fitting for this first, post-Table day.
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My word for 2024 didn't come to me until I was writing my last blog of 2023. I don't always have a word for the year, and in fact, I hadn't planned on having one for this year. But as I was on the elliptical machine this morning, listening to a podcast about habits, it became clear that my word for the year should be PEACE. That might sound like a strange place and time to be convinced a word like peace should be your word for the year, seeing as how the local YMCA isn't exactly the most peaceful place on the planet. And yet, here I am with a word for the year now. And it feels very fitting. I love routine. Regular practices help settle my emotions and give a structure to my days which is desperately needed in my life as a self-employed creative. So today when I was trying to sweat out physical and emotional toxins, listening to someone tell me how the ordinary habits of our days lead to living extraordinary lives, I was convinced of the need to have some kind of foundation for my approach to a new year. Interestingly enough, I had already laid that foundation for my year as I closed out the year before. Peace hasn't exactly been my close companion over the past few years. There have definitely been moments when I have experienced its presence, but I wouldn't say I have been enveloped by the feeling of my heart being at rest on a regular basis. So this year, I have determined to seek peace in my heart, for a variety of reasons, but mostly because of the Proverb that says, "A heart at peace gives life to the body." My body has been fighting for life for three years now and as I looked to a new year and considered the practices I need to adopt in order to keep cancer at bay, I can see how important keeping my heart at peace will be to my overall health. So, how does that happen? What do I need to do to keep my heart at peace? Easier said than done when life throws its most poisonous darts at you: fear, insecurity, jealousy, sickness, and brokenness in all its forms. All the realities of living in a world that is not our home. And yet, Jesus said, "Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you." So why haven't I experienced more of that peace? And how can I experience more of that in the year to come? These are the questions I've asked myself in recent days. A few weeks ago, I was having a bad day. Really bad. One of those days when you sit at the kitchen counter for most of the morning and do nothing but cry. I was fearful and sad. At some point, I told God, "Okay, I know all the things I'm supposed to do in times like this. All the things. And yet, I'm still here feeling completely incapable of moving on from this very unhappy, unsettled place. So, You'd better do something." I'm not sure that's the way you're supposed to talk to God, but those were the words that poured out in the moment. I was desperate for some peace. Within a few minutes I received a text from a friend who leads an organization I have worked with in the past. It was the organization's "birthday" and he was reaching out to ask how he could pray for my family. Peace be mine. A little while later I received a text from a friend I hadn't connect with in quite a while. She was checking in because she was thinking of one of my kids and wanted to reach out to them. Peace be mine. Later that day I got a call from a number I didn't recognize so I let it go to voicemail. I listened to the message from a woman I don't know well, but our paths have crossed a few times through mutual friends. She had seen something on social media that prompted her to call (yes, make an actual phone call) and let me know she was praying for me. Peace be mine. With each interaction, I felt a weight being lifted. My problems weren't solved. Broken relationships weren't mended. But a prayer had been heard and answered. I asked for peace and peace came in ways I didn't expect. Thank you, Prince of Peace. I don't want this year to be one in which I only look to be the recipient of the peace that's been promised me. I want to be someone who brings peace to others. I'm trying to figure out how to be better at that. Offering peace to someone might mean reaching out or shutting up. It might mean holding tighter or letting go. It might look like being present or staying absent. The hard part is knowing which action to take in each situation. I'm pretty sure I've gotten it wrong more than I've gotten it right, but I'm learning. I think it might start with a simple prayer - peace be mine. Asking God to grant me His peace to not become anxious over the matter at hand, then asking for wisdom on how to best respond to give peace to others. I would love to get to the end of 2024 feeling like I'd done my part to bring peace to someone else's heart and not be the reason someone didn't have peace in their heart. So much to learn. So many opportunities to grow. I guess St. Francis of Assisi says it pretty well, too. Lord, make me an instrument of your peace. Where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; and where there is sadness, joy. O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love. For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned; and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen. I never really know how to begin this end of the year blog. How do you close out a 365-day season that has been filled with so much. So many emotions, experiences, changes, dreams, disappointments, relationships. It it impossible to encapsulate the moments that have made up 2023. But the writer in me has to try, so here it goes. First, a brief list of random thoughts and points of gratitude: 1. I have growing fingernails and a mostly-full set of eyelashes. I could cry just thinking about it. 2. I joined the Y again and have felt the energy to go regularly. Again, tears. 