life

Compromised: Immuno-and-Otherwise

~ Georgia Coats ~ 4 Comments

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I got a call the other day from Dr. K, my former hematologist-oncologist of 15 years.  From Michigan.  I don’t know if it’s the weight of the heavy Colorado spring snow on budding branches, or the heaviness of a pandemic that hangs on every soul, but I cherish the check ins that comes my way.

Being officially in the immunocompromised category by chronic leukemia and the immunotherapy treatment for it, I feel privileged to receive random check in calls from caring people wanting to know if I am doing okay during this pandemonium that has taken over the globe.  They want to make sure I am taking extra care of myself.

Emotionally Broadsided

When Dr. K called, I felt emotionally broadsided by the unexpected check in.  I’m sure he has a million things to think about at the main hospital, hit hard with COVID-19, in the heart of Detroit.  But he paused to think of me.  To make sure I was doing okay.

That call confirmed my self-diagnosis.  I am emotionally compromised.  Yup.  Emotions are just below the surface and ready to well up. At. Any. Moment.

Just a fair warning:  If you call to check in and say kind things—I’ll probably cry.  If you stop to tell me your sad or touching news—I’ll probably cry.  It’s possible I might start out laughing at something and end up crying.  Or vice versa. Why limit ourselves to one emotion at a time when we can feel multiple, complex emotions simultaneously?

Mentally Tumbled

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And then there’s my brain. My thoughts tumble around in my head like wet laundry.  The significant intertwined with the curious and bombarded with the mundane and distracted.  Chaotic and scattered.  It’s the opposite of focused.  I’m lacking goals, and trajectory is vague.  So many thoughts circling around in each presented moment.  Yup.  Definitely mentally compromised, too.

“How is Strength my Weakness?”

My favorite part of the movie Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle is when the characters discover that they each have specific strengths and weakness within the Jumanji game.  Kevin Hart’s character discovers that strength is actually on his list of Weaknesses.

Jumanji-Strength my weakness?

I love his question: 

“How is strength my weakness?”

But I also like to flip things around:

What if weakness is actually my strength?

What if tears are my superpower? And grief is a place I’ve grown comfortable with?

What if chronic hope comes from chronic illness?

What if immunocompromised means I’m also immuno-alert?

What if mentally scattered means centered in the present?

What if my limitations are the exact ingredients of sensitive, present, and vulnerable I need now, in the middle of a pandemic?

Broadsided by Grace

If I were to connect with the Designer of my strengths and weaknesses, how would that go?

I imagine it to be similar to The Apostle Paul’s process, being broadsided by grace—grace that came through a conduit of weakness.

Paul pleaded and discussed with the Divine to take away his weakness.

His Designer declared:

My grace is enough; it’s all you need.

My strength comes into its own in your weakness.

And so, the Apostle Paul relinquished himself to be broadsided by grace:

Once I heard that, I was glad to let it happen. I quit focusing on the handicap and began appreciating the gift. It was a case of Christ’s strength moving in on my weakness. Now I take limitations in stride… And so the weaker I get, the stronger I become.  (2 Cor. 12:9-10)

Weakness was the Saint’s necessary ingredient for greater sources of grace.

To hear the voice of my Designer…  Not to tell me I am healed or that I am strong. But to hear that at the heart of humanity is weakness, and that on my list of strengths, weakness is at the top.

The weaker I get, the stronger I become.  In my current mentally scattered state, I’m okay to sit in the presence of this paradox.  I’m okay to lavishly love on another grieving soul with my unstoppable tears.  I’m awkwardly eager to hold up my best super girl akimbo pose with my favorite napping blanket flapping cape-like behind me in the wind.

I’m surprisingly okay.  Immuno-okay.  I’m being cautious, and there’s not much to report health wise or otherwise.  So strong in weakness.  So okay with my compromised state (at least in this present moment).

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Chronic Hope: the Video

~ Georgia Coats ~ 1 Comment

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I feel incredibly grateful. I feel like I’ve been given a second lease on life. If not this time in history, if not this diagnosis, if not so many things along the way, I may not be here. I may not been able to live 20 years with this cancer diagnosis.

It has been a full circle year for me.

This year, my husband and I celebrated 20 years of marriage.

