February in Kansas

The cold wind whipped my dress around my knees. There weren’t enough chairs in the tent for everyone. I hugged my sister closer, trying to block the gusts and to remind her she wasn’t alone. I didn’t have to see her face to know that tears were making tracks through her foundation. My throat constricted as the tears that had threatened to spill over all morning finally broke through and I closed my eyes in one final protest. She squeezed my hand. The sniffs and sobs around me further confirmed that we weren’t alone. Yet it’s all too easy to feel incredibly alone in a crowd.

We stood in a grassy field. My heels were sinking into the soft ground, as if trying to drag me down into the despair that grief can so easily bring. The reality of the situation was no longer escapable. There was a hole in the ground, black as my dress, and someone I loved dearly would be placed in it. I opened my eyes and looked around. It was a beautiful day, for February in Kansas. Standing on the hill you could see all around for miles. Snowy white, cotton ball clouds sailed across a sea of blue. I hadn’t seen blue sky for weeks. These sights, which usually filled my soul and lifted my spirits, were wasted on my broken heart.

Pastor’s words were a drone in the background. I can’t tell you what they were exactly, but they were beautiful words, full of hope and life. I shut my eyes and let the words fall, willing them to penetrate the dark corners of my aching heart. I wanted to feel the rejoicing of an eternity begun. The joy of long-awaited reunions. The relief of suffering ended.

Pastor was praying. I bowed my head, but my heart cried out.

And then, the sun burst through the clouds, just for a minute. Like a Kansas sunflower I turned my face towards it, relishing the momentary warmth that washed over me. As soon as it had come, it was gone. Pastor’s prayer had ended. But I was changed. I knew there was rejoicing in eternity. I knew there was overflowing joy and songs of praise. I knew that dancing had replaced suffering.

And my soul would sing again. 

How Are You?

How are you?

How many times a day are we asked this question? It's part of our social norm; you cross paths with someone and ask how they are. It's not a bad thing, but I think we've asked it so much that the question has lost its meaning. We ask and expect the typical answer, "I'm good! How are you?" How often do we ask this question when we actually mean it? 

Lately, it has gotten very difficult for me to answer this question. I don't know how I am. But it breaks social protocol to actually be honest about how I'm doing. Most times, people ask because it's what we're supposed to do, not because they want to know. And while I don't want to be a debby-downer and drag everyone down with me, I would much rather be honest about how I'm feeling.

My heart is breaking. I am worn down. One minute I feel like a chicken running around with its head cut off, and the next I feel I can't take another step through the sludge of this messy life.

I am witnessing someone in my life go through pain that no one should have to bear. My mom, the woman who has been there for me and held me when I am in pain, is now the one hurting, and there's nothing I can do about it.

My Granny is living her final days on this earth. Her body has worn out. I so desperately want her to go home to be in the presence of our Heavenly Father and my Grandad, to not suffer anymore. But I am not ready to say goodbye.

This is not a "woe-is-me" post. This is me being honest about how I'm doing. I don't want to forget that there are people who are suffering much more than I am. I have so much to be thankful for.

My mom's white blood cell counts have finally shown up and are increasing. My sister and I got to visit her for a couple of hours this weekend.

My Granny loves the Lord, and I know I'll see her again. I know she's ready to see my Grandad again, to bask in the warmth of the presence of our God and sing and dance for him.

I have a family and support system that is strong and steady.

I have a Heavenly Father who is my strong fortress and my shelter. I can live each day knowing that when my heart is heavy, when I don't want to take another step, he is my source of strength. 

A Prayer for Courage

How do you face the terror of the unknown?

How do you plan for the life-altering experience you know is coming?

How do you deal with the knowledge that things will never be the same?

How do you keep your terror from overwhelming, overpowering you?

I know the verses about not worrying, I know we are commanded not to fear. I know these things in my head, but it's another matter entirely for that knowledge to penetrate the thick, sticky smog of fear and uncertainty.

I know my God does not, will not leave me. I know my family is not walking through this trial alone.

None the less, it feels very, very lonely.
My Bible can't wrap strong arms around me and hold me tight in the quiet hours of sleepless nights. It sits on my lap, and doesn't reply when I beg for answers to my questions. I know my God is near, but He feels very far away.

