Gindi Vincent

The Dish on Career, Fashion, Faith, and Family

Faith

Zoom Out

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We’ve been at the farm this week. The top photo was a shot I took as the sun was setting. I zoomed in on the sunset to crop out all the stuff that took away from its beauty. But then, when you zoom out, you see what’s around it.

Zoom out. There’s work trucks. A trash bin and loading pallet. There’s a storage container. Because as you know, Hurricane Laura decimated the Vincent family farm. And then it got hit again by Hurricane Delta. Progress is being made, but it’s slow going. Rebuilding from the ground up.

Then, if you pan over a little to the left, you’d see this picture at sunset.

Zoom in – sunset exclusively in focus. Zoom out – sunset distracted by hurricane clean up pieces. Zoom over – a handsome son enjoying a fire he built.

I planned to write. For over a week. I meant to. But I’ve been pretty antisocial this holiday. I’m avoiding telephone calls. I haven’t seen anyone besides my crew. And everytime I go to do something, I just stop.

So when I finally made myself sit down to write today, I thought about how our perspective changes when we zoom in or out or over. (And I seriously hesitated using the word Zoom at all in a 2020 wrap up post.)

For the first few weeks after I received my diagnosis, I was very focused on seeing all the good. The blessings. The miracles.

I stopped that last week. Not permanently of course, but I allowed myself to be grumpy. And conflicted.

I wanted the kids to stay home because I wanted to spend time with them because TIME FEELS VERY PRECIOUS. Except while they were home they were fighting and I was yelling at them and I just wanted a break. A break from my kids? While I have breast cancer? It felt terrible to even think because time feels shorter and I should treasure every moment. But I couldn’t treasure a thing because I was tired and had a ton of cooking to do and the house was messy and the kids were fighting. (It got better! We had a great Wednesday! All the cooking got done!)

Perspective. How do you reconcile the warring perspectives? Zoom in, kids fighting and chaos. Zoom out, life is short and enjoy every minute. Zoom over, good progress on treatment.

I had a really positive appointment with the medical team at MD Anderson last week too. It turns out the cancer is Stage 1 not Stage 2, hallelujah, and it looks like the garden variety, hormone positive, breast cancer that makes up 70% of the cases. Another huge praise. When you have cancer, you want the early stage, run of the mill stuff.

There are still things to pray about. We are praying my genetic testing comes back all clear. Praying the surgery (which is scheduled for February 4th) will confirm no cancer in the lymphnodes like the ultrasound showed. Praying the genomic testing done on the tumor doesn’t show a high reproduction rate so I won’t need chemotherapy.

While I feel like I’m constantly zooming over to the treatment course, another phone call today to move forward with the genetic counseling, I’m trying to remember to zoom out more.

How far out? Well, at least as far out to see the glorious 2021 in the near future.

I’m not delusional. I do not think 2021 is going to be a panacea. We still have a world fighting a pandemic and inequality in the distribution of medicine to stop it and inequity in our socioeconomic and racial fault lines and infighting over silly political memes.

Yet. I find hope in 2021. I find hope in a relief from an election year. In a vaccine which will hopefully curb the spread of this vicious virus. In a 5th grade graduation ceremony and 15th wedding anniversary and hubby’s 50th birthday. I believe this time next year I will be cancer free and hopefully able to love on the next round of women who are feeling all the things I’m feeling right now.

See, you would think by zooming out, if you use those pictures above as a guide, I would see the pain and things that mar the beauty. But no! By Zooming out, you see the things that bring restoration. You see the work trucks which bring people to construct and build and clean. You see the containers that kept family heirlooms safe while the rebuilding happens.

The restoration isn’t pretty. It’s dirty and messy and ugly and takes way longer than it should. But in the end, RESTORED.

It reminds me of Nehemiah. In the beginning, the walls of Jerusalem are broken down and the gates destroyed by fire. He leads the effort of rebuilding, an effort attacked on every side. The work gets done though. When you get to Chapter 3, it lists all these different families doing the messy work of restoration (Jeshanah Gate repaired by Joiada,  Fish Gate was rebuilt by the sons of Hassenaah, Fountain Gate was repaired by Shallun, Baruch son of Zabbai zealously repaired another section, and on and on).

