Words are mixing, changing places and making me all kinds of nonsensical.

I started with a really good idea. It was so super. Then I sat down and forgot about it. I am sitting here with a really good idea and possibly even two, but the whole thing is being held hostage by a bad alien. Stupid tumor. I can call it that because the tumor has no intelligence.

No, it’s my BRAIN that has that part covered. And that brain is smart. I didn’t really give my beautiful brain the credit it deserved  until recently when I started losing the skill to plan my day, carry it out and plan for the next day. I got so much done. Oh how on earth did I keep track of it all and carry it all out?

Stupid tumor. I am totally kicking this thing to the curb.

I wasn’t all that concerned about the areas where the tumor is sending it’s alien tentacles to until I started mixing my words up this week. More than ever. The average person mixes up words and says silly stuff all the time  and you don’t have to worry about it. But my tumor is spitting out stupid words. Words that don’t even make sense.

In fact, it’s making my figures (that was supposed to be fingers)  think that the letters on my keyboard have changed, places where the letters have been since the invention of the typewriter. It’s messing with me.  My brain is trying to decipher what I actually mean while the words are busy trying to move around the alien and get lost on the way around. Out come the words, scrambled, grunts and somewhat inappropriate word swaps that are surprising. That part is funny. I can still laugh at a good “I meant breads not breasts”.

A little less stupid tumor and a little more space for my awesome brain to move and then some radiation and chemo that will hopefully make the awesome brain more amazing without killing it. I hope when this is all said and done, I can write, I can talk and I can think of the right word, dangit!

I am hopeful. I may not be around for a while after surgery, when they start digging for alien next Monday. Maybe, as my friend Maria and I sit around the hospital room waiting for me to become a walking miracle, we can record some thoughts on the blog. I’ll be highly medicated so we’ll see what happens. She can edit before we hit publish, I promise.

Guess I should give her my password before I forget it. Oh, what was it again? Dang. There are  key pieces of my fabulous brain,  the imperative info I do need to get on paper, before we do this thing.

But there is a certain anticipation to get dealing with this alien. I want it out, or at least as much as they can. I want to deal with why I am having a hard time getting my thoughts out. I want to head it straight on. See God do his amazing thing, and be here to blog on a whole new level. I know there is a long road ahead but I am betting that the Dr’s are going to take care. That I will awake and speak.  Maybe even crack a good joke.

My prayer this week is that God radically protects the areas of language, meaning, complex tasks and speaking. Pray that he will restore any motor loss of control and memory loss. I pray that he protects my funny bone (so not in the brain but in the elbow) but you know what I mean.

I am at peace and feeling confident that the One who made me will be in the operating room at the very time where they are messing about in my “grey matter” and will guide the surgeons. I am confident not only in him, but in my surgeons themselves. They are experienced and will do the best for me that they can. Then I will wake up and be motivated to recover. I’ll have family by my side, friends sitting/standing with me. I won’t be alone on the journey to rid the alien out of my cranium once and for all. I’m counting on Jesus to be in charge of it all. And he loves me…I am his girl.

I am super excited to see God at work through it all. He’s not done here. The people we see everyday, they are being prayed for. The friends in our town, they are helping us through our journey.

My kids have grown and matured in ways never imagined before this stupid tumor. I have seen my girl come to my aide even when she doesn’t want to. She makes me tea, fixes lunches, comes and visits while I lay in bed. My son, he comes up with all sorts of deep and profound thoughts on the whole thing and is thankfully on a healthy path away from depression and looking at freedom from it instead. My two youngest have been giving me unasked for hugs and time. I count it all as blessings.

We’ll see where we stand next week at this very time. Next Tues. I’ll be post op by that day. Who knows maybe I’ll be coherent and able to skype my precious kiddos. Maybe I’ll have an incredibly gruesome scar to impress them with. I know they will do well with my parents and my brother and his wife this week. So good to know they are where they are safe and loved while I can’t tuck them in.

Maybe my next Tuesday I’ll make less sense but that’s the drugs. I plan on using good drugs for pain.

My goal is to write again, and to joke around again, and finish my book or two. Gives me something to dream about. Maybe by then I won’t mix up quite so many things.

Cheers to the day I can write a blog post by myself completely again. It will happen again!!

Putting Anxiety in a box

Thinking…it’s a beautiful thing, really.

Until the thoughts take a turn for the anxious.

I have struggled with anxiety for my whole life. I remember being shy and hiding behind my mom’s legs when someone new was in front of me.

I remember having dreams that would amplify the fears inside of me.

My brother died an unexpected and tragic death and that made me more anxious.

Then I said good-bye to my babies and almost died.

I struggled. Oh how I’ve struggled.

I’ve worried about losing Richard, my kids, my parents, my friends…my security.

Two years ago, I asked God to take my anxiety. I was done with it. I didn’t want the physical sensation of fear continually with me. The pit of my stomach churning and heavy. I told him to do what he  must. I wanted to be free…to understand God’s peace…

Philippians 4:6-7New Living Translation (NLT)

Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done. Then you will experience God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus.

