Memorial Fundraiser

I was recently introduced to the Jack & Jill Late Stage Cancer Foundation by a friend after searching for organizations that offer a chance for children with terminally ill parents to make wonderful memories with their parents before it’s too late. I have set up this fundraiser in memory of my husband, Ray, as a way to pass on the generosity that was shown to our family.

If you’d like more information about the Jack & Jill Late Stage Cancer Foundation, you can go here: https://jajf.org

To donate, please follow this link:
https://jajf-inmemoriam.everydayhero.com/us/birthday-fundraiser-in-memory-of-ray-joyner

Let’s help these families make some memories before it’s too late!

Thank you!

Identity Crisis or Identity in Christ?

I’ve typed and erased and typed and erased this paragraph several times. I don’t really know where to start. If you know me, you know that Ray passed away almost a month ago. I was holding the baby, his sister was holding his hand, and it was very peaceful. But that’s not what I want to talk about. I’m sure at some point I will, but I’ll save it for another time. It’s taken me a while to figure out what I wanted to say, because I had so many thoughts going through my mind that I couldn’t get them straight. Identity has been front and center lately, though, so I’m just going to go with it.

I’ve had several people tell me that they don’t know how I can even get out of bed. It took a while to figure it out myself, but I think I finally have. There was actually a time that I couldn’t make myself get out of bed. A little over ten years ago, I was going through a divorce. For four months, I stayed in bed eating M&Ms. I had no desire to do anything at all. None. I had no idea how to be me. I felt like I didn’t have an identity at all. Now, I grew up going to church. I got “saved” when I was in middle school and baptized in high school. I knew who God was. Or at least I thought I did. Turns out, I didn’t know Him at all. Since I didn’t know Him, I didn’t know me. That’s the difference.

In the last few months, I’ve spent hours reading devotionals and scripture and praying. I’ve done so much praying, it’s become second nature. “Pray without ceasing” finally makes sense to me. And because I’ve started praying about everything, my path has become clearer. I now know that my identity doesn’t depend on anyone else. It doesn’t matter what others think of me. My identity is found in Him. If I’m seeking Him in all I do, then I’m becoming the person that He created me to be. THAT is how I get out of bed every morning – granted, it’s usually late morning, because I like to sleep, but I digress. I can get up and live my life, because I know that God is in control and is going to lead me in the right direction.

So, as I sit here in my Chip ‘n’ Dale pajama pants while switching between my incredibly slow laptop, my phone, and my coloring book while a Hallmark Christmas movie plays in the background, I know that I am free from needing anyone’s approval.

I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well.” -Psalm 139:14 ESV

For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.” -Jeremiah 29:11 ESV

Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, and before you were born I consecrated you; I appointed you a prophet to the nations.” -Jeremiah 1:5 ESV

Fearless-ish

I’ve never been “fearless”.  I’ve never really been a “scaredy-cat” either.  I guess I’ve always been somewhere in the middle – or probably somewhere along the lines of “too lazy to really try anything scary but not so lazy that I won’t try anything new”.  There are lots of things I am or have been afraid of, like the recurring nightmare I had when I was a kid about living in a big store that had bombs inside or the book I read when I was ten or eleven that made me feel really silly by the time I got to the end of it.  I still get uneasy sitting by a dark window or door (which I’m doing as I type this, so I’m going to stop and reassure myself that there is nothing there and that the dog would bark if there were).  On the other hand, I’ve never shied away from a haunted house or a really big roller coaster, and I don’t think twice about driving across several states by myself.

Then there’s death.  Am I afraid of death?  Well, yeah.  But, no.  I’m not afraid of dying, but I am afraid of what happens while I’m dying, and I worry about what will happen to the people I leave behind.  Recently, though, I was hit with an all new fear of death.  I’ve lost lots of people I love, but I never feared life without them.  I knew they were all going to die and had time to prepare, but I never once thought, “How am I going to make it without them?”  I miss them terribly, but I was not and am not afraid.  Losing my husband is in a completely different ball park, though, and it’s weird.  I don’t really have fear of my life without him.  My fear is for my babies.  I have three little boys who are going to grow up without their Daddy.  How can I make up for that?  I don’t have the slightest clue how to be a daddy!  I’m barely making it in the Mommy department.  I’m not a girly-girl by any means, but I don’t know a single thing about being a man.  I don’t really want to know anything about being a man.  I know a little bit about baseball, and I can tell my kid to stop swinging the bat around before he hits somebody in the head with it, but how exactly do you pee standing up?  Is it weird that I’m worried about things like that?

There are a lot of unknowns right now.  I never thought I’d have the task of raising three boys alone.  Three.  Boys.  Alone.  And I’m not sure how to handle it.  The one thing I am sure of, though?  Even though I’m “alone”, I’m never actually alone.  God is always with me.  He promised me that, so, when I’m feeling alone, I just have to call His name, and He’ll be there – kinda like “I’ll Be There” by the Jackson 5, but much, much better.

“Don’t worry—I am with you. Don’t be afraid—I am your God. I will make you strong and help you. I will support you with my right hand that brings victory.”  -Isaiah 41:10 ERV

Side note:  When I was looking up the verse I wanted to share tonight, I came across a version that I’d never heard of.  I normally don’t read the King James Version, because it has too many thous and -eths for me to easily understand what it’s saying.  I try to stick with the New International Version (NIV) or the English Standard Version (ESV).  The one I found tonight is the Easy-to-Read Bible (ERV).  And guess what?  It is actually easy to read.  But, more importantly, I feel like the wording of this verse hits the nail on the head.

Wait. What?

I got to the ER in time to hear the nurse telling him that the oncologist would see him the next day.  The oncologist?? He’s here for some bleeding and a gallbladder attack.  Why does he need an oncologist?  What did I miss?  If I’d been there sooner, I probably wouldn’t have missed that important detail, but somebody had to stay home with the three little ones!  The little ones…  They aren’t even old enough to remember him if he doesn’t make it!  I don’t have a job!  I just had a baby, and my daddy just died.  What do you mean, “The oncologist will see him the next day”???

The oncologist.  My husband, who is more active than I could ever imagine being, had an appointment with an oncologist.  Ugh.  I really don’t like that word.  Fortunately, the oncologist was very compassionate and super knowledgeable.  But even this super knowledgeable doctor couldn’t figure out what type of cancer my husband has.  It’s in his liver, but is it liver cancer?  It’s in his lungs, but we’re pretty sure it isn’t lung cancer.  It’s been over two months, and we still don’t know what type of cancer it is.

For two months, I have watched my healthy, active, talkative 195 pound husband change into someone who can’t talk without coughing and can’t walk to the bathroom without almost passing out.  I’ve watched him go from 195 pounds of mostly muscle with a little bit of a belly to 225 pounds of skin, bone, and fluid.  His liver is only functioning at about twenty-five percent, so he can’t get rid of the extra water.  He is so swollen, he can’t walk.  And there’s nothing I can do to help.  He’s going to die, and I can’t change that.