Consider It Pure Joy

Top: August 2012 before diagnosis, Feb. 2013 during radiation treatment
Bottom: June 2013 during chemo, September 2013
Isn't she beautiful?

This post has been brewing for a while in my heart, but I didn't want to admit this is truly what I believed.

See, I subscribed to the "truth" that if I'm a good person, ONLY good things happen. God allows bad things to happen to those that deserve it. I did well in school, graduated from college and graduate school, helped my family, and got a job to support them and myself all while serving faithfully at church. And I would continue to do so after getting married and having children. I was a good girl.

I was shaken to the core when we heard Sophie's medulloblastoma diagnosis in December of 2012. Never will I forget the doctor's words that there was a mass in our daughter's brain, nor will I forget the doctor's look that she was not kidding. One of the first thoughts of mine that night--"Lord, this can't be true because my faith is too small. This only happens to other people." And how did this happen? I made sure to do good things, be nice to others, be that good Christian girl that could help in any way. That was even one of my spiritual gifts--helping.

But these past 12 months, God's repeated that He doesn't care about what I do--helping others, attending church, making sure I look good on the outside, or even that I wear nice clothes to look good to others, because my heart was so dead. And I did what I wanted when I wanted. I lived for myself and told others it was for God.

One verse in high school that God used to help me through family hardship was James 1:1-2. "Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance." Everyday that I read that verse, it encouraged me to look to the Lord for strength and hope. God walked with me and He knew exactly what I was going through. Life was difficult, but I still felt close to God.

Then verse 12: "Blessed is the one who perseveres under trial because, having stood the test, that person will receive the crown of life that the Lord has promised to those who love him." In high school, being promised this kind of reward was enough. Now? I don't want the crown of life. I want the crown of being happy, having a nice house, and healthy/happy/smart kids.

But when people pray for me, when I remain still for a moment after waking for another of Sophie's potty trips at 3 AM, I know these wishes are short-sighted. Because my beautiful daughter will only live for so long--hopefully 80 plus years. But if not, there is an eternity with this living God where she WILL be cancer free-- running, dancing, playing. She won't have a brace and walk differently. She won't have to deal with vomiting every night or becoming tired from 2 hours of school or chemo running in her tiny body. She will receive this crown of life--and know its true worth.

These days, I'm less stressed than the beginning of our journey with cancer. Even with a newborn, traveling-for-work husband, 2 other girls in school, I know that God is the only one who can give me peace and joy during this time. It's not just a getting-through-it mentality, but I need God whatever comes our way.

One song that the girls constantly request is "God is Able"--our anthem/theme for the past year. Taken from Ephesians 3:20-"He is able to do immeasurably more than we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to Him be the glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever! Amen." What is it that is more than we (the Cho family) could ask or imagine? We are praying the cancer never comes back, that a cure is found so no other children and their families have to suffer this hell on Earth experience, and that Jesus is given glory throughout all generations to come.