Why I Fight...

Some people will tell you that they're a lover not a fighter. I never was one of those people, and if I said it, it was a lie. Others are geared up to fight for anything at anytime for any reason. As long as they're fighting, it's good. That was me in my 20's usually after an incredible amount of Stoli or Patron, and I do mean an incredible amount. Some say that fighting is never the answer. They don't have sons to raise I'd guess... No matter, I am none of these people.

But, fighting looks different to me these days. First, I do a lot less of it than I used to because I don't like conflict. That said, I'm also not afraid of conflict. But, I prefer to get along and don't let small or petty things stick around in my mind to fester and grow. I've learned to forgive people for mistakes that I would have held on to before. And I've learned to ask for forgiveness when I am wrong. It happens regularly. Now, I'd just rather fight something than someone. That brings us to cancer, and I am ready for this fight.

I never thought I'd say this, but I can't wait until Friday. Three days to go...I expected to be anxious, concerned, scared even. I am NONE of those things. Not even close! Instead, I am clear about what's about to happen. My doctors and I are about to throw everything in the arsenal at the mere possibility that a cancer cell or two has managed to remain in my body. FOUR drugs at once. One to attack the cancer cell's DNA, one to mess up its mitosis, one to turn off the HER2 protein that makes it reproduce rapidly, and one to inhibit it being able to create a blood supply. It is time to fight. FINALLY!! 93 days after finding out about this cancer, I finally get to begin the fight! Chemo Round #1 is almost here.

Then I get to fight 8 days later when I go for my buzz cut on the 3rd. I'm actually not only no longer crying about that, I'm looking forward to it as well. I'm not sitting around waiting to lose something, anxious, wondering, hoping. Nope. My hair is supposed to go on our retreat. Now, how can I go off in the woods with Jesus worried that my hair is going to fall out and get anything out of the retreat? Besides, how traumatic would it be for the poor women who have to bunk with me. "Yeah, the retreat was great until one of the ladies in my cabin had all of her hair fall out in the middle of the night. We thought wild animals had been through the place!" That's no good for anyone.

Interestingly enough when I went for my chemo class, I mentioned that I was going to buzz it early. The other 3 women in the room audibly gasped and simultaneously said, "NO!! You don't want to do that! Hang on to it as long as you can!" Why? It's going to go anyway. Now it's just going on my terms. I will NOT sit around captive waiting for this to "happen to me" like a victim. Instead, every yucky thing that has to be done is one step closer to saying bye to cancer and starting the rest of my life. Besides, it's really is just hair. The cancer can't take it from me if I beat it to it.

I also fight with prayer. I have many others praying as well. If you're one of them, Thank you for praying for me. If not, please start now. Here's what I'm praying for: I'm praying that each drug as it flows through my body finds and executes it's task with 100% accuracy and efficacy. I pray for the protection of my heart, prevention of bleeding, and minimal neuropathy. (Those are the most serious possible short & long term side effects.) As for the nausea and vomiting? Child's play in comparison. Besides, I have a 20 year resume and a PhD for that including 2 near fatal bouts of e-coli poisoning. It can't be worse than that because it won't include acute kidney pain.

But all of this is How I Fight. I titled this entry Why I Fight. Why is so much more important than how. So here's why...

I fight for my unbelievably handsome baby who has suddenly become a real boy. He's a boy that told me for the 3rd time in 2 days how much he loves God and why. He's a boy I can help influence to become a man of character. We need men of character in this world! They are an endangered species. There is no more important reason to fight than to see him become that man.

I fight for my entire family, especially my mom and sister who love & need me. Without me, there would be no one in our family to scoop up the "insta-grievers" when things go wrong and hold it together while Dad figures out the logistics of how who gets where. I love my entire family incredibly. Incidentally, I'm also the kid that gets the "If we die on our vacation...here's where all the papers are" conversation every time Mom and Dad leave town. (I hate that conversation, but am crystal clear on where the papers are by now.)

But even more importantly, I fight for the life God created me to lead. It's a life I spent 18 years running from, only to hurt myself. I have no idea what that's going to look like, where it will take me, or or who's going on the journey with me. But, I know that if I can serve others, share my story, surrender and keep my focus on Him, He will take me there. And, it will be better than I could have ever imagined. Now tell me, how could I not be pumped up to fight?

All or Nothing? I choose ALL...

