Revealing Grace

My apartment in Dallas was the home that signified my new beginning. It was my oasis in the trees after a long trek through the desert. There was the porch I sat on with Amanda, who had flown in on a moment's notice and of her own accord, because I had just called to tell her I had cancer. For a while she was the only person in the world who knew. It was the place where I recovered from an unexpected mastectomy, just two months after moving in. It was where my friends, from all over the country, came to stay, to cook, to laugh, and to care for my dog while I endured chemotherapy treatments. It was where I fell in love with my husband. It was from that back window that I looked down and saw him for the first time when he pulled up for our first date. It was at those stairs that I nervously waited and those walls that I gave him an unnecessary tour of when he first arrived. That apartment was where my cousin came to take care of me when I was randomly sick and scared of ...

Every night I wake up at 3:10am. It is exact, as if my body has made a pact with the night and signed it without my permission.  At 3:10am I have a routine. First, I wake up and I look outside. My eyes silently plead with the sun to start rising and prove that I have made it to daybreak, but each morning it is dark and I know that it is 3:10am, again. I then contemplate getting out of bed or waking Jeff up just to hang out, but finally, I close my eyes until the sky fills with the red and orange of a New Mexico sunrise. I don't know why I have gotten into this routine and I haven't quite decided what to do with it yet. It isn't as if my soul or mind has unfinished business or worry, or that my stress keeps me up even when my eyes beg to be closed. No, those days are over.  Some days it seems that I have not only started a new chapter of my life, but that I have completely changed books. The quarantine has forced me to rest, to not jump into any commitments, to ...

As you can imagine, Jeff and I are getting used to each other this week. It is my first week on the farm since we got married, and considering all of our travel plans got canceled, we have been at the farmhouse without too much distraction. I have learned some key things so far. 1. A small white dog on a farm that also sleeps in your bed is kind of a hot mess. 2. People who decorate their fake farmhouses with white linens don't actually understand the dirt associated with farms. White things and farms just don't mix well. 3. I love my chickens and they also scare the crap out of me. I am just waiting for one of my roosters to pounce on me when I try to give them food. 4. We should have bought more toilet paper before the world went crazy. It has also been a swift kick in the pants to join a small farm town during a quarantine. If I thought weekends in Dallas were slow, I was mistaken. I am used to such a fast-paced way of life that I am having to adjust to quiet, t...

I took a student on her very first hike recently and every time we hit the slightest elevation change (and I am talking a few inches of difference) her whole body would instantly crumble. In seconds she would be folded into herself as she took to the ground to hug the dirt. I would coax and pull and try to talk sense into her, but her fear was overwhelming and she couldn't make herself move. Eventually I would pick her up under her arms and make her move her feet over the small incline or decline as we walked on to the next change in elevation. It didn't matter how many she survived, at each turn going up or down or over rocks, she would crumble again. There was no sense to it. Simply her fear got the best of her. Often, this is what has happened to me over the past year as I tried to emotionally navigate my life post-cancer.  I've put on a tough front, I've acted like I don't need help, but with the slightest change in my path, I crumbled. Something as s...

I was talking to my dad last weekend about moving forward. Naturally, as we discussed my upcoming marriage to Jeff, the pull of the past made itself known. Sensing this, my dad told me about the best piece of advice he received after his mother passed away. "You have to turn the page," he told me. "You have to turn the page and start a new chapter."  It seemed so simple, but in that moment I realized that I haven't turned the page on my chapter in Arizona. I have, instead, been trying to write in the margins.  I have been trying to shove this new story into the cracks between the words and the space between the feelings of those past years. I haven't given Jeff a fresh page. I have given him the margins. I have written extensively about sadness, loss, divorce, and cancer in the past few years. I have clung to the hard parts of my story and honestly found it difficult to write with unabashed joy about my new life with Jeff. How can my words reflect...

Hi. I am getting married. Again. No one talks about the "again" part so of course I will. I like to address the elephant in the room even though the elephant is imaginary and I am the only one who sees it. So, what's it like to get married again? Well, at first I thought everyone would roll their eyes and be like, "ok, sure, whatever. We all know you've done this before." This was totally in my head and not reality, but that's what I thought. In reality, we have been inundated with the most amazing support, kindness, and joy. It has been truly heartwarming. I also sometimes freak out about normal things because my body has been trained that everything that is happening to prepare for the wedding means danger. My body is like, "woah, we have been here before and it turned out baaaaaaad! Alert! Alert! Alert!" Then I cry, or have anxiety, or just stop being able to function and make decisions. Post-traumatic stress is a bastard. It is ...

How are you?  It was a question I dreaded after my husband left. People meant well. They didn't realize that as their words drifted to my ears, unformed thoughts and emotions would begin to build up in my throat and overflow through the tears in my eyes. It was a question that kept me tucked inside the house so that I didn't have to face it. Who knew that those three words could pack such a devastating punch. How are you? It's never simple, is it? A friend recently asked me this question at a wedding and I heard myself replying, "I'm fine. I'm fine. Yea, no, I'm. . . I'm totally fine." If you have to say it three times I am not sure you are convincing anyone. I took a deep breath. "Actually, I am probably not fine, but I am a lot better than the last time we talked." "Yea, I remember exactly where I was sitting when you called that day." We both stood quietly for a second as the memory of one of the worst days of my...