Today, Dave and I decided to visit the American Cancer Society and ask to try on their wigs. I have thought a lot about wigs, but mainly, how I just do not want to wear one. Dave, in an unassuming way, has suggested a few times that I should try it. I thought about it but then it hit me that I don’t want to wear a wig to try and look normal or mimic my old self. My past is not where I want to live and I don’t want to cover or hide what has happened to me.

Before my diagnosis I fully appreciated my hair, skin, eyebrows and eyelashes. I loved them. When the bad news came I remember telling Dave that one of the things I feared most was how I would feel (on the inside) when I finally looked like I had cancer (on the outside). When the hair on my head started falling out we made a party out of it and that actually felt manageable. My face still looked normal and and I still felt pretty. Pretty and bald.

I remember going to a support group and walking in with my bald head and a lady said to me that my eyebrows look great and that the eyebrows make all the difference. I didn't exactly know what she was talking about until eventually my eyebrows fell off. When that happened and my eyelashes started thinning it felt as if my face was slowly melting off. I thought to myself, "this is what it looks like to have cancer." Then I said, “So, new Jenny, what does this feel like? What is it that this will bring out of you?” To say the least I felt so many emotions and feelings. I tear up just thinking about the process. And because I’m not a routine make up putter-on-er I knew this is the face that I’m going to be facing for a while. It’s a big change. When I look in the mirror I feel stripped, bear, naked, freakish and I look so tired and sick.

About the time that my face began to change for what I felt to be the worse there was something else going on inside my body. Among the shock and sadness I had intensely strong feelings to embrace and welcome the new me. How? I had no idea how really I just trusted that this transformation was deeply changing me... how I treat others, view the sufferings of others and perceive myself..etc. Who are we as our bodies begin to fade? In this moment God felt opaque to me again and reminded me that there is no promise that this life is going to be easy or problem free. However God does promise that he will be holding our hand and so close to us every step of the way. Laying in bed as I realized this It felt as if God did one of the Bogart “Here’s looking at you kid” impressions reminding me how much he loves looking at me and how much he likes laughing with me.

I needed something that could help the time pass by faster and make me happy. I also realized how much I love to make people smile, laugh and feel good. I like to be funny and make myself laugh and don't even mind that much being laughed at (see blog getting laughed at:). A funny idea popped into my head that made me laugh out-loud. I thought if I don’t want to wear a wig that makes me look like the old Jenny then why not wear a wig that represents how I feel today? The idea is grounded in the concept that our appearances will always be evolving and that I don’t need to live for yesterday or tomorrow, but focus on God's fullness today!
So in an effort to combat my sometimes blue days I wanted to start having fun with my new looks and I got the idea to change wigs every week for the next few weeks. I'll try and post a photo with a new wig every Wednesday. "Wiggin out Wednesdays" is my attempt to embrace these crazy changes and even have a little fun with it. 

Another great soul

Gone away,

His life he gave

To make us believe, to be set free,

The greatest testament

We the beloved are blessed to see,

He suffered

And in his suffering I saw,

The pain and the fear lose power

To the peace of our Lord,

I want to go where he’s gone

And to go with the grace,

Set my path, dear God

In his purpose driven way,

This one man’s love

And he was showing me,

With this one man’s love

God, you touched me

For Dueward Wimberly (November 21, 1940 – January 20, 2010)

http://wimberlyjournal.wordpress.com/

In effort to combat my sometimes blue days i wanted to start having fun with my new looks. I feel like I am drastically changing and my appearance has transformed with me. Wigging out Wednesdays is my attempt to embrace these changes and even have a little fun with it. Join in and laugh with me as I reveal and explore new wigs, feelings and characters every Wednesday until my hair grows back. Photo taken by Cina Canada and thank you to the American Cancer Society.

“Unto every one of us is given grace according to the measure of the gift of Christ” (Ephesians 4:7). Because of the comfort we’re given through God’s grace, it is impossible for any of us to continue grieving our whole lifetime. At some point, we are being healed by the Lord and we begin to build up a reservoir of God’s grace.

I believe this is what Paul meant when he wrote, “I was made a minister, according to the gift of the grace of God given unto me…that I should preach among the Gentiles the unsearchable riches of Christ” (Ephesians 3:7-8). “Ye all are partakers of my grace” (Philippians 1:7). The apostle is making a profound statement. He’s saying, “When I go to God’s throne to obtain grace, it is for your sake. I want to be a merciful shepherd to you, not a judgmental one. I want to be able to dispense grace to you in your time of need.” God’s grace made Paul a compassionate shepherd, able to weep with those who grieved.

Peter writes, “As every man hath received the gift, even so minister the same one to another, as good stewards of the manifold grace of God” (1 Peter 4:10). What does it mean to be a good steward, or dispenser, of God’s manifold grace? Am I such a person? Or do I spend my time praying only for my own pain, grief and struggles?

Beloved, our present sufferings are producing something precious in our lives. They are forming in us a cry for the gift of mercy and grace, to offer to others who are hurting. Our sufferings make us want to be grace givers.
POSTED BY DAVID WILKERSON