Being Brave

If you are just tuning in, you may want to catch up with a couple posts (this one & that one) to know what is going on.

Caught up? Welcome back! Thank you for checking in and keeping up with what is going on.

I think my last blog post regarding my medical journey was that I finally made it to UCI and was seeing the ENT surgeon that I fought for and was given the decision of “wait and watch” or surgery. I’ve decided to continue with surgery. If you know me, you know that I do not “wait and watch” well. For me, I need the facts. I need to face the wall and move past it. The hardest part of the past 8-9 months has been wondering about the surgical procedure and aftermath. I need to close this chapter and move on with life. This can’t own me anymore. Another huge factor is that I know I’m going to be okay. I’ve had so many “Only God” moments that have given me peace throughout the process. I’m not alone. I already feel this “It is done” feeling in advance.

I just received my date for surgery: September 4 @ 8:15 a.m. (Thursday).

Before I went to the GodChicks conference this June, I had been thinking for months about the word “brave.” 

I had recently introduced it into my vocabulary at work, speaking it over my clients, in lieu of superficial adjectives (which stems from this post). Unbeknownst at that time, I’d need this word myself. How would I know that I would need it spoken over me almost daily like an anointing, a confirmation, a declaration? How would I know that I would choose it as an anthem, so to speak? When I went to the GodChicks conference, I chuckled when I saw the theme: Be Brave (Oh God, you stinker, you always drop these nuggets in for me). I knew I would glean so much from the weekend when I laid my eyes on that word, my word. It felt like I had been administered a booster shot to continue on with the sustenance I had gotten (and continue to get) through words I’ve been given from others, only-God moments, prayers, and messages whispered to me through prayer and quiet time. There are always small gifts & tokens that we are given at the conference but this year they were far more meaningful and served as daily reminders. What you surround yourself with matters.

The word BRAVE and what it means really became personalized a few months ago. One evening in the middle of some difficult emotions, I just prayed. It was all that I could do. I honestly prayed to see Jesus in my dreams. A bit lofty but I was desperate for something. For some clear message. Anything. I went to sleep - expectant. I awoke in the morning a bit disappointed because it was not what I had anticipated. Had He not heard? It felt like an extension of my work day. In my dream, I had seen clients’ faces. I had seen families’ faces. I saw them as they journeyed through the emotions and stages of grief that often comes with a diagnosis. I saw them smile with each milestone reached. I saw gratitude. I saw joy eclipse every other emotion. I saw myself working with them equally rejoicing over the tiniest step toward something bigger. I saw myself celebrate steps that I used to overlook. Then it hit, “You DID see me. Just like you ‘get to’ see me every day.” I’ve always said that I feel I meet Jesus daily. He’s in the desperate parent. He’s in the child that has to work much harder to meet milestones. He’s in the child who may never meet certain milestones. He’s present when we celebrate tiny steps in lieu of “big” milestones. I realized that I’m blessed with daily inspiration. I am surrounded by BRAVE people every day, almost as if they are already whispering encouragement back to me by just allowing me to be part of their journey. For a long time, they have modeled bravery in its highest form. Through this journey, “the teacher becomes the student.”

Storms come. Bad things happen. We can’t avoid them. We just have to brace ourselves and keep walking, which means walking toward the giant, the storm. Control typically is not in our bag. What we can do and can control is our perspective and make choices. Choose joy. Warrior up. For me, I’ve chosen to “be brave.” I’ve chosen to find joy in the midst of the heartache, disappointment, and range of emotions. I’ve chosen to believe when I can’t see. I can’t wait & watch. I can’t bask in a pity party (well, sometimes I indulge myself a couple minutes here and there). There are people on the other side of this battle waiting for my experience. There’s glory that will be witnessed. This is part of my story- a chapter I would not have chosen of course – but clearly one that is essential for the rest.

I’m constantly reminded by the verse that my mom always shared with me and I’m using it as my “battle guide”:

¹⁴ Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, ¹⁵ and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. ¹⁶ In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. ¹⁷ Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God. ¹⁸ And pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests. With this in mind, be alert and always keep on praying for all the Lord’s people.

