Replacing the Soundtrack

For a long time, the song I considered to be the “theme song” for my life, has been Even If by MercyMe. It carried me through some hard seasons. Cancer. Fear. Uncertainty. Learning to trust God when life didn’t look the way I wanted it to.

That song met me in a place where the goal was to have faith deep enough to honestly say: ‘God, even if You don’t answer the way I hope, You are still good’.

I wanted to be able to say, “It is well with my soul,” regardless of the circumstance, because I was secure in my trust in God. I thought about Horatio Spafford, who wrote It Is Well With My Soul after unimaginable loss; who struggled with so much more than I. The death of his son from scarlet fever, the destruction of his wealth in the Great Chicago Fire, and soon after the loss of his four daughters in a shipwreck. If he could still cling to God through that kind of grief… if Job could remain faithful through suffering and loss… I wanted that kind of peace too.

I can’t say that I’ve achieved that goal, but I believe I’ve grown closer to it. Admittedly, it is a lot easier to feel grounded when cancer isn’t knocking at the door, and when those I love are safe and warm, and cared for. I’m aware of that. So, I will continue to pursue this kind of faith and peace in God. However lately, I’ve also realized that this is no longer the central need that I need to focus on, and I’ve felt a shift happening in my heart, and a change with where I want my life to point toward.

Now, I feel the need for a new theme song. Songs that are currently striking a chord in my soul are:

·         Different by Micah Tyler 

"I don't wanna spend my life, stuck in a pattern, and I don't wanna gain this world but lose what matters. And so I'm giving up, everything because I wanna be different. I wanna be changed 'til all of me is gone and all that remains is a fire so bright the whole world can see that there's something different."

·       First by Lauren Daigle

"Before I bring my need I will bring my heart. Before I lift my cares I will lift my arms. I wanna know You, I wanna find You in every season, in every moment"

·      Only Jesus by Casting Crowns 

"Jesus is the only name to remember... I don't want to leave a legacy, I don't care if they remember me; Only Jesus... I've only got one life to live, I'll let every second point to Him."

All songs leading to a posture that is so different from the one I naturally drift toward.

My instinct is usually to come to God wanting answers first, or relief, comfort, clarity, and to have my needs and wants met.

But these songs keep redirecting my attention back to something deeper: 

Do I actually want God Himself first? Not just His help or provision, and not just His rescue, but Him.

Christianity is not about using God to build a comfortable life. It is about knowing Him, building relationship with Him, becoming more like Christ, and surrendering ourselves to His purposes. And I often don’t that well.

I wrestle with wanting approval and control over outcomes, in wanting what I want when I want it, with forgetting I don’t actually see the whole picture.

Faith That Actually Trusts God

Recently, I listened to a sermon from Justyn Reese called How Do I Share My Faith? and a quote from Martin Luther stood out to me: “Faith is a reckless, daring confidence in God.”

Real faith can often feel reckless. Not in a foolish sense, but reckless in the sense that it trusts God enough to obey Him without knowing how everything will unfold. Without fear of what others may think or say. And honestly, this is where I feel stretched.

During my cancer journey, Even If became deeply personal to me because it reflected so much of my anxiety and fear. That song helped me to redirect my mind to trusting in God though all of it. It was a reminder on replay to accept that His goodness was not dependent on getting the outcome I wanted, but that He is good regardless of my circumstances or ability to understand. I was learning to anchor my faith not in outcome, but in the character of God.

Recently I read a prayer from a book by Corrie Ten Boom (another person who knew real and deep suffering yet remained steadfast in her faith) and these words resonated with me: “Your nearness is my heart’s desire; I set myself apart for Your holy purposes.”

I am not there, not even close, but that is the goal and what I want my life to move toward. Not merely asking God to calm my fears, and to help me fulfill my hearts desires, but asking Him to use my life for His purposes.

Faith says:

• I will follow Jesus even when it costs me.
• I will trust Him even when I don’t understand.
• I will speak truth even when it’s uncomfortable.
• I will serve even if nobody notices.
• I will let God use my story.

Because I truly believe that God has a plan for it all. Not that every painful thing is good, or that suffering is beautiful in its own way, but that God wastes nothing. (And that is an important distinction, though one for another day. If you want to know more on this, watch this Instagram reel from @jonaheisenschenk: https://www.instagram.com/reels/DTrLsoYj_pG/).

