Even On The Rainiest Day...

So I'm sure you all have heard more than you have ever wanted to about the whole bra color posted to support breast cancer thing on Facebook. Personally I've heard enough too. I think it was started with good intentions and has since gotten blown out of proportion. But that craziness tipped off a bit of discussion among some of my friends and me about my cancer, cholangiocarcinoma or bile duct cancer. We got to talking about how the rarer cancers, such as mine, get little publicity, little to no funding for research, and there is very little available in the way of support. All of this leaves those of us with rare cancers feeling alone and sometimes even a bit slighted. Now, don't get me wrong, I do not begrudge anyone with any cancer any and all research and support that they can get. Some people who I love dearly have or have had some of the well known cancers and I am so grateful that there is research and support out there for them. I just sometimes wish that it was also available for me. As far as I know, cholangiocarcinoma doesn't even have a ribbon color which has always prompted me to say, jokingly, that there are "No Ribbons for Rebecca". And usually I do mean it as a joke, but on the really bad and lonely days I have to admit that it does hurt a little to be in a cancer population that is so often overlooked.
So last night I was laying in bed, sick from a chemo treatment, thinking about all of this and I began to think how wonderful it would be if there was a cholagiocarcinoma conference some where some time. A place where survivors and those who love them could all come together. And where health care professionals who specialize in cholangiocarcinoma could come and share their knowledge. Oh I had a splendid time thinking about all the things that this conference could include and if it could have been dreamed into existence I'm sure it would have been last night. This evening I was thinking about it again and typed "cholangiocarcinoma conference" into a search engine just to see what would come up and to my delight I did get a rather good hit. The first thing that came up was not a conference date, but the next best thing, evidence that someone else has been thinking the exact same thing. The Cholangiocarcinoma Foundation, a web site that I stumbled across some months ago on some other lonely night. Under their "get involved" tab, under volunteer, down towards the bottom of a list is "Annual Conference Chair" and a short description. As far as I can tell this conference has yet to be organized but still, it's in someone else's mind as well.
The Cholangiocarcinoma Foundation site is a wonderful one for information about my cancer and a reassurance that I am not alone no matter how much I feel like I am. Like I said, months ago I found this site and actually submitted a picture to their "Faces of Cholangiocarcinoma" page, but then life go busy and I forgot to go back and look. But I did go look tonight, and there I am, it's a nice feeling. I guess I am not all alone after all.
I guess it goes to show, even though I often feel alone in my cancer and I am sometimes saddened by the lack of research and support for my cancer, that even on the rainiest, loneliest day, there are rays of hope and who knows, if we gather enough of those rays we just may be able to light the way to a real answer.

I really do love Christmas. Over the years the joy and excitement has shifted from the thrill and anticipation of receiving presents as a child to the joy of giving presents and watching my own child's thrill and anticipation. And as I have grown I have come to appreciate on a deeper level the joy, love, and peace that come with the season. So this year I have been waiting, rather patiently, for that joy and peace to fill me and my true enjoyment of this holiday to start. It's December 21st folks! It still doesn't feel like it has happened and I am swiftly running out of time!

I've been singing all my beloved Christmas carols and reading the story of the first Christmas to Kylynn, but somehow, I feel miles away from Bethlehem, weary and scared in Egypt. Instead of anticipating the birth of Our Saviour, I feel stuck in the Exodus story. And I'm not even feeling like I am Moses in the story. No, Moses had the benefit of talking to God, of knowing what was going to happen before it did. No, I'm no Moses, I am just an Israelite who is a slave in Egypt. I watch and wait in fear while Moses demands our freedom from the Pharaoh and, when he refuses, the plagues begin. How terrifying to live through with only the assurance of Moses that it would be alright. Then when Pharaoh relents and lets the slaves go I have to leave the only place I have ever known and set out into the desert on the promise of something better. Then Pharaoh changes his mind and starts chasing us! Oh, and did I mention we're following a column of cloud by day and fire by night, that's a bit frightening. And then to top it all off, Moses parts the Red Sea so that we can safely pass and then lets it all come crashing down on the Egyptians. Can you imagine? Yes, it is awesome to behold, but can you imagine how frightening that would be to walk through? And then to watch all that water crash over the Egyptians? And after all of that we wandered through the desert for 40 years before coming to the promised land. That's what I have been feeling like. I'm in that desert, I have just left the only place I have ever known, I have seen awesome but terrifying things, and now am wandering, walking, and waiting. Waiting for what I have been promised.

Doesn't exactly sound like a Christmas story, does it? And yet, that's what I kept coming back to. And then I remembered some different people wandering in a different desert, afraid and waiting for a different promise. The wise men, the kings, who come to visit the baby Jesus. They first went to Herod who asked them to find the baby and then report back to him with his location. Then the wise men set off on their journey following, not a column of cloud or fire, but a star. Their journey was long and filled with fear because on their way they came to understand that Herod meant for them to give him Jesus' location so that he might find him and kill him and they decided not to return to tell Herod. They must have known that if Herod were to ever find any of them that their lives would be forfeit. Yet they continued on and kept to their decision. And after a long journey they found the baby Jesus. They found what they had been promised, a saviour.

And so, are the stories of Exodus and the wise men the same? No, and yes. They are different times, places, characters, situations, yet they are both about leaving what you know, what you understand, what you are comfortable with, and stepping into the unknown in search of the promise of something better. They are both filled with journeying, fear, and more than anything, waiting! And that's where I find myself this Christmas as well. I have long since left what was comfortable and known, sometimes I wish to go back, but that is not possible. I feel as though I have been doing much wandering and a lot of that wandering has been filled with fear. But more than anything, I feel like I am waiting. Waiting for what I have been promised. And that promise begins with Christmas.

I might also point out that the wise men did not arrive on Christmas day. They were not there with the angels and shepherds. They travelled far and waited long to receive what had been promised. But that promise was there for them all the same, just as it was for the Israelites after their journey. And so maybe this year, that is me. I am travelling with the wise men, and in a way, with the Israelites. I have left what I have known. I am frightened. I am tired. I am waiting. But my promise will be there. Even on the rainiest day, My Lord is waiting. And, even though it came differently this year, that is Christmas.