Roller Coaster Ride

I'm not exactly a fan of amusement parks. I've lived here for almost 20 years and I've been to King's Dominion maybe two hands full...maybe. Growing up in Pittsburgh the big thing was to go to Kennywood every year for the "school picnic." (Yes we actually were allowed to take a day off school to go to an amusement park)I never went, even though (if memory serves me) you had to go to school that day if you didn't go to the park. Partially I think because we didn't have the money for us to go and partially because it just didn't interest me. I don't think I ever actually rode a roller coaster until I was 13 or 14 at Cedar Point on one of our few family vacations. Let me make this very clear, though I am not a fan of amusement parks, I LOVE Disney World. In my mind they are not even the same thing.


Of course one of the reasons people love amusement parks is that it seems everyone loves roller coasters. I don't. It used to be that they just scared me. Some still do. You won't ever catch me dangling from a harness being dropped a million feet. The heights, the speed, the being upside down none of it appeals to me. I really, really don't like the prolonged tilted to one side whipping around a curve feeling like you could pop out of the seat any second like being slung out of a slingshot. Part of that came too because I've always been overweight and I never felt like the harness could lock adequately over me. Now that I've lost some weight, that might not be an issue, but still that feeling of you're going to plunge to your death is not what I live for. I go on them, but they usually aren't fun to me.





Well this past week has been a roller coaster. One minute filled with hope climbing to the top of a hill, the next reeling toward the bottom and certain death. Last Friday, was a top of the hill moment. I had what I thought was a great interview. The one interviewer and I hit it off, the other sounded skeptical at first, but I thought I'd won him over by the time I was done. This job would have been great and I was counting all the ways I could bless others (and myself to be honest) with the mondo salary it would have paid. And I never would have to leave my kitchen to do the work. Saturday even though it was hot as Hades, I kept climbing because I got to help work on a fence for Sharon's garden with my precious Glasgow family. I fell in a post hole and got stung by a bee, but it was worth it to help them one iota of how they've helped me. Sunday was a little dip, going to the funeral of a friend's mother, but honestly felt uplifted by the love of the family and the friends with whom I went. Monday for the most part was smooth and even until Monday afternoon. I came home opened my e-mail and plunged over the edge. They didn't want me. No feedback, just "we won't be needing your services at this time." Luckily I didn't have time to hit the bottom, because I had to go work at the music store. There's something to be said for not being able to dwell on things. Tuesday I tried my best to chug up the other side of that hill, hitting the internet job boards and having a walk and talk with my friend who perpetually thinks outside the box. But all it took was a look at my checkbook or a thought about how pitiful this job market is to send me over another peak.



So, it's been like that all week, climb a little, fall a little, climb a little, fall a little. Today was a more of a climb than a fall thankfully. I got a part time job at Lane Bryant. It's a climb I know and I'm trying to see it as such, not as a fall (since it only pays $7.00 an hour). But there has been lots of climbing today. The best one is that Dr G looked inside me today and "I don't see any cancer!" Suddenly, I hear KC and the Sunshine band in my head,"That's the way, uh huh, uh huh, I like it!!" Also the debt settlement company is settling one of my larger debts as I type. But I know the plunge is coming again, but that's okay.



You see, I remember being told that being a roller coaster Christian was a bad thing. But I think they got the metaphor wrong. Here's what I think. Life IS a roller coaster. Unless you're Simon Cowell or Barack Obama or someone else who seems to have a charmed life, life is nothing but ups and downs. Sometimes it's smooth and easy like a kiddie roller coaster and sometimes it's a deep plunge or a sudden turn to the left or right or a complete turn upside down. I've become wise enough (ok, I just set myself up for a fall for saying I have any wisdom) to know that it's not the ride that matters, it's what holds you in place. The reason roller coasters freak me out is because I don't trust the harness. In the real rollercoaster of LIFE, I've learned to trust my harness, Jesus Christ. He's what holds me in place and keeps me safe even though life is going in every kind of direction. It's only when I forget WHO holds me that I get freaked out. And thankfully, at least lately, it's been only for short periods of time (I was going to say momentarily, but that wasn't close to accurate) that I forget.


Here's some things to help us all remember:


Psalm 9:9-10: The LORD is a refuge for the oppressed, a stronghold in times of trouble.
Those who know your name will trust in you, for you, LORD, have never forsaken those who seek you.


Psalm 28: 6-8: Praise be to the LORD, for he has heard my cry for mercy. The LORD is my strength and my shield; my heart trusts in him, and I am helped. My heart leaps for joy and I will give thanks to him in song. The LORD is the strength of his people, a fortress of salvation for his anointed one.


Psalm 56:3-4 When I am afraid, I will trust in you. In God, whose word I praise, in God I trust; I will not be afraid. What can mortal man do to me?


And it goes on and on in Psalms and Proverbs.

So as I prepare for the next plunge or twist or turn, I remember that it's my harness that keeps me safe. Thank you Jesus for being that harness.

How often do I agree with CNN?

