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by lesliedanielle87

112 Days

Last December when we found out that after an exhausting, brutal fight, mom was cancer free, we put together a video to announce our good news. You can watch that video here: http://youtu.be/EVt7khQH9qM Since then, that video has had quite a bit of circulation within our UCI family, and we hope that it goes on to inspire and encourage anyone who sees it. We ended that video with a screen that simply says: “Onto the next chapter…”

But the next chapter didn’t turn out the way we had hoped or imagined. Earlier this year when we first found out that mom’s cancer had come back we were all hit with several waves of different emotions. Fear. Anger. Disappointment. Frustration. It felt as though we had barely had time to start catching our breath from the first cancer battle. We knew that recurrence was always a possibility, but if we would have to face it again, we had hoped for more time before having to do it all again. I think within our family, we all struggled to accept the second diagnosis, at times, more than the first one. The first time mom was diagnosed, she was really sick and it was visible and painfully evident. The second time, she was herself, there was really no indication that anything was wrong, but the bloodwork and scans proved that there was…the cancer had come back. Granted, it was nowhere near what it had been before, and mom’s quality of life was still the same, but cancer is cancer. And once you’ve heard that diagnosis once, you never want to hear it again. But as is life, cancer is unpredictable and we had to choose to move forward in hope and faith that God would allow medicine to heal once again

Mom visiting with a pet therapy dog named Ella on her first day of treatment June 2014

Mom visiting with a pet therapy dog named Ella on her first day of treatment June 2014

As we moved forward to make a plan with her team of doctors, mom was faced with the decision to join a clinical study for treatment or just pursue the current standard treatment; it was a no brainer. With a little fear and apprehension, but mostly joy and excitement she joined the study. It is important to her and is something she is proud to be a part of. At some point before her first diagnosis there were people who signed on to join a study for the drugs and treatments that helped save her life. In an act of gratitude and with a deeply rooted desire to give back, she said yes to doing her part to help find even better treatments, in the hopes that one day, we will see a definitive cure for this disease.

Mom's study drug AKA her "kool-aid"

Mom’s study drug AKA her “kool-aid”

112 days ago we walked in to the Cancer Center at UCI for her first treatment. We had walked in here countless times before for lab work and previous treatments, but this time was different. We were at the start of this fight and as she has learned to do so well, mom appropriately had her fight face on. She was ready to walk into battle with no other possible outcome but winning. It was a completely different experience in comparison to the last time she received treatment and I could only identify it as one thing: she knew what it was to win. The previous times she had received treatment during her first battle, she had hoped that it would work and that she would beat cancer, but she hadn’t yet experienced what it was to be told “you’re cancer free.” So what made this time different? She walked in that first day of treatment 112 days ago already a survivor. These walls, nurses, procedures etc. weren’t unfamiliar; they were a kind of home and safe place. Naturally there was fear, hesitation, and apprehension going into treatment, but it was put at ease because she didn’t have to wonder what survival felt like…she was already a survivor.

This is her "fight face" taken 5 days into her first cycle of chemo

This is her “fight face” taken 5 days into her first cycle of chemo

In comparison to her first battle, the side effects were minimal this time around and for that we are so grateful. The biggest and most traumatic one was the loss of her hair. But as she has done so well, so many times before, she proved her bravery yet again by shaving it off. This is the part where I gush about my mom even more than usual. To those of us who haven’t been through what she has, it might seem like an easy thing to shave off all of your hair and we would all be very wrong. My mom made that decision for herself; she was not going to let cancer take anything else from her. Her decision to shave her head was a declaration to cancer that she was not going to hand over her power to it. She is brave. It might be easy to think that with all the ways we try and bring awareness to cancer that most people would be comfortable with a bald woman…let me clear up that confusion…it still makes most people uncomfortable. That fact combined with the twisted views our society has about beauty, all I can say is we still have a long way to go. But like I said, my mom is brave. And I have seen her walk confidently in any and every situation, and it is her hope, as it is mine, that her bravery will help empower other women going through it, but also that it would help teach us that it is not something that we need to look away from, but embrace, support and encourage. She is brave, and it makes me brave.

Mom rockin' her freshly shaved head

Mom rockin’ her freshly shaved head

I know this is a long post, maybe longer than usual, but stick with me because it’s about to get really good…

Yesterday we received the news that mom is CANCER FREE once again!! She received her final treatment this morning!! We hope and pray that it was her last one ever, but we trust God and his plans for the future and today we celebrate this moment!

Mom walking out of UCI after hearing that she is CANCER FREE again October 13, 2014

Mom walking out of UCI after hearing that she is CANCER FREE again October 13, 2014

Our hearts are overflowing with joy and we hope that you join us in this so this joy can be multiplied. Yet, in the midst of that joy, we ask that you pause with us to honor and pray for all those that are fighting this vicious disease and remember those who have not had the outcomes that they had hoped for and pray for their families. I hope and pray we all get to see a day where this disease is 100% curable, but until that day we need to be vigilant and support all those that are walking through it.