God uses our suffering and scars, our weaknesses and brokenness. And often, those become the exact places where we can look another hurting person in the eye and honestly say: “I see you. I’ve been there too.”

Your Story Matters

Justyn Rees also said: “Your story is the most powerful tool in your arsenal.”

I think many Christians underestimate how God can use our testimonies. We think our stories are too messy, or too simple. Maybe too hypocritical, or dirty. Perhaps just too ordinary.

But God consistently uses imperfect people and imperfect stories to point others toward Himself.

I am far from perfect, and definitely ordinary, but I have seen God’s faithfulness in ways that I cannot deny. God’s shown up for me in suffering, through motherhood, and community, through healing and fear, and through seasons where I had nothing left except dependence on Him. And I have been truly blessed.

What I Want My Life to Say

Another part of this shift came from something said in that same sermon about evangelism. Preacherman Rees made a comment about not wanting to simply “float off to heaven on a little pink cloud” while friends and loved ones remain behind. That convicted me. 

It can be easy for Christians to see faith as something personal and private, to focus on our own comfort and salvation. All the while becoming strangely passive about the people around us, not because we don't care, but because sharing our faith can feel uncomfortable and vulnerable.

But if I really believe Jesus is who He says He is… if I really believe eternity matters… then I don't want to live as though faith is my own private lifeboat, while those I love remain far from Him.

I don’t want to stand before God one day knowing I stayed quiet because sharing my faith felt awkward, and unconvenient. I regret the many times I have not done this well.

Fear of man is real and it’s loud. It can be paralysing. 

What will people think of me? Will they laugh? Will they dismiss me? Will they judge me? Will they pull away? 

And even harder: What if I say something imperfectly? What if my life, what if I, in all my messiness, confuses someone about Jesus instead of drawing them toward Him?

The greatest single cause of atheism in the world today is Christians: who acknowledge Jesus with their lips, walk out the door, and deny Him by their lifestyle. That is what an unbelieving world simply finds unbelievable.” ~ Brennan Manning

I don’t want my life to misrepresent Christ. I don’t want my silence when I should speak, or my compromise when I should stand, to become a barrier for someone else seeing Him clearly.

I don’t want my life to simply be about feeling spiritually safe myself. I want my life to point people toward the hope I’ve found in Jesus. Not perfectly or aggressively, not with rehearsed speeches. But with sincerity, and by demonstration in how I live each day. Because I know that what Christ offers is infinitely better than anything this world can give.

At the end of my life, I don’t want the summary to be: She was accomplished, she was comfortable, she was admired and well-liked.

I want it to be: She loved and trusted Jesus, and she pointed people to Him. That’s it. That's my goal. I'm far from it, but I'll work on it.

Maybe that’s why the soundtrack has changed, because God is changing me too.

I’ll end with a question, lifted directly from Justyn Rees’s above sermon (though you'll have to listen to the sermon to get the context):

“What do you want Jesus to do for you?” 

Tell me, and I’ll ask Him.

The Worst Bible Story Ever... Or So I Thought

Have you ever heard the Bible story where God tells Abraham to offer his only son, Isaac, as a sacrifice?

Brutal.

I'm not a Biblical scholar and I make no claim that my interpretation is wholey accurate, so go to Genesis 22 and read it for yourself. This story, it’s not warm or cozy. It’s difficult and unsettling. It hits you like a railroad tie across the face and, relatively speaking, it’s basically at the introduction of the Bible.

I could never wrap my head around this story. The whole thing felt grotesque. Why would a loving God propose such a test to a faithful servant? Especially after promising Abraham descendants as countless as the stars (Genesis 12:1–3; Genesis 15:5)? I’ll be honest: after having my own son, this story went from confusing to unbearable. I didn’t just dislike it, it made my stomach churn. I avoided it. I just could not reconcile a God of love with a God who would say: “Kill the boy you waited your whole life for, the son that you love so much.”

But the other day, I was blessed with an a-ha moment, and something shifted. Suddenly, the text was reframed and I saw a layer to this story that I had been missing.

Abraham Didn’t Obey Bitterly

I had always assumed Abraham trudged up that mountain resentful, angry, heart shattered, bitter, and pleading. I imagined how I would feel, and filled this story with my own reactions and emotions. I read between the lines to instill something that was never there.

