Lifelines From a Ten-Year Cancer Survivor to Those Facing Bad News

Today marks the day that I am a ten-year cancer survivor. I planned to write a glorious post for making this one-decade milestone. Witty. Intelligent. Quotable. That was my first plan.

My second plan to commemorate this anniversary of being a ten-year cancer survivor was to not write anything at all. I felt I had written it all. Taught it all. Spoke it all. Been on stage. On TV. In front of crowds. In small groups. I even wrote a book about it.

Some days I feel I have nothing new to say. (Some days I am sick to death from talking about cancer.)

But then.Last week, we had several friends who heard terrible, horrible, awful news. One regarding cancer and two others with news that hits square in the chest and makes you wonder how you are still standing in the darkness of it all.

And I realized I still wanted to offer a breath of hope, the type that comes from someone who once needed to hear the words herself.

So for those facing cancer or other life-altering news, I want to share four things that have been lifelines to me in the past.

Not tips. Not advice.

Lifelines.

1. Become a Collector of Beauty. Of Hope. Of Courage. Of Gratitude.

You may find that you don't fit in normal life for a while. You've seen too much. You are having to deal with too much. You may find the conversations of others to be shallow and sometimes you may feel like avoiding people.

Words. All the words.

Too much.

I was told countless times to avoid all negative situations and people as I healed, but I didn't find that advice very helpful. I didn't feel I suddenly received a pass on being part of the human race.

BUT.

The best way I found to combat all that is difficult and negative and ugly is to become a collector of all that is good.

That is my first lifeline for you. Discipline yourself to notice all that is beautiful, hopeful and courageous.

Document it. Write it in a journal. Take photos. Create a quilt. Go hiking. Make a list, a long list, of reasons you are grateful. Take up a hobby (or dust off an old one) that has nothing to do with anything you have ever done before to bring life inside all the drowning places inside you.

2. Hold onto the Disciplines of Your Faith

I usually end up telling everyone this, "Hold onto everything you believe about God with both hands and don't let go."

Sometimes you are going to feel like abandoning it all. Yes, you are. At times the sounds and happiness of church is going to seem like too much. Or that perhaps, you are too much. And that shallow thing I mentioned? Yeah, you might find it there too.

Resist.

The longest distance is going to be from your couch to your car. Determine to walk those steps.

Continue in prayer. In worship. In Bible reading.

Start in Psalms. David had quite a bit to say about life not being fair.

And when you wonder if God is silent, look for Him in new places. In traditional practices. In contemporary. In nature. In the words of saints from long ago, in others who have suffered. He is there. Trust me.

3. Join Other Sojourners.

You are going to look around you and discover other people next to you on your journey.

(And I'm sorry for calling it a journey. Journeys should involve suitcases and trips to Europe. Or Tahiti. Or New Zealand.) But words are inadequate for describing what you are experiencing, and it is all I can offer, which brings up a side point: in their desire to empathize, people are going to say unhelpful and even hurtful things. Learn to extend grace and forgiveness or you will find yourself in ugly places.

Some of my dearest friends are those I have met since being diagnosed with cancer. Some were old friends that I met again in this season. Look for those dear friends. They are there. These friends will help you sing the songs when you have forgotten the words. (And at times we all forget the words.)

Create a beautiful chorus together.

4. What You Discover? Give It Away.

This is not possible at first. You are dealing with the OVERWHELMING NOW. You are wondering how you will function in ten minutes, let alone tomorrow.

But one day.

One day.

You will take what you have learned and give it away to someone else. You will walk alongside someone who has received the same news you once received and you will extend a hand, offer a shoulder to cry on, and walk in step with another with compassion, because you have been there.

And you will say, "When you are ready, please tell me your story."