place to be

This song has been resonating with me lately... 

When I was younger, younger than before
I never saw the truth hanging from the door
And now I'm older see it face to face
And now I'm older gotta get up clean the place.

And I was green, greener than the hill
Where the flowers grew and the sun shone still
Now I'm darker than the deepest sea
Just hand me down, give me a place to be.

And I was strong, strong in the sun
I thought I'd see when day is done
Now I'm weaker than the palest blue
Oh, so weak in this need for you.

Chemo starts tomorrow. 

So I find myself...

darker than the deepest sea,

weaker than the palest blue,

looking for a place to be

and in need of you.

I am seeking God's embrace.

A lovely friend sent this verse from Psalm 94 to me.

When I said "My foot is slipping," your unfailing love Lord, supported me.

When anxiety was great within me, your consolation brought me joy.

Just breathe...

the cha cha

The last few days have been a rollercoaster of emotions. In the weekend I got the heartbreaking news of a helicopter crash in Wanaka that killed this lovely, generous, funny man who had a zest for life, his family, his friends and his faith. He was on a weekend away with good mates, several of them were also injured in the crash. The impact of this shockwave is resonating through the St Paul's community.

Jerome Box

A man who lived life to the full.

John was Jerome's quantity surveyor for many years. I can just see them sitting down so many times to discuss life, families and faith, not just the work at hand. I can see Jerome's wry smile, hear his chuckle and listen to him share his unique take on life. My heart is aching for his wife Adelle and their gorgeous children... and the other injured and their families. It's shocking when the tragedies of the national news actually rock you and the world of people you hold dear.

Then I had my Medical Oncology appointment. All throughout my diagnosis and treatments every medical professional has told me that I don't need chemotherapy. That for the grade and stage of my breast cancer, surgery and radiation therapy will be enough to effectively treat it. That I will need hormone therapy to suppress the estrogen that feeds the cancer cells (in the form of a daily tablet) but no chemo. I thought the appointment would be straightforward. "Here are your results, here's the prescription for your hormone tablets, good luck with radiation therapy next week..." I became suspicious when the oncologist said I'm going to discuss your options for treatment. It turns out that the pathology from the surgery shows that my tumour is Grade 2 and not Grade 1, so now chemotherapy is part of the treatment to improve my chances that the cancer won't come back. Usually in journeying situations an upgrade is much appreciated. Who doesn't want to fly business class or have a better hotel room with a lake view? On the breast cancer journey an upgrade doesn't have the same desired effect!

I just didn't think I would have to walk this road and now it's right there. Chemo starts in two weeks. So in preparation I got my nails done, shared a bottle of bubbles with my long-suffering, very supportive sisters and made an appointment with my lovely hairdresser Alice Tucker for a last cut, colour and style before it all goes.

My dear friend Em (who is on her own breast cancer journey) shared this picture with me after we talked about the difficult, discouraging forwards/backwards nature of our journeys so far.

 Rebel Circus

So here I am doing the cha cha, trying to keep a lightness in my step, with a heavy heart and tears streaming down my cheeks.  The great thing is I am not dancing alone, you are all here with me. So grab the ones you love, who are precious to you and let's dance!

expect the unexpected

I've been on this breast cancer journey for a few months now and I would still rather be going to Paris! I had my surgery two weeks ago and it went really well. I survived the several painful, invasive procedures in preparation for the surgery, then the surgery itself. Apart from my normally low blood pressure finding new depths to fall to, I felt much better than I thought I would. Preliminary tests showed that my lymph nodes were clear of cancer and that the tissue they removed with the tumour was all clear too. As everything had gone well I was allowed to go home the next day. It felt so good to be home, to sleep in my own bed, to sleep deeply without being woken up to see how I was sleeping!

I was so happy. I felt like a big weight had been lifted off me. I had completed the first hurdle and the relief was incredible. I've been resting, sleeping, healing, reading, quietly crafting while watching endless episodes of the Gilmore Girls! I have been cocooned by the love, care and prayers of my gorgeous family and friends. I've been feeling grateful, feeling peaceful, feeling relieved, feeling I can get through this...