Scripture doesn’t say Abraham was bitter. It never says that Abraham hesitated, argued, or complained. Not once. Instead, it says he did what he was told, no delay, no bargaining, no drama. No ifs, ands or buts (Genesis 22:3).

And you know what, he didn't do as he was told because he had to; he had free will. He did what he did because he had faith! He acted because he believed.

I had also *wrongly* assumed that when Isaac asked where the lamb was, that Abraham had lied to spare Isaac’s feelings, to spare them both the torment of honesty. But nope! Wrong again. He said: “God Himself will provide the lamb” (Genesis 22:8).

Abraham wasn’t being reckless. He was convinced that God would provide; Abraham expected provision before he ever saw it.

I did a further deep dive and found Hebrews 11:19, which takes it even further and says: “Abraham reasoned that God could even raise the dead.” It is important to note that nothing like that had ever happened before; Abraham had no reason to believe in resurrection. He walked up that mountain not expecting tragedy but expecting the impossible!

Can you imagine faith like that? Faith that acts before answers arrive. Faith that moves mountains because it knows Who moves them.

God didn’t test Abraham to learn something about him. He already knew Abraham’s heart. The test wasn’t informational for God, it was transformational for Abraham, and thousands of years later, for me.

Isaac Wasn’t a Prop on the Altar

Here’s the part that blindsided me: Isaac wasn’t dead weight in this narrative. He wasn’t a passive child. He was an instrumental participant and an active lead!

Abraham was well over 100-ish years old, and Isaac wasn’t a toddler. Many scholars estimate Isaac to be anywhere from late teens to early 30s. But we at least know that he was old enough and strong enough to carry the wood himself (Genesis 22:6).

In other words, a young, strong man versus an elderly father.

If Isaac didn’t want to climb that mountain, he wouldn’t have. If Isaac didn’t want to lie on that altar, Abraham surely wasn’t able to physically put him there.

So, Isaac cooperated, he submitted. Isaac trusted God just as much as his father did. *Mind blown*

Impact of Generational Faith

Here’s the thing, Isaac didn’t learn this kind of faith from lectures or being preached at. He learned it from seeing it lived out, every single day. He learned it by watching his father acting out faith.

Kids don’t know theology, but they do emulate what they see. They watch and will imitate how they see us act when we’re anxious or afraid, and what we do when plans fall through, how we treat others, and whether we turn to God in prayer as a ritual or in relationship.

Isaac’s faith wasn’t blind. It was inherited through exposure. And our kids won’t become what we tell them to be. They will become what they watch us be.

Whether we know that God will show up, even before there’s evidence to prove it; whether we trust that God will provide, even if it’s hard in the waiting. Cause faith isn’t believing just when it’s easy, nor when we're desperate; Faith is trusting that God is faithful in the easy, the hard, and the impossible, always.

Talk about convicting.

So, it matters that we:

• Trust God when money is tight; so, our kids learn that security isn’t found in bank accounts.
• Repent when we blow it; so, they learn that grace is real.
• Obey when obedience hurts, so they learn that God is worth it.
• Wait when answers to prayer seem to take forever, so we teach that delay isn’t denial. And sometimes, that “no” is the answer, even if we can’t understand why in the moment.

We think love equals safety, comfort, and insulation. But Abraham taught the opposite; he taught that even when God’s path is terrifying, that He is still trustworthy. That sacrifice is normal and that provision comes after obedience, not before.

Isaac didn’t climb the mountain because Abraham forced him to. He climbed because Abraham’s life preached: “If my father will follow this God anywhere, then this God must be worth following.”

Our kids don’t need perfect parents. They need parents whose decisions preach louder than their words.

The Story I Hated Became the Story I Needed

My question used to be: “What kind of God asks a father to sacrifice his son?”

Now I see: “God provides the sacrifice so we don’t have to.”

Sound familiar?

What Does This Mean 

Every single one of us has something on the altar, whether it’s the outcome we insist on, the plans that we have made, the timeline we demand, the way we think things must go. God leads us to the same emotional edge Abraham faced to give us opportunity to lay it down, trusting that what God has for us instead is so much better.

The Legacy I Want for My Child

I don’t want to raise Little Man to be a religious kid, to do right out of a sense of legalism. I want to raise him to trust God even when life doesn’t make sense, to have hope even when circumstances seem dire, to obey even when it costs something, because he knows that God loves him. And finally, for him to believe that God is faithful, not because I told him, but because he saw it.

