A Brief Timeline of The Past Four Years of Our Life

2006

1. In June, Sarah relapsed after three years of being cancer free. We dealt with overwhelming grief as we were reminded that there are few long-term survivors of relapsed Neuroblastoma. Her oncologist discussed with us that she may need a second bone marrow transplant. (A bone marrow transplant is one of the most stressful things on the planet.) He ended up trying chemo instead and after several months she was miraculously back in remission.

This picture was taken the night before we told her and Nathan about her relapse. I remember looking at her carefree smile and thinking, “Tomorrow your whole world will be torn apart.” And it was. She was absolutely devastated. (As was Nathan.)

The oral chemo she was put on dried out her skin and lips and caused her to feel awful much of the time.

It was such a tough season for all four of us.

But it was a wonderful day when we got to tell her that she was back in remission.

2007

1. Nathan left home to go to college. Since we’re a very close family, his absence left a huge hole in my mama heart.
2. I was diagnosed with COPD (lung disease) and was told my lung capacity was at 60% of normal; I was also told I was a possible candidate for a double lung transplant down the road.
3. I had a health scare concerning my heart; after a few tests (including MRI of the heart) I found out it was a false alarm.
4. I started having severe vocal problems and went through several tests and procedures to get to the bottom of them. I had difficulty singing (one of my great loves) and even had to go on vocal rest for a while. The source of this problem was never discovered.

Here’s a picture of one of the tests I had. The only reason I’m smiling is that I was just posing; the wire hadn’t yet been fully inserted.

2008

1. In February I was told I had a 95% chance of cancer in one or both breasts. After many tests and biopsies, sleepless nights and tears, it turns out it wasn’t cancer after all. But for an entire month, I truly believed I had breast cancer.

Waiting for my surgical biopsy.

2. Steve was diagnosed with skin cancer
3. We had major job (church)-related stress
4. Steve resigned from the church he pastored in November. We went largely unemployed for a year.

2009

1. In August, my dad passed away. We flew to Wisconsin for his last hours of life and his funeral.

2. In September, Steve was voted into a new church in September; we commuted for two months before moving to Manteo, NC in December. Although we loved the place we were moving to, transitioning to a new pastorate is big-time stressful.

2010

1. We sold our house in our old town at a significant loss due to the downturn in the economy. 
2. In March, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. I had a double mastectomy in April with more surgeries to follow.

So. What do all of those experiences have in common?  

Stress. Lots and lots of stress.

And as challenging as my last few years have been, I know there are many of you who could write a list of your own stressors that would make mine look like a Sunday school picnic

Life is stressful. For all of us.

And lately, the cumulative effect of those life stresses has been threatening to turn into out-and-out depression. It doesn’t help matters much that I’m 48-years old and might very well be in the early (but non-terminal) stages of a midlife crisis.

Maybe those of you who are around this same season in life can relate. Your kids are out of the nest, or at least old enough to not need you as much as they once did.  And just possibly, those kids turned out to not be as perfect as you thought they might be. Because after all, what young parent doesn’t gaze at their tiny newborn and have delusions that this little child will be the first baby on the planet who will be raised perfectly by the world’s best parents. (Ha.)

Your body seems to be changing every day–and not for the better. The dreams you had as a college student concerning your goals for a fulfilling, well-paying, world-changing career didn’t quite come to fruition. You’re trying to find your purpose as you come to grips with this new season. You’re coming to realize that you’re not going to retire with a million dollars in the bank account after all. In fact, your current hope is that you’ll be able to find a way to retire at all before you turn eighty..

Maybe you’ve been married a couple of decades and have weathered storms tougher than you could ever have imagined, standing as a shiny new couple at that wedding altar. You’ve come to the unhappy (but realistic) realization that there are no perfect marriages and that the only time any couple ever rides happily into the sunset with all their problems resolved is at the cinema.  

Or maybe you’ve been through divorce, which is one of the biggest stressors there is. Or worst of all, you have lost a spouse or a child to death. 

And I could go on. And on and on.  Life can be stressful. And depressing. And disillusioning. And disappointing.

And to think it only took a blink of an eye to even get to this point.

Wasn’t it just last week when we were fifteen years old and our lives were ahead of us, full of golden promises and possibilities? When we thought that anyone over the age of thirty was ancient and out of touch? When we knew that we had all the answers?

Now it appears that we know all the answers to the questions no one is asking. 

Welcome to real life. Real stress. Real pain. Real tough.

Although I would be the first to say that many times life is pleasant and fulfilling and wonderful, this post is not written for those times. It’s written for all the people who are struggling to just get from one day to the next with their smile and strength and sanity intact.

Life isn’t so much about fluffy dreams and pristine perfection as it is about just showing up. Again. And again. And again. Whether you feel like it or not.

In my opinion, those are some of the most courageous people in the world–the ones who keep showing up when their heart is in shards, or their marriage is breaking, or their child is stomping their soul.

It’s in the showing up that we realize that in life’s grittiness, a few pearls are inevitably formed. In fact, if I were to look back over those grit-imbued stressors at the beginning of this post, I could very easily add words like these:

• This experience was tough but it birthed something precious and valuable in my life.
• This crisis made me into a person I never would have become without it.
• This challenge introduced me to some amazing people that I wouldn’t have otherwise met.
• This health crisis made me appreciate life so much more.
• This trial helped me to feel God’s presence and comfort closer than ever before.

Stress taught me about pearls in the pain. It taught me about grit in the glory. It taught me about holding on–and showing up– for just one more day.

What you’re going through today might be the toughest thing you’ve ever faced. What you’ve been through this year may have driven you to your knees in despair. And in prayer.

I’ve been there.  And in the middle of it, I often thought of my favorite quote: There are people waiting for you on the other side of your pain. 

So take those pain-formed pearls in your hand and carry them with you as you go.  It will be just a matter of time before you come across someone on the other side of your pain, someone who is going through their own season of struggle.

Show that person your pearls. Share your story and–more importantly–listen to theirs. Go on from that place to the next with the peace and comfort of knowing that your story has made a difference to someone who just needed to know their pain was heard and understood.

And in all the days to come, continue to find comfort in your pearls—those pearls created by tears, and pain, and life’s nitty, gritty glory.