Category Archives: cancer volume 4

“Beyond Cancer’s Scars: Laying Claim to a Stronger Spirit” . . . Book Release

And so it arrives . . . this moment I’ve been anticipating for over a year now. The day when I can release to you to the words God gave to me over the course of forty days last summer. It’s my cancer story, wrapped up in words and memories that express both joy and sorrow, hope deferred and hope realized. Funny thing . . . I still feel these words. They’re still fresh, still speaking strength to my soul. I pray they’ll speak strength to your soul as well.

It seems fitting that Beyond Cancer’s Scars: Laying Claim to a Stronger Spirit releases this week. Today, August 23rd, marks the two year anniversary of my cancer diagnosis. Two years ago, I couldn’t see today—a future moment when the suffering I was about to absorb would bloom as a witness to the sustaining strength and faithfulness of God. Two years ago, all I could do was feel the pain, suffer the losses, and hold tightly to the faith that had so beautifully followed me all the days of my life.

That faith and God’s grace have carried me forward to this moment—a day when he turns the tables on my previous suffering by using it for his kingdom purposes. This is my prayer . . . that my story might serve as a soothing balm to your suffering season. That you would feel less alone in your struggle and that you, like me, would allow God to use your pain to shape the souls of the generation that sits beneath your influence.

Your story in God’s hands advances his kingdom. Write it, speak it, feel it, and, most importantly, live your story forward. The best is yet to be! With Jesus, the best is always yet to be.

Would you please help me spread the word about my book? Here are some ways you can help:

  • Share this post and the book trailer with your friends via e-mail, facebook, twitter, blog, and other social media pages.
  • Purchase a copy of the book for your pastor to serve as a resource for those in his/her congregation who are dealing with cancer.
  • Purchase a copy of the book for a family member, co-worker, neighbor, or friend who is struggling with cancer or another soul-eating “something”.
  • Consider starting a support group for cancer patients/family members/others who are suffering (a free, downloadable facilitator’s guide is available by clicking on the following link: Download Facilitator’s Guide for Beyond Cancer’s Scars).
  • Ask your local bookstores to carry my book.
  • Share my speaking information page with your church staff and others who are looking for a special event speaker.
  • Write a review of Beyond Cancer’s Scars for online retailers (Amazon, Barnes & Noble, etc.)

To listen to a radio interview about the book, click here.

 

Ordering information:

 

This first version of Beyond Cancer’s Scars is no longer available for purchase online. The updated version, Beyond the Scars, can be found by following this link.

a secret worth sharing…

May I tell you a secret? For those of you who know me personally and do life with me on a regular basis, it won’t be fresh revelation. But for others—those of you who only know me as the woman who writes these words in this public place—my disclosure might come as a surprise. Are you ready?

 

I’m here today, writing these words, out of obligation—an allegiance to a gift that once flowed so naturally through my heart and my pen.

 

Obediently, I take to the task, not because of some burning desire to engage with my words, but because I owe it to the woman I once was—a woman who easily and willingly penned the thoughts of her heart. That ability was shattered by the rigors of cancer treatments. I want it back. Life would be so much easier (or so it seems) if desire was here to fuel my “want to.”

 

Obligation—the driving force behind most of my decisions these days. Obligation, not emotions, keeps me connected to my world . . . to people, to work, to faith, to God. I do what I must do—what I know is the right thing to do—in order to keep moving forward, believing that somewhere down the road my emotions will kick in and supplement obligation with a healthy dose of desire.

 

For now, my emotions remain unpredictable, yet another surrender that has been made in the name of health. I chose this, gave my good “yes” to the doctors when they asked for my consent regarding chemo, ovary removal, and a long-term drug that would block any remaining estrogen produced in my body. It was a good decision back then, the best one to prolong my life. But today, it seems too costly. In eradicating the cancer, I’ve eradicated most of my desire, and I find that a life based on obligation and void of desire is a very difficult life to live at times.

 

So be it. I’m not the first person to let go of desire in order to take hold of lasting life.

 

Why the confession? Why plead for your understanding and make it all about me and my woes today? Because in doing so, I believe there is a truth that surfaces for us all—a holy undertaking that typifies the life of an earnest believer.

 

Good health, optimal health, is often the result of hard surrenders. A choice for life is usually preceded by a choice for death . . . letting go of and stripping away the weight that keeps us tethered to the fleeting and unconfirmed desires of our infancy.