Then I had my post surgery appointment with one of the specialists from my medical team. They gave me the definitive lab results of the lymph nodes, the tumour and surrounding tissue that they removed. My lymph nodes were still clear but because my cancer is the spreading kind, they felt that the margin they had taken on one side of the tumour was not enough. I knew that there was a possibility of things showing up that they hadn't picked up in the surgery. Maybe I would need chemotherapy. I had expected a time for radiotherapy to start. I did not expect that I would need more surgery, that news completely floored me. They are looking at the long term, that I have the best chance of the cancer not coming back. I want that chance!

So while I'm grateful for the expertise and diligence of my medical team, I once again find myself feeling the weight of my grief... needing to find the courage to keep engaging in the nature of this cancer journey - walking two steps forward, four steps back... learning to expect the unexpected!

oceans

Well it's been a while. Two years since my last post! That feels very confessional! Sometimes life just becomes busy and some things (like this blog) fall away. But it's always been here waiting...

Lately I've found myself walking some familiar paths that I didn't think I would return to. It's made me stop, take a breath, look around and to be very present in what is happening in my life right now.  About a month ago I went for a routine mammogram. I always find them a bit worrying because my sister Karen's breast cancer was picked up on a routine mammogram... I am also the same age as her when she was diagnosed. So when I got a call back to say that there was an area of concern it was hard not to let that worry escalate. Back for a physical exam, mammograms, an ultrasound and a core needle biopsy. Things were starting to look not so good.

So at exactly the same age as my sister, on exactly the same day four years later I was diagnosed with breast cancer. Such a weird coincidence! I have a small Grade 1 ductal carcinoma in my left breast. Apparently if you're going to get breast cancer it's the best one to get! It's been caught early and my prognosis is great. Next week I am having a partial mastectomy and if there are no complications, radiotherapy treatment when that heals.

So those are the facts. The emotional and psychological backwash of this diagnosis is harder to describe. I have walked alongside the most precious people in my life as they have had to come to terms with the ravages of life (and sometimes death) with cancer. It has been a heartbreaking experience over and over again. It takes all you have and then some. I never thought I would have my own cancer journey. This has been a surprise!

Yet here I am, walking this path. As the specialists have said, you are just starting your breast cancer journey. I was thinking if I was planning a journey I would rather choose Paris as my destination! I have found it all a little overwhelming. I bring all of my other experiences of grief and loss to this, so the weight of it is very real. While I am SO grateful and thankful for an early diagnosis and a great prognosis I have some tough things to face in the next little while.

Some people have said "Why you? You've had enough!" and you know I just don't think that. I think why not me - life happens, it's not always what we choose. Sickness, cancer, death, accidents, whatever... they're all out there. I know that I have to face whatever I have to face and want to find the strength and grace to walk through it with courage and dignity. (Well as much dignity as you can have in these situations!) A lot of people are looking at, poking, prodding, cutting and stitching up the most sacred of things - my breasts!! I feel an incredible sense of God's presence. I talked here about my Beloved tattoo representing how I feel about God and how God feels about me. I know I am his beloved. We're walking into this together. 

My family and friends are amazing, showing me time and time again that I am loved and not alone in this. My poor family walking through this again! My beloved girls Beth and Holly, my lovely, lovely son in law Mikey, my sisters Karen and Mere laughing and crying our way through this together. I am beloved. I am blessed.

And in case you're wondering why this post is called "oceans", I've played this so many times. I have found this song to be immensely moving and comforting as I find myself out in deep waters needing God's presence to lead and sustain me. 

still missing you....

Every now and again I have vivid dreams of my husband John. He's alive and breathing, talking, living and laughing with me. They are very real. I feel his presence.... then I wake up and feel my loss afresh. Often in those dreams he walks away and I try to ring and text him and I can never reach him.... so my subconscious knows he has gone... that I can't reach him. But these dreams leave fresh waves of missing John, his presence in my life and the depth of his love for me.