So I'll keep wandering, stumbling through the smog, praying for peace, praying for courage.

The 25th Year

Well. It's happened. Or it's about to, I guess.

Why does no one write songs about being 25? Maybe because it's hard to sum up everything that's going on in life at this stage. You've moved on from the high school crushes and the college adventures, but you don't necessarily have enough life under your belt to look back and reminisce about the years long ago.

It's just kind of an awkward stage. I mean, I feel awkward, but maybe that's just me. And I think the only person who can get away with singing a song about being awkward is Taylor Swift...and I definitely don't have her song-writing skills, so I won't even attempt it.

I have a very vivid memory of a conversation I had with a gal a year or so ago. She's a few years younger than me, and we were talking about relationships and she said, "I don't know what I'll do if I'm  not married when I turn 25." I was 23 at the time, and had nothing to say in response, because at that point, unless a man walked into my bedroom at that exact moment and professed his undying love for me, it was looking pretty certain that I would not be married by the time I turned 25 years old. But secretly, I felt the same way she did.

What was going to happen to me if I turned 25 and still wasn't married? Surely the world would stop turning, the stars would fall out of the sky, and life as we knew it would end? It sure felt that way. 98% of my closest friends were already married at this point, and I very much felt like I missed the train and was now desperately trying to catch up. Things weren't going according to plan. I was supposed to be married by 21 (22 at the latest), I wanted to wait a couple of years before having kids, and then have three or four kids all before I turned 30 (because everyone knows it's impossible to get pregnant and have babies after you turn 30.) *rolls eyes* As silly and pathetic as it sounds, that was very much my internal dialog...or I guess it was more of a monolog. This was my life. Praying and waiting for God to bring my man in through the door.

I don't want this to turn into a "Single and Proud" blog post. There are plenty of those out there already, and better written than mine. My point is, I'm about to turn 25, and I don't even have a boyfriend, let alone husband. I mean, there isn't even anyone on the radar. And last I checked, the earth was still spinning along, and the stars are floating quite happily in space. What??? You mean my life can go on? You mean my happiness isn't dependent on a relationship?

It has taken me practically my whole life to get to the point where I could be honest with myself about this. I've known my whole life I want to be married. I want to find someone to spend the rest of my life with, bringing each other closer to God. I've never allowed myself to even consider the possibility that it may not be in God's plan for me to be married. My heart would close off if that thought ever came close to the surface. I couldn't admit it. It was terrifying. What was my purpose in life going to be if I didn't get married? This is what my heart desires! Why wouldn't God give it to me?

Contrary to what I've been told, and led to believe, there isn't a verse in the Bible that says "Kaylee Marie Troyer is going to get married because I have someone special set aside for her." There is no promise of the kind in God's Word. Just in the last year have I finally been able to think about the possibility that I won't ever get married. It still scares me, BUT, it has finally sunk into my head and heart that I may serve God's kingdom in a different way from 98% of the people around me.

And it's okay.

Because if I'm truly honest with myself, it's my choice that I am not married right now. Looking back over the past few years, there is at least once, but maybe twice, when I made a conscious choice that led me away from marriage. If I had made a different decision, I probably would be married, and wouldn't be typing up this post. That realization has helped me a lot. I don't want to argue theology, but I believe that God has given us free will within his great plan. He can use our decisions and actions to accomplish his purpose, because he is God. It finally clicked for me, that it was my choices, and not God withholding something from me that was keeping me single. This was so freeing. I realized that I had been harboring resentment against God for making me wait for something that I desired. It was incredibly humbling to recognize that what I had been clinging to was so wrong. How dare I feel that way towards a God who desires the best for me, who has blessed me so far beyond what I deserve?

I am coming to a greater understanding of who I am in God, and what he desires for me. It doesn't change the desires of my heart, but he has opened my eyes to see the ways I can be used for his purposes that others can't. Me, Kaylee, 25, single, working, introverted, book and movie loving nerd who sings all the time, I have a purpose that is independent of my marital status or age. I am no less of an adult, no less of a Christian, no less of a friend because of any of this.