Ephesians 6:14-18

For me, I am choosing to continue to find joy and see and focus on the Only-God moments that come as I keep walking onward- straight into “it” (one could even add a –sh to “it” and get a feel for what the situation is). I have surrounded myself with various levels of support—from the friends to the strongest of prayer warriors that have committed to praying daily. A strong team of prayer warriors have signed on to pray literally through every. single. moment. of the surgery. How amazing is that?! People have chosen to pray fervently for 1 hour. An hour! I can scarcely process this love and support. I’m literally streaming tears as I even type that. To keep up my own encouragement, I bathe myself in verses about courage/strength/provision and listen to worship songs. I have to battle the fears, which are legitimate. There are some very real risks involved; however, it is out of my control. This is an unfortunate situation in which I find myself and I am aware of the risks but I have to move forward and press into it with positivity. Of course, the risks and fears are not dismissed or ignored but focusing on them is too harmful. It breeds unnecessary and unrealistic fears.

I’ve just come across this song by Bethel, “It is Well.” Listen to it here to hear how just how beautiful it is but the words are themselves like an anthem.

Verse 1
Grander earth has quaked before
Moved by the sound of His voice
Seas that are shaken and stirred
Can be calmed and broken for my regard

Chorus
Through it all, through it all
My eyes are on You
Through it all, through it all
It is well

Through it all, through it all
My eyes are on You
It is well with me

Verse 2
Far be it from me to not believe
Even when my eyes can’t see

And this mountain that’s in front of me
Will be thrown into the midst of the sea

Bridge
So let go my soul and trust in Him
The waves and wind still know His name 

It is well with my soul
It is well with my soul
It is well with my soul
It is well with my soul

Thank you for your support and encouragement.  It’s truly a gift.

It is well.

Love,

Danielle 

P.S. If you have the gift of time on the surgery date and you feel called to serve in this manner, please contact me for a doodle request to come on board the prayer team!

That time I got married in Vegas....

Remember that time I got married in Vegas? Oh, oops! That cat didn’t make it out of the bag for many people because I wanted to save up all the zeal for the “real” wedding in April.

Well anyway, I did.

Luba arrived in October (2013). He came here on what is called a fiancé visa. One of the stipulations was that we would be married within 90 days of his arrival. No stress right? No biggie? I’ve loved being in a 3-some all this time—me, Luba, and US government. We knew we wanted to share the moment publicly in a warm personal ceremony surrounded by our closest people. We knew we’d have to have a legal ceremony within the timeline in order to proceed with the process, and it would occur before we had the chance to plan the “real” wedding. The idea of going to the courthouse didn’t appeal to me. I like “off the beaten path.” I like quirky. I like fun. So, the idea hit to do something I SWORE I would never do (remember me and my nevers? Yeah, I always end up doing them) --- VEGAS BABY! DRIVE THRU! I mean, pop-out-through-the-sunroof-limo-ride-straight-up-to-the-window Vegas. I asked Luba and he preferred that idea over the courthouse. To him, having people with us being witness and having fun was the deciding factor.

So we did it! My friend April and I booked it. We booked it right there at the District in Tustin, sitting right outside Pinkberry. We laughed until we nearly cried booking this excursion. Yes, there is a dropdown menu where you can choose Elvis to be present or not.

On the morning of November 9, we headed out to Vegas! I look back on it now and chuckle. We were so new to one another and he was barely recovered from jetlag. We knew we were serious and had made this commitment to each other long before. There was no question that we would marry within a short time frame. It was just so weird for it to be “here” already. We had waited so long. We had spent hours talking about it.

We headed out and of course realized “too far into the trip” that Luba forgot his passport at home. We called to make sure that we could use an alternate ID since he had his driver license from South Africa. We first headed out to get our marriage license once we reached Vegas. It was quite the fiasco with no passport because his driver license listed his first 2 initials and last name. On November 9, I was set to marry “Li Mntanga.” Birds weren’t chirping at this moment as I realized this would not fare well with our paperwork. This process requires one to be meticulous and each detail must be perfect and triple checked and matched to other documents. It requires one to be OCD to the –nth degree. I recited like a crazy person: Oh God help me. Just move on. Just enjoy and do damage control after the fact. “Li” is probably wonderful too.

