I am in a season of healing. I thought that after finishing chemo and radiation, the season would switch channels and I could move on to a different one – something easier to digest, a faster pace, with prettier things, a tough exercise routine and a college diploma. Instead, it’s been months. They are long and tearful, sometimes numbing and usually humbling. When a flight is delayed, all you can do is wait.
I need to heal. There are different ways I need to heal and God gave me different ways to do it.
I need to write. I have spiral notebooks and the loyalty of a blank page is unwavering, open and unconditional. But typing it online gives it some risk, some acid and tartness that it can potentially be read by someone else, who needs healing and understands the long flight of stairs to normalcy.
I take one step at a time, just like anyone else. An immigrant, a mother, a writer, a reader, a Christian, an outcast, a sibling, a sinner saved by God’s grace, a less-than-great cook, a slightly overweight dancer, a forceful poet and a debtor to midwest collection agencies. On paper, I’m like anyone else. Through this healing, I race to God through my panic and observations. You’re invited to take the journey with me. Read from a safe distance. God is showing me that this journal is how I use my voice, which is not like anyone else.