Math is easier without numbers.

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I don’t have a beautiful mind like the guy in the movie by that title who is a brilliant mathematician. In fact, when it comes to math, my mind is anything but beautiful. Equations go into my mind to scoff and mock.

“Larry, get a load of this mind! She’ll never get us. We’re safe here!” (Yes, math equations are sometimes named Larry.)

I’d say instead of a beautiful mind, I have a busy mind. It sometimes serves me well. Minds need to be busy, right? We have places to go, people to see, things to do.

But there are times my busy mind is not a good addition to life, but a subtraction. (Wait, did I almost make a math problem? Larry, is that you?)

When my mind is busy with the wrong things, things like worry, irrational thoughts, fears, imaginary scenarios, I suffer.

But I have a little equation that helps me pull out of it. (Okay, maybe I really CAN do math- just not with actual numbers.)

Truth + Trust = Peace

When I find my busy mind is focused on questions like,

“What did my friend mean by that comment? Does she hate me now? What did I do to offend her?”

“What if my daughter doesn’t know how to navigate this difficult situation at school today? What if I’ve completely failed as her mom?”

“Is this health symptom weird? Am I dying of some rare disease?”

When those questions haunt me, I go back to my equation.

Truth + Trust = Peace

Truth. What do I KNOW to be true.

Trust. Who do I KNOW to be in control, no matter the circumstance (spoiler alert: it’s God).

Peace. Ahhh. There is it. The wonderful resulting exhale of relief and hope filled inhale of comfort.

When I go back this equation, this simple formula without numbers, my busy mind becomes more beautiful after all.

That’s right, Larry. Deal with it.

 

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This post is part of the Five Minute Friday community where bloggers are challenged to write for 5 minutes based on a one-word prompt. This week’s word: TRUTH

Conversation Cafe Podcast

I will doing some traveling and speaking in the coming months (starting tomorrow!) and will be sharing about the messages in my new book, Brownie Crumbs and Other Life Morsels.

But, before the “live” speaking started, I was able to record three podcast interviews- two of which have already been posted.

I really enjoyed this one which was just posted yesterday. I loved getting to know the host, Bekah Shaffer. I have a new friend now, and it seems we’re a lot alike!

So, if you have about 30 minutes while you’re in the car, folding laundry (one of my least favorite jobs!), or on the treadmill, maybe you can have  listen.

Here’s the link:

https://soundcloud.com/spill-the-beans-404985658/the-conversation-cafe-episode-12-christy-cabe

Thanks!

Christy

So, I released my first book this week.

I’ve carried three babies to term and have given birth to each.

And as of Tuesday, I feel as if another pregnancy has resulted in the birth of a 14.7 ounce 6 x 9 inch baby book. Mother and baby are doing well, although the three year gestation of this one was a doozy.

But she’s here. Brownie Crumbs and Other Life Morsels made her debut on Tuesday, April 25 bright and early in the morning. And what a day it was!

And just like any mother, I’m prepared to fill you in on the details.

I’ll try to summarize and leave out the parts about the epidural needle (oh wait… that’s right, I couldn’t get insurance to cover one this time).

****My book released on Amazon Tuesday morning, and my wonderful launch team (those who I had asked to help me promote the book and to whom I’d given an early digital copy in preparation) did their job of leaving Amazon reviews and sharing about the book on their own social media pages. If you ever release a book, I’d strongly suggest using a launch team. But you can’t have mine. They’re too awesome.

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****My husband, who incidentally was a part of my launch team (did he have a choice, really?), actually posted on social media. This in and of itself is big news. When he left updates about my book on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter, Homeland Security may have been alerted about unusual activity.

****This same husband knew that I got up at 5:30 launch day morning and therefore went to Starbucks and got me my favorite drink on his way home from taking our son to school. Social media and buying Starbucks on the same morning… unusual activity indeed.

****All three of my children took a copy of my book to school with them. My kindergartner was the “sharing friend” that day and chose my book for her “show-and-tell.” My 2nd grader told the class all about what it’s like to be an author (I’m not sure what she relayed exactly! :)) and talked it up so much her teacher ordered a copy over her lunch break. My middle schooler showed it to some teachers and then kept it to read for one of his “free choice” class assignments. He told me after school today he just finished chapter 2 and as we talked about it a little, I had to choke back tears of gratitude for the moment.

 

****My doorbell rang twice launch day morning. Once it was flowers sent from great friends, and second time it was a different great friend standing there with her children and gifts. She brought flowers, brownie mix, a Starbucks card (do you see a theme here?) and a travel cup that says “Yay!”