This year, I also have had the privilege to reflect back over my cancer journey from a healthy place, back in the place where it all began.

To cultivate gratitude.

To set goals for the future.

To be amazed by the grace and power of God along the way.

I’m thankful for my amazing husband, Stephen Coats, who produced this 7-minute summary of our 20-year cancer journey:

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This video was produced alongside a series of Chronic Hope articles for the Yemeni American News, 2019:

Georgia Coats is a Language & Culture Learning Coach, freelance writer, educator, wife, and mother of three who is passionate about healthy mind-body-spirit living.  Chronic Hope is Georgia’s collection of stories, lessons, and life adventures of living alongside chronic leukemia, cancer of the white blood cells, for two decades.  She often shares what’s on her mind at: www.onmymindbygeorgia.wordpress.com

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Responding to a Hurting World: Lessons from the Little Drummer Boy

~ Georgia Coats ~ 5 Comments

There are so many ways to get involved in a hurting world.  Which is a good thing, because there is SO. MUCH. HURT. in our world.  My heart leans towards people in transition, humans who are suffering, those who are trying to make it out of messes.  Immigrants coming to a new land.  Refugees fleeing war and manmade disasters.  Those who have left home, and in humility come to a new place.  They just need a little help along the way.

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So, what to do about it?  Turn to the wisdom of some classic Christmas lyrics for inspiration… the little musician who gave his all, even though it felt like so little.

Come they told me, pa rum pum pum pum

COME.  The first step is to receive an invitation and just plain show up.  The invitation is there to join something bigger than ourselves.  To be a part of something we can’t fix or solve.  To make it personal.  To just come.

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A new born King to see, pa rum pum pum pum

SEE.  Come and see the things that are happening in the world around us.  Let need, curiosity, pain, and empathy compel us to observe and join the messiness of our world in new ways.  To walk alongside a stranger in a strange land. To enter someone’s story.

Our finest gifts we bring, pa rum pum pum pum

BRING.  Come, see, what’s happening.  Bring what you have.  It may feel small and insignificant, but it is your offering to bring anyways.  Sometimes all I have to offer is myself.  And in a big, scary, complex world what I have feels so insignificant.

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To lay before the King, pa rum pum pum pum

LAY IT DOWN.  Let’s lay down our gifts, time, talents, resources as an offering. To show honor.  It may feel insignificant, but showing up has value. Taking time for someone shows they’re worth it.  Honoring another through a life-changing transition, and laying before them what we have expresses incredible value.

…When we come.

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BUT… we all face very real and present excuses, fears, and limitations…

I am a poor boy, too

I’m just one person, with limited talents and resources.  Many say… I’m not a teacher like you.  I would say… I’m not a lawyer like so-and-so, or an activist, or an influencer.  I’m just a ………………. trying to make it in the world (you fill in the blank).

Even our best is so limited.

I have no gift to bring, that’s fit to give our King

I have nothing to give that would be of significance.  How can I help?  How can my small offerings possibly make a difference?

Start small.  If we all scooch over just a little in our row, we could make room for one more person to sit down.  What if everyone came, saw the need, and brought their little offerings?  That would be a significant number of insignificant offerings.  Maybe it would change the world.

What could those insignificant offerings look like?

Just come.  Show up for someone you know doing a work you admire in the world.

Just see… just listen.  Ask tough questions, hear difficult stories. Take time to process another perspective or another person’s journey.

Just bring yourself, your unique talents, your small offerings.

  • Maybe you have moments to read to a child.
  • Maybe you can pick up that book you know might challenge your thinking.
  • Maybe you can frequent a gas station or an ice cream truck where you can get to know a fellow sojourner just trying to make it in the world.
  • Maybe you invite someone new over.
  • Maybe you make that donation.
  • Maybe you share a perspective on social media that might make others think differently.
  • Maybe you start within–identifying a fear, letting go of bitterness, or choosing to forgive.

Who knows how scooching over might look for you.  Who knows what gift you bring, or how it might be fit to honor another?IMG_6942

I played my drum for Him, I played my best for Him,

pa rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum, rum pum, pum, pum

Whatever you do, do it wholeheartedly.  Even if it is small and insignificant.  Make it your best offering.IMG_5426

Then He smiled at me, pa rum pum pum pum
Me and my drum.