3. Our family grew by two. The goodness of God. 4. Broken hearts are mending. The faithfulness of God. 5. I love writing and the opportunities I have been given to do what I love. The kindness of God. 6. Pets are amazing companions and are perfectly acceptable reasons for deep grieving and great celebration. I know not everyone agrees - I'm praying for you. 7. I have incredible friends. They are patient, generous, funny, loving, kind, and forgiving. If you've been someone I've hung out with much in 2023, you are likely well aware that I am now a person who is easily moved to tears. VERY easily. In fact, I probably should have written this blog at home and not at a coffee shop where people are wondering what's wrong with the lady in the corner. Get it together, Gina. I've mentioned before how I felt like cancer heightened all my emotions and allowed me a sensitivity to people and things I hadn't had before. It was one of the great gifts cancer gave me and probably the only lingering symptom from this stupid disease that I hope never goes away. Those tear-filled emotions have served me well as they help wash away things that cloud my view, allowing me to see more clearly as I look toward the start of a new year. When I think about all that was lost and gained in 2023, what I am left with is the question of what I want to intentionally rid myself of and what I want to hold tightly to in 2024. And because diving into a new year will forever be linked to the timing of my diagnosis, I suppose it will always be impossible to not look to a future without feeling a sense of urgency - because time is fleeting, and no moment or day or year is guaranteed. I own that perspective not as a curse, but a blessing. It moves me in a direction I likely would not have taken otherwise. I am more okay than ever with letting go - of things, expectations, relationships, dreams, emotions, and responsibilities. Letting go not out of frustration or anger or disappointment, but because I have a greater understanding of how some things aren't meant to be held tightly forever. Some things are meant to serve us for a season, or given to us to serve others for a season. I feel this deeply as I consider so much of what I'm hoping 2024 will look like. Other thoughts that are guiding my decision-making mostly revolve around my health, my capacity to create, and a fierce commitment to simplify my life in every aspect. So now, another list. Not goals, not dreams, not plans - just thoughts that are shaping my approach to a new year. 1. "A heart at peace gives life to the body." So many choices for next year will be with the intent of living with greater peace in my heart for the sake of giving life to my body. Too much of the past three years has been consumed by cancer and the fallout of waging that war. There are big prayers going up that next year looks a whole lot better in that department. 2. Meaningful work is a game-changer. I am more committed than ever to operating in my sweet spot. 3. Understanding my capacity and not caring about the capacity of others is incredibly freeing. 4. My current perspective on social media - while necessary and impactful for my business and my clients, it is of little use to my personal life. While I do appreciate the life updates from those I am not in contact with regularly, too much of what I see posted is either a complete misrepresentation of what I know to be true of people's lives, passive aggressive behavior that serves no purpose other than to inflict pain, and the occasional tirade over politics, religion, or the economy. I guess I just see it doing more harm than good and for now, I'm fine to minimally take part. 5. I want to love the people in my life well, which means, in part, entrusting them to greater Love than mine. That isn't always easy, but I'm trying to learn how to love my people better and cheer them on as they do their thing. 6. I love writing. There will definitely be more of that in 2024. What form that will take, well, stay tuned. 7. All in all, I hope my next 365 days are kinder, braver, simpler, healthier, more creative, and more peaceful than the previous 365. Not too much to ask, right? :) Happy New Year, all! May you enter this next season full of hope for the days ahead! A few weeks ago, another step was taken toward the realization of a dream. I've been working on a musical with my friends Lee and Tony since November 2017. We recently held a staged reading of the musical and it will be a fully produced show in May of 2024. Tickets are available now and you should all come see The Table at The Nebraska Communities Playhouse in Hickman, Nebraska. Yes, ALL of you should come see this show. Please. :) The process of watching this project coming to life has been one of the most rewarding experiences of my life. The day after the staged reading, I expected to need a break from this particular work, simply because it had been