Stable, Broken, Yet Somehow Okay

I’ve been sitting with my scan results for a day now, trying to find the words. The news is good — truly good — but it’s taken me a little time to let that sink in.

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I got good news from my scans — everything is stable and unchanged. After so many years, those words feel like a miracle in themselves.

Stable and unchanged...

You’d think I’d want to shout it from the rooftops, but honestly, I hesitated to share it. But I'm desperate for the faith-filled, healing dispatching prayers of other believers, and that keeps me open more than my natural disposition or personality.

I don't want to sound naïve or in denial. When you’ve lived with something like this for so long, you learn to hold both gratitude and caution at the same time.

I'm not naive. I'm not in denial. (A little dose of that sounds enticing right now.)

I know the reality — the ups, the setbacks, the long road. I know what it costs to keep walking and fighting.

And it takes a lot:

Money and faith.

Discipline and flexibility.

Time and research.

Defiance and surrender.

Rest and work.

And the wisdom and discernment to sort it all out.

Still, the truth is: this is good news. It stands on its own. And I’m thankful.

I told my oncologist yesterday that this journey has broken something in me, and I don’t think I’ll ever be the same. That might actually be a good thing. God has a way of using the cracks, of growing something honest and holy right through them. But it still feels strange.

Somedays, I don't even recognize myself. I’m softer in some ways, maybe stronger in others, but definitely not the same.

The ones who’ve shown up quietly and consistently, without needing big moments or recognition- thank you. You know how I roll, and your steady souls have been grace in human form. I see you, and I’m grateful for every small kindness that’s carried me through.

So tonight, I’m letting myself breathe a little easier.

The scans are stable.

God is still kind.

And even though I feel a little weird and pieced-together — broken but also mended — I know He’s still writing something good with all of it.

Stable scans. Unstable emotions.

And a heart learning, again, how to trust the steady goodness of God. 🤍

Maybe you know that feeling: when relief and gratitude sit right next to weariness, and even joy feels tender around the edges. That place where everything feels both steady and strange — where life is “stable,” but your heart still feels cracked open. If so, please know, you’re not broken beyond repair. You’re being reshaped into something more tender, more aware, and maybe more like Jesus than you were before.

Here’s to healing that doesn’t look perfect — and to the kind of peace that doesn’t always make sense, but somehow holds us steady anyway.

May we carry it well and treasure the gifts in the rubble.