Relish in that smile.  The smile of helping someone out when they needed it most.  Showing up when it was difficult.  Offering when you felt like you had nothing.  Or maybe you are weary from many offerings that never feel like enough.  Pause.

Receive that joy.

Recently, I heard an Arabic version of The Little Drummer Boy.  It was my invitation to learn some new Arabic words and practice rudimentary reading skills.  What I found was a treasured perspective I wasn’t anticipating.

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With the backdrop of endless unrest in Palestine–the homeland of the Messiah and the singer–Vivian Bishara‘s lyrics of worshiping the King but having no worthy gift to bring becomes so real.  Regardless of our politics, war, hunger, and poverty are very real aspects of the world the Messiah came into–and the reason for the season today.  Emmanuel–God with us–in our messy, complex, torn up places.  Let’s come, and see, and lay down our gifts, or our lives, or both. To honor life.

To honor a Life-giving King.

… When we come.IMG_0097

 

IMPACT

~ Georgia Coats ~ Leave a comment

I don’t pretend to understand what’s going on in the mind of a mass shooter. The news is wrought with trying to figure out why the gunman did it. What was in his head? What were his motives?

But today, as I was watching one such report, I began to take notice of impact.

What impact did this one man have?

I don’t know why he chose to make such a horrendous impact, but here are some things I observed:

  • He had a purpose bigger than himself
  • He had a plan
  • He took dangerous risks
  • He invested to succeed
  • He powerfully changed the lives of those around him
  • He was willing to die

I HATE that he had such an impact. I HATE that he was successful.

In times like these, I try to focus on what I know to be true.

Jesus the Messiah gives us insight into the motives of a thief.

A thief is only there to steal and kill and destroy.

The impact of this one man was killing, stealing, and destroying life. But we were not designed for such destruction.

We are created for life—to choose life, to be life-giving.

Jesus the Messiah also reminds us of what life is intended to be.

I came so they can have real and eternal life, more and better life than they ever dreamed of.

So what will our impact be?

  • We are designed to live out a purpose bigger than ourselves.
  • It is good to create a plan and plot out success.
  • Being an agent of change in the world requires taking risk, prioritizing and investing to succeed, and being willing to lay down our lives for something greater than us.

The difference is hope.

We all face in some way the dullness and pains of life that have us wondering why we get up each morning. But there is hope. There is purpose.

We were designed for impact. Our souls long for immortality, somehow, in this fleeting, broken, hurting world.

Hope anchors our souls and keeps us getting up to try to live each day to the fullest.

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 While one man caused death, many made music.

In the news interview I watched earlier, musicians Big and Rich, who opened the Route 91 Harvest festival in Vegas performing on October 1, 2017, recounted the beauty of song. The music festival opened that evening with a powerful sing-along of God bless America.

Making music is the whole reason people gathered that night in Vegas. Music draws us and compels something inside us. Different kinds of music draw different people. But, music brings us together; it makes our bodies move.

And when we grieve and mourn our losses, there is music for that, too.

Maren Morris released this song to honor the victims of the Vegas shooting. She addresses HATE directly in a letter:

Dear Hate,

You were there in the garden, like a snake in the grass, I see you in the morning staring through the looking glass. You whisper down through history and echo through these halls. 

But I hate to tell you, love’s gonna conquer all

While hate has always been around, love conquers all.

We hold on to that hope because we were designed for impact. That desire to be a part of something greater than ourselves screams of our eternal capacity, our longing to touch immortality and make history. Something inside us dies if we don’t perceive our purpose—and dream, plan, design, and carry out our impact on the world.

Heroes laid down their lives.

I so appreciate the news stories that give voice to the heroes and the rescued amidst the tragedy—those who risked their lives for great impact and greater good.

What I’ve learned from observing a shooter is that it’s not just about making an impact.

What I’ve learned from observing the impact of heroes is that it’s about choosing life.

Heroes sought life-giving opportunities. Being heralds of hope in a despairing world. Taking radical risks of rescue. Laying down their lives to save another. If life can grow out of the death of one little seed, there is value, meaning and purpose in that death.

Choose life.

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(Published in the Yemeni American News, November, 2017)