Every week I receive emails from readers sharing how I’ve helped them through their own journeys. Readers that tell me how inspiring, raw, authentic, and brave I am to share my story so openly. Men and women alike express to me their own struggles, spurred on by the openness in mine. Emails stating my writing is unique, clear, true, and often humorous. With every one of these emails, letters, comments, and notes, I am amazed… and grateful.
I’ve always been a writer. Not paid. Not professionally. In fact, I didn’t even go to school for writing. From my adolescent years, I’ve always kept journals — Jotting down my thoughts and emotions as a way to express my life. I’d pass notes in school to dear friends, pour out my teenage heart in puppy-love letters to old high school boyfriends, and send apology notes to my parents in attempts to say, “I’m sorry.” As my husband and I started dating, I kept a journal specifically for him, sharing my dreams and goals for our future. On our wedding day, I gave him this journal and invited him to begin writing our story with me. Writing has been buried within my soul long before I can remember.
A word is the deepest, most powerful and expressive way to convey thought. Words can inspire and help, or hurt and destroy. Words are a delicate tool that we have been gifted, and heed should be taken when using them.
As I’ve grown, writing has presented itself boldly on the forefront of my life. Upon diagnosis, I was called so strongly to share my journey that I don’t think I could have chosen not to. I was meant to write. At the time, I had no understanding of why. No reasons for sharing my little journey through life and cancer. No idea of what publicizing this story would do for me and for others. I obeyed that calling, if only for the fact that I could update friends and family on the latest additions in my treatment. After all, writing on a public blog was significantly easier than spending six hours on the phone like I did the day I was diagnosed.
Little did I know what was to come from an act of obedience. While it’s been natural for me to express my heart in words, it hasn’t always been easy sharing my largest struggle publicly. There have been times when I didn’t feel comfortable sharing how sick I felt. Times when I was fearful of what my readers would think of me if I told them I felt defeated. Moments of uncertainty in sharing my heart on the loss of my fertility. Moments when I didn’t want to write about cancer at all. And great sadness as I’ve had to share of my past recurrences with this dreaded disease. Yet, no matter how hard it has been, it’s been equally as rewarding.
… Because of you, the reader. My support team. The ones who have followed my journey from the beginning and have trusted my process. Those of you who have rallied around me, encouraging me from miles away. Those of you who have cried in your homes for me and for the many others fighting cancer. Those of you who have held my hand and prayed fervently for my healing. The many that I have yet to meet, who are actively standing and believing alongside me. And those who are fighting a battle similar to mine, sharing your stories with me through emails.
Not one of your comments, emails, notes, and even tweets go unnoticed. I read every single one, and try my hardest to respond to them all. I am touched that you take the time out of your busy lives to stop and read my words. To check in with me and see how I’m doing. To pray and encourage me through the high and low points. To notice my husband who is fighting equally as hard beside me. I am humbled that you would find interest in my story, in my process, and in my journey.
Of the hundreds of emails I receive, there are quite a few that stand out and affirm my decision for being so open. A man in Germany explained that he has never been able to put into words what he felt through treatment until he read my posts. A woman who has been struggling with the loss of her daughter finds encouragement through what I write about. A man once shared with me that after the tragic and unexpected passing of his loved one, he physically hadn’t been able to get off the couch until he read my story. Parents have written to me expressing their loss of a child. Women share feelings about their own loss of fertility, and the encouragement and camaraderie that my raw emotions gave them. Many express that, through the words of this blog, they have found their strength and identity in who they are beyond cancer.
Hearing that my willingness to be open about my fight with cancer is encouraging people from across the world, inspires me greatly. The encouragement you receive from me is equally received by me from you. When you write and share what you have learned through your own story, you bless me. When you tell me that you are encouraged to be more than just another statistic, you bless me. When you stand in agreement and believe with me that your diagnosis does not define you, you bless me. When you read my story and keep up with the latest twist in my roller coaster of life, you bless me. When you share my story with your friend or family who is struggling, you bless me. When you celebrate with me in the great times, and weep with me in the dark times, you bless me.
Thank you for following my story, and for inviting me into your homes through your TVs, computers, and radios. Thank you for being patient and understanding of me when I pour out the hidden places of my heart. Thank you for rallying beside my husband and I as we enter into new seasons in life.
Thank you. I look forward to what’s to come!
1 Thessalonians 5:11 (MSG)
“So speak encouraging words to one another. Build up hope so you’ll all be together in this, no one left out, no one left behind. I know you’re already doing this; just keep on doing it.”