We had friends meeting us in Vegas at the hotel. We had a fabulous suite waiting for us at the Hard Rock Hotel (thanks again, AB!). We lunched, walked, and wasted time as we waited for the room to be ready. What was taking it so long?!?!?  I swear we spent half a day hanging at the reception area.

We didn’t have time to check in at this point before we’d have to be ready to leave so we got ready at a friend’s room. Can you feel my stress level rising?! I’m having heart palpitations as I recall all this. We met the gang downstairs at the lobby where the limo was waiting. It was on!

We all piled in and headed to the little white chapel. We pulled in behind another limo finishing up. I could see the “menu” on my left. I only had nervous giggles. I applied more MAC red lipgloss. What else could a girl do?

Finally, it was our turn. I was given my bouquet. I was surprised at how lovely the flowers were. We had a pastor come to the window and greet us—this meant a lot to me, not just any officiant. The photographer climbed in the car with us to capture the moments before and during the ceremony. It was short. She gave a little blurb, which I recall being nice but couldn’t tell you one thing she said. We said the standard vows. We didn’t exchange rings. I wanted to save this for our ceremony with friends and family.

Afterward, we got out and took some pictures at the chapel before heading back to the hotel for our drop-off. We were dropped off at the Palazzo for a dinner reservation at Table 10. This Emeril Lagasse restaurant is Cajun themed so it was a perfect place to celebrate as our “real” wedding would be in New Orleans. After dinner, we walked around to show Luba Vegas and then headed back to our suite, where the action ensued. No, not that action….BUT there was some mean dancing skills being showcased there that night!

BUT, walking in to the room was a fun surprise! While the room had been delayed, Candice & Kerrie Ann were able to sneak in first for some decorating. Turns out, I barely missed them at the Hard Rock when we were walking around. Apparently, April had redirected us walking when she spotted them around the lobby. We walked in to balloons, chilled champagne (ordered to be waiting from my friend Jody), bundtinis (my fave dessert), and gifts. It was a perfect night. We revived classic booty music hip hop songs. I laughed until I cried. We’ll all remember my new husband trying owning “the worm” on the floor.

The rest is history – and well, because – what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.

Here are some pictures from the night. Oh and remember that lip gloss I liberally applied in nervousness? My all-time favorite pictures are the ones where Luba’s actually wearing it after the kiss that sealed the deal. And, look how it's all over my lips! Enjoy!

Love,

Danielle, the Mrs.

P.S. When we got back, we were able to show the passport and get the name corrected. Phew! But, I did enjoy that rendezvous with Li.

Learning to wait

First of all, I’m so appreciative of those who read my last blog post. I’m humbled when people actually read all my random thoughts and updates. Secondly, I have survived on the subsequent comments, well wishes, emails, texts, and visits with me all the while teary-eyed as you told your own story and mentioned threads of mine. All of our stories are interwoven. You see me, you hear me, you care. It’s truly a gift.

Today is the 4^th of July. Freedom is the theme of the day. For me, it’s my “word” this year. I’ve been experiencing freedom in ways that I could not imagine – most of it has come through vulnerability. The hugest freedom has been loosening the chains of “control” in my life. I’ve been moving, slowly (sloth-pace), from the driver’s seat to the passenger’s seat. Okay, maybe I’m “riding the hump” (sorry, had to add a country phrase) or straddling between seats, but I’m moving.

I woke up this morning with just an overwhelming peace that I never thought I would fully embrace or grasp—the peace of submission, of waiting, of letting go. Some of you know bits & pieces of what is not said publicly in the blog and you can affirm the fact that God speaks tangibly to me. For me, there’s no way I could not believe because I’ve had way too many “Only God” moments, ones that leave both the believers and the non-believers stumped or with “chill bumps.” It leaves some shaking heads and shrugging, “How does this happen to you?” The beauty of it is….that I know. I know I’m loved. I know I’m created for a purpose. I have grace. I have provision.