So yesterday afternoon, I got the call that I have been waiting for. We've know what the majority of my treatment plan was going to be for some time. I was always getting 6 rounds of Taxotere and Carboplatin. They're common breast cancer chemos often used in combination. I affectionately call them the Barf/Bald combo...They bring my recurrence risk down to 15%. We were also going to add a full year of Herceptin every 3 weeks since I happen to have the scary HER2+ super-aggressive type of cancer. That wonderful drug brings me down to 5-7% recurrence. It has heart risks, but they are NOT common and as I have now found out occur most commonly when in combination with a different chemo regimen than mine. So, I'm not going to worry about that. It's all in God's hands anyway. So why worry? Matt 6:27 tells us, "Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?" That'd be none of us! Yet in our broken humanity we spend an awful lot of time doing it. I should probably have that one tattooed on my hand so I'd always see it. I'm certainly guilty of worrying. (Just figurative speech, Mom/Dad...no need for a "tattoo intervention".)

I also mentioned many posts ago that I had signed up for a clinical trial for an additional drug called Avastin. This drug has been very successful for stage 3 and 4 cancers, but hasn't been tested on those of us that have stages 1 or 2. The idea is that it might make recurrence even less likely. Knowing my all or nothing personality, how could I not sign up? So, I did and decided that it was up to God to either give it to me, or not. If it can help me or some other woman down the line, then I am ready to give it a go. If not, and someone else needs it more, I asked that He give it to them.

So My clinical trial nurse who's taking care of me at the oncologist office called to say that my info was randomized yesterday and I'm getting the drug! So, we're 6 days away from getting things going with all 4 drugs at once. I can't help but be thrilled about that. That's great! There's nothing else in the arsenal that I'm not throwing at this thing. All or nothing? I choose ALL, every time. So, now I'm pumped up for the fight. Hurry up and wait is over in a few days and between now and then, I'm so busy that I can't even think about it.

Sick or no sick, bald, whatever. Now we're making progress. This is the beginning of getting this all behind me. A year from now, treatment will be over. I can have my last surgery, and will be new and improved from where I started. I don't just mean that physically either. I can't wait to see where God's going to take me through this in my dependence on Him. I've already changed in a couple short months. How much more will I learn about surrender over the next 12-13? I've spent a couple years praying dangerous prayers like, "Use me any way you wish...". I don't know how this figures in exactly, but I'm sure it does. So, I can't wait to see where it takes me. I have a suspicion, it just might be better that I could have imagined. And for that, I am already so thankful.

OK, here we go...

What a couple of days! I am officially recovered from one of the worst bouts of food poisoning that I have ever experienced. One bad hamburger and I was down for the count for 2 days. I'm not quite sure that I've ever experienced that level of violence in sickness, and that's saying a lot! It turned out to be a good thing in retrospect. I figured some things out in the process. First of all, my doctors assure me that if chemo makes me as sick as I have been this week, then they aren't doing their jobs. After what's happened the last couple of days, I am accepting that on faith. Surely they are right about that. Either way we're about to find out. Even if it's not true, I survived that. So, I should survive this as well.

Today was a busy day in the doctor visit department. I went to the plastic surgeon's office to get my first tissue expansion since surgery the first thing this morning. It was truly weird. He took out this magnet, ran it across my skin to find the valve in the expander and made a mark. Then I watched he and the nurse pump an additional 150 cc's of saline into each of them. The strangest part was how casual it is to them and bizarre it was to me. I'm lying there watching my chest grow while my doc is talking about moving furniture. So, I walked in wearing my falsies and walked out without them. Yeah!! No more stuffed boobs! I don't need them anymore. I am so excited about that. I'm not back to normal just yet, but this is a big step. I'm headed back in a couple of weeks to do it all over again and take one more step toward being fixed. Slow and steady...

After that I ran off to the Cardiologist office and had the EKG. No big deal there. Then it was off to the Oncologist for my echo. All thing look normal as I approach the big day of chemo #1. We're a week away at this point. The closer I get, the better I feel about it. I think "hurry up and wait" and letting your imagination run wild on all of the possibilities is worse than the actual treatment. I'll know for sure a week from tomorrow. I've come to terms with the fact that it could go either way. Since everyone is different, I may actually handle the treatment well or I might not. It's completely in His hands. I'm done worrying about it.

