"Hey how was your Christmas?"
I smile and laugh awkwardly, "You know, all things considered..."
That's how I've answered this question I've received 150 times since December 25th. What this is code for is: "If I really told you how my Christmas was, you'd be sad for the rest of the day."
Ya'll, my Christmas SUCKED. I'm not even going to sugarcoat it. Instead of watching my nieces and nephew dig into their presents on Christmas morning, I watched a zoom feed of them running around in Shoreview.
My Christmas was a lot like everyone's 2020... "we're making the best of a tough situation."
Julie wasn't able to snuggle and read to her grandchildren on the 25th of December. Instead, she had to wave from the car window after dropping off their presents.
Julie felt the brunt of her treatment and is still feeling the brunt of her treatment. Her hair is now almost completely gone. Side effects have included nausea and skin rashes. But man... folks... she is taking it like a CHAMP.
My mom is THE strongest person I've ever known.
On Christmas Eve, my mom and I laid in her bed for a few hours, just talking. Crying a bit , laughing a bit. I asked her a lot of questions and she answered every one of them. It's a tough disease to wrap your head around.
Can I give you some advice? Don't Google the statistics. Don't ask questions you don't want to know the answer to. Because they are out there. I asked a few questions I wish I didn't to certain people I wish I hadn't. It just left me feeling without hope and nothing to pray for.
Julie doesn't need you to get sad when you google the rate of survival for this horrible disease. This horrible disease that I know has taken multiple lives of my friend's loved ones.
Julie needs you to pray. Julie wants you down on your knees every day praying. People ask what we need all the time. The meals are great... special shoutout to whoever dropped of the White Claw.
But prayer. Nothing is stronger on this earth.
If you don't know what to pray, don't worry I've got you. God doesn't need you to be fancy or anything, He'll just be so happy to hear from you.
Lord, thank you for the doctors. Thank you for the nurses. Thank you for the medicine. Thank you for the miracles you make every single day. Lord, we need a miracle for Julie Marie Hinseth in Andover, Minnesota. Please heal her. We need you to do a miracle.
In your name, Amen.
Simple. Short. Sweet. Effective.
Another prayer I send out...
Lord, please be with the ones that lost someone they love to this horrible disease. Thank you that my mom still has time on this earth. Please be with the one's that are still reeling from this horrible disease. Please show yourself to anyone that has ever lost someone. This year, last year, three and a half years ago, 13 years ago, 50 years ago... please show them that you love them and comfort the ache in their hearts from losing that person or those people.
I know people that have suffered the loss of glioblastoma. I've heard their stories. I know the feeling of looking into their eyes and knowing there is nothing I can do except wrap my arms around them and hopefully communicate how much they are loved and how much God wants to meet them in the midst of the hurt.
On Christmas Eve, we watched Passion City Church's service online. The sermon Pastor Louie Giglio delivered was all about the "suddenly." I don't know how I could ever put this powerful word into a paragraph summation. So I'll just link it below and hope that you get a chance to tune in.
The good Lord wants to meet you in the midst of this hurt. This has been a tough year for many people. It's been a tough year for Julie.
If you're wondering where the heck is God in all of this, you are not alone. I myself, a believer of 25 years wonder this many times, especially in 2020, when it seems all hope is lost.
Stay the course. Keep saying those prayers. The "suddenly" is coming, I promise.
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