 

The life of a saint is a life of work, despite desire, emotion, or a lack therein. To grow up in Christ is to stay near him, move with him, lean into him, and learn from him. The life of a saint is a life of obligation. Once you give him your “yes,” you tether your forever to his. It’s the inescapable reality of salvation. God never promised us a life of ease. Instead, he promised us his presence in the unease, in the struggle, and in the sometimes torturous releases that best enable us to dig into, hold onto, and live unto his glory.

 

So what do we do when desire and emotions aren’t around to fuel our obligations?

 

We keep going. We base our choices for survival on good health, on previous faith, and in the truth that what is not always felt by us is felt by God. Knowing that he holds my desire—knowing that he hasn’t forgotten the woman I once was and the gifting I once felt—is enough to push me forward. I don’t have to understand it all; I just have to keep obliging my feet, my heart, and my mind to the faith that has carried me thus far. It will assuredly carry me home.

 

Obligation. It keeps me connected to God. It keeps him doing the same. We are holy, certainly, and beautifully obliged to one another, now and forever more. And that, sweet friends, is a secret worth sharing . . . one I won’t make you keep to yourself. Go ahead, tell everyone. You have our permission.

 

Peace for the journey,

 

How are you living out your obligation to God despite the difficult surrenders along the way? I’d love to come alongside you in prayer.
 

“Beyond Cancer’s Scars” Part Three (disappointments along the way)

Six years is a long time to hold on to a dream. Really, I’ve been dreaming the dream much longer than that. Some dreams initiate in childhood when minds are less cluttered, less bothered, and more willing to believe that it could easily and actually happen—the fruition of one’s dreams. At the age of three, maybe four I stood on Beulah Riddle’s front porch in Hartsville, IN, dreaming some dreams and forming some words.

“Beulah, I wrote a song. Want to hear it? It goes like this . . .”

I don’t remember the song or the words. I don’t even remember it being a dream at that point. I just remember the memory, singing some phrases and feeling Beulah’s pleasure. Perhaps this was my first foray into the publishing world . . . stringing words together to sing a song, to tell a story, to entreat an audience. It would be a while before I could spell those words and scribble them on paper, but maybe the dream started there, on her front porch.

It hasn’t left me—my desire to tell my story. But that dream has morphed over the years, been shaped by the harsh realities of the publishing industry. Not everyone appreciates my songs like Beulah did. Not everyone is willing to take a chance on my words. I’ve spent the last six years actively trying to get someone’s attention, trying to make it past the front porch of traditional publishing.

It hasn’t worked, at least according to the large folder of rejection letters I’ve collected over the years. I’ve made it to the porch a time or two, even gone so far as to sing a few lines of my song to some well-known publishers. But no one ever sticks around for the benediction. They have their reasons. I’ve heard them all. But none of them feels reasonable to me. Reasons (whether valid or not), don’t change the fact that when rejection arrives, rejection cuts into the dream . . . whittles away at passion and pulse.

I know this one. Past rejections regarding my written words have scarred me, not silenced me but wounded me enough to strengthen my resolve and my decisions for how I want to handle my stories going forward. I carried both my writing scars and my cancer’s scars with me when I attended a writer’s conference last summer, just days after completing my latest manuscript. I also carried this resolution: a publisher’s reluctance to take a risk on me won’t wound me as deeply this go around. If they didn’t want my story, then I would find a way to get my story to readers. Holding this confidence in my heart freed me to be me, to say what I needed to say during the five publisher appointments I snagged during the conference.

My pitches (a.k.a. making your book irresistible to publishers) weren’t perfect; far from it. I blubbered my way through each fifteen minute time slot. In the end, four of the five publishers took my proposal back to their publishing houses. A year later, I’ve yet to hear back from two of them; I almost made it past the front porch with the other two, but in the end, my words received a “thanks, but no thanks”—some kind of mumbling about how cancer doesn’t sell. And I felt the cut, once again. And then I heard these words from my son one October afternoon when my sorrow spilled over on to him (turn up the volume; Jadon used his inside voice on this one):

I did get back up from my wounding, brushed myself off, and found the one idea that worked for me. With the willing and prayerful consent of my husband, we forged ahead to publish the book ourselves, not unlike what I did with my first book. It’s been no small thing; it’s been a huge undertaking. There have been obstacles, frustrations, and a more than few reasons to find my knees along the way. But as we round the corner toward home, I’m thinking that the end result will be worth the struggle to get there. I’ve paid a high price to write this story, both with my flesh and with my bank account. I’ll never get a full return on this investment (at least when measured by industry standards), but I’m counting on something greater . . .