 

****I had a launch team, and I had a LUNCH team. That’s right. My parents and my grandparents took me to lunch to celebrate. It was such a special time together.

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****My parents gave me a gift – a travel tote for when I travel and speak, and a pen to sign my books with (will I really be signing books?!) And, my mom even gave me a gift certificate to go get my nails done so that they’ll look good when I sign books. How awesome and thoughtful is that?!

****I got a shipment of books in the mail that I will take with me when I travel and speak. SO WEIRD to open the boxes and see them full of my books!

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****My husband and kids took me out to our favorite Mexican place for dinner to celebrate (I wasn’t even very hungry- but that didn’t stop us!) They each gave me a sweet card they’d made or signed.

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****I started to actually SIGN a few of the books that I was giving as gifts. I actually autographed a book. CRAZY!

****The first of three podcasts that I’ve been interviewed on was posted on Tuesday. Two more will air later.

****I checked Amazon and saw MY BOOK in the bestseller list for the Spiritual Growth category. It was amongst the names of Ann Voskamp, Tim Tebow, Mark Batterson, and Lysa Terkeurst. I about fell off of my chair.

 

****And today I’ve been getting texts and seeing posts from friends who ordered the book on Tuesday and who have received their shipment already! What a fun and strange thing for me to see! 🙂

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The three year gestation of this book baby was a lot to bear. I’m not gonna lie. But, as a friend teased me yesterday, “It will be just like when you forget how painful labor was after you hold your baby for the first time and then you end up going through it all again to have another child.”

Yes, maybe it will be like that.

But all I know for now is that I’m happy to be able to hold this one in my hands.

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And I pray that all who read it will be encouraged to savor life — and given a little dose of hope, joy, and love along the way!

Thanks for sharing in the journey!

Christy

To see the book on Amazon, click HERE

Podcast Interview Link

It’s been quite the day around here with the launch of my first book, Brownie Crumbs.

I’ll fill you in on more details later, but for now, I wanted to share this link with you.

This is a podcast interview I did with Nancy Carmichael of Logospost.com. I share about several messages from the book and I enjoyed our conversation.

I hope you will too!

https://www.logospost.com/home/2017/4/25/when-life-hands-you-crumbs-a-down-to-earth-but-not-earthly-chat-with-christy-cabe

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More to come later about the launch day itself!

Christy

Temporarily derailed.

I walked through my kitchen this week and the sight I beheld across the room into my family room caused me to stop dead in my tracks. My body’s physical reaction is difficult to put into words. It was mixture of nauseous and weakness along with a heightend sense of adrenaline.

Cue the emotional and dreadful music.

Hold your breath.

Wait for it.

Thomas and Friends was on my tv. My 6th grade son was laying on the couch covered in a blanket and staring at the screen.

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Granted, this may not sound like your typical horror scene. I don’t think the little blue train with the happy talking face has been a villain in many settings. He and his colorful train friends are actually quite cute and sweet.

But it’s not them, it’s me. I associate those talking trains with something else. Something painful. Something sad.

The same lanky preteen boy who now lays on the couch fighting pneumonia was once a toddler diagnosed with leukemia. We spent over three years watching this boy get chemo treatments and we lived in isolation. Our most frequent companions were the colorful trains from Thomas and Friends. James, Percy, Gordon, Thomas, Edward… I can still quote many of their friendly British lines.

But it has been over six years since our son finished chemo and he is now a happy and cancer-free middle schooler. He’s active in sports, does his homework, and rarely sits still.

That is until this week when he caught a nasty virus that decided to settle in his left lung and cause him to miss several days of school. It’s pneumonia, but it’s not cancer. It’s “one of those things” that he probably caught from the germ smorgasbord known as public school. It is unrelated to the cancer. It is going to be okay.

But as I walked through the kitchen and saw him sick on the couch not caring enough or possessing the energy to change the channel when Thomas and Friends came on PBS, I stopped and took notice.

Not this again. Please!

After I caught my breath, I took a picture on my smartphone and texted it to my husband. He understood its meaning without much explanation.

“This makes me sick too,” he replied. “But remember how far we have come and that this is not our norm anymore.”

Yes. Another quote I want to commit to memory.

This is not our norm anymore. Time has passed. Change has come.

Our son is healthy. Our God and brilliant doctors helped to heal him.