It’s what we’re all doing. We’re all just restoring a little bit.

Zoom out. You’re rebuilding civility. And you, you’re restoring justice. You, quiet one in the corner, you’re rebuilding with art or medicine or education.

It’s messy. Maybe it’s not as pretty a picture as when we’re so zoomed in on ourselves. On that solitary sunset. But oh how it reflects the community working together toward restoration.

And that’s why there is such hope for 2021. The teachers and medical workers and first responders and lawyers and grocery clerks and students and retirees and all of us. We’re doing the hopeful messy restorative work.

Keep going. With all it’s conflict and uncertainty and stepping on each other’s toes. It’s work worth doing.

Miracles in the Middle

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I needed to write before I went into my appointment at MD Anderson.  Before I understand more.  Before I know the treatment course. 

I wanted to make sure I capture the miracles. 

Two weeks ago today, my doctor called and said a biopsy found a ductal carcinoma on my right breast. 

In my life, there are before and after moments. 

The first one I remember is at 12.  Before and after my parents divorce.  When the world as I knew it tipped on its axis. 

Before and after marriage, almost 15 years ago.  And world shifting moments since then – before and after infertility, before and after children, before and after Bray’s job loss. 

So here’s another one of those.  In the year of our Lord, 2020. 

In the midst of the news, and the logistics, and  the processing, there have been miracles.  God working in every single moment. 

On Day 1, I spoke with two women who gave me insight into their own personal stories of recent breast cancer and treatment at MD Anderson.  As a result, I went on line that night and filled out a form to get in to see a team there. 

On Day 2, at 8 am, I received a phone call from MD Anderson.  I’d been told it could take months to get in and I should consider seeing other doctors in order to get an evaluation more quickly.  Yet here was this woman on the other end of the line saying she could make appointments for me on what would be Day 11 and Day 12. 

That same evening, a dear friend and mentor of mine introduced me to his friend leading a team at MD Anderson.  He recommended a specific surgeon in the department.  I looked into the team I’d been assigned to see on Day 12 and realized the oncologist is not one that would be who I would ultimately settle on.  He didn’t have the background or experience I was looking for in the oncologist that would be with me through the entire process. 

Meanwhile, my closest friends and family members were praying like crazy.  We had told the children and they had shared with some close friends at school, and teachers, and a few more people began to cover our family in their prayers. 

On Day 3, MD Anderson called again.  I explained that I did not want to lose my appointment but I knew the oncologist I was assigned wouldn’t be a fit.  She said she’d check for the next available team appointment.  The next opening was only ONE BUSINESS DAY LATER, today, and the surgeon on the team was the very one the MD Anderson team lead had recommended.  The same one. 

I said YES PLEASE! Another miracle.

On Day 4, I wrote about the diagnosis here and the gates of Heaven were barraged by the prayers of so many on my behalf. The biggest miracle of all.

On Friday, Day 12, when I went into my first MD Anderson appointment for testing, another miracle.  They repeated the mammograms and ultrasound and noted possible bilateral biopsy.  That was to investigate other areas of concern.  They spent time US-ing my lymphnodes.  When the technician came back, she reported no further areas of concern and I was free to go. 

Let me be clear here.  Everyone has different results.  The fact that my results went one way while another’s come out differently does not reflect anything about their faith or their prayers or their community of support. 

But what is important for my individual story, as I process, is for me to acknowledge the hand of God in every thing that happens.  The big and the small.  The significant and the minute.  Because God is not just a God of the mighty miracles where seas part and the blind see.  He’s a God of the small miracles.  The daily walking around goodness – in open parking spots and appointment availability and test results and friendship. 

People came as God with skin on these past two weeks. 

They prayed.  We had two Tiff’s Treats deliveries and a delicious loaf of homemade bread. 

