My name is Kimberli and my husband, Melchor, was diagnosed with cancer in December of 2014. The blog began as I chronicled his journey with cancer. He never stopped praising God in the midst of all he was going through. He passed away on February 14, 2017 and is now rejoicing in heaven. This blog now chronicles a stage of life I didn't think I would enter until I was in my 80s or 90s, that of widowhood.
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My fear is that the memories my children have won't be of the trips we used to take the zoo.
My fear is that they won't remember the pancakes I used to make for them in the morning.
My fear is they won't remember the road trips we used to take and the hotel stays.
My fear is they won't remember the summers when I would take them to the park and the children's museum.
My fear is they won't remember the laughter.
My fear is their memories will be filled with hospital stays and doctors.
My fear is that they will remember me not from the times we would play outside and run around but they will remember the exhaustion I had.
My fear is that they won't remember the late night cuddles but they would remember the nights when I wasn't at home.
My fear is that their memories will be filled with the effects of chemotherapy on their dad.
My fear is that birthdays and holidays will be spent in hospitals.
My fear is I won't be able to give my children the attention they need.
My fear is that I will be so focused on other things that I won't be able to teach Malachi how to read or ride a bike and that Hannah will be almost 4 and not be potty trained.
My fear is that one year of treatment will turn into two years and two years will turn into three years.
My fear is that milestones like the kids starting kindergarten or playing soccer or taking swimming lessons will be overshadowed by cancer treatments.
My fear is that I will not be the mom that I should be.
My fear is that I will be so overwhelmed and exhausted that I will somehow fail my kids.
My fear is that I won't be the wife I should be.
My fear is that one year of treatment will turn into a relapse and my children will know more about cancer than they should ever have to.
My fear is that my children will not have the childhood they deserve and that their memories will be of me being preoccupied.
My fear is that their memories will be filled with the financial inability to do things.
My fear is that they will hear phrases like "we can't afford to do that, we don't have money for that and I don't know how we will pay for that."
I do have a lot of fears. There are a lot of thoughts that swim through my mind. I am not going to lie or try to hide the thoughts that go through my mind. This has been the longest and hardest three months of my life and I do not look forward to the many more months that are to come.
Yet as I write I talk to God and I pray. And I give my fears to Him. I present my worries to Him.I don't try to hide what I am thinking. God already knows. I lay them at His feet. And I acknowledge that there is nothing that I can do to change the situation we are in and so I trust that He will make a way. And my fears do begin to fade. And the strength begins to rise again. So for those who are praying for us I ask that you would pray specifically for all of the fears I listed.
Psalm 34:4 "I sought the Lord and He heard me and delivered me from all my fears."
Psalm 55:22 "Give your burdens to the Lord, and He will take care of you. He will not permit the godly to slip and fall."
I Peter 5:7 "Cast all your anxiety on Him, for He cares for you."
More and more on my social media feeds I have been seeing a lot of churches boast of the cool, trendy new initiatives that they have begun. I have seen pictures of coffee bars that resemble Starbucks. I have seen lighting that resembles one seen on Broadway. I have read catchy sermon titles and have seen how people have brought the movies into their sermons. In so many of these posts, I see all that churches are doing to attract new members, but I don't hear them talking about the power of Jesus.
My husband passed away February 14th, 2017 after a two year battle with cancer.
To say he battled cancer is an understatement. He was hospitalized two weeks out of every month during the first year of treatment. He was hospitalized a total of 18 times. He was rushed to the emergency room 8 times. He spent close to 500 days separated from his two children over the course of two years. And eventually the chemo, designed to get rid of the cancer, caused him to be paralyzed. And for the last …
This past week my social media was inundated with engagement and wedding posts. It seemed as though everyone was either getting married or engaged during the month of November. And as I scrolled through the many pictures I began to think of those who are filled with guilt or shame over their past and who every time they see an engagement announcement or wedding picture think within themselves "that will never be me."
You have convinced yourself that because you had sex outside of marriage, or because you were in an unequally yoked relationship or because you are a single parent, or because before you were a Christian you had an abortion, or because even though you didn't have sex you didn't maintain sexual purity, (the list can go on) that you don't deserve or never will get that "happily ever after."
Your sin may have been exposed to all due to a pregnancy or maybe yours is hidden in shame and secrecy and you are afraid to even admit what you have don…
Monday night my six year old daughter came running to my bedroom with tears streaming down her eyes. She was crying so hard I could barely decipher the words coming out of her mouth. "Mommy, I miss daddy.... Life isn't the same without him.... Why did he have to die???? Why didn't God heal daddy????I wish God would let him come back."
Why can't the difficult questions my children ask be "Mommy, where do
babies come from?" Why, at seven and six do they have to ask "Mommy, why
didn't God heal daddy?" Most six year olds are playing with toys, learning to read and watching their favorite television shows. For the most part, so is my daughter but then there are nights like Monday where the tears stream down her face for an hour. Or there are days where I find her in her bedroom, holding a picture of her dad to her chest silently crying and when she sees me asks, "Mommy, why didn't God heal daddy?"