It took me a few minutes to calm my heart rate and sooth my nerves, but the moment and the perspective I gained have stayed with me.

Sometimes, remembering where you’ve been brings gratitude.

Sometimes, seeing how far you’ve come brings hope.

Sometimes a little blue talking train can remind you that healing does in fact come with the passing of time.

 


This post is part of the Five Minute Friday community where writers are encouraged to write on a topic for about 5 minutes based on a one-word prompt. This week’s word: HEAL

 

Our Reality (TV). 

  
We are not exactly “camera ready” people. We’re far from glamorous. Very far. We’re just a regular, plain, run-of-the-mill family. 

 But we’re willing. 

And it appears that’s almost as good. 

Willing to tell our story and then simply showing up when we’re called. We’ve tried to make that our practice. 

Recently we were asked to share about our son, Karson’s, battle with leukemia. How he is a survivor, and the amazing research being done that has helped make this our version of reality TV. 

The camera man and reporter met us outside on a 90 degree day. I started to melt from the heat and could feel sweat rolling down my back before we even began the interview. My husband, Kraig, had driven straight from an appointment with our eye doctor where he’d had his pupils dilated. After being asked to remove his sunglasses for the filming, Kraig squinted his way through the next hour and we laughed at his expense. I got emotional about the topic as I answered the reporter’s questions with honesty and openness. This all made for a less than perfect shoot. 

But that doesn’t really matter. 

What matters is that we were able to share our story.

That maybe another family out there who is currently in the trenches, watching their child fight a serious illness, will see a glimmer of hope. 

That maybe some more attention will be given to pediatric cancer research. 

That maybe someone will feel a little less alone in their struggle.

That maybe gratitude will trump the pain. 

That maybe this will be the boost someone else needs to share their own story. 

That maybe willingness and showing up is even better than perfection and glamour, after all. 

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Here’s the link to the news story: 

Nothing to Lose.

I’ll never forget what she said. She stood behind the simple podium telling a room full of young moms the heartbreaking story of her infant daughter’s death. My throat felt tight and many eyes twinkled with tears as she told our MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers) group the details of her unimaginable loss. But it was one statement in particular that hit me. And it stuck. Though it has been years since that morning, I have replayed her words in my head often, as if she said them just last week.

She said something like;

“This may sound strange, but now that we have other children and I try every day to protect them from this world and to raise them right, there are times when I’m thankful that the daughter that we lost is already safe. Nothing can harm her now. She’s with the Heavenly Father, and she’s safe.”

Her transparency is capable of encouraging many others to live with such a perspective. Her worldview is an eternal one. Her hope is not rooted on Earth, but in Heaven. Her trust is in an invisible and loving God.

Though she has lost the most precious thing, she has nothing to lose.

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I know for a fact that this woman would have rather not faced her horrific pain in order to gain such a mature and godly perspective. But we don’t always have a choice in our life lesson plan. We do however have a choice in how we’ll accept it.

And her words remind me to accept an eternal perspective.

That with our Heavenly Father’s love and the gift of hope He offers, we have everything to gain.

And when we rest in the Truth, we have nothing to lose.

“He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose.” Jim Elliot 


This post of a part of the Five Minute Friday community where a group of bloggers write for about 5 minutes about a topic based on a one-word prompt. To see other posts from this week you can click here: http://katemotaung.com/2016/06/16/five-minute-friday-lose/ 

This week’s prompt: LOSE

Jeremiah 29:11- The Rest of the Story

FullSizeRenderPerched on the top bunk of my third story dorm room I had a good view of my fellow college students on the sidewalk below. I watched them pass as if staring at the second hand of a clock, absentmindedly watching the rhythm of the afternoon. I adjusted the pillow behind my back and leaned against the painted cinder block wall. My legs were folded under me, and my Bible lay open on my lap to Jeremiah chapter 29.

I wanted to know more about the plans God had for me.

As a Sophomore on a Christian college campus, I had heard the words of Jeremiah 29:11 many times in reference to God’s will for my future.

For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

Those words robotically came from the mouths of professors, chapel speakers, and friends as if someone had pulled a string on their backs that triggered a preloaded response whenever a question about the future arose.

I did not doubt that God loved me or had good plans for me, but as I struggled through worry about the unknowns of my future;

What degree should I work toward?

Who will hire me after graduation?

What type of job do I want?

Who will I marry?

Where will we live?

What type of job will my husband have?

I was looking for more than a pat answer. I was looking for peace in the midst of uncertainty. And Jeremiah 29:11 seemed to be the go-to verse.