Five women from law school sent a “treatment tote” with incredibly thoughtful gifts, crowdsourced from their friends who had gone through this before.  Gifts for the children and button front pajamas for me and even a cute tote I could take to every hospital visit and then throw away when I beat this thing. 

Two of my best friends arrived days later with a bag laden with the softest blankets and sweaters and a diffuser with essential oils.  My best friend had the exact same sweater and wore it on Friday as I wore mine.  Solidarity with me on my first visit when she couldn’t be there. 

There’s more.  Every day, there’s more.  Family and friends and God right smack dab in the middle. 

The miracles started even before “Day 1.”  I was supposed to get a mammogram this month.  But in October, one time in the shower, I thought I felt something. I never felt it again.  But it made me call my doctor and get a mammogram a month and a half earlier than usual. 

I was supposed to get the biopsy results on a Friday.  I’d have gone nuts that weekend.  I couldn’t have DONE anything and it would have done us all in.  The boys on their hunting trip and me having to sit still.  Instead, my dear friend had an appointment (scheduled months ago) with my primary care doctor on Monday morning.  She asked her to go find the results and then I got the call.  On Monday.  When I could spring into action. 

Every day was another miracle. The God of the small and the big.

And no matter what they tell me today, no matter what the course of treatment, I serve that very same God. The one who shows up. The one who cares. The one who acts in all things for His good purpose.

Such A Great Cloud of Witnesses

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Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us… [Hebrews 12:1]

That verse has been rolling around in my head the past week.  Especially these six words:

Such A Great Cloud of Witnesses.

While I know what it refers to in the scripture, it’s taken on new meaning for me lately. 

You see, in Hebrews 11, there’s this incredible roll call of some of the fathers and mothers of the Christian faith.  It goes something like this, by faith, this person did this thing that was pretty crazy…  And that’s repeated over and over.

Then it moves straight from that set of 40 verses into these words: therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses.  This reminds us that we are part of the church universal.  A bit player in the storyline from Genesis to Revelation.  Potential tools that God can use for His kingdom purpose during the time we have here on Earth. 

But that great cloud has always felt abstract.  The closest it felt was in the form of my grandparents who have passed away but left a powerful legacy of faith behind. 

I’ve come to see, that great cloud of witnesses is here today too. 

In fact, I’ve really felt that great cloud around me this past week. 

Women of faith who God has extravagantly allowed me to share life with in these crazy times. 

My dear friend and prayer partner of 17 years who is a powerful prayer warrior and prophet, pressing into deeply challenging work. 

My ‘cord of three’ who I speak to every day, my best friend in Minnesota and our dear friend here in Houston, who have laughed and cried and prayed and encouraged each another, sometimes all at the same time.

A complete surprise bonus group, a discipleship bible study I have on Fridays, who have become so completely dear as well as integral to my spiritual growth.

A few moms from my kids school who have felt more like sisters instead of parent sojourners. 

And then, of course, my family, there at the center of it all.

As each of them have prayed with and for me this last week, those words kept cropping up in my head. 

Such a great cloud of witnesses. 

If these witnesses are both here in the present, as well as those who have gone before in the storyline of faith, what is it that they encourage us to do?  They help us “throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles.”  The ESV translation says “lay aside every weight…”

Sin, for me, has been more obviously defined.  Lying, cheating, stealing, gossiping, gluttony, etc. 

But what about the weights that hold us back?  The things that hinder us?  Those are things we’re supposed to be able to shake off because of this GREAT CLOUD OF WITNESSES. 

What weighs you down? 

For me, it’s the same old weights year after year.  Worry.  Anxiety.  Stress.  Fear.  Busyness.  Distraction. 

They weigh me down and they keep me from truly running the faith marathon God has for me.  We’re supposed to run this race with endurance and this great cloud of witnesses buoys our ability to do so. 

If you, especially in this harsh 2020 environment, have been weighed down by burdens, look around.  In addition to being a character in the arc of God’s faith storyline, we are in this time and this place with others running the marathon at the same time.  They are also witnesses to our race and we are witnesses to theirs. 