so incredibly time consuming for the previous three weeks. But after allowing myself to sleep in, get caught up on housework, and give myself a break from staring at a computer screen, I was beyond ready to get back to work, shaping and reshaping the story and songs. The project needed work, that was undeniable. In some places, major work. But instead of being daunted by the task, I was eager and determined. And it surprised me a little to feel that way. I'm an idea person. I love dreaming up possibilities. I've mentioned this before, but I haven't always been great at the finishing part of pursuing a dream. I'm happy to say I seem to be getting better at that. I've finished things in the past couple of years I don't know if I would have a decade ago. And I think I know why. For most of my life, I've been a person with a high capacity to juggle responsibilities. I can keep a lot of plates spinning - all the roles I've had to assume through the years. Wife, mom, daughter, friend, employee, business owner, etc. I've always known I can't give 100% to all the things all the time, but I am a person who seems to function better when I have a lot to do. I'm still that way. But the past three years have changed my perspective, not only on my capacity to juggle responsibilities, but also on my capacity to create. I'm sure age, experience, and knowledge gained, have all contributed to what I now see in regards to my own limitations, but I don't know that I'd be where I am now in terms of perspective had I not come face to face with my mortality. Thank you, cancer. But it isn't simply the feeling that my days are numbered so I'd better get busy living and doing the things I want to do while I can. Creating out of that feeling would leave me in a frantic state of creativity and I do not want that. No, this is desire to operate at full creative capacity, in peace. Not "peace and quiet" kind of peace, but the peace that comes from knowing I'm not chasing anything or anyone. The peace you have when you're working with people who fill you up, and not with those who leave you depleted. The peace of being purposeful with your time and resources even when others don't understand the ridiculous things you might choose to do in order to achieve that peace. My husband and I are taking a hard look at our life and planning to make some changes I'm certain some people will not understand or agree with. It won't be the first time friends and family have called us crazy. And speaking of capacity, I don't have the capacity to care about that anymore. Thankfully, I also don't have the capacity to care about the capacity of others either. I've spent way too much time over the years asking God why I haven't been afforded certain opportunities while I've watched other people have experiences I wished I had. I honestly don't feel the need to ask that of God anymore. Mostly because I am fully aware of the amazing opportunities I've been given, but also because I've learned that if I wanted to have specific doors opened to me, I would also have to deal with all the crap that goes along with walking through those doors. And the more I see exactly what that crap is, there is no way I want that for my life. Because what I see there doesn't bring what my heart desires - to create out of a place of peace. My personal mission statement is to do creative work that inspires and equips others to do their creative work. What that creative work looks like and who the "others" are, is going to be determined by one thing - answering the call that I alone hear from my Creator. I'm quite confident that when I am faithful to that call, He will also show me the "how, when, what, why, where, and who" I need to create at my highest capacity in peace. Even in typing those words I feel the tension release from my shoulders, breath fill my lungs, and my mind begin to clear. I suppose those are signs I'm on the right track. Hello again from your inconsistent blogger. The days are FLYING by and while I will likely always be frustrated by the mere 24 hours I am given to accomplish everything I'd like to in a day, I am also learning to be content, realistic, and more kind to myself. My body is demanding that from me so I am trying to cooperate. Physically, I'm feeling better. My last surgery seems to be doing what I hoped it would do - let my body heal. Being off my chemo pill has meant an improvement in how I feel physically as well, although I do wrestle with the emotions of knowing I don't have that added weapon in my arsenal right now. I'm still dealing with the effects of other drugs and the ongoing issues gifted me by radiation. It appears some of those issues are here to stay so I'm doing my best to come to terms with all of it. My appointments are fewer and farther between, which means I can actually go an entire week without making a trip to the doctor or lab. That feels like an achievement, for sure. My daily work life has honestly been a dream. I don't think I've ever been able to say that in my 42 years of being a laborer of some sort, so operating in my sweet spot is new for me. Most days are spent in my office working on some creative endeavor - my business, new songs, new books, new musicals, new projects. Our new puppy (pictured here in my office) means I start my day earlier than I'd like, but Rupert has honestly been so good for my new schedule. He gets me up early and takes