Category Archives: words

“Beyond Cancer’s Scars” . . . the first chapter and what others are saying

Some of you still might be wondering if Beyond Cancer’s Scars is a book for you. Here are a few thoughts from readers who’ve read the book:

“I was diagnosed with stage one breast cancer in April 2009. . . . Since that time I have felt most all of the emotions you wrote about in your book. The final battle has been with feeling that my life is over and I am just waiting to die. Your book has helped me to see beyond cancer and to move forward. . . . As you said in your book, I can now say with enthusiasm, ‘Cancer has given me far more than it has taken from me.’ I stood up during a time of praise at Sunday morning worship to praise and thank God for the healing He is doing in my life and to thank Him for cancer. Thank you for sharing your emotions during your desert experience because it has given me the Hope I needed.” –“S” from NC

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“I am only on page 37, and I ordered 2 more books to share. . . . I realized when I read on page 21 that it is so true that people ‘need a faith-based resource to serve as a companion for their (cancer) journey.’ I have not had cancer but realize ‘everybody has a story’ (like the title of your one chapter). I could feel some of your pain about your cancer experience. On the other side of the coin, I could feel the hope that you offer in all situations because of your stories of faith.

Thank you for writing this book! I believe it has helped many people already and will continue to help others.” –“C” from NC

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“Elaine Olsen has written a book that will touch your heart, give you hope, and point you in the right direction for dealing with the ‘something’ in your life. From a soul attuned to the path of victory for life’s journey, her words bring clear understanding to the phrase – God is faithful. Divided into 40 short devotionals, this book reads like an encouraging letter from a close friend, that will be reread many times to glean another morsel of much needed truth.

Elaine’s take on Paul’s admonition to ‘live on’ will inspire you to move forward in your journey – whether it includes cancer or’ something’ else. The stories of her daughter’s bike ride and the family’s trip to the zoo will bring tears to your eyes and cause your heart to swell with anticipation of something greater.

 Everyone needs to read this book. I can guarantee no one will be disappointed.” –Karen from GA

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“It won’t take you long to recognize yourself on these pages, whether you’ve ever had cancer or not. I haven’t, and by the end of page 2, I already knew there were many lessons here for me.

These words are about so much more than cancer, although she shares both her struggles and rough times so honestly, it will be a treasure for cancer patients and their families. This book, with questions at the end of each chapter, and also a facilitator format, is ideal for churches to offer in a group or small group setting.

The secrets she shares here are for every one of us. They are principles for living, God’s way. There isn’t anyone who travels this journey of life without ‘something’, be it cancer, or some other form of suffering. But as Elaine so clearly says, all of our ‘somethings’ matter to God, are known to Him, and will be transformed in our lives for good, because of His grace. Get the book!” –Sonja from TX

Still not convinced? Then, perhaps, reading the Prologue and first chapter of Beyond Cancer’s Scars might help you to decide. Click on the following link: Beyond Cancers’ Scars_Chapter 1

To view the book trailer and/or to order your copy, click here.

Have a great weekend!

I’d love to hear from you . . . why might you need a book like this?

 

coastal daybreak . . .

There are many moving parts to my story. They change on a regular basis, moving on to the stage of my life without warning and, just as quickly, making their exit. I cannot predict the flow. I only know to expect it—an ever-shifting current of ins and outs, ups and downs, heart-highs and heart-lows.

This is survival.

It’s not easily defined and even harder to defend. Each day is a fight—a deliberate choice to enter the fray, to live forward and to do so in the shadow and strong witness of Calvary. Because Jesus survived the cross I, too, can survive mine. He is the standard-bearer for survivorship, conquering the grave and stepping forth into resurrected light. I want to step accordingly, to greet each new morning with the expectation that what has not yet been wrought in me will be cultivated in me by the hands and willing grace of God.

As the sun rises, so does my hope. Daybreak heralds the arrival of possibility . . . opportunity. A new day for a fresh work of God, by him and for him. There’s so much yet to learn, so much yet to become. I am limited in my abilities, worn and torn by the struggle of my flesh. I am renewed by the truth that spirit trumps flesh, that eternal wins out over temporal, and that the pulse currently within me caters to them both—my now and my then.

Who, but our God, could fashion such a form to house both the seen and unseen seeds of forever? What mystery exists within us! The moving parts of our stories make for interesting dialogue, and for as long as our earthly tenures continue, we should our conversations with the Father. This is how we get to know him. This is how we move closer to holiness. When we tether our words to him, he tethers his Word to us.