I wanted to know more about this apparent feel-good promise, so I read the context of the verse in its chapter, Jeremiah 29.

I felt confused.

The good feelings associated with plans for prosperity and hope were put aside. The verses leading up to verse 11 were not filled with smiles and sunshine. Jeremiah was speaking to Israelites who had been carried off, essentially as prisoners of war, to the country of Babylon.

The first verse of the chapter reads,

This is the text of the letter that the prophet Jeremiah sent from Jerusalem to the surviving elders among the exiles and to the priests, the prophets and all the other people Nebuchadnezzar had carried into exile from Jerusalem to Babylon.”

The fact that the word “surviving” is in this sentence tips me off that this was sent during a difficult time of war and death.

Jeremiah goes on to tell the people that they will one day be brought back to their homeland, Israel. God does have good things in store for them. He has plans to rescue them… in 70 years. He knows His plans to help them.

Jeremiah 29:10-11 says;

“This is what the Lord says: “When seventy years are completed for Babylon, I will come to you and fulfill my good promise to bring you back to this place. For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

I realized right then and there that verse 11 had been grossly taken out of context.

Not that God doesn’t have plans for us…. not that God isn’t a good God… but God doesn’t promise ME anything in this passage. He was talking to Israelite POWs in Babylon!

What does this mean for my future? Does God still have plans and hope for me?

I squirmed on my plaid comforter and readjusted both my physical and spiritual position.

If Jeremiah 29:11 wasn’t written to me, then why do we have it in our Bibles? Why read it at all? How can I know what is true for me and not just a message to its original audience?

To answer my complicated questions I go back to the simplest basics.

I believe God is who He says He is. I believe He is all-knowing and sovereign over all. I believe He never changes. Therefore, I can trust that any principle that I can glean about God from any passage of Scripture is still true today.

The specific promise of Jeremiah 29:11 wasn’t written for me, but the principle that God was teaching the Israelites in that passage has not changed.

So what was the principle God was teaching His people?

I assumed from the way Christians had been quoting Jeremiah 29:11 that God was telling His people He was ready to swoop in and drop good things on those who loved and obeyed Him. That He was basically our Santa Claus with prosperity and hope in his sleigh. But the truth was, God wasn’t going to deliver good things to His people the day that Jeremiah’s letter was read to them, or even once a year under the tree, for that matter.

He was not planning to rescue them for 70 years.

And what really struck me were God’s instructions for His people during those seven decades of waiting.

God told them to get on with life.

Jeremiah 29:4-8 reads:

“This is what the Lord Almighty, the God of Israel, says to all those I carried into exile from Jerusalem to Babylon: “Build houses and settle down; plant gardens and eat what they produce. Marry and have sons and daughters; find wives for your sons and give your daughters in marriage, so that they too may have sons and daughters. Increase in number there; do not decrease. Also, seek the peace and prosperity of the city to which I have carried you into exile. Pray to the Lord for it, because if it prospers, you too will prosper.”

The principle I learn here is that God DOES know the plans He has for us. He DOES have good things in store for our future. But while we are waiting, we are to live life and seek peace and prosperity, even if we’re in enemy territory.

Wow.

The principles of Jeremiah 29 are jumping off the page. I now see how I can relate and what I can learn from God’s Word to His people. I’m not so different from the exiled Israelites after all.

I live in enemy territory because I live in this world. One day I know God will rescue me and will take me back to my homeland to dwell with Him. But the principle I learn from Jeremiah 29 is that while I’m here, I need to live. I need to seek the peace and prosperity of this place I call home for now.

I need to get to work because if the work of my hands prospers, God will prosper me too.

It sounds like this principle in Jeremiah 29 isn’t all about what God has in store for me, but also how I can live for Him.

Jeremiah 29:11 is still a great verse to read for encouragement and hope. God hasn’t changed since the days of Jeremiah. He knows the plans He has for me, and when they include bringing me home to be with Him, I know for a fact they are good.

But there’s more to the story. God asks me to seek prosperity and peace in this territory while I wait for His rescue.

It looks like I had better get to work.

Survivor Guilt: Turning Guilt Into Hope

Today, February 9th, 2015, marks the 8th anniversary of our son Karson’s diagnosis with leukemia. Eight years. This date is always a mixed bag of emotions for us. We feel pure elation for where we are today, and yet the moments of shock and sorrow we felt 8 years ago are still very raw and tangible. We celebrate how far we’ve come, and we remember because it’s important to never forget where we’ve been. 