his first nap right around the time I step into my office for 3-4 hours. He wakes up, we have lunch, then dive into an afternoon full of more of the same. Not every day goes as planned, of course, but for the most part, this season is a blessing in so many ways. As I told a couple of co-writers yesterday, these are the best of days. I'm so grateful. Even the best of days have their troubles, though. I won't pretend life has been easy. It's just that I've longed to be in a season where I'm more fulfilled creatively and now that I am, I'm in awe of how it has helped me deal with the messes of life in a more constructive way. Life will continue to be hard - I know that. Broken relationships, navigating changes, financial concerns, caring for family, ongoing health challenges; all things that keep me on my knees. But between living a more intentional life creatively and a deepening commitment to knowing God better, I've found the space to think more clearly when hard stuff happens. I hope all of this spills out into creative work that inspires and encourages others. I've seen the futility of doing creative work for merely selfish gain and it's empty. I've done that. I don't want that. I've chased things and people and affirmation and reward. Yuck. I'd rather chase dreams. I'd rather run hard after an idea or a feeling or a story that just might make a difference in somebody's life. I'm so grateful I feel physically and mentally able to run after those things lately, and I'm very grateful God seems to have given me an open road to run on for a while. For the past three years, my life has been measured in segments of time that look a bit like this: Fall down, get up. Take a mountain. Fall down, get up. Go backwards. Turn around. Take another mountain. Fall down, get up. Go backwards. Experience intense joy. Fall down, get up. Get mad at the world. Rest in perfect peace. Fall down, get up. And on and on it has gone. The first year was mostly trying to kick cancer's butt. The next two have been living with the fallout of trying to kick cancer's butt. No one really tells you what you're in for when they tell you what it will take to kick cancer's butt. Oh they tell you the steps you'll take. They just don't warn you what life might look like as you're kicking said butt and after you hope the butt has been kicked. For me, that has meant two years of battling infections and pain and overall feeling pretty crappy. It also led me to make some decisions about what my body can manage and what it can't. As of today, after changing some meds, stopping my chemo pill, going through more surgery, and getting back in to OT/PT, I am hoping with every ounce of hope in my being that I've turned a corner. Please God, let it be. Side note - I can now eat grapefruit. So really, all is well. The gratitude I feel over entering a new season feeling better is overwhelming. I do not take this gift of better health lightly. I have friends who are bravely battling recurrence and my heart breaks for what they are having to endure. And so I pray. My creative world feels like it is bursting at the seams. It hasn't always felt like that, so again, gratitude abounds. I have clarity about my writing I haven't had in a while, and feel more purposeful and peaceful about it than I ever have. Opportunity and community don't necessarily look like I though they would, but in all honestly, they look like my heart needs them to, and that is a beautiful thing. I am about to unveil a project I have been working on for more than six years with two dear friends, Lee Black and Tony Wood. How this creative work has come to be is a story in itself, and one I am beyond excited to share with you. But patience, readers. That story is coming. Very, very soon. I'm diving back in to podcasting with new episodes beginning to drop next week. The episodes are timely as you will hear when you listen. So please listen. :) I am also making myself more available to come alongside creatives who want to do purposeful work. If that's you, please reach out. My personal mission statement is: To do creative work that inspires and equips others to do their creative work. If you would like someone to come alongside you and assist in your creative journey, I would love to be that person. So, here's to healing and dreaming and working and creating and eating ridiculous amounts of grapefruit. Today is gonna be a good day. Changing seasons. Ending chapters and starting new ones. Closing doors, saying goodbyes, and breathing in new air. All things that simultaneously bring tears to my eyes and spark a flutter of excitement in my heart. And so, 2023 marches on. As I mentioned in my last blog, summer started off a little rough. Turns out it's actually ending a little rough too, but more on that later. For the past 25 years or so, our family has had a celebration of sorts, in late August. It usually coincides with the beginning of the school year, which happens to be my favorite time of year. The saying goodbye to summer and welcoming everything that says "Autumn." I absolutely love it. Our celebration usually involves some kind of remembering and some kind of vision casting for the year ahead. My kids have tolerated my approach to this gathering and the trinkets I distribute so they can be reminded of what we've discussed. Bless 'em, all. As I prepared for our annual family gathering a couple weeks ago, I was struck