Reflections from December 22, 2021 Amy

    This advent season has looked much different for me than last year. I’m glad that I journaled last year to be able to go back and look at what I was thinking and feeling. Honestly, much of my journal reflections from last year have been an encouragement to me. I try to read journal entries from a year ago each day. It is a reminder of God’s faithfulness to me and brings me hope. A lot can happen in a year. Last year was full of many lows. But I see God’s faithfulness to me in the people who came around and supported me, in my health and healing, and in my ability to have hope. 

A year ago on this day I journaled about a quote I saw on Instagram: “The days only get brighter from here”. It was meant to be a hopeful post – a post about the winter solstice. However, when I read this post a year ago today after I had recently gotten diagnosed with cancer, it was hard for me to read. My world was dark with this diagnosis and I knew dark days full of treatment, surgeries, side effects, struggling to keep a job, medical bills, and more were ahead. I journaled, “at least the seasons don’t adapt to fit my circumstances. I could be having a terrible day and it could be bright and sunny outside. It could be someone else’s perfect day. It’s a good reminder that the world doesn’t revolve around me. Although, I still really wish I could wake up and the news of the past few weeks could just be a dream.” 

If you’re in a valley right now and it’s hard to hear “the days only get brighter from here”, you’re not alone. 

More of my journaling from December 22, 2021: I journaled to answer the question “Where does God feel in this moment?” I wrote, “Not especially close but not especially far. When I am tempted to question God, I think of all the other people who go through hard things like this and I think, ‘why not me?’ Nothing is promised. Live each day fully and leave no lovely word unsaid.” 

Now that I am finished with active treatment, life is by no means “back to normal”. And it never will be. But my life now is definitely not as interrupted by treatment as it was January – October 2022. And on days that I take life for granted, I am reminded of the words I journaled last year after my recent cancer diagnosis. 

Nothing is promised. Live each day fully and leave no lovely word unsaid.

The past couple months after I finished active treatment I have been trying to learn what it means to live each day fully. There was a time when I thought that meant I needed to seize all the opportunities and do all the things. But that’s not sustainable. And I don’t want to live a hurried life. So I’m learning the balance. Sometimes living life fully means spending a day napping and reading and watching tv. 

And about leaving no lovely word unsaid. I hope to be a person who says all the encouraging things. This is something I want to be better at. 

I journaled about Psalm 22 a year ago today. I was comforted by it because it begins “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from saving me, from the words of my groaning?” I felt this after my cancer diagnosis. The Psalm goes on to remember God’s past faithfulness. So, in the midst of my grief I was also comforted by remembering God’s past faithfulness to me. 

I asked myself the question, “How can you say ‘it is well’ during hard times? And for me, these questions always led me back to hope. Where is my hope set? 

I journaled this quote that I still find encouraging. “To whistle in the dark is not to pretend that the dark doesn’t sometimes scare us. It is to demonstrate, if only to ourselves, that not even the dark can quite overcome our trust in the ultimate triumph of the Living Light.” I can't remember who wrote those words. 

I don’t even think I was whistling a year ago after I got this news. At least I wasn’t always whistling. I do remember during my biopsy having the lyrics to “Christ Our Hope in Life and Death” running on repeat in my head. Particularly,

“What is our hope in life and death?

Christ alone, Christ alone”

I was scared. In that moment I felt I had to believe that Christ alone was my hope in life and death. What else was there? I’m thankful that I do feel like the dark of this past year did not quite overcome my trust in the ultimate triumph of the Living Light. 

The final two sentences I journaled on this day one year ago were: “Immanuel, God with us, is truly radical. It transforms every day, every moment.” I still believe this to be true. I pray this advent season you would catch even just a sliver of how truly radical this is. 

So, yeah, a year ago me had a lot of thoughts. And I still do. I hope some of these thoughts brought some encouragement to you today.