Make a list of those around you. 

Let us encourage each other. 

We can challenge each other, pray for each other, cheer each other on, and remind one another to strip off every weight that slows us down.  Call out the fear or worry or distraction and hold each other accountable. 

Keep running.  And to my great cloud of witnesses, running in 2020 alongside me, thank you.

Wrestling with an Angel

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We bought an angel.  One of those lighted tall twiggy angels for our front yard Christmas display.  I wanted a new lighted twiggy nativity scene but the one I found was sold out.  So I settled on this angel. 

We did not need any more yard décor.  But 2020. 

I felt we needed to go bigger and brighter to cheer up our street (or our family or the world, who knows).  We paid to have roof lights hung.  We bought a few more items for the front.  None of them go together.  We have a dog and a Santa.  An angel and a polar bear.  Charlie Brown and Snoopy with a Christmas tree.  We have white lights and colored lights.  It is happy. 

Merry and bright.

After it was all up, there was a big rain storm Friday and Saturday.  Then winds from a cold front hit on Sunday.  So the yard blow ups were all muddy and that brand new angel was splat on the ground. 

Her upper body did not want to stay connected to her lower body.  Her wings kept disconnecting.  I stood there in the cold with my arms wrapped around this angel begging her (in my head) to just stay assembled! 

At that moment, I almost stepped outside of myself and saw me and this angel in a wrestling match on my front lawn.  Her collapsing every time I let go.  God please let this angel stay connected so I can JUST GO INSIDE, I begged in my head. 

WAIT.

Excuse me, what was that?

YOU’RE GOING TO HAVE TO WAIT. 

Lest you think I’m losing my mind, I often have conversations with God in my head, over the big and small. A back and forth dialogue.  There’s no booming voice.  No audible whisper.  Really, it’s usually just an impression or a word. 

So here we were.  Me, a lawn angel, and God…

I’ve had to do some waiting the past few weeks. 

Waiting for news.  Waiting and praying that somehow, some way, God would just speed up the process of me getting the answer for which I’m doing all the waiting. 

No chance. 

I’m sort of terrible at waiting. 

I’m a woman of action. 

I need to DO. 

So, of course, God is constantly letting me wait.  Because He needs me to learn a lesson already for Pete’s sake!!!

I realized, while hugging a twiggy angel, that I’d been offered several messages about waiting over the past few days.  A sermon.  A post.  Podcast, song, reading, FB group, text… 

The message is something like this: Waiting = Hope. 

Don’t miss it.

Waiting = Hope. 

Waiting (apparently) expands your faith. 

I’m even doing an advent study right now and this week’s meditation is on silence/waiting. The author leading the study shared this passage from Henri Nouwen:

I still like to keep up the illusion that I am in control of my own life.  I like to decide what I most need, what I will do next, what I want to accomplish and how others will think of me.  While being so busy running my own life, I become oblivious to the gentle movements of the Spirit of God within me, pointing me in directions quite different from my own.  It requires a lot of inner solitude and silence to become aware of these divine movements.  God does not shout, scream or push.  The Spirit of God is soft and gentle like a small voice or a light breeze.  It is the spirit of love.

It’s the 1 Kings 19 description of Elijah’s encounter with God – not in the earthquake or fire but in the gentle whisper. 

Waiting.  In the quiet. 

There is so little quiet around these days.  I mean, even when we’re stuck at home, we fill it with noise.  So how on earth are we going to hear the still small voice of God over the din? 

All too often we’re stuck waiting way longer than we need to because we just can’t hear anything. 

Until we’re on our quiet front lawn cleaning and reassembling Christmas décor… or maybe that’s just me.

Taking time to wrestle with the things we can’t see, the things that test our faith (For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the cosmic powers over this present darkness…). 

I’m still waiting.

And wrestling. 

If you’re worried about the twiggy angel, well she’s standing up by herself now.  A combination of Bray’s garbage ties, some extra metal stakes, and persistence paid off. 