by the fact that every single one of us is in a season of tremendous change. Like, big, BIG change. Personal, professional, residential, etc. All of us, facing some really huge stuff. I thought about how life would look very different for Perry and me, and wanted to impress upon our kids the importance of staying connected as a family, even in the face of the distance between us. Life might be taking us in different directions, but I wanted them to know that our home would forever be a safe place for them to come back to, if ever they need one. I gave everyone a compass charm for their key chain, necklace, whatever, to remind them of the importance of knowing their True North, and how they can always find their way home, regardless of circumstances or choices, no explanation needed. As for myself, being someone who loves tradition, change can be difficult for me. And yet, knowing change is inevitable, I have done my best to embrace it and see the good. This August is no different. For the past several years, I spent my days working for a public school in a job for which I continue to be incredibly grateful. It provided for my family financially. I got to be with my kids. I even got to work for my kid for a while. The job was a gift beyond measure during my cancer treatment, for so many reasons. However, over the past year, it became clear it would be best for me to move on from that position and dive deeper into other work that both allowed me to operate out of my strengths, and was a better fit for my overall health. Leaving my position has been painful, but I have no doubt it was the right decision. I'll continue to substitute teach occasionally and help as needed. Now, my days are mostly spent writing, coaching creatives, and working as an events coordinator/artist in residence/production coordinator for our local community theater. My personal mission statement is: To do creative work that engages, inspires, equips, and mobilizes others to do their creative work. It feels good to be in a season where all my days point in the direction of that calling. If you follow me at all, you'll likely see some rebranding as I continue to clarify what it is that I actually do and what I offer to the world. I'm a bit giddy thinking about it. So stay tuned... I'd like to tell you my cancer story is over, but the reality is, the fallout from my cancer diagnosis will likely always be a part of my story. There is NO cancer to be found in my body currently, and for that I am SO grateful. And honestly, all the other stuff I have to deal with pales in comparison to knowing cancer cells are actively present. But for almost three years, the results of chemo, radiation, surgeries, and medications, has meant I've had at least one appointment every week relating to this journey I never wanted to be on. This past year, it's been mostly lab work, physical therapy, and dealing with infections that have continued to plague me. In light of what the first year of this journey looked like, these last couple of years have been a breeze. I won't go into all the details, but after fighting these infections and my hospitalization in May, I decided to undergo another surgery, which I'm praying will bring me a few steps closer to being the healthiest possible version of myself. Surgery happened last week so I've been home recovering and prepping for a new season of life. In many ways, I feel more inspired and more creative than ever. I think being more certain of your True North will do that to a person. I certainly feel a sense of urgency, and I am over-the-freakin'-moon about some of the projects I'm currently working on. It takes a certain amount of ego to believe what you're working on is worth putting out into the world for all to see, and like any creative, I struggle with notion of ego playing a role in my creative pursuits. But it is what it is. If I don't believe in what I'm doing and the importance of giving my work the audience it deserves, why do the work at all? The thing is, I DO believe that what I'm doing matters, and has the potential to impose something of value on those who receive it. So I make no apologies for the work I will be telling you about, pleading with you to watch, listen, and enjoy, and in some circumstances, support. Just know I will always do it from a place of deep conviction, trusting you with the art I offer, whatever form that might take. So, here's to seasons. To change. To doing the work. To knowing your True North. To not giving up. To redeeming the days. Because we never know how many of those days we will be given, and I, for one, plan to keep putting one creative foot in front of the other for as long as I possibly can. The best laid plans... Yeah, that whole thing. I spent last Friday night and part of Saturday getting my life and creative space in order. I cleaned, decluttered, organized, all with great expectation for what my first full week of summer was going to look like. Because I've spent the last two summers recovering from multiple surgeries and basically doing nothing but the important work of healing, I was looking forward to this first Monday of summer to dive into a new schedule, new work, and new creative pursuits. That didn't happen. I won't go into all the details, but the short story is this: Saturday late afternoon, I felt a little off. Saturday night, I felt worse. Sunday morning, I had full blown signs of