A lasting legacy. A living witness. A personal investment into the lives of those Beulahs who are willing to sit on the front porch with me and listen to my song. If I can give them the words that God has graciously given to me . . . if I can give them to you, then my story, as well as my faith, move forward. In the end, what else matters?

The world doesn’t get the final word on our dreams, friends. God does, and word has it, his front porch is big enough and sturdy enough to cradle them all.

“Beulah, I wrote a song. Want to hear it? It goes like this . . .”

Peace for the journey,

What dreams do you hold in your heart? Who are your “Beulahs”–the ones who’ve championed your story, your dreams? I’d love to hear your witness from the front porch today.

“Beyond Cancer’s Scars” Part Two (writing the book)

“Out of your poverty, Elaine, surrender your pen.”

His words are as clear to me today as they were for me on that Friday night, June 10, 2011. The memory lingers fully . . . beautifully in my heart. Heavenly impressions are not easily forgotten. When God presses his fingerprints on to the pages of our stories—when God gives his directives with such clear and certain authority—there is a grace that comes alongside to solidify that moment and to grant us enough courage and trust to begin our obedience. It takes them both—courage and trust—for us to move forward, because God’s plans don’t always feel reasonable. Sometimes they feel impossible.

Such had been my week when I arrived to that Friday night a year ago, really my previous ten months. I’d stumbled my way through cancer treatments, emerging on the other side of them with more emotional scars than physical ones. Cancer not only strikes the flesh but also strikes the soul—the seat of human emotions. I didn’t notice my soul woundings until the other ones had subsided. It was then, when the silence came, that I began the process of untangling my pain. Some healings require more than stitches and band-aids. Some healings require the salve of time and a gentle Jesus.

On that Friday night, I recognized my profound need. I cried out to God for hope. I’d lost mine somewhere along the way. Oh, I masked it pretty well, even speaking to a group of cancer survivors earlier in the week, challenging them and charging them with hope’s rallying cry. But truth really does speak louder than words, and the truth was, I was losing ground. I wanted to give myself to something better, something higher, something more than the pain that was sucking me under, but I didn’t know how to fully get there. I only knew the first step to take—reading my Bible.

I opened up God’s Word to the bookmarked page and re-read the story I’d been chewing on for the better part of a week. A widow’s story from Luke 21. A story about her offering at the temple treasury—a gift not measured by human scales but a gift counted by God as “more than all the others.” I felt the hand of God squeeze tighter around my soul. It could not be ignored; only acknowledged, only received.

“Out of your poverty, Elaine, surrender your pen.”

And so I did. Right then. I gave God my heart, my insecurities, my words, and my promise that I would be faithful to write the witness of my cancer season, each day, until it was finished. Nothing about that obedience felt reasonable to me; instead, it felt like trust. In that moment, I knew that God wouldn’t fail me; he would help me—his power so effectively working in me would accomplish this, and in the end, it wouldn’t be about what I had done. It would be about everything he had done.

He did do it all. Each day for forty days during the hot, crowded season of summer, God showed up and pressed my thoughts into words and molded my cancer story into something that could be touched, held, and raised to the heavens as my Ebenezer, my “Thus far, the Lord has helped me” (see 1 Sam. 7:12). It was all a bit of a mess at the finish line. Forty days of intense writing leaves little time for editing and critique; that would come later. But on July 19, 2011, I knew it was a completed work and that it wasn’t meant just for me. Down to my last two coppers, I threw my “all” into the treasury of God’s temple, and the healing that took place in my heart can only be explained by the covenant Father who always makes good on his promises.

The writing was done; the hardest part was about to begin. On July 21, 2011, I packed up my suitcase, my messy manuscript, and my growing hope and headed out the door to see about a publisher—to see if anyone else might be willing to latch on to my story and bring it to the public. It didn’t take me long to figure out that writing a book is a whole lot easier than getting it published. But that’s another story for another day, another post—my next post.