For now. 

Change of Plans

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I am a planner. 

This weekend I had a change of plans. 

Not a change of a plan.  But plans. 

I had a plan for every bit of this weekend on Wednesday and an allocation of how it was all going to play out with transport and hand offs and windows for the work that needed to get done too. 

Friday afternoon, the boys were going to fish with a friend for his birthday and then go to dinner, where the rest of us would join them.  Saturday morning was little bit’s last meet, but it was far from our house, so Bray would need to get the boys to the warm up for their football game.  I’d run through a drive though to get little bit food and then go to their game.  We had a few errands Saturday afternoon we’d need to run before the Saturday evening drive in movie and dinner we had on tap. 

Sunday I needed to be at church, then the boys football practice, then get some baking done, and get the kids into costume for our church’s drive by Trunk or Treat, immediately followed by hamburgers in a neighbor’s backyard.

Whew! 

A lot. 

Way more than usual, but lots fun, so I wanted to make sure it could happen. 

Until it didn’t. 

And it’s okay. 

2020 didn’t happen like we planned, friends. 

There are days that are so utterly and completely overwhelming we find ourselves crying our eyes out to our best friends.  That happened with my dear crew today.  It is so much.  It’s not one individual thing, it’s just the cumulative impact of all the things, so that one small thing like weather or a change in plans derails us entirely.

Especially moms.  Maybe everyone, but I’m having a lot of experience with derailed mommas. 

We have been pushed to the very edge, and we super-competent, organized, planning, efficient, successful, job-kid-spouse juggling heroes have been taken down. 

But this weekend, God used it.  He used every ounce of the change to reframe my focus.  I found myself grateful in the unknown.  Maybe not on Friday when it was REALLY unknown and all in the air, but I got there. 

Thursday evening, we had the gift of having my mother in law with us through Sunday.  Since the farm’s devastation, Bray and his siblings have been asking her to spend some time with us because it’s all still so destroyed in Louisiana.  She is beautiful and artistic and her memory has been failing her.  We are very grateful when we can host her. 

Then Friday, the boys friend had a teammate whose family member tested positive for COVID, so the fishing and dinner was postponed.  Which just meant our family got to order dinner in and eat in our beautiful backyard oasis and watch the cool front blow in.  Literally watch God bring the cool air in with the wind.  Goose bumps.  There are days you feel like you can see Him. 

Saturday, my father in law brought some cows from the farm into town so Bray could drive them to the ranch.  So Bray left, and I made it back from Lillie’s meet in time for the boys football drop off, and we had the gift of having both my in laws with us.  That of course meant no drive in movie and no church, but the trade off was worth it.  We ate huge platters of Mexican food and we watched his favorite movie that night (what a gift to see him laugh) and he coached the boys on their football plays. 

I cooked Sunday and we sat around the table with dishwashers and washing machines running in the background.  The baby made a big breakfast and I made chili and cornbread for lunch. 

Bray made it back from the ranch by mid afternoon in time for my in laws to get home before dark and for our family to make it for Trunk or Treat and burgers in the backyard with friends. 

It was an utterly beautiful and priceless weekend.  I’m writing down all these details more for me than for you.  Because I want to see that God wants to use the changes to bring us something better. 

He is so in in all this. 

I know it doesn’t feel like it. 

We are threadbare and parched and we will not be able to be stitched back together by what this world has to offer us with anxiety and fear and chaos and fighting. 

But I knew peace this weekend.  I saw love and trust and reliability and hope. 

I had to write this as a reminder in case it helps just one of you.  It was burning on my heart this morning – we’re trusting in the wrong things.  We’re trying to cling to some semblance of normalcy or something we can control.  And by we, I mean me. 

I’m going to release that.  I’ll still struggle. Every single day I’m going to want to control it all.  Try to keep it from flying out of control.  But it’s in those out of control spaces, He holds us together.  He shows us what we should really be focused on. 

Happy Monday friends.  We will be okay.