an infection that had turned most of the left side of my chest from collarbone to waistline, sternum to armpit, bright red, swollen, and very sore. I called my doctor who sent me straight to the ER where I was quickly admitted and where I've spent the past few days. Thankfully, the infection didn't make it into my blood, and the IV antibiotics have gotten me to a place where I can go home and heal up there, likely sitting in my usual spot on my back deck with a few canines close by. While I am beyond grateful that this little scare didn't result in news of recurrence, which for any cancer survivor is always the concern, I am frustrated by having life interrupted once again and by the realization that summer will once again look a little different. The oral chemo I'm on, the fact that I've had 4 bouts with infection in the past year, and the severity of this particular one in the area where I've had multiple surgeries and radiation, means now taking a few precautions that, to put it simply, I don't like. Thankfully, I will still be able to do much of what I had looked forward to this summer - writing, working with creative people, and planning creative events that have purpose, meaning, and are just downright fun. I just might need to keep figuring out how to do it at a pace that keeps me healthy. I thought I'd learned that lesson, but maybe I've got some more learning to do. I can clearly see my friends nodding their heads. Yeah, yeah... I hope your summer is off to a fabulous start, if indeed yours has already begun. If you're still anticipating that and dreaming of all that the glorious months ahead will hold, I hope all your summer dreams come true. But if you're like me, and at one point or another life takes a turn, maybe we can both learn together that even though OUR plans may get interrupted, THE plan is still going as it should, teaching us things we need to learn all along the way. I'm sitting in the St. Louis airport with 90 minutes to kill. As I type that statement it hits me what an awful phrase that is - time to kill. How in the world did that become a thing? And being the word nerd that I am, now I'm writing this blog about something completely different than what I had intended. I'm not normally this flexible so I'm going to take this as a sign of maturity and run with it. I mentioned in my last post that I've been accused of biting off more than I can chew. At least that's the casual observer's perspective. Whatever. I'm pretty much over concerning myself with other people's opinions of how I spend my time. My definition of rest may not look like yours, and your definition of productivity might not look like mine. You might choose to spend 90 minutes in an airport nursing a beer and watching an NBA game. Or maybe you'd walk the concourse looking for the perfect snack to take on your next flight. Me, I'm sitting at gate E24 writing a blog. There is no right or wrong here, friends. I'm on my way home from a songwriting getaway with a couple of dear friends. We typically write online once a week, but a few months ago we decided to try and arrange for a mini-retreat where we could settle into a cabin somewhere and write as much as we could with the time we had. After 2 solid days of writing, I'm headed home with a catalog that's filled with 7 more songs and more importantly, a soul that is overflowing with gratitude for the people with whom I wrote the songs. These particular songwriters are like me in that we understand the importance of redeeming the time. I think hardship makes you feel that in increasing measure, and between the three of us, life hasn't always been kind the past few years. We've experienced significant loss; a lot of struggle. But out of that hardship has come a desire to work hard, doing what we love, because you just never know... Although my brain is mush from wrangling words and melodies these past couple of days, I can't help but surrender to the compulsion I have to sit here at my computer and write. So, do whatever you want with the time you have. Kill it. Redeem it. Drink a beer. Grab a snack. Or write a blog. Sleep. Run. Rest. Go. I'll let you do you with the time you have and I'll do me with the time I have. And as for me, I'm gonna write at gate E24, probably write on the plane, likely think about songs on the way home, and then when my head hits the pillow, I'll pray for a good night's rest. Then, when I wake up I will do my best to redeem the next 24 hours I'm given, grateful for the grace of a new day. I’ve been relatively quiet on here for a while. Aside from promoting the new book/record, I felt compelled to hold things close to my chest for the time being, trusting there was a reason why. I have long tried to be very intentional with these posts as I do not take your attention lightly. There are a whole lot of other things you could be doing with your time, so the fact you care enough to stop by here and read my thoughts on anything continues to surprise me and in turn, causes me to feel the weight of responsibility I have to steward the time well. All that to say, thanks for being here. Today, New Year's Eve, marks the two-year anniversary of my diagnosis. As I have watched December 31st come closer with each sleep and every rising, I am keenly aware of the mixed emotions that flood my days. Mostly, an overwhelming gratitude for every word that has been written in my story. The fact