Fight Song/Amazing Grace
Fight Song/Amazing Grace
Recently, I saw a picture pop up on our Google Home that reminded me it’s been ten years since I went through cancer. I remember that Thanksgiving Day at my sister's house vividly. I still had a few radiation treatments to go, but I was done with chemotherapy and grateful to have my taste buds back to enjoy the Thanksgiving dinner. I was also thankful for wigs since my hair was barely half an inch long, and, of course, I was grateful to be there with my beautiful girls. I wanted to take a picture to celebrate moving forward, but I couldn’t find my husband, so I took one with just me and the girls. In hindsight, I think it was better that way, as my marriage wasn’t doing well.
Looking back, I realize I had a lot to fight for back then. I had spent the previous year battling for my life, and now I was fighting to regain my physical and mental strength. I knew that if I wanted my marriage to work, I would also have to fight for that. Little did I know that over the next ten years, I would face additional battles: fighting for truth as I left the Mormon Church, recovering from a car accident, and ultimately striving for a life of authenticity and peace.
After a lifetime of experiences, we can all look back and see that we are continually fighting for something. And once we win those battles—no matter how long it takes—we learn, grow, and move closer to who we aspire to be.
Reflecting on what I learned from my battle with cancer, I realize that the lessons were not what I initially expected. Of course, I learned to be grateful for life—I couldn’t be more thankful for the ten years I’ve had with my girls, my family, my health, my hair, and my taste buds. But perhaps the most significant lesson was recognizing the importance of having support—not just during tough times, but always.
I now understand that I didn’t have the support I needed back then, and part of that was my own fault for not asking for help. While it may not have changed my marriage, it likely would have made a difference to those around me. When anyone asked how I was doing, I would simply smile and say, “I’m fine,” not wanting to burden anyone. As a result, I spent long hours alone during chemotherapy, trying to pass the time by journaling, and drove myself to radiation treatments, entering cold, dark rooms alone.
I’ve learned that this isolation isn’t healthy; we’re not meant to navigate life alone. This realization is partly why I became a life coach—so I could provide the support I once desperately needed.
As challenging as it can be to go through trials, each one teaches us valuable lessons and fosters personal growth. Martha Beck likens these hard times to the forging of a Samurai sword, explaining that it is flattened and pounded thousands of times before emerging as a finely crafted piece of machinery. She states, “If God wants to create a Samurai sword, He takes the best materials on earth and beats the crap out of them for years.” We’ve all heard the analogy of God as the potter, with us as the clay being refined in the fire. It’s not an easy or enjoyable process, but in the end, we often feel refined and stronger, much like a Samurai sword.
Let’s not forget that it’s during these trying times that we become the most humble, grateful, in tune, and aware, rising from the ashes through God's Amazing Grace...
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