Last week a migraine swallowed me. In the midst of it and from the bathtub I wrote:

Hello Old Teacher,

Pain, exquisite pain, an old teacher from my past knocked on my door today. For a time I resisted his presence, trying in every possible way to shield my eyes, bury my face and avert my gaze, as if I could hide from His extensive reach.

“I don’t want to see. I don’t want to feel. I don’t want to learn.” My body seemed to be shouting.

But despite the toddler-like protests, a separate, quiet part of me within said…

Have you ever considered getting rid of, or selling everything for a simple life full of adventure and outdoors? Us too. We’ve done it twice actually. Our first time, a few years ago, we sold everything to live in a new country each month with our three little kids, ages 0, 3, and 5 at the time. Then I was diagnosed with breast cancer unexpectedly and chose an unconventional method to healing. Still working on it.

And now?

I haven’t written a blog post in a long time, but tonight as I laid awake the words to what I would write kept playing across my mind as if they were being typed across the page of my mind. The repeating theme: I choose love.

The last month has been one of the most grueling I can recall and it’s left us questioning ourselves and awake in the night and stressed and stretched to what surely feels like our limits. We’ve been under-communicating and over-reacting and getting sucked in by the waves of old, familiar patterns we thought we…

I watched a tree be ripped apart today. I didn’t want to watch, but I couldn’t keep myself from watching. My heart ached and seemed to groan within me as that little tree was torn limb by limb. Each blow sent piercing stabs down my own spine. And the grief as I watched that tree finally be entirely uprooted and cast aside carelessly overwhelmed me.

Hours later, under the weight of a descending migraine the image and memory of that tree being torn apart limb by limb returned and overwhelmed me with grief. …

When we moved back into our home last fall, a few months after I had been diagnosed with breast cancer on the heels of our 7 months of full-time international travel, and after unexpectedly living with my gracious parents for 4 months, Colby always said he didn’t think we’d live in our home for more than a year. I wasn’t convinced though. With cancer in our headlights I couldn’t imagine leaving the “security” of “home.” But oh how we missed our simple, minimalist, travel lives.

Don’t get me wrong, we quickly settled back into the comforts of “home.” We reveled…

Exactly one month ago Colby and I flew to Denver. It was the same day that the state of Utah announced that schools would be closing because of the Corona virus pandemic. We had purchased tickets a week earlier, unaware of how the situation would quickly escalate. The day before, and even the entire day of our evening flight we were in serious debate about whether or not to go. Was it irresponsible of us to be flying when schools were shutting down and social distancing was just going into effect? …

1. Love yourself. You are of divine, infinite worth. Stop the negative self-talk.
2. Eliminate Fear. The cancer is just a message. This is your divine assignment and opportunity to decode it! God is trusting you with it — now it’s your turn to put your trust back in Him.
3. Know you have options. You are the power in your world. Do what YOU feel best about.
4. Trust your Body and be SO grateful for its incredible power to heal. Envision it hourly. See it happening and know it will. Your body created this. Your body can heal this!
5. Be SO grateful…

When I was first diagnosed with breast cancer in June 2019 I met with a friend of my moms, 80+-year-old Iris Cox and 20-year survivor of cervical cancer and 4-year survivor of breast cancer. She followed a wholistic cancer protocol during her first battle with cancer (including receiving immune-boosting treatments somewhere in the Dominican Republic 20ish years ago) then the tumor was obliterated after just two rounds of chemo with no damaging side effects to the rest of her body. When she asked her oncologist if this was typical he told her he would call her response “exquisite.”

Years later…