Last week I finished No Cure for Being Human by Kate Bowler, and one line has lodged itself deep in my heart. It feels hard, but it also feels true—like a reality I’m finally ready to sit with:
“Time really is a circle. We are trapped between a past we can’t return to and a future that is uncertain. And it takes guts to live here, in the hard space between anticipation and realization.”
That “hard space” has a name for me right now: the present. And lately the Lord has been teaching me just how much courage it takes to actually live there.
In counseling last week I told my counselor that the word “fawn” has been showing up in a variety of places for me. You’ve probably heard of the fight-flight-freeze responses—those instinctive ways we survive threat. Fawn is the fourth one, the people-pleasing survival mode we often learn as kids: be nice, stay agreeable, keep everyone happy so the danger passes.
I've recognized flight and freeze in myself for years. Fight? Not really my style. But fawn? I only learned about it last year and brushed it off. Then last week, I watched a short reel of Drew Barrymore and Jamie Lee Curtis talking about growing up in Hollywood. Jamie Lee said her main survival tool was fawning--pleasing people to stay safe--and she gave a quick example that hit me square in the chest.
I asked Grok to explain fawning with real-life examples across different relationships. Woah! The Lord opened my eyes like a floodlight, and suddenly I could see decades of fawning in my life, including in my marriage.
I did so many things I didn’t want to do, just to keep the peace. I stayed quiet in areas that mattered to me to avoid conflict. I held back huge parts of myself out of fear of rejection. All of it lived inside my head—in my marriage, I never gave Dan a real chance to know what I was thinking or feeling. Over time I grew resentful and started blaming him. But the Lord gently got my attention: Dan couldn’t possibly know what I was unable or refused to say. He’s not a mind-reader. So I swung the blame onto myself, thinking that was “taking responsibility.” What I was really missing was repentance.
When the full picture of my fawning came into focus last week, it broke my heart. I saw all the wasted time spent trapped in my own head. I saw the hurt I caused Dan—and myself—through blame. And in that moment, all I wanted was to repent. So I started with a conversation: I told Dan what I had seen in myself, asked how it had felt on his end, and said I was truly sorry.
I know this pattern wasn’t just with Dan—it’s shown up in almost every close relationship I’ve had. I trust the Lord will continue to bring specific memories when He thinks I am ready, and I want to see them. I want to repent fully.
Talking all this through with my counselor, that Kate Bowler quote floated back up. I can’t change the past. That truth is sad, and it stings, but it’s not a place to camp out forever. The future is uncertain—that’s just the reality of being human. What matters is making things right right now, in this hard, beautiful middle space.
I felt so much emotion while we talked. Not mostly from grief over the past or anxiety about what’s ahead, but from something else entirely: I’m experiencing God in a way that’s new and almost indescribable. I have the present moment, and I have a good, good Father. I have a Savior who walks right here with me. I have the Holy Spirit guiding my steps. And so much more.
These days that I am currently navigating feel heavy—but in the best way. Peaceful, but a peace I’ve never quite tasted before. I wish I could find better words for it all. For now, I’m just trying to stay awake to it, to live in this circle of time with open hands and an honest heart.
If any of this resonates with you—if you’ve ever caught yourself people-pleasing to survive, or hiding parts of your heart, or carrying quiet resentment—maybe today is the day to name it before the Lord. Ask Him to show you what needs repenting, and take one small, brave step toward saying it out loud to someone safe. The present is where the healing happens.
I’m grateful to be right here in the middle of it all—learning, repenting, and slowly figuring out how to live well while I sort through the flood of information, appointments, and next steps. There’s not much new to report on the medical front yet, but here’s where things stand:
I meet with the radiologist this Wednesday.
I’m seeing my primary doctor Thursday to schedule baseline bone marrow tests to help monitor that part of my health throughout chemo.
I am back to IV therapy twice a week
I’m hoping to schedule a second-opinion appointment with another oncologist this week.
My PET scan is set for February 9, and
I still have a growing list of questions for my current oncologist, radiologist and naturopath.
On a lighter (or maybe just more annoying) note, I managed to injure my foot last week. It’s healing, thankfully, but there’s still noticeable swelling, tenderness, and an impressive array of bruising. Because apparently one big thing at a time wasn’t enough. 😅
As I head into these next appointments, scans, and decisions, I'd be so grateful for your prayers-- for peace that settles the anxious parts, discernment to hear what's truly needed, and wisdom in sorting through all the details and choosing the best path forward. Above all I am resting and trusting in the Lord with it all; if it's His will, I pray He would heal me supernaturally and completely, whatever decisions I make. I know many of you already hold me in thought and prayer and it truly carries me. Thank you for that gift-- it means more than words can say. ❤️
A quick note/reminder: My GoFundMe page is still active to help offset some of the mounting medical expenses along the way. If it feels right for you to chip in, share the link, or just follow for updates, it's here: GoFundMe No expectations at all—your prayers, encouragement, and presence mean the absolute world, and I'm thankful every day for it.
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