Have you ever come home from a long day and have been so glad to be home? Once that key turns and you open the door to the wonderful space that is yours, you know you can just sit down and rest. You know that you’re out of the day’s race and you can sort out your thoughts, regroup your energies and take a deep breath. This is what this blog is for me.
My best seasons of contributing to the greater good are right after I’ve experienced something personal and significant in my life. When I became a mom, I took in every story and experience I could relate to about pregnancy, motherhood and single parenting. When I changed careers, I started my coaching practice to help people identify their true calling for the right line of work. When I was saved and accepted Christ as my Savior, I read my Bible and went to ladies’ retreats, Bible study, discipleship programs, listened to Christian radio broadcasts, and read Christian commentary on cultural and societal issues. When I was diagnosed with cancer, I did something different. I just wanted God.
I turned a blind eye to statistics. I sought counsel from godly people who would talk me through the grief, the scare of something untimely, and the menu restrictions so people can drop off meals for me and my daughter while I was in recovery.
I am a single mom, working full-time. I am just like anyone who works hard, wonders when I’ll get enough sleep and if I’ll make the bills that month, when I’m going to finally lose those last fifteen pounds, (okay, more like twenty) and what I’m going to be when I grow up.
I believe that we are always healing from something. It might be a wounded childhood, a toxic and abusive relationship, a recent trial with our health, job loss, loss of a loved one and sometimes, just the overarching cloud of unanswered questions.
I am in a season of healing and this blog is my way of sharing the hardships, victories and even the comedy of this natural, human experience. 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 heal through writing. 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. I hope you can enjoy this journal with me.