I can’t control Little Man’s future, and I can’t force him to take the path I would want him to walk, but I can walk my mountain in front of him. I can surround him with people who set examples I want him to see. Abraham did and Isaac saw, and that faith traveled generationally. Abraham set the example for all of his descendants, which are, as promised, as plentiful as the stars in the sky, and include myself and my family, and my children, and their children, and their children….

This was reinforced to me again last night, when we had dinner with a lovely couple who have been faithful believers for decades, and have raised their children, not just telling them how to live faithfully, but showing them. And that in turn has been passed down not just through their own lineage, but through the lines of everyone they meet. It is a real blessing to know them.   

And maybe that’s the real point of Genesis 22: Not a father almost losing a son, but a son, and the generations to come, gaining a God worth following.

Not Today, Satan: When Fear Strikes

It’s almost predictable. You take a bold step of faith; you live out loud for Him… and the enemy comes knocking. Not so much when you’re weak and crawling (though he’s always lingering), but when you’re strong, full of joy and standing tall, praising God, and sharing His goodness with others.

Just a couple days ago, I shared a testimony of what God has been doing in our lives and His fingerprints on our story; His provision, His faithfulness, the people He has surrounded us with. And almost immediately, the weight of struggle hit like a sledgehammer: Anger, frustration, disappointment, betrayal. The very opposite of what I had just been proclaiming!

When I sat down and worked it out with a trusted friend, really dug to the root of my anger, I realized what it really was: fear. A threat whispering that what had been so graciously provided could be ripped away.

Let me be clear, my last post A New Chapter: The Fingerprints on Our Story was never about a house or a farm. These things are wonderful blessings and we’re so grateful. We look forward to moving in just a couple weeks and starting that new chapter. But the heart of our joy is in what God has provided through people. The neighbours who have welcomed us, the friends who walk with us, the employers who have provided not just a job, but a lifestyle, and the church family that has surrounded us. That’s the real gift. So that’s what the enemy has tried to threaten.

Here’s the truth: “Fear is a liar.” Always has been, always will be. It whispers worst-case scenarios, steals our peace, tells us that we’re not safe and could lose it all. Fear is one of the enemy’s sharpest weapons and one of the weapons that is wielded against me most frequently, in a surprising number of forms. Fear is designed to make us question God’s promises and to pry us away from trust in God and from each other.  

As it turns out, this year's Vacation Bible School theme wasn’t just for kids. There was something there for me too: When we wonder, when we feel alone or powerless, when we need hope, when we need help, we can “Trust Jesus.” 

https://www.lifeway.com/en/shop/vacation-bible-school

Right now, there is a very real, very worldly threat pressing in on us. I don’t know the way through it yet or what to do; I don’t have all the answers. But I know this:

“The Lord is on my side; I will not fear. What can man do to me?”
Psalm 118:6

So, we'll fight.

We stand shoulder to shoulder with the body of Christ, anchored in His promises, wearing the full armour of Christ. I’ll keep living out the testimony that He has written into our lives, even when fear tries to knock the wind out of me.

And don’t let fear have the final word in your story either. Whatever you’re facing, whether its financial strain, health battles, broken relationships, an unknown future, whatever it is, call fear what it is: a liar. Then call on the One who never fails.

“Be strong and courageous.
Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, 
for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.” 
Joshua 1:9

Fear will roar, but it will not, cannot win. God has the final word; the victory is His.

“The God of peace will soon crush Satan under your feet.” Romans 16:20

 Amen.

A New Chapter: The Fingerprints on Our Story

It’s crazy what you can see with hindsight.....

If you’d told me back in 2018, newly diagnosed with cancer, scared, unsure if I’d even make it to 40, that we’d be where we are today, I wouldn't have believed you.

But that’s the thing about God. He takes what the enemy meant for evil and redeems it. He doesn’t send the cancer, the heartbreak, or the setbacks, but He sure doesn’t waste them.

From the very start, His fingerprints have been all over our story. Some moments were unmistakable. Others I can only see clearly now, looking back.

When I was first diagnosed, I started attending Beaverlodge Alliance. I met men and women of faith who were bold, warm, and full of wisdom, people who spoke truth into my life when I didn’t even realize how much I needed it.

I wrote a couple blog posts about chemo, suffering, hope, and the quiet ways God shows up even in waiting rooms and IV chairs. That writing turned into an unexpected opportunity and opened doors that led to work that challenged and inspired me, as well as introduced me to more amazing people. 

