Life is such a complicated, often messy, amazing composite of our individual choices and experiences. Yet how often are we given the luxury to recognize, in that very moment, how life-altering one single decision will end up being? Sure, in looking back over our lives we can likely identify where those hinge points were, the ones that ended up setting our life on a completely different course from where it could have gone. They likely happen all the time. But stopping and acknowledging that in the actual moment itself? That happens far more rarely. I have had a few such instances in my 40+ years of living, although two of especial note I’ve been thinking about lately.
My updates here on Meal Train did not start until after we had learned about the leukemia, but there was quite a bit that happened leading up to receiving that diagnosis. So many details surrounding the surgery itself that weren’t shared publicly (stay tuned? or read the book? hehe) and that became completely overshadowed by Kendall’s rare leukemia diagnosis and the extreme treatment regimen he would then undergo.
Shortly after the surgery, though, I was seriously stressed out, folks. Felt like I was past my limit of being able to handle even one more thing. Kendall was in the hospital and I was unable to visit him at all. Cannot overemphasize how hard that felt for both of us. I was needing to deal with (get ready for a run-on sentence here) electrical problems that had started at the house, computer problems that were way over my head to be able to fix, a few plumbing issues that had come up (SO minor compared to what would come later, ha!), our internet had stopped working, we had just had a huge windstorm that had caused some damage, I was trying to take care of bills (usually Kendall’s job) and feeling worried about lost income and how we would handle large medical expenses (oh, if only I had known…), I had just been in my first ever car accident (not my fault) where our van had been damaged, some of my kids were struggling with different issues there at the start of school, and then after one particularly difficult and emotional school drop-off I pulled into our driveway and the biggest rat I had EVER seen in my life crawled out of a hole next to my front porch! That thing could have eaten my dog!
Now, despite feeling stressed I felt like up to that point I had been doing pretty well dealing with everything with only minor breakdowns, but I. DO. NOT. DO. RODENTS!! Insects and spiders, sure. Even snakes. But NOT rodents, and most especially not rats. Ew, ew, EW! This was just too much. Kendall joked when I told him about it later that it was like we were dealing with the plagues of Egypt. What was next, an infestation of frogs? (OK, I actually like frogs…) I was afraid to even get out of my car. (Rats are nocturnal, right? Was I being invaded by a colony of enormous rabid rats here?) I remember calling the pest company right there from my car and then bursting into tears when they said they couldn’t get anyone out to my house for several days (although after the tears and blubbering about my husband being in the hospital and probably having cancer, somehow they were able to get someone out that same day, go figure).
I was in that frame of mind when I got a phone call that pathology for Kendall’s tumor had come back. At that point we hadn’t even known if it was malignant. Not only were we looking at cancer, but this was an especially aggressive type. Kendall was going to need to stop his pain medication and intense physical therapy he was supposed to be doing to recover from this extensive back surgery, and they needed to start him immediately on an especially grueling chemotherapy regimen. And I still couldn’t be there with him!
After hanging up the phone, I remember sitting there alone on my bed, a bit in shock. There was no way I could ever have anticipated exactly what was going to be asked of our family in those next seven months, in the next two years (and who knows what is still to come?), but I did have an overwhelming sense that this was going to be life-changing. Things were not going back to any sense of “normal” any time soon for our family. I knew, very clearly, that in that moment I had to make a choice. How was I going to respond to this? How would our family choose to react to what was surely going to be the hardest thing we had ever gone through? I knew how stressed I had been during that whole pandemic and especially during the previous week. I also knew my children were watching me, that they would likely follow my lead. So what would I choose?
You know, of course, that our family made the very deliberate decision, there at the beginning of our cancer journey, to choose faith, and to keep our focus on Jesus Christ. We were going to choose gratitude, to look for and acknowledge the miracles and evidences that God was aware of us and loved us. And we did. You have followed our story, our experiences. No question that one decision was pivotal in shaping how we would not only go through those experiences, but come through them closer to one another, and to God, and stronger individually and as a family.
Fast forward to March 30, 2021. I was once again sitting alone in my room, this time mere hours after having attended my husband’s funeral. It was the first moment I had had in months where all was quiet, nothing pressing demanding my attention. I remember thinking, “OK, now what? What comes next?” Here I had just lived through the most difficult, but also the most incredible, experience of my life. I recognized the lessons and the miracles and the growth I had gained from the past seven months, but I also understood intuitively that this next chapter of navigating widowhood could still break me. I couldn’t yet fully comprehend that the hardest, and also the most rewarding, part of the journey was still ahead of me. But even in the midst of the brain fog and the overwhelming grief, I sensed that the decision I made in that moment was important, could quite literally shape the trajectory of the rest of my and my family’s lives. Would I allow this to make me bitter, to pull me away from God? Did I still believe that God was aware of me? Did I still trust Him, trust that I could get through this next part that felt so much harder? (And it has been.) Could I possibly not only survive this but come through even better, further refined? How would I choose to respond?
That may sound overly dramatic, but it was a real hinge moment for me. The next part was not easy. You know that, as I have shared portions of my journey from the past fifteen months. But I made the decision in that moment that I would NOT let this break me. I would once again choose faith. I knew that God was aware of me, that He loves me. Even though it was almost certainly going to be the most difficult thing I had ever done, I trusted that I was ultimately going to be OK. And I have been. I am more than OK. I’m amazing, right?
I’ve had to remind myself of that choice often, needed to recommit to choosing faith and purposely expressing gratitude and looking for and acknowledging the miracles that have still been there, even amidst the dark times. Although isn’t that what repentance is, little hinge points where we have the opportunity to course correct back to focusing on and following our Savior? I’m trying to be mindful of those opportunities I encounter each day, where small choices I make may have a long-reaching, positive impact on my life. I know that I control the direction my life will take, no matter the circumstances I encounter.