Tag: Fear

Taking Flight

by Seaglass4Nicole, posted in Beachcombing My Way through Breast Cancer

Red Balloon

Some of us think holding on makes us strong; but sometimes it is letting go.

Hermann Hesse

Nostalgia.  The very real sense of “homesickness” for things or situations of the past can appear when you least expect it.  It can come in the form of a scent … a sunset … a book … or even a song.  Often, I wonder if the chemo “fog” that so magically formed in my brain has instead given rise to a deeper level of nostalgia—more vivid recall of long ago, forgotten memories.  I find it laughable that mid-sentence during a conversation, my brain can lose focus; yet during a morning “solo” jam session in the shower, the lyrics of a song can send my mind reeling down memory lane on a fast track to childhood.  This particular morning in the shower, lyrics from a song brought to mind a recurring dream I had as a child.  It came to me with such clarity, I could actually recall the emotions I felt as a child … awe coupled with fear.  There I stood, holding a big red balloon.  The very balloon I was enamored by in the dream was also the very object that brought me indescribable fear.  Fear of flight.  There was the fear that as I held tight to the balloon—it  would carry me away … while an equally fearful sense that at any given moment my hand could let go of the balloon and it would take off without me.

Life takes us by surprise and orders us to move toward the unknown—even when we don’t want to or when we think we don’t need to.

During my recent trip to Dana-Farber, I was confronted boldly with the ugly face of fear.  Fear of the unknown … fear of new beginnings … fear of letting go.   

Nine plus months have passed since I was plunged into this unknown, unexpected realm of a stage III cancer diagnosis.  My nonstop mission to do whatever necessary to put this thing in my rear view has sent me on a journey filled with lifejackets in a sea of doubt and confusion.   The lifejackets of chemo, bilateral mastectomy and radiation therapy have kept me afloat, making hope an easier vision.  Now I am left to tread these unchartered waters with Tamoxifen, or as some refer to it:  the little poisonous pill—one I will (hopefully) be swallowing daily for the next ten years.  Needless to say, I left my oncologist that day with little comfort as her simple advice spoke angst in my heart.  She advised me from this point forward I need to be mindful of pain that appears suddenly or lasts longer than usual, any shortness of breath or recurring headaches … etc.  Basically, I left the exam room that day feeling powerless, lonely and filled with a new fear—the uneasiness of fear itself.  Will it carry me away like that big red balloon in my dream so many moons ago?

I once read that love is what we were born with, while fear is what we learned here.  When you begin an unknown pilgrimage … you must not be afraid.  You need to have ample courage to make mistakes.  God uses the tools of disappointment, defeat, and despair to show us the way.

Though I feel as though somewhere along the way, I’ve lost myself a bit, I’m growing and learning to accept suffering as a vital life force flowing through me.  I refuse to consume my present and future moments with the fear of the unknown.  Yes—I’m certainly a work in progress, making many mistakes along the way, but I need to let go … sending my red balloon of fear aloft, knowing that letting go will give me victory moment by moment.

I’m beyond grateful for the outpouring of love and support so many have showered on me.  Now more than ever, I welcome and yearn for your prayers and words of encouragement.

Loads of Love … in hope,

Nicole

For God did not give us a Spirit of fear but of power and love and self-control. 

2 Timothy 1:7

Mastering the Keys with Precision

by Seaglass4Nicole, posted in Beachcombing My Way through Breast Cancer, Inspiring the Senses

piano keys

(transferred from my CaringBridge page from 3/5/13)

One good thing about music, when it hits you, you feel no pain.

~ Bob Marley

This weekend, I had the distinct privilege of experiencing one of my favorite jazz pianists and composers—Joe Sample.  Working with the likes of Miles Davis, B.B. King, Eric Clapton and George Benson (to name a few), Joe incorporates jazz, gospel, blues, Latin and even classical style into his amazing compositions.

Jazz.  There’s something about listening to it that brings such peace to my spirit—in many ways like a deep soul massage.  Just thinking about Joe Sample’s music relaxes my shoulders.  I’ve always found the best musicians to have a distinct sound that can easily be discerned from the ears of a true fan, even if you were blindfolded.  Sample could play a simple melody like Chopsticks on the same Yamaha as hundreds of other pianists, and still have it sound incredibly unique to him.  At one point during his performance, he talked about all the painful hours he has spent exercising his fingers.  He continued to share that the exercises were not about how well he could execute an entire piece of music, but instead how well his fingers landed on each key.  The precise placement of his fingers touching each key—determined the kind of sound only he can produce.

This past week was tough.  No sugar-coating . . . it was exhausting, trying and demanding of all my focus and energy.  “Mental drain” sums it up well.  In a moment during the week when my spirit seemed too weak to think let alone pray, it brought priceless encouragement to see one of Colby’s scriptures on my mirror:  “Cast all your anxiety on Him, because He cares for you.”  (1 Peter 5:7)  Because He cares for you.