As simple as a thing as following a company on Facebook, led to seeing a job posting for an equipment operator in a totally different field, on a local cattle ranch. Dear Husband applied, got the job, loved it instantly, and still does today. We've been blessed in so many ways through this work.

That one job changed our lives in the best way. Dear Husband went from being gone 15 days at a time in the oil patch, to being home every night; Home to help raise our Little Man, to live the life we’d always longed for. The ranch is family-oriented, rooted, filled with faith, and the kind of place people stick around. Hubby already says this is where you'll find him into retirement.

Most importantly, Dear Husband came to know Jesus. He was baptized and our home is now led in faith. 

After chemo, doctors told us that children wouldn’t be in the cards for us. But God had other plans. I got pregnant naturally, at 40. We sadly didn't even know until I miscarried at 15 weeks. And while we grieved the unborn life we didn't even know we had until it was too late, that experience showed us that pregnancy was possible. At 41, with what my doctor called “the eggs of a 50-year-old," we had a healthy, happy, miraculous son. 

Since then, I’ve grown in my own walk with Christ. I’m learning to hear His voice better; to ask, wait, and discern. To not push through every open door just because it’s there, but to seek His peace above all else.

During our home search, we were sent a listing for nearly a quarter section of land, right in the very neighborhood we’d dreamed of living. It was more than we could afford. But through a generous and unexpected opportunity, we were able to make a deal that will give us 22 beautiful acres and a house and property that are more than we ever dared to ask for. It doesn’t just meet our wishlist, it exceeds it.

We hadn’t even listed our current home yet, but within hours of the offer being accepted on our unicorn property, a couple called for a viewing on our current home. I was overwhelmed, company over, taking a course, the house in chaos. But we said yes. And just like that, our home was as good as sold. No listing. No open houses. No stress.

“Pressed down, shaken together, and running over…” (Luke 6:38) is the only way to describe how we’ve been blessed.

But hear me, this is not because we did anything special. We didn’t earn this. We don’t deserve it more than anyone else. God’s love is not measured by the size of your blessings. If you’re walking through hard things right now, that does not mean He loves you less. I know this because we’ve had our share of hard things too: cancer, miscarriage, the loss of my dad.... But sometimes hard things can shape us, prepare us, or draw us closer to God. Most times, we may not know the reason. He doesn't cause the hard things, but He can use them for His purposes in ways we can't yet see. I pray that you walk through the hard to a time you can look back and see the greater purpose.

I listened to a sermon recently by Steven Furtick called “Let the Dirt Do Its Work,” and it resonated. Seeds grow in the dark and roots form in the unseen. What looks like delay or disappointment is often just preparation. The miracle starts underground, hidden, but it’s working.

• Listen here: 'Let the Dirt Do Its Work' on Spotify or watch on YouTube.

The dirt, both the literal and the unseen “soil seasons” God has walked us through, has been doing its work in us for years. 

So we give thanks for the dirt that grows us, for the wait that humbles us, for the harvest that overflows, for the grace we didn’t deserve, and for the blessings we couldn’t have imagined. We're thankful for the people who have been placed in our path to help us along the way. And for the reminder that God is always good, and always there.

On September 20th we'll move and become renters until the subdivision is finalized (God willing and with the blessing of County council). We look to forward gardening, chickens, trout fishing in our dugout, Little Man playing on the tree swing. Campfires. Fellowship. Greenhouse tomatoes and peppers, picking apples and cherries. Perhaps a Highland cow, and a Dexter Belfair for milk someday. 4H. Learning as we go. Muddy boots on hardwood floors. Barbecue dinners on the deck in the country quiet. Being shaped by the land, the work, through provision and whatever difficulties arise. And thanking Jesus for all of it.

"You can't buy happiness, but you can buy dirt."

"Find the one you can't live without

Get a ring, let your knee hit the ground

Do what you love but call it work

And throw a little money in the plate at church

Send your prayers up and your roots down deep

And add a few limbs to your family tree

And watch their pencil marks

And the grass in the yard all grow up

'Cause the truth about it is

It all goes by real quick

You can't buy happiness

But you can buy dirt

Yeah, you can buy dirt

And thank the good Lord for it

'Cause He ain't makin' any more of it

So buy dirt" 

~ Jordan Davis

#HolesteadAcres

Loaded Perogy Breakfast Casserole

Dear Husband treated me to a glorious sleep-in day on his weekend, and treated the family to a fantastic French toast breakfast. (Yes, I know how lucky I am ❤️).