I'm not to happy about the prescription that I filled this afternoon. I now have a steroid that I have to take the night before and the morning of chemo. I'm still not clear on how this is going to go down. Steroids make me eat like an entire football team, and chemo makes you sick...that just doesn't conjure up any good images at all. The crazy thing is the list of side effects. I'm not quite sure how you're supposed to know if you're having them. There's so many and they're so varied. Combine that with all of the other medications and you have no idea if you're actually having a side effect or not. Half of the side effects are the reason you're taking one of the others! If not, the rest are completely contradictory. Not sure how the same drug can have drowsiness and sleeplessness at the same time. But I am sure that if I throw up what appears to be coffee grounds, something has gone terribly wrong. I don't think I needed them to tell me that...

I'm also done with the hair grief. (Disclaimer: That's not to say I won't relapse.) The truth is, it WILL grow back. I'm not going to enjoy it, but millions of women have done, it and I'm nothing special. So like them, I will do it too. I think getting rid of the stuffed falsies helped with that as well. At least I won't have to wear the fake boobs in my shirt at the same time as the fake hair. That's a plus. I'm looking forward to getting this all behind me and the only way to do that is to go through it. So I guess, here we go.

Good Grief...

My very first semester as a Freshman at Texas, both of my paternal Grandparents died within a few weeks of each other. It seems that they just couldn't be separated even by death. I had exams on the day of each of their funerals and wasn't able to make the trip to Houston to attend either service. I cried when I got the news, but I really grieved a full 3 years later. I loved them both so much. I can't even remember what triggered it when it happened. It could have been anything, a smell, a memory, a story...I have no idea. But, I remember the wave of grief when it struck me full force, and I still miss them. I can hear Grandmommy's laughter still. It was so unique...

When we buried my Mamaw in 1995, I was torn between overwhelming sadness and strange relief. You see, she had been so sick for so long that it seemed cruel that she was still here the last couple of years. The Matriarch of our family, the ROCK, the miracle worker who could solve any problem known to man it seemed had lain helpless and incoherent for what seemed like an eternity. She was the greatest example of a godly woman that I have ever known. When she died she didn't know any of us, but the nurses said she died singing hymns. Those she never forgot because Jesus was the center of her universe. Thankfully, I know where she is, but I have never stopped grieving. I don't think I will. The world changed for the worst on the day she left it. And at odd times and with certain memories, Mom and I still cry together.

Grief is a strange animal. It affects everyone differently. For some it's immediate, for others it's delayed. (I think I'm the only woman in my family that falls into the latter category.) I think it's better if you can grieve right away. It seems like it wouldn't be as disorienting...but I don't know because it's never happened for me like that. So, when I was laying on the table waiting for my first sonogram after 9 films at the mammogram machine on June 29th, I can't explain this but I knew. We hadn't even found the tumor, but lying there on that table one solitary thought ran through my head..."Are we ready for this?" And as quick as the question came so did the answer. "Yes." The rest of that appointment kind of seemed like everyone else in the office was just catching up to what I somehow already knew. The Dr. was a little surprised at my reaction when she told me. I thanked her for finding it like I lost my keys or something, dressed, and left without a tear. I did cry for about 20 seconds when I got to the car, but was finished before I was backed out of my parking space.

So for the last 4-5 days I have been walking around in the most fragile state. It's uncharacteristic of me, so also very uncomfortable. I've been looking at nothing but the floor everywhere I go. I haven't wanted anyone to see what's going on. I've kept to myself when at all possible at work, even tried to do the same thing at church Thursday night. Didn't work, but I made it through. I just haven't been able to put a finger on this emotional state that I have been in. In fact I've pegged it wrong for the last few days as guilt. Besides, with all the stinking pharmaceuticals there's really no reason I could figure it should be happening. I've got a pill for just about anything at this point.

But today my dear friend Sharon came to the Plano campus for church to see me instead of going to Grapevine. I was so happy to see her. We're both too busy to get to do that as much as we should. As soon as she got there, we found the secluded restroom where I proceeded to completely crack into a million little pieces. I pulled it together long enough to make it to the worship center where I promptly fell to pieces again. That's OK in church though. People just think you're unusually moved by the music or something. It all fell into place for me though this afternoon. I've not gone mad as I first suspected. I 'm simply grieving. It took 3 months almost, but here it is.

There's not one thing in my life that hasn't changed since this diagnosis. My responsibilities at work have changed. (That's a good thing. I actually love a new challenge in that arena. And it has nothing to do with stupid cancer!) But at the same time, my plans for the next 2 years have gone out the window. Two years without Mexico...No beach for 2 years? Sounds kind of trivial, but for me it's huge. We've chopped up my body. I have started this year long "repair job" with tissue expanders. (I can't even begin to tell you how weird that whole business is.) The trauma over the hair that I've been whining about is just an outward display of the wreckage that's already occurred in less obvious ways.