I would just like to point out that I said this first, but since I don't write for CNN and only have 9 followers, no one will be talking about what I said. But that's ok, I know I said it first.

Check out what Peter Bregman of CNN has to say about Susan Boyle.

http://www.cnn.com/2009/SHOWBIZ/Music/04/22/bregman.boyle/index.html?eref=rss_topstories

Like Isaid, how often do I agree with CNN?

I Dreamed a Dream

So Easter morning I was checking my Twitter page and Ann Curry (yes like Ann Curry from the Today show) posted a link and basically said, this will make you smile, so I clicked on it. I didn't just smile, I was amazed.

YouTube won't let me embed the video, but here's the link.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9lp0IWv8QZY

But, chances are you've seen it already. That was Susan Boyle. She is the truly overnight sensation that has been burning up cyberspace. I just checked her counter on YouTube and it's up to over 12 million hits. This clip has been everywhere.

Here's what I love about her. She's ordinary and extraordinary all rolled into one. She's like so many of us. She's this very, very ordinary looking woman (some might say homely) with the beautiful instrument inside her. To look at her, you would dismiss her. And she has been dismissed; she's 47 and never been kissed. (Can sort of relate to that one....took me till 40) She's unemployed and lives alone with her cat. (boy Susan, you and I could be best buddies) This society that places so much value on what we look like, what job we have, what we've accomplished, our relational status, simply would say she's a loser. But something in her knows she's got something to offer, you could see it when she walked out on that stage. And when she opened her mouth, every person was amazed. Simon, Piers, the blond chick who I didn't know, every person in that audience, me and all the millions who have opened that video link we set back on our heels with just one note. There was something extraordinary in there.

So, that's my hope today. That I continue to believe in the extraordinary part of me even when the ordinary part of me gets looked past. And I'm not even talking about any talent I might have. (Though I certainly wouldn't turn down being noticed in that way) My hope is that my extraordinary parts are what God is building in me would be seen. That I learn to live bigger than me and not let the ordinariness (is that a word?) of my every day make me think I'm a loser.

Here's my other lesson from this seemingly ordinary woman from Scotland, I love that she sang "I dreamed a dream." Sometimes I forget my dreams, don't you? Life sometimes can get in the way of remembering them. May I remember them today and every day.

Jesus replied, "What is impossible with men is possible with God." Luke 18:27

You go Susan! You've won my heart and the hearts of millions. Keep dreaming that dream.

Job Safari

So I realized this morning that I've been unemployed for 6 months. How is that possible?? I know that a huge portion of that was spent in cancer treatment, but how is that possible?

I coined a new phrase this morning while chatting on Facebook with a friend from high school...job safari. And I have to tell you that's kind of what it feels like, troweling the internet for that unattainable white lion, the perfect job. Part of my problem is my perfect job and what I need right now are in conflict. You see my perfect job would involve a super flexible schedule that allowed me to do things like write in my blog, or workout or work on a book or spend all day watching old NCIS episodes. But that doesn't seem to be what is out there. My perfect job would allow me to use all the uniqueness that is me (God fearing, guitar playing, technically savvy, creative, heart for people, fascinated with all things Hollywood, non-political but concerned about things bigger than me, easily distracted, teenager-loving, not driven enough for the size of dreams I have, communicative but non-verbal...) as part of the job. But it doesn't seem to be out there. In fact the only really good prospect I have right now is about as opposite all those things as possible. As I get older my desire to not just punch a clock or do something that's not in my heart gets smaller and smaller. I'm fortunate in that I don't have to worry about anyone else. That's also why I'm unfortunate, cancer treatment and follow up is expensive without insurance.

I get a lot of e-mails from job websites. I've registered with every one I can find. And they all read like this one I just got, "Christine--don't miss these high paying careers." Here's the rub, I wish the part of me that trusted God to provide was smaller than the part that perks up when I see that. I wish more of me was a dreamer and less of me was worried about paying the bills on time or getting insurance coverage.

That's why sometimes I find myself hiding behind a rock instead of out tramping through the savannah looking at all the possibilities out there. I wonder if I'm settling instead of seeking. Quivering in fear instead of stepping out into the adventure.

I know that a job isn't who you are, but I would hope it would be better if it was at least close. I think of my friend Dale. He's an artist, a true artist. He's working on a new painting as I type these words. It is so full of him and the God who loves him, it's humbling. http://www.daleglasgow.com/ check out his work.

So as I continue this job safari, I hope that I approach it with a sense of adventure and anticipation, not dread and drudgery. Surely, I can believe God when he says ,"Plans for a hope and a future."

The Road to Spiffy Underwear and Beyond

So, yesterday was my last internal radiation treatment! (How come I'm hearing "Hammer Time" in my head right now?) My road with this cancer is finally at an end. It is my prayer, hope and confidence that it doesn't pick up again somewhere around the bend. Of course there will be follow up appointments, probably for the rest of my life, but this leg of the race is over!