Mom joining UCI and #TheAntiCancer movement

Mom joining UCI and #TheAntiCancer movement

There is no better way to end this post than by expressing our deepest gratitude. God has been so faithful and has blessed us so far beyond what we could have ever hoped or imagined. And one of the biggest blessings he has given us is our support system. I wish I could list each one of you that has joined mom’s team to help her win this fight, but this is already pretty long so I will just do a few groups of people 🙂

  • To our family: thank you for committing to walk alongside us once again and for expressing your love and support in so many beautiful ways. You have held up our family in love and prayers and we could not imagine going through this without you. You fill our lives with joy, laughter, and more love than we can describe. We love you so much!
  • To all of our friends: thank you for your constant prayers, encouragement, and love. You help us see beauty of community: sorrows divided and joys multiplied.
  • To the incredible UCI staff, from the valet attendants, to the check in desk, to the nurses and aides, and study coordinator, thank you for your gift of making a difficult journey a little bit easier. You shine your lights so brightly and add warmth, joy, and love to a place that could be cold, sad, and lonely.
  • And lastly, a very special thanks to Dr. Berman and Dr. Eskander. You are the coaches of our dream team and we can’t imagine this journey without you! Your commitment, excellence, hard work, and “cautious optimism” have journeyed with us and we have the privilege of walking out on the other end once again alongside two of the most gifted human beings we have ever known. Though you are truly remarkable doctors, your gifts go so far beyond the medicine, your compassion and dedication to caring for the whole patient has made all the difference! The world needs more people like you and we are grateful, honored, and humbled to know you. We think of you and pray for you often, thank you for your permanent mark on our lives.

As the cancer free finish line got closer and closer, there were questions about how we would announce it since mom’s video from last time was such a success and my response is this: no one goes into their wedding, planning for their second wedding. The hope and idea is that you only do this once. However, God saw fit that mom fight this fight again, and so there isn’t a beautifully edited video chronicling mom’s journey this time. Instead, I decided to sit at the computer and pour my heart out and celebrate mom’s journey the best way I know how.

With the hospital behind her, remembering how far she has come, celebrating a win once again October 13, 2014

With the hospital behind her, remembering how far she has come, celebrating a win once again October 13, 2014

Thank you again to everyone who has prayed, sent positive thoughts, loved, and supported my mom and our family throughout this time. We love you more than you know!

And so we say again: On to the next chapter…

Light and Love,

The Lopez Family

 

by lesliedanielle87

Window Seat

Today I am with mom at UCI for her 5th cycle of chemotherapy. Chemo days always make for early mornings. Once she was all checked in and one of the nurses guided us to where she would be spending the next few hours, it just so happened we were sitting by a window. Most of the seats here in the infusion center are near windows, but most of them face the sides of other buildings. Today, our window directly faces the hospital.

Throughout our lives we grow, evolve, and progress, but not often do we get a clear picture of just how far we have come. This morning as I look across the courtyard to the hospital, the picture is so clear. Mom and I spent days, weeks, and months in that hospital. It’s where she nearly lost her battle with cancer. It’s where she lost her ability to walk. It’s where she learned to walk again. It’s where doctors turned into family. Its where all limits were tested. It’s where we learned just how strong we could be.

We come to UCI at least once a week, I see it often, but today when I looked out the window, I was overwhelmed…I really saw it today.

I saw how far we have come. It’s not a long distance between where we are and where the hospital is…but looking at it today, it’s the longest distance. It’s a space filled with painful memories, fear filled days and nights, doubt, and tears. But that’s not all that fills that space…mixed in to all the difficulties are all the “small wins” along the way. Each step taken, each day we made it through, the relationships that were formed, and all the beautiful souls that have joined our team and mom’s fight.

My heart is full. My heart is grateful. My heart is humbled.

We have been met by grace at every twist and turn along this path.
We’ve come a long way.

I see all that is behind us and I anxiously look forward to all that is ahead.
A future we almost didn’t have.
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by lesliedanielle87

Confessions of a Recovering Church Kid

Hi, my name is Leslie and I’m a recovering church kid. Okay, I’ll confess, I wasn’t just a church kid…I was a PK. Not only did I spend most of my childhood as a “Pastor’s Kid” but I come from a long line of ministry. It’s the family business. My almost 75 year old grandpa is still pastoring.

As a kid I didn’t harbor unexpressed hatred for the ministry, but as a silent sufferer of significant social anxiety, I was uncomfortable a lot of the time. And for years, that was my biggest complaint. I knew that it was what my dad was called to, and by default, our family as well, to some degree. I understood that there were a lot of other people that needed my dad and that he was always “on-call”. I didn’t resent the fact that people lined up to talk to him after service and that we were always the last ones to leave. It was my normal. I had been in church quite literally since I was brought home from the hospital as a baby. It was my life.