Then, today I volunteered in the nursery like I have for almost 5 years. I volunteer in the nursery every weekend. It's part of me, part of my identity. There is nothing more important that I do in any given week. For that hour parents trust us to care for their brand new babies so that they can spend an hour in worship. For some of them it might be the only hour that week they get to spend with God. I pray for those children, their families, their futures. It's the most fulfilling thing I do besides being a mother. And it's work. You sweat, even! Every week I go to the service hot and sweaty! But I love it. After next week, I can't do it anymore. Chemo makes the babies dangerous to me. I won't have the immune system to do it. That was the straw that broke the camel's back today. It put me on the floor. Just one more thing...

Tonight though it's different, I'm OK. I'm still grieving, but not in desperation. I owe that to my mom and her favorite scripture. 2 Corinthians 12:9 is where Paul tells us, "But he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my strength is made perfect in weakness'." My weakness is necessary. All of the tiny little pieces, a must. His grace IS sufficient, and I'm counting on His strength because I am nothing but weak at this point. Doesn't mean I won't have more days like these, but thankfully it's not my strength that'll put me back together again.

No one said it was easy...

There are those days when everything is clear, all of my blessings are apparent, and all of this mess makes sense in some way. There’s purpose to everything and I am SO thankful. I wish they were all that way. The last few haven’t been. In fact, I haven’t been here to update because I thought that I had nothing to say. Actually, I have plenty to say, just nothing good or particularly insightful. But, I started this blog to capture the journey, good and bad. Newsflash: It’s not all a bed of roses and that’s as much of the story as the good parts. The truth is, cancer sucks. It turns your life upside-down and wreaks havoc on every part. Everything you thought you had a grasp on or plan that you made escapes like vapor. Nothing is left untouched. As much as I know that “All things work together for the good…” I’m also tragically human and can’t help losing sight of that some days. I KNOW it, but I also have all of these “feelings”. Stupid feelings…

I spoke with my chemo nurse/researcher today. Just 2 MORE tests before we get started. I didn’t have an EKG before surgery. So I have to do that and also an Echocardiogram. The EKG I have had before. It takes more time to get undressed and put all of the little stickers in place than it does to have the test. I have not had an Echo before. So, I asked specifically what we were looking for. What she told me was that they were going to be looking closely at the left ventricle of my heart to see how effectively it was pumping the blood out. Because if I have the side effect of heart damage from one or possibly two of my drugs, they’ll have a baseline to measure that damage by. It’s the left ventricle that is most likely to be damaged. If that happens, we can determine if the benefit of treatment outweighs the damage it's doing and how to treat my heart for the rest of my life. Even though I knew that, it hit me like a brick. Today it’s REAL.

So the stats come flowing back through my head like a gambling junkie stuck at the tables in Vegas. Playing the numbers with my life. If I did nothing else, no chemo, nothing, I have a 25% chance of recurrence. If I do the 2 chemo drugs only, I take that down to 15%. Chemo + Herceptin brings it down to around 7%. That 8% reduction is where the heart risk begins. Add the test drug, Avastin, and who knows? Maybe it does nothing. Maybe 7% becomes 3-4%. We don’t know. No one does. That’s the point of the clinical trial. They’re all just numbers. As if any of us are really in control…

Besides all of that, we’re back to “Hurry up and wait” mode. I’m counting hours and days like Rainman. I want to get the show on the road, get this over with, and get started. The 25th is a long time away…Then I pass a mirror in the building at work…Getting started also means I have 7 days from that ‘till I have no hair. Shamefully, that DOES matter to me. I AM that shallow. How can I be?? But, I am. I feel extremely guilty about that. So many people are fighting this disease for their lives; many of them are losing the battle. For 40% of breast cancer patients, death IS the outcome. So how can I be worried about my stupid hair??? Yet, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t. For today, anyway…

Last night I was taking to my Mom about how uncharacteristic this whole “putting it out there for the world” thing is for me. I still can’t believe I’m blogging all of my most personal things for the world to see. I’m the girl who never had a journal because I was just terrified that after I died, someone would find it, read it, and I’d die of embarrassment all over again. How stupid is that?? Mom reminded me that I learned to roller skate in the house so that no one would see me fall. She also helped me learn to ride a bike one summer only after midnight for the same reason. I do neither of those things well as it turns out. As much time as I’ve spent hiding any weakness, it’s never helped. It has taken me almost 40 years to figure it out, but vulnerability is actually a strength, not a weakness. Some days you do fall and people will see it. And, so what?? Who cares, really? The important thing is that you get back up and that you always have help. That sustains me, my ever present help in time of need. Thank you, Jesus for always meeting me where I am, instead of only where I should be. You've always helped me back up. And I am more than aware that I can’t do it without You.

