Here's a picture of me (and my wig!) on vacation in Grand Teton National Park last month. Now if that inappropriately-named mountain range isn't an appropriate photo opp location for a breast cancer survivor, I don't know what is! (If you don't know what I'm talking about, do a quick internet search on the Tetons to learn how they were named.)Our trip to Mexico in February and our trip to Wyoming in June were perfect bookends to the most difficult part of my treatment: the surgery and chemotherapy. That "bookending" was an unexpected blessing, since we planned both vacations before my diagnosis. The sunny, beachy Mexico trip helped our family relax between diagnosis and treatment. It was a much needed break from all the difficult decisions and endless doctor appointments. The Wyoming trip was much more than something to anticipate on bad chemo days. It helped put the worst behind us with a new location, a little adventure, and a chance to try out my returning energy on the hiking trails.
This winter, the mountains around Jackson Hole, Wyoming (which includes the Tetons), had a record snowfall: more than 700 inches. Can you imagine? That's more than 58 feet of snow! During our visit, there was still plenty of snow. This made some of the hikes challenging but had advantages too. I think we saw more animals, including newborn baby animals, than most people see during park visits. Perhaps more animals came down to feed in the Jackson Hole valley, since the higher elevations are still under many feet of snow, while the valley was uncharacteristically lush and green. The rivers, lakes, and mountain waterfalls were also filled to capacity from the melting snow, which added to their beauty.
I mention this because I can relate to the lavish springtime experienced by the valley this year. I feel as if I've been through a harsh winter and am now ready for a massive spring thaw and a new lease on life. (Hey, it's a cheap and cheesy analogy, but it works!) I am blessed with a chance to go on with my life, unlike many other cancer patients before me. As I've written previously, this experience has given me a renewed appreciation for normal, everyday life and its gentle pleasures and comforts. So I won't just go on with life; I'll cherish it. In some respects, this is also a new beginning, because I am changed. Some physical changes were deleterious, but I also emerge emotionally and spiritually stronger. I have passed through a challenge I could not have imagined enduring.
A valley is also an ideal place to admire the grandeur of mountains. As we hiked and drove through Jackson Hole, our eyes were drawn to the beauty and majesty of the Tetons. I lifted up my eyes to these hills and remembered where my help comes from (Psalm 121.) It was a reminder that I did not endure this cancer experience on my own, even for one moment over the past eight months. Rather, this experience has given me certain proof of the power and presence of my source of refuge and strength (Psalm 46). I know exactly where to turn when I feel scared or powerless.
How about you?
This winter, the mountains around Jackson Hole, Wyoming (which includes the Tetons), had a record snowfall: more than 700 inches. Can you imagine? That's more than 58 feet of snow! During our visit, there was still plenty of snow. This made some of the hikes challenging but had advantages too. I think we saw more animals, including newborn baby animals, than most people see during park visits. Perhaps more animals came down to feed in the Jackson Hole valley, since the higher elevations are still under many feet of snow, while the valley was uncharacteristically lush and green. The rivers, lakes, and mountain waterfalls were also filled to capacity from the melting snow, which added to their beauty.
I mention this because I can relate to the lavish springtime experienced by the valley this year. I feel as if I've been through a harsh winter and am now ready for a massive spring thaw and a new lease on life. (Hey, it's a cheap and cheesy analogy, but it works!) I am blessed with a chance to go on with my life, unlike many other cancer patients before me. As I've written previously, this experience has given me a renewed appreciation for normal, everyday life and its gentle pleasures and comforts. So I won't just go on with life; I'll cherish it. In some respects, this is also a new beginning, because I am changed. Some physical changes were deleterious, but I also emerge emotionally and spiritually stronger. I have passed through a challenge I could not have imagined enduring.
A valley is also an ideal place to admire the grandeur of mountains. As we hiked and drove through Jackson Hole, our eyes were drawn to the beauty and majesty of the Tetons. I lifted up my eyes to these hills and remembered where my help comes from (Psalm 121.) It was a reminder that I did not endure this cancer experience on my own, even for one moment over the past eight months. Rather, this experience has given me certain proof of the power and presence of my source of refuge and strength (Psalm 46). I know exactly where to turn when I feel scared or powerless.
How about you?
I applaud you for taking such a positive outlook on this experience. Not everyone would be able to do that.
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