Included with breakfast was bacon and an unholy amount of breakfast sausages. God love him, Dear Husband thawed the entire 1.2kg package of sausages for three people so it's been sausages for days at The Hole House. 

Side note: I love cheap sausages. Seems like the cheaper they are, the better. So the Superstore 1.2kg no name bag for $10 is the perfect deal! 

With all these sausages, and a limited amount of time to use them, I've been stretching my imagination to ensure they're consumed. Hence, the breakfast quesadillas we had yesterday, and today's new hit: Loaded Perogy Breakfast Casserole.

Without further adieu, the recipe:

12 - 15 frozen perogies 

1 lb breakfast sausage

1 Bell pepper, diced

1 onion, diced

2 cups spinach leaves 

1 cup shredded cheese

7 eggs

1 cup milk

Pepper

Salt

Garlic powder

Preheat oven to 350°

Remove breakfast sausage from casings, crumble and cook in a skillet until thoroughly cooked. Drain excess oil and set aside. 

In a mixing bowl, whisk together the eggs, milk, black pepper, salt, and garlic until combined. Set aside.

Cover the bottom of a greased 9x13 casserole pan with frozen perogies (no need to pre-cook). I used bacon and cheddar perogies, but most flavours would work.

Layer the Ingredients: Evenly spread the cooked sausage over the perogies, followed by the diced peppers and onion, spinach, and shredded cheese (I used a cheddar and jack mixture).

Pour the egg mixture evenly over the spinach and cheese layer. Place the casserole in the preheated oven and bake for 30-35 minutes, or until the casserole is set and golden brown on top.

Remove from oven and serve warm with a dollop of sour cream (if desired).

It's definitely not health food, but it is comfort food. It would be a great make ahead meal for a busy morning, or camping.

*I measure with my heart so the quantity of perogies, spinach, cheese, milk and all seasonings are approximate 😉

Finely diced fresh jalapenos mixed in with the peppers may also be a great addition!

A candid day in the life of a cancer survivor, on a bad day...

Perhaps I should provide a trigger warning. If you're a cancer survivor, you're probably accustomed to these feelings, or perhaps were, once upon a time. Trigger warning all the same. 

I forced myself awake this morning. I was having a dream, one that on the surface seemed quite nice. A couple lovely ladies from my church were over playing with my son, helping him get his coat on. But there was an air of sadness about. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror of my dream, sitting in a wheelchair, scarf wrapped on my head, oxygen tubes in my nose, skin pale and grey. Dear Husband by my side. 

I force myself awake because I know I cannot go there. I cannot bear the thought of others getting my son ready for church because I am not capable of doing it myself, because the cancer is back, and I am too ill. However, I know it’s already too late. The seed has been planted and is bound to grow before I can extinguish it.

I cry, quietly at first, but then needing the arms of my husband, for him to tell me it will be ok, even while I argue with him that we do not know that. He tells me that if it ever were to happen, we would fight it, hard, together. And we would, but I do not want to. The last thing I want is for my son to have a sick mom, or no mom at all. I know the statistics are not in my favour if there were a recurrence. 

Dear Husband leaves for work because he must. He’ll check in numerous times though.

Now I really cry; I sob, and I worry myself till I’m physically sick. I think of all the things that could be wrong. Casual meanderings, the push and pull, the fight between rational and not, fear and Peace….

“That new lump I found in my breast last week. The doctor checked it right away and believes it to not be characteristic of cancer. He could be wrong. We’ll wait for the referral of the ultrasound and mammogram to be sure. Hopefully they call soon. Hopefully it's nothing. If I worry just the right amount everything will be fine. But if I acknowledge that everything could be fine, then it probably won’t be. Well, that’s just silly. Oh God, please don’t let it be cancer. Maybe it’s not in my breast at all, but somewhere else. Maybe both breast and somewhere else. Maybe multiple places. That sore rib I always have, it could be bone metastasis. But I had that checked out two or three years ago, that wasn’t it. If it was cancer, it would have spread by now. Well, perhaps it has. Sore back, that’s indicative of some kinds of cancer. And you do have a chronic cough. Yes, but I also am 42 and constantly am lifting a toddler, and I’ve had that cough for years, long before my last MRI, long before cancer. Sore shoulder, that’s new. But Dr. Google says it’s probably because I sleep on that side and am compressing a nerve. Google also says that rotator cuff metastasis is extremely rare. Rare, but not impossible. I should get it checked. I’m tired. Fatigue is a sign of cancer. But I stay up too late, get up too early, and spend precious hours of rest worrying instead of sleeping. It’s a vicious cycle. Plus, I do have a busy toddler. Lord, please don’t let it be cancer. I can’t bear the thought of my son not having his mom. I’ll be fine. My mom is fine and she had the same cancer as me and it’s been 20-something years. Yeah, but I also have dad’s genes and he definitely was not fine. Lord, let me be fine. What is that lump?” 