Happy Labor Day...Pass the Instructions.

Labor Day weekend with my boy and the family...It doesn't get any better than this. The weekend started great with good news from the doctors on Friday afternoon. It appears that both my bone scan and my CT scan came back clean. So, no more cancer in my body from what we can see. That's what we expected, but it's still good to hear. So, now the only thing left to battle is the microscopic variety, if it's even in there. 18 more days until we begin... I'm having quite the battle with the anxiety over the beginning of chemo. It's like watching a horror movie when you just KNOW that they shouldn't go in there but they do anyway, or a movie where some chick is running, then drops her keys and falls down while being chased. Yeah. It feels like that.

I know the answer is to turn it over to God. And, I do! But, I also just seem to keep taking it back. It's like eating off someone else's plate. I turn it over to Him (putting it on HIS plate), then take it back, bite by bite until I look up and it's all on my plate again. Start over...turn it over. Repeat. It's maddening. The incurable human condition is always there to remind me of how short I fall. But, I guess that's true of all of us.

So getting my mind off of that, I decided to clean out a couple shelves in the TV cabinet in my room this weekend. Jackpot! I found 2 gift certificates I got several years ago at Christmas. I was just sure that they wouldn't be good anymore, but called and they were! So today Mom and I went off to Toys R Us with Brayden to buy a new Hot Wheels track. In case you don't know...Hot Wheels rule your life with a 5 year old boy. They are legal tender in our house. Chores buy Hot Wheels...bad behavior loses Hot Wheels...There is no leverage like Hot Wheel leverage at 5. Since we're up to more than 220-240 at this point I keep thinking that we'll eventually get them all, and I will run out of the motivational supply. Never happens. They just keep making more. Unbelievable, really. The crazy part is he remembers every one. He can look at them and tell you instantaneously if he's got that one. I have no idea how he does this.

So since we had $25 of free Hot Wheels money and he had not complained a bit when I got rid of 75% of the toys in the game room on Saturday, we headed off to add a new track to his collection. The coolest one there was the Drop Force track. It has all kinds of twists in it, the battery operated booster-thing, and a switch that allows you to run multiple cars on it and make them crash into each other. Cool, right? Of course! So, all the way home the anticipation was building. He couldn't wait to get back to Nana's and play with it. Great. To tell the truth, I was pretty excited about it, too. Then we dumped it out of the box...

Now I am not stupid, but an engineer I am not. And I would challenge anyone to put the thing together in less time. The pictures were not clear, and it was hard to recognize the pieces because most of them had an unusual shape, all 92 of them. This thing had more parts than any track he's ever had and because the configuration is so unusual...let's just say the next 90 minutes weren't pretty. I'll admit, there was some yelling, some time outs, some frustration...When we completed every step of the "instructions", there were still 5 pieces left. Fortunately, the picture on the front answered the question of where those went. Two D batteries later, and the thing has been running almost since the last piece was snapped into place. All of the frustration was worth it once the assembly was complete, and he got the chance to see it in action. It was a great day.

So sitting here now thinking about the chemo and everything else ahead of me, I can't help but compare it to assembling that track. The difference here is that I don't have all of the pieces or the "instructions". There's not a picture on the box to show me the end result. Instead, I have a promise that has to be accepted on faith alone. The Bible tells us that, "All thing work together for the good of those that love the Lord and are called to His purpose." That's my promise. So, I don't know how all of this is going to go, what's ahead of me, or where I'll end up. But I do know this, as long as I am called to His purpose (By the way, That part's important...), all of this is going to work together for good. And the best part is, I don't have to snap all of the pieces in place. I just have to keep my focus on Him, and He's going to do that for me. How cool is that?

Bone scan at table #3, please...

