Oh, my first few thoughts in remission.

Dear Mr. Hodgkin's,

We were given every last second to employ our final military tactics, but on May 22nd, my radiologist called for a ceasefire.  That evening, I walked out of the oncology center with my mask in one hand and release papers in the other.  I pranced all the way to my car with what felt like a new-found freedom!  As I climbed in and turned the key to start my car, NeedToBreathe's "Wanted Man" blared out from my speakers.  And it was there in the parking lot I sat, with the door wide open, the sun beating down on me, for minutes on end listening to this song on repeat. 

Let's rewind.  You see, when I first heard word of you in January, I would stare up at the empty sky and plead the lines from this song to the Lord: "I am on the run...I know who I am, my dear, I'm a wanted man, but the world I see looks good from here right from where I stand.  Together we could disappear....I'm a wanted man."  Ha, I'm not calling the Lord "my dear" and I'm certainly not a man, but let me explain further.  Back in January, all I wanted was to escape out of your clutches, but you made me feel so trapped; I felt like a walking target with a bold X painted on my back. Even though I knew it was naiive, when I would sing this song over and over, it was as if I was begging the Lord for a chance to run away and start fresh.  As if fleeing would dissolve your presence.  But logic and reality crept in as soon as I reached up to touch my neck... and could physically feel you.  You were in me.  Attached to me.  Protruding from me.  With an extreme threat to spread further.  And you weren't going anywhere anytime soon.  So with a huge sigh and slumped shoulders, I gave up on my impulse to drop everything and move to Figi (Truman Show, anyone?), and with the notion of test after test, radiation after chemotherapy, and all the pain and trials I was prepped to expect, I gulped and asked Jesus to fight for His scared daughter. 

Okay, fast-forward again to this week.  There aren't many times in my life I'm at a loss for words, but this week has been showered with those type of moments.  Even now, as I sit back and take a deep breath, I'm drumming my fingers along the keyboard and replaying the junctures of each day that will forever be engrained in my mind.  You see, Mr. Hodgkin's, in my top 5 favorite blessings the Lord has given me, the people He has sent into my life always come out on top.  I don't just have great family, friends, roommates, and co-workers... I have RIDICULOUSLY solid family, friends, roommates, and co-workers who extend Jesus to me on a daily basis.  I have seen a sweetness surface from even the unexpected and yet this sensitivity has always been coupled with a fierceness to wage war against you and determination to pray audaciously on my behalf.  What loyalty, what love. 

And here's the thing, Mr. Hodgkin's.  This is not something I uniquely have; rather, this is what the Body of Christ is and this is simply what we do for one another.  Romans 12:5 explains: "So in Christ we who are many form one body, and each member belongs to all the others."  Even more so, Jesus once said, "...all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another" (John 13:35).  What a holy and pure calling we have.... to love one another.  My heart beats faster even at the thought.  There are people in this world who have sworn off church or have ignored the value of living life with fellow believers, and it's one of the few things my empathy strength just cannot understand.  Back in January, I wrote in my journal: "Thank You Father for all the support You surrounded me with.  You must have known how much I would need them... all of them."  The Lord worked so powerfully through the body of Christ these past few months that I can't help but grimace and shake my head as I wonder what it would have been like without them.

My parents were my go-to people available at all hours of the day; sitting with me through hours of chemotherapy, rubbing my back as I was cringing in pain, and being resolute in the faith that the Lord would indeed heal me.  The presence of my siblings brought such comfort, but they also knew how to make me laugh and that averted attention was so refreshing.  The letters, emails, and texts from my extended family would always redirect me to the Lord's sovereign hand and peace would then naturally flow.  Even my 8-year-old cousin played her role in my healing when I heard that she saw a picture of me and said, "I don't think it's fair that Heidi got cancer" and then immediately bowed her head and said, "Let's pray."  How could our God not be moved by her heart?!

Then there are my friends.  The nights when I wanted to share all of my thoughts, they left their beds, and with open ears, they listened.  The days when I just wanted to be normal, they would take me to consignment shops and we would journal together at Caribou.  These people would surprise me with flowers, notes under my door, and spontaneous moments of Affirmation Station.  They stood by me in deep comraderie as I shaved my head, made shopping for wigs seem like a normal task on the to-do list, and naturally threw a "Goodbye, Mr. Hodgkin's" party to celebrate the Lord's victorious reign.  All in all, these people include my closest girlfriends, my roommates, my volunteers from EBC, my peeps from Northwestern College... You would indeed be blown away if I could share the sacrificial and intentional deeds that flowed from each individual.  God bless them all.

My co-workers.  Man, these people consistently extended support and encouragement 5 days a week (and more).  They had the faith I could fight you, the confidence I could continue to work hard, and the mindset to love me through it - which all came purely from our Lord.  I remember when the doctor gave me the call to confirm you were indeed residing in my neck; I was at work.  I remember numbly walking back towards my desk, but before I could even get that far, I fell to my knees in the cube of the White Bear Lake team; Sue and Emily held my hands as we rushed boldly into the presence of our Lord for comfort, intense protection, and full healing.  When I opened my eyes, 10-15 others were surrounding me also petitioning the Lord for my healing.  Also, my campus pastor, his wonderful wife, and his precious children would pray for "Miss Heidi" each night and even checked out a book from the library about cancer so their kids could learn more about it. 

I could go on and on, like I could with all my peeps, but it's safe to say the Lord indeed showed His comfort and support through His children, His saints, His people.  Man, do I love the church with so much of my heart.  All in all, this world has seemed very scary and can still instigate a bit of fear with the ambiguity of the future ahead, but I am not traveling alone, Mr. Hodgkin's.  No, as a Christ-follower, I am blessed with something beautiful and sure-standing: the body of Christ. Because of them, I can heed to Hebrews 12:1, "Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles.  And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us." 

So that's my plan... I have 5 weeks until I go back to the oncologist for my first PET scan since being officially in remission and will (hopefully) hear confirmation I am still in the clear.  If this is the case, I will be able to go into surgery and get my dang port removed; I know I will feel deeper freedom when that's out of my body pushing you further into the deep recesses of my memory.  Also, I'm taking the next couple of weeks to dive into my journal and process this entire journey with my God.  I will surely keep you in the loop, but once I get the confirmation in the beginning of July that you are gone, I am done with you, sir.  You heard me... no more communication then with you; you will be dead to me in the healing Name of Jesus.  It will be time to start a new chapter, and with that, a new blog?  Haha, the question mark is there because I'm still thinking of what that looks like, but believe it will be central to my Year 24 verse: "taste and see that the Lord is good" (Psalm 34:8).  I just think it's about time for bigger and better things, Mr. Hodgkin's; wouldn't you say?

Yours Truly,
Heid