community – Choosing Hope

It’s been a while since I’ve shared a few of my favorite things. You’re in for a treat!

It’s that time of year where my lips always get crackly, and I’m forever trying to find a lippie that actually helps heal them instead of just drying them even more. And if you know me, you know I’ve tried a lippie, or 200. This one might finally be it! It’s smooth instead of sticky or greasy, it’s unscented and uncolored, and it does an excellent job of sealing in moisture from the moment you apply it. For guys and girls alike; when your lips are doing battle with the driest parts of the year, give this a try; I think you’ll be pleased. Least expensive I’ve seen it is $6.98 on Amazon. Yes, it costs more than your run-of-the-mill chapstick but it’s also not your run-of-the-mill chapstick!

I was not expecting to need a junk hauling service, but after our basement flooded with sewage we had quite a few pieces of furniture and stuff that was ruined and contaminated and needed to be disposed of. I called 4 different companies. I was shocked by how unprofessional some of them were, and then I came across Jireh Junk Haulers. From the intake phone call, to the “we are on our way” phone call, to the respectful, quick, and thorough way they got everything cleared out, they earned a 10/10 in my book. And they offer a military discount as well!

If you are local and have never been to Hidden Valley Orchard in Lebanon Ohio, here’s your sign to make this your new Fall tradition. The sunflower fields are gorgeous, the pumpkins are remarkable, the farm animals are adorable, and this spiked apple cider slush will win over even the most committed pumpkin spice latte lover as the Fall flavor craving that simply must be indulged. It’s crisp, refreshingly cold, and the flavor is so smooth and dessertish you won’t even realize you just downed a shot of caramel vodka a little too fast.

I feel like I have to apologize for this one from the start, because you’re quickly going to become addicted, and you’re going to resent me for ever telling you about these. But I must. My son brought home an airplane sized sample bag of the Maui Monk Pretzels from an event he was at, and gave them to me. Not knowing what they were, I let them sit atop my dresser for a week or two, and almost just dropped them into the trash. Then one day I was ready for a snack, and discovering a lack of other choices, I reached for these. Two minutes later I was frantically searching to find anywhere that sells full sized bags of them, and oh was I ever in luck, because Kroger and Target both do. Not only that, but Target just had them on sale for $5.99 each, and I got almost all of the flavors to try. Oh my sweet and salty goodness! Maui Monk is forever my favorite, but Bold & Herby is a close second. When I’m in the mood for something sweet, Cinnamon Dolce melts in my mouth like some kind of homemade churro made by a magical pastry chef. As one of my friends stated, “I can’t decide whether to chew it, or just suck the seasoning off.” It’s true, and I alternate between both, because there is just no way to figure out if the pretzel or the seasoning is better, but I guarantee you this— the combination of the two is worth a modest sacrifice. Don’t wait to try them, because if you miss it you just will never be able to say you’ve truly lived.

When you’re first diagnosed with a terminal illness, there’s often a flood of support—texts, calls, check-ins, care packages. People cry with you. They tell you they’re here for anything. They swear they won’t disappear.

Time moves on. So do they. There are seasons to our lives, and some people who may have been able to be more present in the beginning do not have the time and flexibility in this next season they are in. Perhaps others who weren’t available initially are now able to be more present as they enter a slower season of life.

What no one tells you is that terminal illness is not a straight descent. It’s a long, unpredictable goodbye filled with plateaus and crashes, slight recoveries and devastating setbacks. It’s not dramatic enough to be a crisis every day, and not gentle enough to be forgotten. It exists in this in-between space that makes people uncomfortable—too serious to ignore, too exhausting to engage with endlessly.

And in that in-between, some people begin to vanish.

Some friends disappear because they don’t know what to say. Others because they think you’ve stabilized and assume you’re doing better. Some perhaps can’t add anything else to their plates. Life, after all, goes on for them: promotions, vacations, weddings, baby showers. They’re not bad people—they’re just busy, or scared, or shy, or not able to confront your pain when they have the luxury of avoidance.

You sit in your room watching the seasons change. Spring arrives with its blossoms and pollen, and you wonder why it feels so far away. Summer blazes through with parties and long days, and you’re still in bed, waiting for a reply. Autumn colors the trees as your medications increase. Winter comes, and it’s the coldest one yet—not because of the weather, but because no one showed up for the last holiday. Or your procedure. Or just to sit with you.

Illness is isolating. Terminal illness is devastatingly lonely.

There are moments when you ask yourself if you’ve done something wrong. Were you not a good enough friend? Did you ask for too much? But deep down, you know this isn’t about blame. It’s about the raw truth that few people are prepared to walk with you through a slow, uncertain ending. <== Read that sentence again.

Still, not everyone leaves. There are those rare few who show up without needing to be asked. They don’t bring solutions—they bring presence. They don’t always know what to say, but they sit beside you anyway. Sometimes they bring coffee. Sometimes they just bring quiet. And their presence, however brief, becomes a form of medicine.

If you’re in this season of illness and loneliness, know this: you are not invisible. Your pain is real. Your courage, even when it looks like just getting through another hour, matters. You deserve community, not because you are dying, but because you are still here to be a part of it.

To those watching from the sidelines—don’t disappear. Show up. Even imperfectly. Especially imperfectly. You don’t need the right words. You just need to be willing to stand beside someone in their most human, most difficult season.

Because in the end, what heals us most is not the cure, but the connection.

Category: community

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