So I thought I'd write a post telling him how much I still miss him. I know he can't read it, that he doesn't know what I'm saying but just putting it out there reminds me of what a lovely man he was, that he is not forgotten, that his legacy lives on forever in my heart.

So you would think after six and a half years I would have moved on... well I have in so many ways. I've grown in so many ways... I've learned to shoulder loss, to keep moving forward, to find hope again, to find happiness in the smallest of things. Small things like seeing Rangitoto and the harbour as I get to work every day makes me happy!

But all of that doesn't stop me missing you John. I loved the way you loved me... that you thought I was funny and that made me funnier because you liked it! I loved the way you were consistent, constant, reliable and a very steady influence in my life. When I was all over the place you anchored me, you made me feel safe.... that we could face anything the world threw at us, that it was okay because we faced it together. I loved it that I was the only girl for you, the only person you wanted, that I was enough for you. I loved it that we had been together for 25 years but our love was as fresh as if we had just fallen in love. I loved it that even though it was all cut short you felt that you hadn't missed out on anything, that our love and life together had been enough... enough for a lifetime. So you've gone and I miss you so much.

I hold on to all this good stuff but I keep moving forward. Who knows what the future holds for me now. I treasure the memories and the legacy you have left me. I know you would be proud of me, how I've coped, the decisions I've made and the life that I am living.

But still I miss you baby

Love you

See you later xo

changes

Well I've embarked on another big change in my life with a change of job. I actually hate change. It's been imposed on me in monumental ways since John got diagnosed with end stage melanoma cancer. I don't embrace it easily!! So this has not been an easy decision or path to take. If you have been following my blog you'll know that this year has been fraught with sadness. And mixed up in the midst of that was some sadness about my job.

After talking to a few people and trying to unravel the myriad of things I was feeling..... I worked out that some significant things had changed in my job. Things at work seemed to be shaping up in a different direction this year and I had to let go of some things that were dear to my heart. I spent A LOT of time soul searching, seeing whether I could live and work with the changes. In the end I decided that I couldn't. Those things meant so much to me and I thought they were important. I also thought that I needed to make space for someone else to embrace the changes that I couldn't. So I decided that the right thing to do was leave. I put so much agonised thought and prayer into this decision.... I prayed and prayed.... and it felt right.

It's one thing to make a decision that you know is right. It's another thing to live with the consequences. It's been really hard to leave and let go. My work at St Paul's has been a labour of love. I've poured my heart and soul into the children, families, people and work there. It's been more than a job. It's been a part of who I am. I have been committed to it with 100% of who I am. It was so hard to resign, to go through all of the processes that leaving entails and not be overwhelmed with grief. One step at a time..... And as I've been doing this, the whole thing has been made easier by the lovely people who have supported me, talked to me, prayed with me, sent me lovely messages and have articulated how they and their children feel about me and what I've done at St Paul's. My great colleagues and friends have walked me through this time, sharing wonderful thoughts and love with me. It's been incredibly special and awful all at the same time.

When I resigned and started on that path, I didn't know what the future held for me or where I'd end up. It's been a step of faith into the dark. But I've seen the hand of God on everything, organising the timing and the perfect job for me to go on to. So a step into the unknown that felt awful and heart wrenching but right, has led me into a job at a lovely Catholic school where I can meld my teaching philosopies and my spiritual beliefs. It's the perfect job for me, combining all of my teaching experience and my times working at church into a seamless, holistic expression of education, faith and life.

Through all of this I have been extremely grateful to God for his consistent love, guidance and support. I have also been overwhelmed by the many people who have expressed their love and appreciation to me in so many ways. I am always thankful that I have such a beautiful family, who are my biggest cheerleaders, supporters and friends.

So new beginnings AGAIN!!! I'm embracing the change and look forward to seeing what unfolds.... Thanks for coming along for the ride!

sheer

Sheer was an event for women at St Paul's based on the theme of transparent faith and what it actually means to live life fully and openly with God. I was asked to share my story and the journey I've been on over the last few years. It was amazing to be asked. Here is what I shared at Sheer (with photos of John and I).....