Let me leave you with this final thought. If God has pressed his heart’s desire into your heart, if the Father has asked you for a hard obedience in this season (and you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that it’s him talking and not his competing counterfeit), then you can trust him with the outcome. Like the widow of Luke 21 and like me, you may be down to your last coppers. But when you do your banking with the King, you can be certain that he will make it count for all eternity. He who began a good work in you will be faithful to see it through to completion.

Count on it. Count on God. As always . . .

Peace for the journey,

What’s in your hand, your heart, your dreams? What is God calling you to surrender into his temple treasury today? I’d love to pray for you.

on getting noticed in a noisy world {a book review and give-away}…

I’m currently reading Platform: Get Noticed in a Noisy World by Michael Hyatt. I also follow Michael’s blog. He’s a ball of energy, a no-nonsense, straight-forward, genuine leader. He’s figured out how to make all this work… this blogging, branding, getting noticed in a noisy world thing. And so, I’m reading his book. What he’s doing is working (case in point, I bought the book), which begs the question, is what I’m doing working? Am I getting noticed in a noisy world? Further still, should I even be asking the question?

 

Do you know what I like best about Michael’s book? All the helpful tips for getting noticed.

 

Do you know what makes me the most uncomfortable about Michael’s book? All the helpful tips for getting noticed.

 

I struggle with this… this whole “look at me.” Truly, that’s not the pulse behind Michael’s book. Michael is trying to equip his readers with the necessary tools that better enable them to get their message out. I get it. I’m grateful for it. After all, I believe I have a message—a story of grace and witness to share with others. I believe you have one as well. As Christians, we are charged with the “story.” The Great Commission belongs to believers and is Christ’s benediction to his earthly tenure, his parting words intended for us (see Matthew 28:16-20). Going into all the world (your little corner of the world) and making disciples isn’t an optional requirement of our faith. It’s a necessary component to cultivating our faith.

 

In light of this, Michael’s question becomes a question I’m willing to wrestle with as I seek to put parameters around what I’m doing here at my blogging address, peace for the journey. Am I getting noticed in a noisy world? Is my message getting through? How can I best maximize the witness of my heart so that the hearts of others might be drawn closer to the heart of the Father?

 

It’s a tricky endeavor, merging sacred witness with social media platforms (Michael devotes a lot of chapters to talking about this area, probably because so many of us are focused there). Blogging, facebooking, twittering, pinterest, it’s a lot to take on. And I might get blasted for saying this, but I’ve come to believe that there is always a “me” attached to these forums. Think about it… even if we’re typing out scriptures for one another, we’re still the mouthpiece—the hands and heart behind our tweets. And that’s not always a bad something; most of the time, it’s a really good something, but we can’t deny that there’s not a “me” that comes with each and every one of our posts, our status updates, our tweets, our pins. We’re just a huge part of the process. We want to be heard; accordingly, we speak our minds.

 

And therein lies the rub—our minds. My mind. Oh the places it goes, the explorations it undertakes! My mind is a traveling gypsy. Left unregulated by the Holy Spirit’s guidance, I could easily steer off course and make this place about something else, something other than my journey with Jesus.

 

I guess I just want to do this right. I don’t want to get so tangled up in all the particulars—the strategies, methods, and latest trends—that I lose my focus. I want to keep writing about my journey with Jesus and then let go of the rest. Let what happens happen and let that be enough. But underneath, there’s still this push for more, this pulsing notion that I should be doing more to get my story out there and to keep up with this ever-changing beast named social media. Indeed, a tough wrestling, this idea of platform and my feelings about getting noticed, about getting God noticed.

 

How about you and your platform? Do you ever feel the strain? What stage has God allowed to serve as a venue for your faith’s witness? Are you getting noticed in a noisy world? Is God getting noticed because of you? How has social media shaped the way you share your story? What’s going right with it? What’s going wrong with it? And why has it become so desperately important to most of us?

 

I’m not knocking Michael’s book. I love his book; it’s chock-full of practical advice for anyone with “something to say or sell.” But I just don’t know how to take all of his advice and incorporate it into what I’m trying to do here in my little corner of the blogosphere. It just feels too big and too hard some days. Maybe I’m just too tired.

 

I’d love to hear your thoughts on any of the above questions. Obviously, my heart’s working them through, and I’d like nothing better than to work them through with you, faithful readers. Let’s keep the conversation positive, and as an added bonus, I’m giving away a copy of Michael’s book. Just mention your interest in your discussion of these questions. As always…

 

Peace for the journey
post signature

error: Content is protected !!