Are You There God? It's Me, Ashley.

Mood:  scared, exhausted


When we got the news that Jeff's cancer had returned and that he would need three months of chemotherapy, I made a promise to myself that I was going to blog my way through the experience. And so, I write tonight. Bear with me. I am running on 5 hours of sleep and a day from hell. As I started this post I got angry at myself for not writing more of this journey. But, it occurred to me that we have only gotten through one full 5 day cycle of chemo. He has about 8 more to go. It's been just over a week....

That week has felt like a million years. I'm positive that I have aged at least 20 years.

Jeff has tolerated the chemo fairly well, and at the end of his third day we were actually pretty hopeful that he'd get through this without much discomfort and pain. The end of his third day was two days before my last post. Perhaps we got too excited too quick, or perhaps we were just incredibly naive about what this process really is.

The thing is, you really don't know much about chemo and cancer and IVs and pills until you are forced to know. I've always valued knowledge and learning and books but I find, as I sit here too scared to sleep, crying for my husband, for Malcolm, for myself and the loss of some imaginary sense of innocence, that there really is truth to the whole "ignorance is bliss" thing.

I know now, that cancer and chemo seem to be one step forward and three miles back.

I spent all of last night and this morning trapped in my head and hating myself. I got my period for the first time in a year and I hated that it's more confirmation that I can't have a child and that I was even thinking about given our current situation. I hated how fat I have gotten and that I haven't done a damn thing about it. I hated that I have no "best" friends in Iowa and that I'm too scared to get close enough to people to make any. I hated that sometimes I feel like I have no best friend at all. I hated that my sister is too far away and I haven't spoken to my brother in a year and that my mom could do nothing more than listen to me sob over the phone. I hated that Malcolm saw me cry and that he kissed my stomach to make me feel better and all I could do was cry more.

I hated so, so much today.

Jeff was running a fever all day. I hated watching him try to fight it. I hated that he seemed to be unable to do so.

He has been admitted to the hospital with the fever and a low white blood cell count. And I sit on the couch, alone, crying. And scared. The one thing I did know going into this battle is that it is very rarely cancer that takes a patient. It is an illness or infection that they just can't fight. And I am trying so, so hard to KNOW that Jeff is not going to go due to an illness...but I also told myself he wouldn't get this bad. I told myself the cancer was gone after his surgery in April. I seem adept at lying to myself.

And while I have no idea what will happen later tonight or tomorrow morning or the next day, I do know that I don't hate the fact that Jeff is in the hospital. I don't hate that I can't breath because my throat is so tight from choking on tears. I don't hate that Malcolm left the hospital telling me how much he was going to miss Daddy tonight. I don't hate any of that because I am just so aware of what I do have. I am alive. I have Malcolm to talk to, even if it's sad and scary sometimes. And I have a husband I love that I get to see tomorrow morning. And I have a Pomeranian cuddled on my lap, licking away the salty tears.

I have a great iTunes playlist going. I have a pink glittery cup holding my water. And I have people reading this. This might not get read by many people, I don't know. But if it does, I hope it gives you some hope. Or a bit of happiness. Life is scary. As much as we learn and plan and love and think, so much is out of our control. Sometimes it's important to remember that. And to stop fighting for control for a moment and to just be. And to allow what will happen to happen.

And if God is reading this,

Help.

Sincerely,

Ashley

Jesus and Lady Gaga...Baby, They Were Born This Way....

Mood:  born this way


Okay so I have to admit two things.  1) I publicly disliked Lady Gaga's "Born This Way" from the beginning for sounding too much like Madonna.  2) I am now obsessed with the song.  I'm not sure which one of these confessions is more offensive.  But here we are.  With me in love with the song.  

Yesterday was Transfiguration Sunday.  A pretty tough Sunday School lesson...especially in light of (did you see what I just did there? oh biblical humor....) the fact that it was our highest attended Sunday School to date with two kids who have never been before showing up!  But...my obsession with all things sparkly and glittery came in handy yesterday.  For our craft...I asked the kids to use black construction paper and using only gold, silver, and two varying degrees of "clear" glitter glue...transform the paper into a piece of light.  They did amazingly.  Here's mine.

I tend to go pretty abstract when working with glitter.  And the green looking one...is not at all green.  Stupid drying ugly like.

Anyway.  So I went home in the afternoon and set out about doing nothing.  I watched a ton of WE's wedding programming since I was around cable for once.  Feeling super girly and indulgent I cracked open the latest Vogue...and actually READ the article on Lady Gaga as I have a new obsession with her current single.  Just as I was getting ready to give up on the crazy that is Lady Gaga...she says the most...AWESOME thing that just...made perfect sense on Transfiguration Sunday.  I mean...Jesus himself could just as easily have said this.  Which I know sounds weird...but it's true:

The truth is, the mystery and the magic is my art.  That is what I am good at.  You are fascinated by precisely the thing that you are trying to analyze and undo.

Honestly...I was just...I kind of sat there holding the freaking book that is this month's issue open...staring at the wedding mayhem taking place on WE...and all of a sudden...I got it.  As I'm typing this...I don't know exactly what it is I understood...but the entire day just...made sense.  Everything made sense.  My life in Iowa.  My career...leaving school...there was nothing to question anymore.  

Then I woke up this morning...and I'm homesick and tired of snow (which it is doing in Iowa today) and I was all pissy again.  Plus I have a meeting tonight and I hate few things more than church meetings.  Good thing I work in a church, no?