For the past few years, I feel like God & I have had a very special roller-coaster-ride, patience-teaching, submission-inducing relationship. I’ve been able to yell back, rest, cry, throw things, high five, laugh, question—all the while knowing I’m loved beyond measure, taken care of, and will continue to be taken care of. I’m infuriated by the Christian-ease shown when people show real human emotions. I am enraged with hearing “give it to God,” “if you’re worrying, you’re not praying,” etc.  I cognitively get all those things but I appreciate my relationship which allows me to be human, the way I was created. I’m allowed to have emotions—be scared terrified, sad, angry. I’m allowed to process these AND know that I’ll be okay. I know I have a resting place that I’ll nestle in after the occasional internal emotional fight.

How did I get here? Me- the control freak, detail-obsessed, must-know-timeline beforehand to begin, do-it-quick-and-check-it-off-a-list person? Simple: Repeated tangible moments that are undeniably “Only God.”

For some reason, I woke up with one of my earliest happenings on my mind. There are many “miracle” stories in my childhood. One that played out as I woke was being in a car accident at ~21. I was driving home via “back roads” from Alabama to Mississippi after a hair appointment. For months earlier, I had been thinking that I should learn the names of roads in case of emergency (at this time, we had recently gotten all roads renamed/named for the 911 system). I came around a curve in the road to see a car in my lane. It was a woman driving, and her child was standing in the seat next to her (don’t even get me started…). There was no way I could hit them in any way. My first thought was the child. I swerved and missed. No biggie—until I went to get back on the road. My car hit loose gravel and I began to swerve from one side of the road to the other, quickly losing control of the car. At that moment, I felt the spin. I could see flashes of trees, houses, familiar landmarks. I felt the car slide up a slight embankment. Those few seconds felt like an eternity. For some reason, logic kicked in. I held my legs close to the seat (flashbacks of broken legs from locked legs extended to the pedals from in auto safety classes in school), took my feet off the pedals, gripped the stirring wheel, and held on. I felt the car go up and then start to flip. One of my worst fears was slowly (although I’m sure quickly) being lived. Then, it was realized. The car flipped and rested, upside down. My first thoughts were to get out—I’d be so upset if I was okay and then the car caught on fire or something. I had no idea what the condition of the car was like on the outside. I unbuckled my seat belt and fell face down on my opened bible that had fallen out of the glove box (1 regret in life? not looking at the passage!). I couldn’t orient myself to get the passenger door open – who’s used to opening the door from upside down? I called 911. I didn’t freak out until she said “Where are you?” and I couldn’t answer. What were the names of those roads??!?! I couldn’t read the small sign from so far away. I tried to explain where I was in terms of landmarks and other major roads. Reality hit when she said “Don’t worry ma’am, we are looking for you.” I knew she had no idea where I was. This is a low traffic area in this time of day as well so I knew that no one was coming quickly. Suddenly, two guys that looked like convicts (understatement) drove up. I panicked. But, reluctantly I engaged them. I asked them to simply open my door so I could crawl out. They did. I was thinking “now what?” so I remained on the phone with the 911 operator (God bless these people). I joked and told them if they had anything to hide then they may want to get on down the road as the highway patrol was on the way. I kid you not, they bolted like a flash of lightning. By this time, I was able to read the cross streets and emergency personnel were on the way. The volunteer fireman from down the street showed up. I asked him to please cancel any ambulance and have only the highway patrol arrive. He did but I heard him on the phone—“I think she’s okay. She looks okay. She wants to cancel the ambulance so her dad doesn’t get billed for an unnecessary ride. She’s making jokes.” Because of my “kookiness” from being so freaking glad I was “okay” they assumed I had a head injury. The volunteer fireman said he didn’t want to come to the scene after the call because that “curve gets everyone” and “most people wrap themselves around the tree.” You see, I missed the trees. My car slid right through, hitting nothing. I had no scratches. No glass broke. I didn’t hit my head during the spinning and flipping. I was the first person in an accident per his knowledge that wasn’t seriously injured. Purpose? I knew I had one. This moment was loud for me. Provision? Although it wasn’t my first taste of it, it was my most flavorful.