First I thought I'd give you a bit of background about me. I work at St Paul's and I am responsible for everything we do that’s related to children and families. I’ve been here for two years and I love it!! This year I am celebrating a big birthday – 50. Yes it seems unbelievable even to me that I have lived that long. 50 years! I don’t feel old but that is a long time to have been around! I have two gorgeous grown up girls - Bethany and Holly. I am also a widow. My husband John died in 2004 a few months short of our 25th wedding anniversary. This event substantially changed my life and has had a profound effect on me. I want to share with you the journey I’ve been on, a journey into darkness through the valley of the shadow of death.

In September 2004, a few days before his 45th birthday, my husband John began to feel sick. He thought he had a bug or gastro enteritis. Over the next few weeks he got worse. When he started to notice dark blue spots on his torso, he knew he was in big trouble. The melanoma cancer he thought he’d beaten 9 years before had returned. One year earlier, he had been given the all clear. He often said “Well, I dodged that bullet!” A specialist confirmed John’s diagnosis and so our “long, dark night” (as John called it) began.

I took the last month off school and nursed him fulltime. John had multiple tumours in his brain, lungs, liver, near his heart, in his bones. Dark blue melanoma spots appeared daily all over his skin and grew rapidly. The specialist at the hospice said that anyone else with cancer to that extent would have been felled long ago. John was usually strong, fit and healthy. It was tough for him.

He loved the 23rd Psalm and drew comfort from it–

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies.
You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.
Surely goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

He knew he was going to die. He knew the path God had prepared for him and what he was asking of him and he never flinched. He concentrated on finishing the race. He told the doctors, “I have no regrets. I wouldn’t have done it differently. I have lived a full life.” He felt immensely blessed, he talked to everyone about his faith in God. How he could face death without fear because he knew where he was going and that Jesus would be with him.

On the day he died, he said to me, “What’s the plan today, Stace?”

And I said “You’re going to get through today and finish the race.”
And he said, “I can do that.” And he did, John finished his race well.

In the early evening of Christmas Eve 2004, the room was very peaceful with a soft, golden light. There was a tangible presence of God in the room, strong and comforting. The girls and I were with John, waiting.... Beth saw John open his eyes and look up, like he was looking at someone. She said, “Mum!” We looked at John, he took two breaths and then he died. One step from here to eternity... John lived and died well. We knew God was saying, “Well done, good and faithful servant.”

Knowing John, his faith and the life he lived, gave us hope in the time of his sickness and death. We knew it wasn’t the end, that he had finished the race, he was with God, totally healed and complete in him, the fulfilment of Psalm 23. The night before he died, he said to the girls, “It’s not good bye, it’s see you later!” So for us, we know we’ll see him again. That has been a great source of hope in the midst of our grief.

Several hours after John died, I went into shock. I couldn’t stop shaking and I felt physically ill. My mind stopped functioning properly and I felt completely overloaded. That’s when the long dark night, turned into overwhelming darkness. I knew that it would be hard when John died, but I had no idea how hard. The pain was physically, mentally, and emotionally overwhelming. Sometimes I felt I couldn’t take anymore, it was more than I could bear.

I kept going through the days between John’s death and his funeral. There were things to organise, think about, people to talk to, flowers, venue, catering, music…… I just kept going – mentally and emotionally stretched. I felt God beside me, so close.... helping me, holding me, bringing me through. John’s funeral was amazing. Full of love, tears, laughter, praise, honouring God and John’s life. It was perfect, just how he planned and envisaged it. So many people came. We were blessed and touched by their warmth, love and kindness.

Then we were alone.... starting to learn to live without John – my best friend, buddy, love, mate, partner, husband, rock, encourager, my girl’s amazing, funny, reliable, encouraging friend and Dad. There was such a space, a gap, a void, something so precious missing from our lives.

My story is that even though I came from a place of strong faith, that I’d had a great marriage and life with John, that I had the opportunity to be with him, caring for him 24/7 in those last weeks of his life, that he knew where he was going and I knew that he’d be with Jesus and it was a fulfillment of God’s promise to be with him forever, that I would see him again and it wasn’t a permanent good bye….. even with all those good things and the kindness, prayers and blessings that so touched and overwhelmed us in those last weeks…. even with all of that I still had to walk into that dark place, with Jesus by my side, and fully experience the pain and depth of my grief at losing John.

