Welcome to Vulnerability
Let’s talk about vulnerability…
The week we found out about this was the week of Ella’s birthday — our daughter who has been planning her 11th birthday with all of its details, intricacies, parties, gift suggestions, menu, décor, guest list, etc., from the moment her last birthday was over. I’ve had a running note in my phone for each of the comments over the past year that Ella has started with, “Mom, for my birthday…”
This girl loves her birthday. She loves to be celebrated. She beams at the attention, the doting, and all the celebration that surrounds this special day (or week… or month!). Not sure where she came from, but secretly, I love this so much about her — and kinda want to be like her when I grow up.
Yay for knowing that you are loved, cherished, and worth being celebrated — for squeezing the life out of these moments. Because that is pure gold. And I believe it’s exactly how our Heavenly Father desires to lavish love on us.
Ok, so you get it — the timing was not ideal. (Although, when is a good time to find out you have cancer and share that with others???) In the moment, the weight of this was so heavy, and coupled with desperately not wanting to ruin the week for our family — especially our kids — I asked Mark, “Do you think we can just carry this ourselves for a few days? I’m not ready to invite anyone into it yet.”
Two-fold motive: birthday week was underway, and unlike my daughter, I am not good with attention — the good kind or the bad. Doting, worry, concern… you get it. This was a lot for me to wrestle with, and the weight of sharing this with anyone besides my husband felt like more than I could bear.
Birthday celebrations happened, and Ella truly felt seen, known, and loved by so many. :) Now on to planning her 12th birthday party!
As the days crawled on, and I went from mammogram to ultrasound to biopsy — the diagnosis becoming more and more clear — the weight of it began to feel almost unbearable. I finally came to a moment where I said, “Ok… we’ve got to share this load. We cannot carry this alone anymore.”
The verbalizing of this message to the first person was heavy, as were so many conversations that followed with friends and family — those we love so dearly. Partially because we are not great in moments of weakness and vulnerability, and partially because this message is hard on every person we speak it to. To see tears well up in the eyes of your friends and family is hard — such love, such pain, such empathy, and brokenness.
Keeping pain private, for whatever reason, is typically my default. Every human instinct in me wants to recoil from exposing my pain. Inviting other people into the ugly, unresolved mess of our suffering is tough. Maybe it’s pride. Maybe it’s privacy. Call it what it is…
I need people.
I need you. The price of vulnerability feels steep, but in this moment, it feels inevitable. We cannot walk this journey alone.
All of that to say… Mark has mentioned in other posts how “our people” have shown up for us — each of you. I feel like daily, my mind is blown in so many ways by the outpouring of love. The vulnerability of this situation has put us in a place of “receiving” unlike I have ever been, and I have found a freedom that is unmatched but had always been avoided in the past.
A lesson from the cross is one of receiving — this is the tangible version in our lives today.
Grateful for the gift of love poured out for us in so many ways. Today, I learn to receive. My heart of gratitude overflows, and words seem to fall short to even scratch the surface, but hear me say — thank you. My heart is so grateful to you for meeting us in pain and walking this journey with us.
Welcome to vulnerability.