Truly, I wanted to know the peace that passes all understanding.

Now I see.

When you are in such a place that all the worry in the world will not  do any good or change any thing. When life is threatened and there is little you can do…why worry? When there is EVERYTHING in the world to worry about….

Why worry?

I could. I could sit and stew…and sometimes I do. There is so  much at stake that it literally blows my mind. I have to shut it down. I have to put it away and I do. I place it in a little worry box in my mind and give it to God. He knows exactly where to put it. He’s got it all under control.

I can do this because I believe. I believe in everything he has said. I have experienced things within this crazy life of mine that I don’t doubt that he’s got it all.

He’s got it.

Oh sure, I’m normal and still want to take that box back. I demand it. Then I open it and look inside a bit. I realize it’s an ugly box of rubbish. I take out each worry and look at it a bit then put it all back and give it back to Him.

I have also realized that part of the increase in my anxiety is actually physiological. I mean the tumor is sitting right on that part. It’s fiddling around with my emotional state.

I realize that being a person that has coddled my anxiety has not been healthy for me and I want to get rid of that toxin.

So, I concentrate on the truth. Most worries are lies anyways. Did you know that?

The truth is this. God’s got it. He’s already there. He WAS there. He’s always been. And he loves each and every one of us more than we love our own children. He LOVES me! That’s a lot of love because I get choked up every time I talk about my kids these days. That’s how much I love them. I know I may not be there for them at some point.

Truth is, I have a shortened life span. I will probably not get old. There is a chance I may. I would be super happy to get old with my guy. I could get old. That would be cool. But likely, I won’t. It’s the stats. I’m ok with it because whether I get old or whether I see eternity’s gates sooner rather than later, He’s there.

I know that My Father will always be there. For me, for my kids, for my guy.

He’s got it.

And when I should be riddled with worry, anxiety, regret and fear, I am not. I am NOT. That, my friends is a miracle.

Sometimes…bad metaphors happen on bad days

I’ve mentioned before that life before knowing about the tumor had had it’s incredible challenges this past almost 2 years. We’ve been through some “stuff” and it’s been a roller coaster. Today, life outside the tumor had some hard news. I am not sure how to process how tough life actually is, with and without tumor issues.

Life is hard sometimes.

And sometimes its amazing.

Sometimes it’s all mixed together in a salad. The salad of life. Ok, so weird metaphor.

Mostly, it’s the hardest things in life that give us the most health in the end.

Like Kale. Some people love it. Don’t be offended if you do. But seriously, it’s a bad weed. A bad weed with a lot of nutrients. (By the way I know it’s not a weed) Not all healthy foods can be rock stars like blueberries.

I had a juice yesterday where I shoved about 4 cups of kale into the juicer and went to town. Then 6 apples. I had to get it down somehow.

Exercise. Now that’s another painful thing that brings us health. I hate it. Truly. Especially in the winter. Yet, I became more healthy when I pushed to run the 5 km. Dang!

So the hard times in life also bring health, if we let them.

It’s a balance to deal with the salad of life.

Today brought the kale of life, and it tasted awful.

So, to round out this salad, I bring to the table a hearty dose of protein (ok, another bad metaphor). The protein of the Word of God, who is the Life Giver. My Strength.

This was the verse of the day for me.

Psalm 22:19 But you, O LORD, be not far off; O my Strength, come quickly to help me.



The Beautiful Wait

Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock….

And as time unfolds by the second, we wait.

How does one wait graciously, peacefully, beautifully?

I am not positive. I don’t think I’ve arrived yet.

All I know is that I must. I must wait.

In the meantime, I try not to think of what is growing in my brain. I try to think of this time as an opportunity to soak in the beauty of the moments. Trust me, there have been UGLY moments in this wait.

NORMAL moments. The regular type I-am-waiting-for-a-surgery-that-could-prolong-change-or-shorten-my-life-and-family-life-and-regular-life-just-goes-on moments.

We aren’t sure whether to make plans or not. We live every day, day to day.

So life goes on like normal and yet not normal at all.

And we wait.

In the meantime, the waiting can be beautiful because if I wasn’t waiting I’d be recovering or in treatment and that will be the hard. So I take these moments as beautiful or ugly as they may be and just live. Living is good.

You, my friends, are an audience of sorts. You see my words and respond so beautifully. You are my cheering section. My posse. I have been so inspired and encouraged by your response.

I hope you don’t think my last two posts were me begging for help. I didn’t want to come across that way. I was just processing all the stuff going in my head. I am so full of hope most days. You all have contributed to that too.

Whether you are from a long distance from myself or just down the street, I have felt your support and love. All of us have.

You have moved me. Moved me away from despair to hope. You encouraging me to keep on, to fight the fight, to keep the faith…it has been profound.

God is using you. You may not feel like you are “doing much” but you are. You are! God has used you to keep the my spirits up when I feel like melting into a puddle of tears.

There are times that I have questions. Doubts. Fears. I know it’s normal.

There are times when YOU have questions, doubts, fears. That’s normal too.