The 25 I am about to be looks much different from what I thought and wanted. But it's okay. I don't want to be held back by wishes and should-have-beens. I want to make intentional choices. This is my life, and I am blessed beyond measure. God has done a lot of shaping and molding in these past 25 years. Who knows what the next 25 will look like?

A Challenge

I'm going to step onto a soap box - just for a moment. And before you stop reading, no this IS NOT about politics. Although I could go on about that too if I thought adding my opinions to the sticky politics gumbo would help anything. But, that's not what I'm here for, at least this time around :-)

I want to issue a challenge of sorts.

It is unavoidable that a person's perspective on the world will change when something as disruptive and painful as cancer enters into it. An unfortunate side effect of living in today's world, is that pretty much everyone knows someone affected by/diagnosed with cancer. And while cancer is by no means something that should be dealt with lightly, in many ways, it has become that way in our society. Because many of the cancers that are most common are curable, people have come to take that for granted. In addition, these cancers that are most common look, generally, the same - meaning, there's a tumor somewhere in your body, and they will perform some combination of surgery, plus chemotherapy and radiation to remove it and cure you.

Unfortunately, all cancers are not created equal - and this point has been driven home, literally, by the fact that my mom is fighting a cancer that does not fit society's mold, in multiple ways. As a family, we knew this when she got the diagnosis, but it became much more apparent to me as we began the process of trying to explain it to those around us. People listen, but when they hear the word cancer, they automatically assume they know what's involved and what it looks like. People jump to the conclusion that while this is cancer and it's no laughing matter, it'll just take a few rounds of chemo to clear it up and we'll be back to normal. I was no different before my mom's diagnosis, I did the same thing, jumped to the same conclusions.

I also began to take more notice of the events happening around me, the Races for Cures, the fundraisers and auctions...and please please PLEASE understand me, I am not saying that these are unworthy causes, because they are worthy...BUT...it seems to me that as a society we've gotten stuck in a rut.

For example: I see a sign in someone's yard for a Susan G. Comen Race for the Cure and (politics aside) I realize, "Well that's a redundant name, there IS a cure for breast cancer." Again, please understand, I am NOT trying to trivialize or minimize people diagnosed with breast cancer, it's just a good example. Thousands and thousands of women yearly are diagnosed with breast cancer, and it's a terrible, heartbreaking thing. BUT, there is a cure for breast cancer. I am so thankful that there are men and women who have been blessed with the knowledge and skill to develop a cure. And yet how much money is still being poured into these foundations and into research for it, when there are SO many other diseases, not just cancers, that still need cures? AIDs, Alzheimer's, Leukemia...the list goes on. There are foundations, scientists, and doctors who are working to develop cures for these diseases, yet have been unsuccessful for a myriad of reasons. Recognition is one of those main reasons. Society has latched onto a couple diseases and taken up the standard for them, raising awareness and money. But once a cure has been found, shouldn't they move on and take up the flag for the next disease? How much progress could be made in curing the next big disease if more people were reminded or made aware of the fact that there is no cure.

So, this is my challenge to you (at least, the five of you who read my little blog): take some time, and initiative, and do a little research on a disease that maybe you think you know about, but actually may not. A disease that needs a cure. Awareness is KEY in fighting these diseases, and the more people know, the closer we are to a cure. And maybe the next time you give money, or donate to a cause, you'll think about one of those diseases that's fighting on the fringe of society, and you'll realize how much your money or time or whatever it is, could mean.

If you're curious, I can give you a place to start, with the Multiple Myeloma Research Foundation.

I truly do not mean to offend with this post. I'm not trying to start a fight, unless it's a fight to raise more awareness. *steps off of soapbox*

The One Where I Quote Movies - Again

I can't sit cross-legged on the floor for longer than half an hour before my knees start hurting.

I can't sleep in later than 8:30, even on a Saturday, no matter how late I was up the night before.

I get excited about picking out paint colors and searching antique stores for that perfect vintage/distressed coffee table or fruit crate.

I have wrinkles on my forehead.