I walked with John into the valley of the shadow of death – he walked through out the other side into the fullness of God’s promises for him. I stayed there in the valley, stuck in it’s long dark shadow. The walls of the valley are steep and the shadow is big, long and black. In the depth of that valley the darkness is overwhelming. I would have been overwhelmed if I hadn’t felt God close beside me, holding me up, giving me strength, feeling the pain and helping me to bear the pain, weeping with me. Whispering in my ear “I can get you through this.”

He will never give me more than I can bear. 1 Corinthians 10:13

God is my refuge and strength, an everpresent help in times of trouble. Psalm 46:1
Jesus was a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. Isaiah 53:3
I held onto those scriptures. They were my lifeline. They gave me strength to face each day, to take one step forward, over and over again.

I have been through such times of unbearable loneliness. I have cried oceans of tears. I have felt strung out, wrung out and completely physically, emotionally and mentally exhausted. I just kept turning back into God, nestling into him, sheltering under his wing, hiding myself away. I felt so small, like a little child facing the world all by herself.... vulnerable, unsure of her place and purpose. My heart was broken – my baby was gone and the pain and impact of that was indescribable. People asked “Did I miss John?” I ached for him with every fibre of my being. Missed him, that’s an understatement!

I felt like I had no future. My future, my hopes and dreams had died with John. Part of me died with him. My world was completely black. I’ve always tried to look at life from the glass half-full perspective, looking for the positive, the good in every situation. Now I felt like someone had taken the glass, thrown it away and completely smashed it.

I held onto the scripture Jeremiah 29:11 "For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Every day I would say that over and over again. In my head I knew it was true but I didn’t feel it in my heart. I felt like I had no hope, that it was completely gone. It was my statement of faith to God. I know you have good intentions for me and I am going to keep holding this up to you because you are faithful. Sometime, somewhere in the future, something is going to happen.

And through it all God kept close beside me as I was walking, trudging, climbing, falling, stumbling, trying to find my way. My story is not that I’m incredibly brave or strong or amazing or an awesome woman of great faith but that in my mind-numbed, broken state I just kept turning back into God.... that every day I would choose to take all my pain, my hopelessness and give it to him. That I would take one step at a time, one after another, after another, every day...... choosing God, believing that he had good things in store for me... that he could get me through this.

Someone said to me that it would ease after about a year but it didn’t. My world felt completely black and hopeless for a long time. After two years I felt the darkness start to lift a little, turning my world to shades of grey. I felt like I had finally climbed out of the valley of the shadow of death and could see a little light. But it was still grey. It wasn’t miraculously over but there was a tiny seed of hope.

I have thought a lot about why I had to go through the darkness and pain. I felt that God wanted me to feel the depth of my loss and my grief. To let it resonate fully through my heart, mind and spirit. To know how much I have lost, how much I missed John, to acknowledge how much my life had changed, to feel my broken heart, to fully experience all the feelings no matter how painful and to let God into the midst of it all to begin healing me. Only by walking through the darkness could I fully experience the depth and power of God’s love and his healing power in my heart and life. Through death and pain, I could find a new life with depths of compassion and love that somehow make me a richer person.

You know there’s a scripture that’s often quoted as our passport to spiritual, physical, material and financial blessing. It’s something Jesus said in John 10:10 I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full. It’s been interpreted as the assurance that our lives will be prosperous, we’ll always be happy, we’ll never be sick, our bank accounts will be overflowing, our children will be perfectly behaved..... That’s a misinterpretation. I think that it means exactly what it says – in Jesus, we’ll have a full life.

Everything that life has to offer – the joy and the sorrow, the laughter and the tears, the excitement that comes with your first kiss, getting the job you wanted, finding out that you’re pregnant, holding your newborn baby, finding love, passing the exam.... the worry and sadness of nursing a sick child, holding your friend’s hand as they cry over a broken relationship, the grief of breaking up, the betrayal of a friend, lost dreams, someone you treasure and love dying, broken hearts......