Together we are going to get through this. Different people will play different roles. Not just anyone gets to mess with my brain matter, and I’m sorry but unless you are a neurosurgeon…you aren’t going to help me in there. Ok?

You are already making a difference with your notes, your prayers. your phone calls, the meals, the small talk in the small town.

Thank you my friends…whether in real life or my online peeps. Thank you. You are beautiful!

In the in between.

Putting the stuff that is in my mind down on a paper, of sorts, gets messy at times. There is a need for me to process this through words and what my fingers are made to do by the words drifting in my head.

What happens? What happens when I am in surgery, in Saskatoon? Still don’t know. It could be that I walk out of there in a few days and go on to bravely fight with chemo and radiation in Alberta. That’s my dream That is what I am envisioning me like that, walking out. Going home to my kids to give them a big fat snuggle. It could be that I may have to be transferred to the Cross Cancer via ambulance if things go less than optimal during surgery. Realistically, this could be a long road filled with therapy and treatment. We hope the best but acknowledge the rest.

I imagine me being in treatment for chemo and radiation for quite a while but coming home in between to snuggle and to rest. We are doing Cancer treatment in Edmonton at the Cross Cancer.

But I wonder in the in-between times…who will listen to the talk of my children? Who will hug them when I am not there to pat the bed beside me and say jump in. Let me watch that Minecraft Game I don’t understand. Come and talk to me. Can I snuggle with my girl? scoot on over. Who will take them to dance recitals and basketball or swimming lessons. Oy. I want to do all of that, but realistically, I”ll miss some of that this year.

What If I’m gone from home for long periods of a time? Who fills in for me. There are many offers and many options but how do they all come together.

Who will bring me my kids to see me at the hospital, because I really need them there to shine their hopeful faces in my general direction and need them to tell me about their days and adventures. I need them to jump into bed with me and share their art projects. I need them to read books to me.

What happens if the “motor deficits” are more than we are able to handle in our little house ? I have a lot of questions and not a lot of answers.

I know there are people able to transport me back and forth in different scenarios. I know that there are so many ready to step in and pitch in.

I know that whether in Saskatoon (for the surgery) or whether in Edmonton there are people and professionals that will step into roles and make life as doable as possible. So many possibilities.

I am hoping, HOPING for the best. The rest is all muddled into what “could” happen.

What I do know is that I have people stepping into willing roles and that they may be asked to step into them once or if able on a more long term basis. It really does depend on how this goes.

I have a friend that is making a list. I am  blessed by this friend. She is my organizer. My extra brain. It is she that will be delegating and I am so so thankful.

When you want to play a role, let her know. I’ve got her number and email. Just tell me. She’s the master list maker and delegator of all things Marcy. Even has down what I can or cannot eat. There are a lot of details that will get worked out eventually. I know they will. She is going to be scheduling what we need. And if she poops out with her role and needs a break, I know there will be others to step in. this is only until I’ve kicked this tumor butt and am ready to take on from where I have left off. I can’t wait for that truly. I can’t wait until I can do the silly hip hop dance off in my living room again. Make Turkey dinners (that I do really well, by the way) and go back to life as “normal” but not as it was before.

I am blessed to have people who say they are in this with us. We need you and YOU ARE AWESOME!!

I plan on walking out of that hospital and then march right to treatment and kick this little beast.

With the help of my family and friends, we are all going to pray our way through this and see the other side. God is listening and a lot of the saints are praying for us. Wow, how that makes me want to dance!!

It’s ok to be awkward

I’ve gone through loss a few times in my life. I’ve seen many go through loss, just being a wife of a pastor. There have been times I didn’t know what to say. Times I said the completely wrong thing. Times someone has said something insensitive.

It’s ok to feel awkward. It’s NORMAL.

I have had some say that they just don’t know what to say. That’s OK!!

One of my dear “neighbors” saw me for the first time in months and said that she was sorry but she just didn’t know how to make that first move. She had lost someone very dear to something very similar….so it was hard. We hugged and it was ok. I have been so busy doing what we’re doing that I haven’t noticed people hiding in their houses. Honestly, it’s winter in Canada…every winter is the same. We all hide until spring comes. Then we all burst out of our houses and into the sunshine. Nothing unusual about that.

So, you feel shy…like not saying the “wrong” thing or just want to run when you see one of us coming.

It gets easier.

I’m not a scary monster. LOL! Ok, so I can be.

If you know me at all, you know that I love being goofy. I like to act like nothing is wrong. Denial. I like it. I can be good at it.

You don’t have to say anything profound or wise. You can just be you. You and me. Whatever we had before is still the same. I’m still the same gal. Tell me I look pretty. Can’t go wrong there :)

Sure, there is the big scary thing in my head and an impressive scar if you want to look. I like showing it off. It’s cool.

On the other hand, if you can’t stand the thought of what’s going on in my head, that’s ok. I have a lot of other things going on and so do you. Let’s talk about that.

It’s ok to be awkward and unsure. I’ve been there. It gets easier after the first step. By the way, if you’ve been awkward, I haven’t noticed. Unless you said something.