I was doubly blessed to have my mom join me on Thursday for chemo.  While we were able to have some great one on one time, I was also able to share some of my struggles with her.  Though I can’t imagine the intense pain a mother must feel having a sick child with no way to fix it, my mom always encourages me while also allowing me to have moments of weakness, moments of human frailty—without going into meltdown zone because of my lack of optimism.  Though people don’t mean to communicate additional stress, often a sick person feels pressured with an expectation to be perpetually positive.  “Stay positive” is the mantra of choice.  The mentality behind the saying is sensible and wise, yet with it comes the added anxiety of probable failure.  Instead, my mom listens earnestly, never discouraging me from expressing honest pain.  She’s the perfect best friend/mother combination—loyal, unconditional, honest, loving and true . . . never letting me sit in worry and confusion, but also never dismissive about my feelings.  I thank God every day for her.

Sometimes we put our Faith in full compositions, instead of individual key strokes.  I often find myself busy praying over the big picture instead of the smaller, intricate steps that would be easier to hit with ease and precision.  I need to exercise my Faith the same way Joe exercises his fingers . . . not on a mission to perfectly execute my ballad of sorts.  Instead, the crux of this composition laid out before me is about the way my fingers graze each key.

I recognize that every step along the way of this trial is going to be difficult, even unbearable at times.  If I look too far down the road, it will be easier to falter.  Instead, I need to look at the placement of my feet, one step at a time . . . trusting the Lord’s lead.

“Faith never knows where it is being led, but it loves and knows the One who is leading.” ~Oswald Chambers

This week marks week 9.  Almost ½ way there!

 

A Mind Resting in Eden

by Seaglass4Nicole, posted in Beachcombing My Way through Breast Cancer, Raising Princes in a Pauper Society

James Dean

(originally posted on my CaringBridge page on 1/15/13)

 Only the gentle are ever really strong.

~ James Dean

Have you ever woken from a deep sleep with a face ingrained in your mind?  Confused for a moment, not quite recalling what you were dreaming about, but knowing it had something to do with this face.  Often times this face is someone you know who’s been heavy on your heart, or maybe someone you’ve recently encountered.  Sunday morning I woke up with a face fixed in my mind of someone I’ve only ever “met” through pictures and films—James Byron Dean.  Not sure why exactly? . . . I mean, I haven’t been thinking about him lately, haven’t seen one of his films recently.  Anyway, there it was . . . his beautiful face.

We’ve always referred to our oldest son, Colby as an “old soul,” incredibly wise beyond his years.  When he was three years old, his favorite movie was It’s A Wonderful Life, and he earnestly remained captivated, even during parts of the film that would likely bore even the most passionate Jimmy Stewart fans.  I, too, was one of those “old souls,” a girl before-my-time.  While many girls were donning posters of Rob Lowe and Patrick Swayze on their bedroom walls in the late-80s, it was not uncommon for my walls or bookshelves to include black & white images and books of actors such as Montgomery Clift, Audrey Hepburn . . .  or more significantly, James Dean.  I was especially enamored with him.  Recalling my fancy over this complex, young actor—who came and went before my time, I began to think about one of my favorite reads of all times . . . John Steinbeck’s, East of Eden.  James Dean’s face brought this book to mind, as I was reminded of his infamous role as Cal in Elia Kazan’s film based on this haunting novel.

As a lover of literature, I read this book at a fairly young age and reread again later . . . at the time never exploring the depth of my own human condition. Cal was symbolic of Cain in the Bible, and like all of us, he had free will to decide between good and evil.  Choice.  Just as each character in East of Eden faced—so does, ultimately, every human being.  This same free will that we’ve been given, even blessed with, applies to every aspect of our lives…and at times it can be really hard to choose responsibly, especially in the realm of the mind, when the bad creeps in at your weakest moments.

This past weekend, I got to enjoy a wonderful “date” weekend with my three little princes.  The good stuff came with:  snuggling by the fire w/a movie & popcorn, watching magician, Logan perform his latest card tricks, laughing with Lance as we read through a great book, and getting goose bumps, listening to the latest story Colby wrote in his journal . . . and then church Sunday followed by a fun, “mom & guys” brunch afterwards.  Good times.

The bad stuff found a way in too, looming in the always active mind.  It can quickly become a vestibule of doubt, worry and fear—closing in when you least expect it.  It usually presents after a long day of distracted fun, perhaps in the middle of the night, when everything else appears peaceful yet lonely.  My mind visited some unwelcomed destinations. I won’t share them, but I will tell you how much I thought about the significance of mothers.  Being one.  Having one.  Loving many.   I thought about my mom who is tangled up in her own web of worry—over a daughter who is ill, over her own mother, struggling with leukemia, and seemingly in a downward spiral …blood transfusions more often than not.  It saddens me to the core to know how much heartache my mom is no doubt dealing with.

If you’re not careful, when it’s left to its own device, the mind becomes a filthy watering hole, “corrupting” your being with negativity and lies.

I love the line early on in East of Eden when John Steinbeck writes:  “I always found in myself a dread of west and a love of east.”

You can love the east for the light that every morning sunrise brings or sigh at its reminder of another hard day’s work ahead.  You can dread the west for the darkness that every sunset creates or relish it for the colors that linger on the horizon.  Basically, we can choose to wander east or west . . . not always finding what we’re looking for.

As for me, I so long to rest my head in Eden, allowing paradise to guide my heart and mind.

 For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind.  (2 Timothy 1:7)