Rambling Reflections

    Today is the 2-year anniversary of me finishing chemotherapy and ringing the bell on the terrace of West Cancer Clinic in Memphis, TN. Time is a funny thing. On one hand, the day feels like a lifetime ago. On the other hand, receiving chemotherapy infusions feels all too familiar. Either way, today is a day of reflection, gratitude, and celebration.


    This morning I woke up knowing that I wanted to reflect on this day but unsure as to how. I sat down in my green, velvet ikea chair for my quiet time. I read back through journals about what this day was like one year ago and two years ago. I looked back through my camera roll to see what this day was like one, two, three, four, five, even six years ago. I started listening to a week old sermon from my church that I missed. Then some threads of reflection came to me.


    On my camera roll two years ago today, the day I rang the bell, I screenshot a picture I had taken on November 19, 2020 at 8:42pm. The picture is shown above, along with the words I wrote on that day in November. I had no idea that almost exactly one year later I would be going to my routine OBGYN appointment, mention that I felt a lump in my breast, and be referred for an ultrasound “just in case”. On that day in November 2020 I’m sure I was experiencing some brokenness, but nothing like the brokenness that was to come.


    In the picture I took in November 2020, I wrote that broken meant “reduced to fragments; fragmented” and was “necessary for hope”. To be honest, I don’t remember what that meant to me at the time. I did, however, look back on a journal entry from November 15, 2020 (three days prior to the photo). In the entry, I wrote “Our identity drives our actions and our actions form our identity. Steps of faith form us into our identity. We need to be secure in our identity as children of God. Give yourself every day to who and what you want to become. Romans 8:11. Luke 9:23-24.” Romans 8:11 says, “If the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, he who raised Christ Jesus from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies through his Spirit who dwells in you.” I had no idea that soon and very soon I would be feeling the mortality of my body in a way I never had before.


    The sermon I listened to this morning was about Matthew 25:1-13. My pastor said, “Preparation allows us to be ready for a moment even if we don’t know when it’s going to happen.” I can’t say exactly how the brokenness I was experiencing in November 2020 prepared me for cancer diagnosis in December 2021. But I do know that there would be no mosaics without broken pieces, as cheesy as that is to type. I’m not saying I am a mosaic. I’m just a 28-year old attempting to pick up the pieces and find beauty in the pain.


    Every month when I go to Dana-Farber Cancer Center for my Lupron injection, I am reminded in a stark way of the mortality of our bodies. It is a mortality everyone faces, yet not everyone recognizes. As I was going through cancer treatment in 2022, I never thought I was going to die from cancer. These fears became more present and real after being declared a “cancer survivor”. There’s something about being on the other side of 10 months of intense medical treatment that made me feel a little lost once it was over. During treatment I was focused on making it through treatment and being declared “no evidence of disease”. It wasn’t until after active treatment was over that the fear of recurrence popped up.


    Being faced with my mortality in this way stripped me down to the question, “what is the purpose of life?” If health and dreams are taken away, what is left? This is where Romans 8:11 hit me. The Holy Spirit dwelling in me is what gives life. Life isn’t about having the career I want or going on adventures or the people I meet. Life is about knowing Jesus and living life with Him.


    So today I celebrate the gift of life. I celebrate the gift it is to live in the same city as my sister, brother in law, and nephews. I celebrate the gift of nature and a healthy body. I celebrate the gift of Jesus’ Spirit living in me.


    Two years ago today I could not wait for “everyday life” again. Today I am leaning into gratitude for “normalcy” and appreciating seemingly small moments. Enjoy this selfie of me walking out of a cycle class being grateful for "normalcy".