I wrote a blog article about the “survivor guilt” that I sometimes feel and how I’ve been challenged to turn that guilt into hope for others. The Riley Children’s Foundation was kind enough to share it on their blog today in honor of Karson’s diagnosis anniversary. You can find it on the RCF page here. Or, you can read it on my personal blog below. 

Here’s to hope! 

 

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I tilted my head back until I felt my neck muscles had reached their limit. I was getting the best view possible as I watched my son attempt to scale an almost 30 foot climbing wall at our local YMCA.

I know nothing about climbing, so I was not there to offer advice, but to cheer Karson on and to take pictures. So, when Karson stopped about three quarters of the way up and let go of his grip, with both his hands and his feet, I wasn’t sure what to do or say.

He hung there, suspended in the air, by the rope and harness that was being carefully anchored on the ground by a trained staff member. Karson’s body drifted slowly from side to side as he shook out his hands and repeatedly said, “I’m done. I can’t go any further. I’m too tired.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond. Should I let him quit? Had he pushed himself to his limit? I really didn’t know what to tell him because I’d never been in his position and I didn’t know how he really felt.

But, the trained climbing expert who was calmly holding onto Karson’s rope and steadying him in mid-air spoke up. “You can do it!” he said. “Don’t quit. Come on man, you have strong legs, you’re tall, you can do this. It’s not much further. “

At first Karson shook his head and looked at me for permission to give up. I deferred by looking at the climbing expert who was still yelling out words of encouragement.

After a few moments, Karson turned back toward the wall and grabbed on with his right hand, and then his left, and then he found places to anchor his feet.

The climbing expert started to shout out specific commands.

 “Right hand blue.”

“Left foot yellow. That’s it.”

“Now left hand green. You can reach it.”

And though it may have sounded like a game of Twister, this man was telling my son how to get to the top of the wall, one colored fake rock at a time.

And Karson did.

I liken this experience with Karson to another we’ve faced in his lifetime. Cancer.

His diagnosis with leukemia at the age of two was a wall that stood in front of us and stretched higher than we could even see.

The climb took years of maneuvering through chemotherapy treatments, steroids, hair loss, weight gain, isolation and spinal taps.

There were times in the midst of it all when we let go of the wall and swung helplessly in mid-air without an ounce of energy left to go forward.

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And it was during those times that I heard the voices of others who had already climbed this wall and who had successfully made it to the top. Families of other children who had fought leukemia and other cancers encouraged us by saying,

“You can do this. You are strong. Karson is strong. God is good. Keep climbing.”

Then, as we’d turn our faces toward the next trial their words would become even more specific.

 “We remember the loneliness of isolation. We’re here for you via phone of email whenever you need to talk.”

“Oh, that drug was the worst! Are you experiencing that side effect too? We can relate. Here’s an idea we found that brought some relief.”

“Our daughter had the same issue with the spinal taps. You’re not alone. We’re praying for you.”

Do you see what these survivors, these “experts” in the steep climb against cancer, were doing?

They were helping us get to the top, one excruciating moment at a time.

And we did.

Karson finished his three years of chemotherapy in 2010 and he remains cancer-free to this day. He’s a healthy, strong, ten-year-old who can now go the YMCA and climb a wall like any other 4th grader.

But the problem is, sometimes I feel guilty about our success.

It may sound crazy, but as the years have ticked by and Karson has continued to thrive, I sometimes feel the “survivors guilt” trickle in. It’s second-hand survivor’s guilt, really. But it stings just the same.

And at first, I wasn’t sure what to do about it.

The feelings of guilt caused me to be silent and not share about our success fearing I may cause pain to others who were struggling and who weren’t as fortunate.

But my silence was detrimental instead of helpful.

Lately I’ve been reminded of the gift that I can now offer to others who are facing a difficult climb.

The gift of hope.

I may never have climbed an actual climbing wall, but I have maneuvered through mothering a child with a life-threatening illness.

I’ve been there.

I know what it feels like.

I can help guide others toward the next goal and over the next hurdle.

And so instead of allowing my survivor’s guilt to render me speechless and idle, I’ve been reminded to shout to those who are on the wall in the midst of their battles.

I need to turn my guilt into hope for someone else.

It’s what others did for us, and their encouragement helped us finish the fight.

Now it’s my turn.

I won’t allow my survivors guilt to silence me. Instead, I will turn that guilt into the gift of hope for someone else.

And together, we can keep climbing.

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