The race involved surgery (and I have the 8 inch scar to prove it) and external radiation (see my earlier post) and internal radiation. Yes, internal radiation is exactly what you think it is. I've been trying to think of how to write about it without seeming indelicate for three weeks now, but it's nearly impossible. There is no other way to put it, they use a giant radioactive tampon. Ok, it's not giant, but it's definitely larger than the biggest tampon I ever used. That is why they give me a dialator to help me prepare for the treatment. Again, there's no real way to talk about this without seeming indelicate. "Prep" was not exactly pleasant for me, (let's remember that I am quite literally the 44 year old virgin) so I was very thankful that they prescribed me a few happy pills to take before I went the first couple times!

When I got there they called me back, put me behind a curtain in the CT room and asked me to strip from the waist down. That's when the spiffy underwear came out. Imagine the ugliest pair of cotton granny panties you've ever seen with two three inch strips of velcro running from front to back and yes, it has a huge slit in the crotch. I swear it must weigh two pounds! Not exactly Victoria's secret if you know what I mean. They are evidently much more private and secure than what they used to do, which I was believe was have you lie there exposed and tape things in place. Here's the spiffy underwear...see I told you.They asked me to lay on the CT table and suddenly the room was full of people examining my private area. Two of the techs I'd had before (a Hispanic lady and the handsome, sweet male tech, of course), my Filopino doctor and these two new guys. One was Asian and one was Eastern European. I say that because they looked it and sounded it. Everyone had their white coats on and suddenly I felt like I was in a bad James Bond movie. (I told one of the nurses that yesterday and she nearly died laughing.)

That's when they bring out "Big Jim" (no lie, that's what the nurse calls it) Thankfully I had taken my happy pill, so I was very calm about the whole thing. Evidently, I was the first person they used the spiffy underwear on so everyone was very interested in looking at my pelvic region. Ah, the humiliation continues. But they insert the applicator (tampon, see I told you) with the radioactive stuff in it and attach a wire to it. Then they sent me through the CT scanner to make sure everything is in place. That's when the laying still begins. Because once they get it in there, you can't move...for an hour and half! Thankfully the nurse (I've learned that the nurse in this has all the sense and knowledge) told me not to drink much that morning. Evidently they have to plan what they are doing, I'm just hoping that was what they were doing and not watching the NCAA tournament or playing parchesi. So they rolled me off the table and placed me on a gurney and took me to the 6X8 waiting room. Thankfully it had a TV and TLC so I could watch "What Not to Wear", but thanks to the happy pills, I really just drifted in and out of slumber.

Finally they came back for me and wheeled me into one of the treatment rooms. The guys from the James Bond movie came back and ran a wire from a machine that once again looked like something from Moonraker to whatever was coming out of the tampon. The doctor said, "you won't feel anything." The cast of The Spy Who Loved Me left the room quickly to watch through a camera behind a lead door. (Once again, why haven't we come up for a better treatment for this disease?) Well, it didn't hurt, but I most certainly felt something. I looked down and the little machine was all red and green lights in a circle and the wire was just vibrating like crazy. In five minutes it was over. They came back and Asian man unhooked me and Eastern European guy had a device in his hand. Oh, yes, really, it was a Geiger counter! He checked the machine and then he checked me with it! Ever since I started this process people have been teasing me about glowing. This was the first time I thought it might be a possibility. The nurse waited for the rest of them to leave and removed "Big Jim", wheeled me back to the room, with a brief stop so that Geiger Counter Man could check me again, I put on my clothes and Sharon drove me home where I promptly went to sleep. Ah, happy pills. That was verse one and verses two and three were very much the same except for verse three I forewent the happy pill just to prove to myself I could handle it.

I am so grateful to God for the strength and peace that he granted me through this. I am also so humbly overwhelmed by the amount of love, prayer and care I've received throughout, I am truly unworthy. I owe thanks and gratitude to God most of all, but to so many of his children as well.

Andrea, thanks for being there when I was diagnosed, you were the perfect person because you could ask the questions when all I heard was the echo of cancer in my head. Dawn, thanks for helping me move into action right away and not sit and let it take over. Dale and Sharon, thank you for providing the safe place to heal in everyway. Becca for putting together my very own facebook prayer team; how that encouraged me and reminded me I was loved. Kathy and Kim thank you for driving me to the hospital that early, early morning and wait for hours for them to call me back. Molly, Todd, Zac, Sharon, Hannah and Dawn for breaking that "2 visitors per patient rule" during my surgery. Andrea, Dawn, Hannah and Sara for staying with me in the hospital. Thanks for being true friends and not saying anything about oh too revealing hospital gowns and medicine that made me loopy. Jim and Anita for at the last minute giving up your bedroom, rearranging your lives, making me yummy food and letting me stay at your house when I came home from the hospital. To my brothers for taking off time from their jobs and coming from far off to stay with me. For the many, many meals and cards I received, for the offers of rides to treatment, lunches out, visits, facebook messages and most of all prayers, I am forever grateful.

It was rainy this morning when I started this post, the first thunderstorm of the spring, so gray it was almost scary. Now the sun is out and the birds are singing. Kind of an appropriate place to stop. Just a reminder from God that there's always an end to the storms you run through in the race of life.