So what do we do when we arrive at a place in our lives or a moment that we never expected nor thought was possible? Do we become angry, sad, frustrated, or disappointed? Do we respond with joy? Do we lean in on the Lord and rely more on him than ever before?

I realized today that I am there. I’m standing with a big U for the unknown in front of me as my future and see no direct paths. I have been “surviving” every day for over a year. I have gone through some of the most physically painful and awful things that I never even began to think would be part of my story. How could this be it? How is this the path He has chosen for me? How is this the life he promised me when I saw visions of my future in my twenties?

Have you arrived at this place in your life? I’m not just in it….I’m like stuck in the mud; holy cow, stuck in it. I’ve been fighting Leukemia for over a year. I thought I had it beat. I had a Stemcell transplant last august 2020 just to relapse in January 2021. I have been hospitalized for more days than I care to count. I practically work at MD Anderson as I’m at the clinic every other day. 3 months ago, I had THAT conversation with my doctor about whether I would continue to fight or go home on hospice. I spoke of what I would want my funeral to feel and look like with my husband.

I contemplated starting birthday letters for my kids to mark each celebratory milestone they would achieve without me. But each time I wind down these paths, I become aware of walking with my head held down instead of focusing. I realize that I’m allowing my current circumstances to dictate how I see the world. I forget to look up. I fail to search and see the blessings right in front of me. My eyes begin to focus on the water surrounding me, and I lose sight of the blessings coming in the days ahead. Although it is not how I might have wanted it, my husband is home daily with our kids and caring for me. His sole purpose in this moment of life is caring for and loving on our family. He is now free to do this and not worry or feel guilty about not devoting himself 100% to either us or his job. We may never get these precious days with him home all the time ever again. He has such peace about the transition and just fully leans in that God will provide while I sit and survey all the ways I’m costing us money. How do we accept what we can’t understand or fathom? We accept because we know at our core that God is still God, and He is still good.

I sit and survey the landscape at the clinic all the time. So often, I retreat into the headspace that everyone around me is just trying to slow death down by 1 more day. We are all just fighting a ginormous uphill battle for what end or purpose. If I was 75, would I be fighting this fight? Would I be putting this effort forth to expand my story by a few more pages? And I think the answer lies in the question. Are we living for ourselves or relying on a God who knows intimately what our pages read? Even when all seems lost, God sits with the candle, lighting our next step.

When I’m at my lowest and my hope is wearing thin, I reflect on the remarkable moments I have seen in this past year of gifted life.

The moment I was diagnosed – I was not alone with doctors and nurses I didn’t know – I was with my work family. People I had poured into for the last 6 years of my life. People who had watched me grow and stood by me as I walked through life.

The moments during my first chemo experience when my husband stood for me when I couldn’t stand. And laughed for me when I couldn’t laugh. He could sense me sinking into my deep dark places and he reached down to pull me out of it and reminded me of the God that placed us together.

The moments of community literally swallowed my family in love. Seeing the body of Christ – the hands and feet of Jesus scoop up my precious family and carry us across the raging seas that life had thrown at us.

The moments of my life with Steve (my dad) as we got so many precious hours together. Seeing me go into remission, being almost killed through chemo, and then receiving literally new life as a gift from someone in America who I will hope to know one day. His time inpatient with me in our hospital dorm room, where I battled some of the hardest things in my young life and mind had ever seen.

The moment I walked out of the hospital to see my husband and my kids, who had moved across the country to be with me and support me. Holding my babies at night. Singing them to sleep after months of being separated from them or trying to sing over the phone. Feeling the grief and depression slowly lift as my heart filled back in with the tiny voices of my children.

The moment I arrived home in Niceville back in the home I knew and missed with family and love of community. Only to feel in my gut that something wasn’t quite right and relapse a few months later.

The moment I was alone and was told I had relapsed. The outcry and pouring to God about how He could give me hope only to feel it stripped from my hands. Yelling out loud, why?! Why?! Only to feel his comforting presence fill my soul again and again.

The moment I was walking down the hall as I received my first round of chemo post-relapse. I audibly heard God speak that My children would be ok, that my husband would be ok and that I would be healed.

The moment I prayed and walked the halls of the children’s hospital as I received my chemo. I prayed for the parents and children receiving new life, only to have my nephew fighting for his life in the same hall 1 week later.

The moment My physician was unsure if there was anything left to do. Only to find a new trial and plan the next day that granted me new excitement and expectation and more days here on earth with my family.

The moment my best friend in this cancer world saw Jesus and was fully healed, my heart was so heavy. Then Jesus gave me a vision of her giant smile dancing freely in the presence of the Lord in the golden streets of heaven.

Every moment I look at my husband, the love of my life, and thank God for placing such a beautiful, selfless, God-seeking, strong human to walk alongside me in this life. The stories he and I share. The life we have created. The people we have met and lived life alongside. The beauty of our story and the redemption we both have seen throughout our short time here on earth.

I’m reminded that we all have a big U in our path. Every day is a gift. Every day we should be living with a purpose, with joy, and with a feeling of peace because Jesus died so that we will have new life. If I wake up tomorrow standing face to face with God, I know I’ve achieved ultimate healing, and I’ll be embraced by two giant arms.

When you stand at the pathway not understanding or knowing why you are there or how God could place you there- Look around you at the goodness you can touch and feel and then look up. Your eyes will see Jesus and not the uncharted seas you are walking on or the thin windy path you are navigating. Your eyes will be focused on the one thing that brings continual hope and joy. Your eyes will stay focused on Him. Your steps will not be uneasy or unknown. Because you are communicating with the one who already wrote your story, that knows your most intimate being and wants to carry your burden. Thank you, Jesus.

Kaet-7/30/2021