Church was a second home…
Until it wasn’t.

One of the greatest things about being in a ministry family is you have a front row seat to see God work in the lives of people all the time.
One of the hardest things about being in a ministry family is that you have a front row seat to see…well, people.

We are all imperfect beings in need of a Savior. That is true whether you come from a long line of ministry or not. As a result of this “front row seat” I saw some things that really altered the way I viewed church. It was not a home anymore. It wasn’t a safe place. It wasn’t looking a whole lot like the church Jesus talked about.

Now, I am not referring to any one church, or one particular experience. This disillusionment came as a result of a combination of multiple experiences. Sure, I had seen some really wonderful things that God had done. But I had also seen so many terrible things that “His” people had done and after a while, I couldn’t see past it.

I had seen church politics tear families apart. I had seen a hunger for power and control break friendships. I had seen broken people become more broken as a result of being judged rather than accepted. I had seen Scripture twisted so that it spoke more of fear and judgement instead of love and grace. I had seen people hurt other people without hesitation in the name of Jesus. Some of the people closest to me were deeply hurt by some of these things and I was hurt in the crossfire. After the dust began to settle I found that one of my deepest hurts was from the disappointment. I grew up with a dad who passionately believed in the kind of church Jesus talked about in the New Testament. He believed in the kind of church that gravitated towards the broken and unloved rather than turn away from them. He dedicated his life to trying to be that kind of person; to love that way.

About 7 years ago I reached the point where I loved Jesus, but couldn’t stand to be in church. A few years later when I moved away, I didn’t try and find a church. I was happy to further my spirituality and relationship with God without having to deal with church. During these years I had some of the greatest conversations with my dad about religion, spirituality and life. I was free of the negativity that came with attending a church. I had no intention of ever going back to church life. As life would unfold a couple of years after that, I would learn that my plans or intentions really didn’t matter much.

In June 2012 my dad passed away unexpectedly and in an instant it felt as though my whole world came crashing down in pieces all around me. Shortly after, I moved back home to be with my family. Devastated, broken hearted and lost, I gravitated toward familiar people and places. Church was one of those places. My mom and I visited some of the churches we had once attended with my dad. We were always welcomed with open arms, but the memories of time spent there with my dad proved to be too much.

In December 2012 my mom and I were invited to the Christmas program at Eastside Christian Church. I was blown away by the production quality but I was more impacted by the pastor. At the end of the program he got up on stage and sort of recapped the Christmas story. I quickly gathered that he was a great communicator and he seemed like a nice guy. He closed in prayer and that was that. As I sat there and waited for the room to clear out a bit it hit me…in the most non-threatening, conversational way, Gene gave a mini-sermon and invitation to salvation and I didn’t cringe once. There was no threat of hell, judgement, or guilt trips. It was all so genuine, grace-filled, and easy. I told my mom that we needed to come back and visit after the holiday…I needed to know if this place was for-real.

The next time we went back, it was a particularly hard day. The grief of losing my dad was hitting hard, reaching out for hope, we managed to get ourselves there. The worship team came out and Joel Johns was leading. He began to speak of his own struggles and brokenness. He spoke honestly about where he was at that day. And led us in the song his needed to sing. It happened to “Blessed Be Your Name”. He really emphasized the importance for him to sing “You give and take away. You give and take away. My heart will choose to say: Lord blessed be your name.” It turned out that it was what my heart needed to sing too. I never would have guessed that a church that had each service so well planned would have allowed for something like that. Clearly, Eastside was a place that not only welcomed, but embraced and supported people going through difficult seasons.

At the end of that service my cousin Isaac took us to meet Gene. I would have never guessed that one of the main pastors of a church this size would be so easily accessible…or real. As Isaac introduced us he made mention of the fact that we were all facing the loss of a loved one.I lost my dad in the summer, Isaac lost his mom that fall. Without hesitation, without knowing us, Gene asked if he could pray with us…and then he did. (I would later find out that Gene lost his dad early in his life and could truly relate to what I was going through.) I was speechless. All of this was real. Eastside was the real deal. These were real people. They had pain and struggles just like me and I didn’t have to hide them. It’s almost as though they like broken people more than fixed people. On the outside, everything about Eastside was different than anything I had experienced before, but on the inside there was something familiar. I couldn’t quite figure out what was so familiar, and then it finally hit me. That familiar thing I felt was the feeling of being home.
Why did I share all of this? Because last week at Eastside they were painting messages on car windows and even I couldn’t believe which message I chose…

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It took a long time and a lot of grace to get here and it wasn’t easy. But not only do I still love Jesus…I love my church too.

Thank you Gene and the entire Eastside community for creating a place that I could call home.