Today was very difficult. I had to take a day off work for 2 more obligatory tests before I start my chemo, the bone scan and full body CT scan. They're to make sure I'm not an oddity that can jump from stage 1 to stage 4 without hitting a lymph node like some kind of potentially lethal hopscotch. So, I went to the hospital to register for the tests. They took my name, handed me a coaster-blinky-thingie (like they do in a restaurant) and told me to wait and that it would light up and make noise when it was my turn. She explained this in entirely too much detail. I thanked her and took a seat. (Like I've never been out to eat...) So, as I wait for the next hour staring at my coaster-thingie, I realize that I'm quite hungry and wish I WAS waiting for a table and a meal, anything but where I am right now. The absolute last thing I want to do is go back into that same hall behind the key-coded door and be tested some more. I've been there too many times before this cancer and even more since. I also realize that this is something that has no end in sight. Now, I will be tested behind that door for years to come on a regular basis. The joy of carving out the cancer has been replaced with this new reality.

Fine. They call my name. Nuclear testing (they actually call it that) here I come. So, they sit me down to wait again and here comes the lady with a 3" cylinder in her hand marked with the radioactive sign. You almost expect it to be smoking like witch's brew on someone's porch at Halloween. Instead once removed from the tube, it's a harmless looking syringe of stuff to push through my vein. It takes 3 hours to get to the bones, so I ran errands with my cotton ball taped to the bend of my arm and 2 new armbands. You gotta love the hospital "jewelry". People out in the world look at you like you escaped or something. So, yada, yada, yada...bone scan complete. It was peaceful, really. Quiet. Nothing like the MRI machine. I actually caught about 15 minutes of sleep I think.

On to Texas Oncology for the CT scan. They are so nice there. (That's actually a true statement even though it's dripping in sarcasm here...) First, they gave me a wonderful "cocktail" to drink (contrast #1). Then, I got to have a signing party for all of the paperwork for my clinical trial. I'll know the week of the 14th if I get the drug or not. The lotto hasn't been held yet apparently. Either way, I am officially a registered lab rat. Then, one more huge syringe (contrast #2) about 20 more minutes in a giant tube and my day is done. I felt a little queasy from the whole thing. Not sure if that's 3 types of contrast + radioactivity or all of the lectures. Probably the latter...

You see, I got another "talk" today about how I'm not going to be able to do what I have to once my treatment starts. It's so disheartening and confusing! Half of the nurses and doctors say I will, the other half sit there and look at you like you've gone mad even thinking that you can go through chemo and work the whole time. Then, both of them escape the conversation with the comment, "Everyone's different!" Really??? I hadn't noticed. This is not a choice I am making, people. Given the "choice" I wouldn't even have cancer. This is called survival. There's nothing glamorous about life as a single parent. In fact, most of it is really really hard, except for NOT having to agree on what's for dinner, which route to take where, etc. You get to make all of those decisions for yourself. Problem is, you have to make all of the hard ones alone as well, and at the end of the day it's just you. You pay the mortgage, bills, and feed your family. Otherwise, it doesn't get done. Besides, if everyone IS different (already established) then let's just wait and see. Knock off the talks. They aren't helping me.

See what they don't understand is that neither one of us is in control here. Not me, not them. I don't know how this is going to go and neither do they. Am I scared? Yeah. It's terrifying. But thankfully, I have a place to take it. In Matthew 11:28-30 Jesus says, "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me for I am gentle and humble in heart and you will find rest for your soul. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light."

Some of that scripture used to confuse me. Like how is His burden light? And exactly how is His yoke easy? And what's a yoke anyway?? (In case you don't know, it's a heavy wooden harness that was used to attach oxen side by side to pull equipment to work the field.) Luckily, my Life Application Bible explains this so clearly. I love the visual of this.

See, when you're "yoked" to Him, the burden of whatever you are carrying rests on much bigger shoulders than your own. You have Him as your Partner to pull the weight, and that makes your burdens so much better. Otherwise, you would collapse under the pressure. There's no promise in there that it won't be hard, but there's a guarantee that you won't carry the heaviest part because He will. You're not doing it alone anymore. He's right there with you, and there IS rest for your soul. That's what I'm counting on. That's a promise that I am claiming because I AM weary. I AM burdened, and I DO need rest. So, I don't care what they tell me about not being able to "do it". Because I'm not doing it alone. And if He sees fit to help me through it and work every day I plan to, then I will. Either way, I won't crumble under the weight of my responsibilities because He has more pulling power than I do, more than any of us. I simply have to come to Him with my burdens, and then I find will rest.