It’s the whole of life for us to experience in it’s fullness...... with Jesus. So we can fully feel, live and breathe our life with everything that it has to offer. And God does not abandon us to that life, saying “Here you’ve made your choices, now get on with it!” No, he embraces every part of our lives with us. He’s there even if we don’t feel that he is. In Hebrews 13:5 he says "Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you."

I have got through, with God there for me 24/7. As he has helped me he has shown me some keys, not only for when you’re going through hard times but also for living a full life. They are not rocket science and you probably know them already but I think it’s worth looking at them again.....

1) Choose to turn to God, to Jesus, talk to him, bring everything – ugly, hard, overwhelming.... Bring it to him.

2) Talk to him or even yell at him if you need to. God’s a big God, he can take it. He allows us to be honest with him. So whether it’s good, bad, confused, angry.... tell him. He might not send you answers that you expect but he always listens.

3) Talk to other people. This is really important, you need support for whatever situation you’re in and you can’t handle things alone. Talk to people you trust. God sent me people - treasures in the darkness - who loved me regardless of how I was, who prayed for me, encouraged me, gave me words of wisdom, fed me, hung out with me, carried me, poured me a wine, cried with me and laughed with me. And there were times when I thought I’d never laugh again (and I am normally a pretty funny person). They let me just be me. They let me process things at the pace I needed to. My beautiful girls put up with a lot through all of this. They are my most loyal supporters, cheerleaders and friends. And my family, my gorgeous sisters were amazing. We often talked about hunkering down, wagons in a circle, protecting each other like in the Wild West!

4) Read the bible. It is the living word of God. When you read it things jump out you. God speaks through scripture and uses it to touch your heart, mind and spirit. Just read with an open heart....

5) Choose to do things that you love or that feed your spirit. Being creative and making things makes me feel really good as a person and I feel close to God when I’m creating. When my world was totally black, I couldn’t think properly and was physically incapable of being creative but as it turned more greyish I started to try little things that I could cope with.

6) This should be number one - Be kind to yourself! I still need to remind myself of this all the time. We are notoriously hard on ourselves. Stop it right now. Be kind to yourself. I guess it’s also another way of saying “Love yourself!”

In doing all of this and living all of this, I have waited to return to the “normal” Stacy that I was before John was diagnosed with terminal cancer. I kept waiting and waiting, then slowly came to the realisation that I would never be her again. This is me, I am the “normal” Stacy. I have been changed by my experiences. I can’t go back because I’ve walked in different places. I’ve been hurt and have had to come to terms with death, loss, pain, a broken heart, loneliness…… John’s illness and death have changed me profoundly at a deep level. This is me and I’m okay with that.

It’s not over. I’m still on a journey with my grief. I carry the loss of John in my heart and spirit every day. I still have hard, lonely times. While now the grief doesn’t overwhelm me, it does define who I am as a person. It is a part of the decisions I make every day about life and how I’m going to live it.

One of the things that’s been a really important part of the healing process for me, has been coming to St Paul's and being involved in ministry again. I thought when John died that I was too broken to be used by God again. That I would just fill in my rather empty days until I died and could see John again. However many years that may take! You might not know this but it’s an absolute miracle for me to be able to stand up here and share my story with you. Knowing that not only can God use me and my story but that I can feel joy and love.... and really know and feel that God does have plans to prosper me, not to harm me and that in him I do have hope and a future.... and that’s amazing!

Last year I got a tattoo as a symbolic reminder of everything that I’ve been through. It’s the word Beloved. It has a threefold meaning for me – one) that it reminds me of my beloved husband John, two) that that’s how I feel about God – he’s my beloved and three) that it’s how God feels about me – I am beloved by God...... and so are you. Each one of you is beloved by God. You are his beloved – no matter where you’re at, what you’re doing or what you believe..... You are his beloved.

John, thanks for an awesome 25 years! Love you always!