But Lady Gaga taught me something yesterday:  things don't ALWAYS have to make sense.  And the reason it was soooooooooo easy for me to say that Jesus could have said the same thing that Lady Gaga did...is that I don't have to make sense of faith.  I never have.  Sure I'm curious and I try to work out questions...but at the end of the day...I just believe.  I can easily take the Bible at face value but still believe in God and the mystery that is the life of Jesus.  And THAT is the hardest part of religion for so many people.  But not me.  Which is one of the reasons I work well with kids...that and I still laugh at the word "balls" every single time I hear it.  But seriously.  Communion?  I never worry about where Jesus is.  He doesn't have to BE the bread...or be under it or on top of it or smeared on it...it is what it is.  And I'm okay with that.

It's the rest of my life that I constantly try to make sense.  The non-existent love life.  The career.  The leaving school.  The entire state of Iowa.  I mean...I pick apart every single thing I do and say and feel until I have no room for mystery left.  And that gets tiring and old and boring.  Which are three adjectives that are simply not me.  I've probably written this exact nice thing about 10 times since I started this blog in August...but until I finally can release the need to control everything...I'm going to keep having this crazy "AHA" moment.  

What can I say?  I'm a work in progress...I was born this way.  Starting iTunes now....

And then God created....the Super Bowl

Mood:  packers?

So they won.  Which I knew they would...and I knew this because they got a very special prayer in church today.  And clearly I believe in a God that has nothing to do but listen to the prayers of people and sit around watching football.  Russell Brand actually does a hilarious bit on this version of God...using people who thank God at award shows:

Because, or course God's got nothing better to do than sit around.  OH MY ME the MTV VMAs are tonight.  No, no Lil Wayne...thank YOU.

Makes me chuckle every time I see Lil Wayne.  

Anyway...I had a crazy busy weekend.  So not like me.  I usually just kinda veg until Friday night when I either have plans or don't...and then do nothing Saturday but rest for Sunday.  This weekend I got into a minor car accident (a parked car....fml) and then spent almost 24 hours on a first date.  24 hours you say?  Yeah...24 hours.  Is that some kind of record?  Unless the first date is like...an arranged marriage at which point it would kind of last until death...I think 24 hours is pretty respectable.  So here goes the obligatory recap of the 24 hour first date.

It was.

I kid...I'll share a bit more.  As it relates.  But I'll also talk about my nice thing for the day.  And I think...if I work this out correctly...the two are related.

So I've been reading and reflecting on 1 Corinthians a lot since the end of January.  And everybody knows Paul's famous "love is not this love is that" speech.  But I've been reading the entire book...and it's pretty decent.  For Paul.  I'm still learning to like him.  Anyway.  So today's text was from 1 Corinthians 2.  It can be broken down as such...which was indeed the way the pastor went with today's sermon:

humans = human things

 God = God things

The message boils down to the following...and I'm taking liberties with Paul's words but he can freaking deal:  don't worry about figuring all the God stuff out because that's God's job.  As humans our job is to merely trust and believe...because that's all we can do.  We can't understand God...we can just love because that...is God.

I should so write a new Bible.  According to Ashley.  I may.  

Also not the point.  Enter the marathon first date.  I did not have a date with God...but I did have a date that I sincerely like.  I felt comfortable the whole time (except when some kid at the Chinese restaurant decided to torment and head butt me...joke's on him he ran into the wooden counter HA)...laughed...saw a creepy clown...a giant cow...went to Walmart to purchase a bed for me for the evening...played Mario...and through it all not once did I feel uncomfortable or anything other than content.  Okay I mean...maybe the clown was too much.  But that's just cause clowns are honestly terrifying.

So as I drove home on Saturday evening I didn't over analyze anything.  In fact...I just kinda blissfully drove through the snow watching my little GPS and listening to We The Kings.  Got home...took a shower...relaxed...called mom...slept.  And then came this morning.

All of a sudden I went straight into "Ashley" mode and decided to pick apart every look and glance and joke and movement.  Then I got in the shower...or my watery thinking box...and realized that I was, in fact, being ridiculous so I stopped thinking about it.  Except for the clown...that shit is still haunting me.

I digress...enter the words of Paul.  Love is a human thing...but it's also a divinely cosmic thing.  And no...I'm not saying I'm in love...but in any kind of relationship (working, friends, romantic, sibling) there takes a certain amount of non-work.  Yeah...I just made up a word and/or awesome phrase.  You can't force somebody to like you or to connect with you or create chemistry or laugh with and not at you.  I mean...I guess you could but then you also end up saying things like "it puts the lotion in the basket" and I don't have the underground space necessary for a that

So Paul...has once again managed to piss me off because he made me realize one of my BIGGEST shortcomings.  I can't understand love.  It is in fact, impossible for me to understand.  What does/doesn't make it happen...if it even exists...it's not my nature as a human to be able to "get it." 


I'm so okay with not "getting God" but when it comes to relationships I'm still soooooooooooo not there.  So as I sat in church today...I realized that there's going to come a point where I'm going to need to relinquish the obsessive desire to make relationships make sense.  Sometimes they just are or they just aren't...and nothing I can attempt to do or not do is going to change that.  At this point in my life all I can do is be me and leave it to God or cupid or some old lady with a crystal ball to let me know whether or not a relationship is in my cards.  I'm going to try and get out of my own head...and let somebody smarter and infinitely wiser than me do the thinking (which is why I'll be making a copious amount of phone calls to mommy and co...).  Here's where saying my date "was" fits.  Because I don't need to freak out over anything that happened or anything that didn't.  All I need to know is that I had a pretty kick ass time.  And the rest...I'll let somebody else figure out.



If this theory proves wrong...I'll be the first to let you know so you can resume freaking out over things that are just complex and stressful...bit I have a feeling that done properly...letting go is actually the first step to taking control.