On coping
Some twists and turns are fun, some are terrifying, most are a mix of everything. This experience has been everything all at once. We are almost consumed by gratitude, while also scared and overwhelmed, while going in and out of a grasp on reality, while depleted, while surprisingly energetic. Humans cannot hold only darkness or joy all the time, and our tears tell the many stories.
I won't speak for anyone else, but for me right now, I'm focusing on radical acceptance. My particular challenges have led me to practice this skill a lot, and just in time I guess. Acceptance is the only move. I'm not trying to tightly hold hope for any certain outcome. I'm not assuming that there is such a thing as AN outcome. Treatment, surgery, recovery, testing... it's too complicated and ever-changing to be summed up as a "good" or "bad" outcome. Of course I have my desires, so strong they collapse me at times. But, at the end of the end of the end of the day, no one person controls the story, and I may as well let go of the idea that I can. The acceptance is not indifference, or numbness, or light-hearted. This acceptance is hard-won humility that admits that all I can do is what I actually know to do, which in this case doesn't go very far into the future. What can be known can be known, and all the rest, the unknowns, can be left unknown, as we accept each step of the way in faith and our own known-ness. Living in the future possibilities suffocates me because there's no end to the options, and the terrible ones are the loudest.
The support that we've felt has been immense. It shows me that we're not even a little bit alone in this, and that is one truth that buoys me in the deep distress of all of this. It helps me also to get my hands in the dirt while a friend helps me with the yard, to laugh at the kids' absolute weirdness, cry, drink a frou frou coffee, play nerdy phone games, pray, paint my grandma's nails. Do real stuff in real life, not just swirling about in my own mind.
I don't know what is going to happen, or why suffering sneaks up on all of us, but I do know that no experience is wasted in God's hands, and no experience is meaningless.
So.
Here we are.
This is what it is.
Maybe this will all work out how we hope.
Maybe it won't.
Maybe it will be both somehow.
Maybe it will be something else altogether.
Here we go.
One hour at a time.
Comments (12)
There is a lot of wisdom in what you write. Truth is, it applies to life in general. So we put our faith in God, take a deep breath, and go on. Our prayers continue to be with you, Joel and the whole family. Jenny Pat and Lee
Oh my. So powerful and full of beauty. We are with you.
Dear Joy, you are deep AND down to earth and that's what I love about you! Thank you for your faithfulness in posting honest updates which are filled with emotion, pain, "Joy," and hope. Keep it up, please, as you are able. Love and prayers for your family. Debbie
Oh friend. These words. I feel them to my core. I am here if you need anything. Truly .
Oh sweet Joy, my heart hears you. I can’t imagine the myriad of emotions you are handling. I love your wisdom in acceptance as I truly believe it is the key to serenity it sometimes going moment to moment is all one can do. If one has one expectations than one won’t be disappointed. I pray God strengthens your faith as He shows you His provision and faithfulness in this difficult journey. Many people love you all and are praying. I’d love to help in more practical ways so please message me if I can provide or do something along with daily prayers. Derek has my information. I’m so proud of all of you in your strength and courage as you face the unknown. ♥️♥️♥️
Joy thank you for your generous spirit in sharing these words, on a Sunday evening. Listening to hear, holding you and the whole of your family in my heart. -m
Thank you for sharing your words and thoughts. They are powerful. Praying for you guys.
Just got caught up on all your updates and I have tears in my eyes. You are facing a completely different situation, yet I feel a kindred connection as I read. Every day can feel like an eternity, yet when you look back at a month it feels like a short blur. “Every day is a gift” is something that has been on my heart and mind for the past year. Every day is truly a gift. I’m sorry y’all are going through this, but I’m thankful for your positivity and faith, too. Cheering you on and praying for healing, rest, and comfort from afar, Joel. And Joy — I’m praying for your own rest and strength and emotions as well!
Thank you for your inspiring honesty and vulnerability. The dichotomy of it all is a beautiful storm that you all are weathering with such wisdom, grace and peace. Thank you for sharing your journey even as we walk through our own. 🥰
Joel and Joy, we are praying for you! Thank you for being so honest with your struggles. I can relate to many of them with my recent cancer experience. I am following along with the updates and would love to be in touch when we return from our trip. The number one lesson that I am still learning is to never let go of hope. Over and over again my oncology team stole my hope until I learned I needed to hope in God because he has the final say. And nothing is impossible for Him!
Joy, you so beautifully capture “the mix of everything.” Acceptance is hard work. I had to smile picturing you painting Mom’s nails. You know giving people manicures is one of my love languages! 💅💕😘 Love to you, Joel, the girls and all those who are surrounding you. ❤️❤️❤️
I was reading this today and thought of you: The Lord is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer, my God, my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield, and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold. Ps 18:2 You are in my prayers.