Most of this “learning” however began with my visa journey. I had only so much control. I could control submitting paperwork and some details. My attention to detail and organization could shine in the execution of paperwork. The rest—approvals, dates, requests for additional info (the important stuff)—was out of my control. We worked by a timeline that either caused feelings of elation or desperation. None of it was “approximate.” All in all, most of our steps were completed or approved in 50% of the time expected which is what I prayed for. The ones that weren’t, however, were very delayed. Actually, I prayed for a quick trip through this dreaded timeline but I also wanted our story to be a reflection of God’s presence in our relationship and to highlight things that only He could do.

I’ll share one of those moments that was one of the most profound for us. Luba’s police clearance was delayed. It was our final piece of paper before a last submission to the embassy to get scheduled for an interview. Calls were made. In turn, false promises were made. More calls were made. More promises were made. No police clearance came. Emotions were beyond definable at that moment—we could do nothing, nothing but pray. Our friends & families prayed.  Luba was working with the police academy and set out for an assignment that was changed at the very last minute. Instead, he was to take a couple people to the airport. Of all of the people that could have landed in the back seat of the car, she was the ONE we needed. She could assist us with our missing paperwork. She was a high government official and in charge of this very thing. She heard our story. She exchanged personal information with Luba. By the beginning of the next week, it was in the mail to us and we were on our way. (Long story short: she saved us from waiting for paperwork that was never coming without some bribery & corruption involved and months of delay). At that moment, I began to really set up camp and rest in a verse that had been shared with me by my friend April Diaz much earlier:

For the revelation awaits an appointed time;
    it speaks of the end
    and will not prove false.
Though it linger, wait for it;
    it will certainly come
    and will not delay.

Habakkuk 2:3

When my medical journey began, I started out again as who I’ve always been. I had to mentally run through a timeline with steps to “get this tumor out.” Again, everything was already lined up and revealed little by little. It was proven yet again that His ways are better than mine. Had I gone by my course of action, which was logically and medically sound in nature, I’d have the tumor out now but would definitely have some permanent neurological effects. The surgeons were not trained and appropriate for my case. I would have entrusted my voice to sub-par physicians and surgeons all the way around. I had trusted them, and they had been wrong – all of them. I was reminded of Habakkuk 2:3 each time a delay occurred—insurance mishaps, that yucky feeling in the pit of my stomach knowing something wasn’t right, the anesthesiologist on the case that urged me to get a 2^nd opinion even though surgery was scheduled, the ENT who is a specialist and told me to wait, the fight with insurance. It even occurred as the #1 surgeon (out of state) for this rare tumor contact ME to be of assistance after he read a Facebook post. Seriously? He contacted ME after I had researched him online, wished for his opinion, and gave up the thought of contacting him when I didn’t find an email address online. The very next morning, I woke up to a message from him which included his email address and some confirmation of questions (& second guesses trying to push in) that had been racing through my mind. A few months ago, I was grasping for any date for surgery. I rushed. Today when you ask me when surgery is, you get a nonchalant shrug and “Dunno.” I know it’s going to be scheduled on the right day. The right surgeons are going to be there. I’ll have my posse praying through every minute of the surgery. I will be okay.

A few weekends ago, I went to my all time favorite women’s conference in LA. I go every year. It sustains me until the following year. This year, the theme was “Be Brave.” “Brave” was a word I had been thinking through for weeks so I knew it was going to be good. And it was. One speaker, who is a Grammy-winning recording artist, recounted his experience of having vocal fold damage during intubation during surgery. It was refreshing to see him back up and singing, albeit different than before the surgery, and still living his purpose. He was there for all of us, but I knew he was specifically there for me.

One thought kept resounding in my soul all weekend:

I’ve given you a voice—what makes you think I’d take your gift?

You’ll speak louder after; your territory will be enlarged.

It is done.

I believe it. It’s mine. I claim it. I hold on to it. I wait for it. The right time will come and it will not be delayed.

Love,

Danielle