This is less of an update and more of a window into what I’ve been thinking lately.
Right now, details are changing day by day as I work through everything required to get to the point of starting chemotherapy. My PET Scan results came in with no surprises and my ctDNA results came in. I don't have a clue how to read that one so I will have to wait to talk to Dr. Chen on April 2. Other details are shifting with each day, so I am just walking them out one day at a time. In the meantime...
I was telling my sister and niece yesterday that it feels a lot like preparing for a camping trip. When my kids were growing up, camping wasn’t something we just did on a whim—it took weeks of preparation. There were lists to make, supplies to gather, food to shop for and prepare, and then finally packing the van and trailer. Some things could be done ahead of time, others had to wait until the last minute. It was a lot—physically and emotionally.
But once we got in the car and started driving, there was relief. A deep exhale. That’s when I could finally rest… at least until we arrived.
That’s a little like where I am right now—still in the preparation phase and not in the resting phase. So in the middle of all of this, I wanted to share something that’s been on my heart.
Many books on healing—whether focused on general health or cancer—tend to point to five key areas:
Diet
Exercise
Detox
Emotional health
Spiritual health
This morning, I felt drawn to reflect on emotional health. It’s a big topic, and honestly, it’s hard to separate from spiritual health in my mind. But an area of emotional or mental health that I have been thinking about from time to time is journaling. I’ve heard all kinds of opinions about journaling—some strongly for it, others strongly against it. What I’ve come to believe is this:
When I was younger, I journaled often—but not in a healthy way. It was mostly venting, rehearsing negative thoughts, and reliving painful experiences. Instead of helping, it actually reinforced unhealthy patterns in my thinking.
Eventually, I heard people say journaling could be harmful for those very reasons, so I stopped altogether. Kind of threw the baby out with the bath water, as they say. But a couple of years ago, during a season of deep emotional difficulty, I felt led to begin journaling again—and this time, the Lord began to lead me through a learning and healing process.
Before I go further, I want to share something important.
About five or six years ago, I began praying that the Lord would give me faith like David and Paul. I was starting to recognize how I related to David’s emotional life, and I longed to experience the kind of joy and peace that Paul carried—especially in the midst of suffering such things I have never come close to experiencing.
God truly does answer the cry of our hearts.
Recently, I sat down and read through my journals from the past two years— some of which was written before I was diagnosed with cancer. I could see, page after page, how my thought patterns had shifted through time. Struggles that once felt strong and constant are no longer things I relate with in the same way, and I don't miss them. And one of the biggest pieces of that transformation has been learning something I had never really understood before:
Learning to lament.
Learning to Lament
For most of my life, I was afraid to be too honest, out loud, with God. I didn’t want to complain to Him or about Him, even though I understood He has always known the depths my thoughts and heart. What I didn’t realize was that I carried a complaining spirit—it wasn’t honest or surrendered. The Lord knew that all along. He is such a gracious Father, waiting until He knew I was ready to see it.
About a year ago, I began focusing on the laments of King David. I started to notice a pattern—a process he walked through again and again:
Honesty – No filtering, no pretending. Raw, real expression
Naming the pain – Specific, not vague (fear, betrayal, exhaustion)
Questions – “Why?” “How long?” “Where are You?”
Bold requests – “Answer me.” “Deliver me.” “Heal me.”
Remembering truth – Anchoring in God’s character and faithfulness
Choosing trust and praise – Even before circumstances change
You can see this clearly in passages like Psalm 10, 13 and 22.
"Why, O Lord, do you stand far away?" (Psalm 10:1)
“How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever?” (Psalm 13:1)
“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Psalm 22:1)
What struck me most is this:
David never skipped steps. He didn’t rush to pretend everything was okay. He walked honestly through the tension with God. And that’s what made his faith so resilient. It wasn’t performative—it was deeply relational.
I can’t help but wonder how much I missed over the years by being afraid to lament—by confusing it with complaining from a hardened heart. There is a freedom in learning to lament the way Scripture shows us.
So I began practicing this in my journaling.
Reading back through those journals now fills me with gratitude. I don’t relate to the same mental and emotional heaviness I once carried. There has been a real shift—one I don’t believe I could have produced on my own.
I think back to a moment around 2015 when I was out on a walk, praying, and I very clearly heard:
“You can be happy.”
At the time, I didn’t even realize how unhappy I was in my soul. I didn’t understand how much I was living in patterns shaped by past trauma—how often I was operating in a state of emotional disconnection, and how deeply that was affecting me… even physically. Over the past year especially, the Lord has brought so much of that into the light—and brought healing with it.
When I compare where I am now to where I was then, there really is no comparison. I haven’t “arrived,” but I can honestly say I experience more joy and peace—more consistently—than I ever have before. And for that, I am deeply grateful.
I’m also grateful that I no longer journal the way I used to. Those old journals were so unhealthy that I eventually burned them. But I’m just as grateful that I didn’t stay in the belief that journaling itself was the problem. Now, it has become a place of processing, honesty, and growth. It's a record of the Lord's goodness growing within me.
A Thought for You
I wonder—does any of this resonate with you?
Have you ever given yourself permission to be fully honest with God? I am not talking about complaining or grumbling at Him and leaving it there, but to turn your honest raw feelings into a full lament that ends with remembering God's truth and choosing to trust and praise Him, especially in the middle of the difficulty.
“Trust in Him at all times, you people;
pour out your hearts before Him.
God is our refuge.” — Psalm 62:8
As I look back over this past year or so, I can clearly see something:
God has been faithful to meet me, to heal areas I didn’t even fully understand, and to lead me into a deeper place of peace and joy than I’ve ever known. Not because I did everything right— not even close — but because I have been learning to come to Him honestly following up with remembering His truth and trusting and praising Him, especially when I can't see beyond my difficulty.
That same invitation is open to all of us.
He is still the God who restores.
Still the God who heals.
Still the God who draws near to the brokenhearted.
And if He has done this in me, I trust that He can—and will—do it in you.
The Lord is good, a Strength and Stronghold in the day of trouble;
He knows [He recognizes, cares for, and owns] those who take refuge and trust in Him.
Nahum 1:7
Amen! I think often God reveals even more to us when we journal and writing it all down is a type of stewardship of those revelations.
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