Over the last year or so, these changes have been creeping up on me, making it abundantly clear that time stops for no one - to roughly quote Steel Magnolias "Honey, time marches on, and eventually you realize it's marching across your face." *on a side note: if you haven't seen Steel Magnolias, with Dolly Parton and Shirley Maclaine, WATCH IT! Watch it now, with a box of kleenex and your best friend. You're welcome.*

Anyway, no matter how hard we try, there's nothing we can do to halt the energizer bunny that is time. It keeps going. And going. Bringing with it your birthday, sooner every year. I turn 25 in a few months. Honestly, I'm not dreading it. I'm just baffled at how it came so soon. It seemed so far away at 21. I will soon be on the downhill towards 30, and it seems much closer on the other side of 25.

I don't feel 25. Heck, I don't feel 24! I look at my life and wonder what I've accomplished. A friend asked me just the other night what I thought my greatest accomplishment so far was. I know what my purpose in life is, and I know God is working his purposes through me, but I look around and see what others around me have accomplished with their lives and I wonder if there's more I could be doing. But that's the problem, I'm comparing. Comparison...the thief of joy and contentment.

To quote You've Got Mail *another must-see* "I lead a small life." I have to remind myself that small doesn't automatically mean "without purpose" or "unaccomplished." I have a small sphere of influence, and I do small things within that sphere, and it suits me. I am content, 97% of the time. But then the Enemy sneaks in and turns my head, pointing out my friends who are married with babies, friends getting their Master's degrees, or friends traveling the world, and I start to compare again.

It takes a conscious, daily (sometimes hourly) effort on my part to remember that my life path is different from everyone else's around me, and it's OKAY! Crazy, I know. But I have chosen a different path from my friends. Chosen. (This is a topic for another post!) My choices have affected my life story, and will continue to do so. God will continue to work his purposes through me and my choices. Because no matter the different life paths, everyone in the body of Christ has the same end goal and destination. Everyone's journey is going to look different though. I want to live a good story. I want my story to point to God in every way. I hope it does, I hope I continue to grow in that. But I need to remember that it will point in ways that are different from my friends with snuggly babies and official-sounding Master's degrees.

And at the end of the day, I need to remember that age is truly a number, and though, "I am twenty-four, going on twenty-five" doesn't flow quite as nice as "sixteen going on seventeen," I'm going to find a gazebo to sing and dance in, in the rain, without the cute telegram boy (but definitely with a flowy dress). I have lots of practice singing both parts of a duet, and I don't want to be stopped by the fact that it looks different from everyone's expectations. I'll write my own song.

Sinking In

Today I was supposed to go to a doctor's appointment with my mom. I ended up not being able to go, but...
Today it sank it a little more that my mom's life has changed. My entire family's lives have changed.

This is a concept that has had a hard time sinking in for me. It's like dropping a hunk of chocolate in a jar of peanut butter and expecting it to sink to the bottom. It doesn't sink, it just sits there, stuck on the surface. The concept of my mom having cancer has been stuck for a couple months. It just sits on my brain, not really doing anything useful, just hanging around, stealing my sleep and peace of mind.

I've been trying to figure out why this life change won't sink in my for me. Granted, it's a big life change. It will take time. But I see everyone around me having emotional responses and I haven't yet.

I've struggled with numbness. It's a defense mechanism, in order to protect myself from the pain, I shut down. But the problem is, you can't choose which parts to selectively shut down. If you shut down one feeling, you shut them all down. By choosing not to feel pain I'm choosing not to feel love, or joy. I don't want to respond in that way.

And then, God spoke to me, through a very dear friend.

She suggested that maybe I wasn't experiencing numbness, but it was actually God protecting my heart. What if God has been shielding my heart from the pain and heartbreak, allowing it to enter a bit at a time, in manageable pieces. Instead of dropping the entire chocolate bar, he's breaking it into pieces, and making the pieces a bit melty, so that they can be stirred into my peanut butter a little easier.

Today, another piece of melty chocolate was added to my peanut butter jar. Granted, it's not as tasty as that, but my God is continuing to watch over me, shelter me, and lead me by the hand through this transition into a new life. I hope the end result is as satisfying as chocolate and peanut butter.