And repeat, like a broken record that can’t be shut off.

But now the baby is awake, so I wash my face, brush my teeth and push forward. Truth be told, I’m glad he’s up. I need to hug him as if my life depended on it. Perhaps it kind of does.

Not every day is like this. Some days can even go by without hardly a thought of cancer at all. Bad days are few and far between now, but they still happen, even nearly 5 years later.

5 years. That’s supposed to be the magic number when my odds of recurrence drop to almost nothing. Almost. We’re so close. Even though I know the number is arbitrary and statistics aren’t a perfect science. I'm hoping at 5 years the bad days stop all-together.

"Lord, please, don’t let the cancer come back" is my mantra. Others pray for peace for me. Not me. I pray and boldly ask for the cancer to stay away. Right or wrong. Peace is great, and I need that too, but more than that I desire to stay healthy. I pray for health, and the strength to be able to sing it is well with my soul, to be able to accept whatever comes my way. I haven’t reached that level of grace.  

The day is just half done. The morning activities helped to push these thoughts to the background, but they linger. In an effort to bury them, I write them down while the baby naps. I’ve not really tried this before, but they say writing is supposed to be cathartic. Maybe there could also be a benefit to being raw and real, to letting others know what is really on my heart, instead of simply saying “I’m fine,” or sharing just a snippet of what I’m thinking. Maybe there's benefit to putting it out there for other survivors, just to say, "you're not alone." 

So there it is…..

And it actually kind of did help.

If you are a cancer survivor, do you have terrible, horrible, no good, very bad days? How do you cope? 

Cornbread and Instant Pot Ribs

It's been a few months since I last wrote, and even longer since I was first introduced to the Instant Pot and made pork ribs using said pot for the first time.

Since then I've made those ribs a number of times and have improvised a bit.

To make life a little easier and save a little more time in an already pretty quick process, I've been using pre-made rubs. The latest star is the Garlic and Chili Pepper rub by Traeger.

I smother the ribs in rub. If I remember early enough I'll do so the day before or a few hours ahead, but you don't need to. Wrap the ribs around the inside of the pot, pour in 1 cup water, 1/2 cup apple cider vinegar and 1/4 tsp liquid smoke. Hit the meat button, set it for 25 minutes and walk away. (Let them natural release for 10 minutes and finish as previously written about).

Instead of walking away tonight, I decided to be a little ambitious and make cornbread. Dear Husband loves cornbread, but I've never found a recipe that I like. It's always dry and crumbly, and gritty, and just not that great.

Well, those days are over folks. Pop on over to Cooking on the Ranch for the best, and most moist cornbread you've ever had.

While gathering the ingredients, I realized that this recipe calls for a can of creamed corn. This is not something I have in the house often because Dear Husband is not a fan. There have been many incomplete ham dinners since we met.

But I was determined to make this recipe, and since COVID-19 says not to make unnecessary trips to the store for one item, I decided to make my own for the first time ever.

Let it be known that I will never again buy canned creamed corn. Today I used a recipe from Spend With Pennies. I almost regretted that I was making it to be an ingredient in bread.

Husband now likes creamed corn.

Back to the bread... So simple. So easy. I didn't have fresh jalapeno or muenster cheese either so I substituted plain old shredded mozza and cheddar, and pickled jalapeno.

Little loaves of deliciousness

In under 45 minutes, we had 'fall off the bone' BBQ ribs, creamed corn from scratch, and the best ever cornbread.

Creamed corn not pictured -- It's in the bread!

No regrets👌

Except next time, there will be bacon. Mmmm, bacon and jalapeno creamed corn.