I feel as good as I do right now is something I am thankful for every single day. And yet, there are daily reminders of my limitations and the truth that I am still fighting to be rid of this disease. At an appointment the other day with my medical oncologist, she said, “The truth is, your body will never be what it was before cancer. But hopefully what you’ve lost physically, you’ve gained in perspective.” Yes, perspective. I wouldn’t trade it for the world. People often ask me the usual questions: How are you doing? How often do you have scans? What’s your situation these days? So here's the update: As far as how I’m doing physically, all in all, I can’t complain. I feel better than I did and better than I could be feeling, so I celebrate that. My long-term meds have caused their fair share of issues but I'm here and I'm tolerating them so it's all good for now. I've rarely had an entire week go by in the past two years without some kind of PT, OT, lab work, or appointment, so yes, this part of my story still consumes more time than I'd like, but the new year should bring less and less of those appointments. I'm sure praying for that to be true. As far as scans go, there really aren’t any scheduled scans. Only regular bloodwork which for me right now is every two to four weeks, depending on if I'm having any issues. If there is a reason to do a scan, they order one. So, in the past few months I’ve had x-rays, ultrasounds, a CT scan of my lungs, and a brain scan. So far, so good. A nasty bout with Covid in October was a big bummer, and one of the more annoying things over the past few months has been the realization that my body can’t tolerate bug bites. Stupid mosquitos sent me to urgent care three different times this summer because of infections that turned into cellulitis, which is risky for multiple reasons. Dumb bugs. Yay winter. When people ask what my “status” is, I don’t really know what to say. I never got to ring a bell, which is what most people are wondering. On my last appointment with my radiation oncologist after I’d finished radiation last September, I asked him point blank, “So, what do I get to say now? Am I cancer free? Am I in remission? What do I tell people?” He said, “You tell people you’re doing everything you can.” While that wasn’t exactly the celebratory declaration I was hoping for, I did appreciate his honesty. So that’s how I’m doing. Releasing the book and record, Hope Deserves an Anthem (HDAA), felt like both a finish line and a long walk toward the starting blocks as I prepare to run the next race before me. It’s strange because there is still so much to do with HDAA, but I also see several things falling into place that will usher me into a new season and I couldn’t be more excited. There was so much grieving to be done over the past two years; grieving much more than what I lost to cancer. In truth, cancer had to just get in line sometimes because other things in life demanded more of me than fighting that particular battle. And while I know grief is a lifelong companion for everyone, these days I’m choosing to make grief walk a step behind as I move forward arm in arm with possibility and opportunity, as hope leads the way. As 2022 comes to a close, I'm looking forward to new books, new songs, new roles, new podcast episodes, and new adventures in 2023. I'm praying some very specific prayers for some people who are dear to me and trusting God to do His thing. I'm dreaming some pretty crazy dreams and taking some steps to put a couple of those into motion, because why not? I'm adopting a new plan for my social media life which will allow me to be more intentional with my time online, placing a higher value on my family, my friends, my creative life, and my sanity. While it might not sound like like there's room for it, I'm excited about the rest I'm building into my schedule as well. I've long been criticized, even by some closest to me, for spinning too many plates. For the most part, I've learned to ignore the people who mean well, but who really don't know me well enough to comment on that particular issue in my life. There are VERY few people I allow to speak into my schedule and my responsibilities, and I do listen to them. These days, I mostly listen to my body, because it has the loudest voice in my life right now and I've gotten pretty good at listening to it. I still get pretty teary when I think of who I was on December 31st, 2020 compared to who I am today. And while becoming the me I am now hasn't always been fun, I wouldn't trade what it took to get here for anything in the world. God only knows what it will take to make me who He wants me to be a year from now, but I'm certain it will be worth it. My prayer for each of you as you enter a new year, is that you will allow yourself a few moments to remember the journey that was 2022, grieve what you lost, celebrate what you gained, and then find the perfect rhythm to march to as you join the 2023 parade. I pray you'll notice the amazing people marching alongside you, even if they march to a different beat. I pray you occasionally step out of line to dance to whatever music your hear calling you to do your thing, but even in doing so, you'll keep following the Leader of the band. And I pray that you, too, will walk arm in arm with possibility and opportunity, as hope leads the way. |
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