This is survival. Real survival. This is how we rise above the madness and make sense of the many moving parts of our stories. This is how we live forward. We keep talking to God. In doing so, we acknowledge the Holy, and we open up our hearts to receive fresh words of consecration that, not only validate our survivorship, but also move us into a place of effective, kingdom ministry.

Two years ago, I couldn’t have predicted the parts of my story that have now moved on to the stage of my today. It would have felt too weighty back then; it barely feels a reasonable load right now. Still and yet, this is my story to receive and then to live. No one else gets to move the puzzle pieces. Just God and, then, just me. It scares me sometimes—this responsibility called my life. But what scares the most is not ever really living it, not daily making the most of it.

And so, this morning, to honor the moving parts of my story that belong to my Father and, then, to me, I said, “Yes!” to the morning’s light and joined Ben Ball on his radio talk-show, Coastal Daybreak. I trembled with the responsibility, and then I let it go . . . gave it to God, and said “So be it. Do with it what you will.”

 

(to listen to my radio interview with Ben, click on the following link: Elaine Olsen on Coastal Daybreak)

 

I don’t imagine I have a future in talk-radio, but I do imagine that God could take something as fluid as my story and give it a voice to further his kingdom purposes. In my weakness, he is elevated. In my brokenness, he is seen. In my survivorship, he is celebrated. And with my story, he is remembered.

When Christ is elevated, seen, celebrated, and remembered because of the moving parts of our stories, then we live the kingdom forward. We move it forward as well. What could be more honorable than this? What better way to finish the walk in front of us?

Keep moving, friends, and leave a kingdom trail behind you as you go. It’s the best that any of us can do.

Peace for the journey,

 

PS: The winners of Lisa Shaw’s book/CD and Cindy’s cards is Cheryl! I’ll be in touch, friend.

a right word at the right time {part one}

“Therefore Jesus told them, ‘The right time for me has not yet come; for you any time is right. The world cannot hate you, but it hates me because I testify that what it does is evil. You go to the Feast. I am not yet going up to the Feast, because for me to right time has not yet come.’ Having said this, he stayed in Galilee. –John 7:6-9

 

Sometimes we need to stay in Galilee a while longer. The Feast in Jerusalem will have to wait because those in attendance are not yet ready to hear the truth. Right words spoken at the wrong time do little to further the kingdom cause; instead, right words spoken at the wrong time often stir the pot of dissension, fueling the anger of the crowd and bringing untimely harm to the truth and the truth-giver.

 

Not that we shy away from speaking the truth for fear of personal harm, but rather we keep to the shadows until the threats no longer thwart the truth. Truth needs a readied stage, a readied audience. The beginning days of the Feast, when frolic and frenzy often reign over reason, rarely provide a readied audience. Sometimes, it’s best to wait for the frenzy to die down instead of prematurely jumping into the fray with right words that, more than likely, will be trampled upon by the wrong motives and wounded pride of those attending the Feast.

 

Jesus wasn’t afraid to die for speaking the truth, for being the Truth; it’s what he came to do . . . to free us from the lies of the enemy. But Jesus knew the right time to speak his right words. He wasn’t swayed by a human agenda that operated out of wrong motives. Instead, he waited . . . walked his Father’s agenda, and when the time was right, he emerged from the shadows and spoke his piece.

 

Eternity holds the witness of what Jesus’ waiting to go to the Feast accomplished for the kingdom. We cannot see the fullness of it just yet. This wasn’t the climax of Christ’s ministry, the biggest accomplishment of his earthly tenure, but it’s worth our time, our pausing a little bit with Jesus in the shadows in order that we might gain understanding regarding a right word spoken at the right time.

 

In this season, we’re being pushed from every angle to enter the fray and to engage in the frolic of a Feast that has little to do with truth and much more to do with pride. Right words have never been more important. But I’m wondering if just maybe we could learn something from Jesus about timing . . . about when to show up at the Feast and when is the right time to speak those right words.

 

We need to make the most of them . . . our right words. We need to make them count. Some would say there are no right words, only opinions. They would be wrong; there are right words, and when they are released in the light and moment of God’s timing, they grow his kingdom, not frustrate it.

 

Right words and the right time to speak those words.

 

I think I’ll pause with Jesus in Galilee today and travel in his shadow. Words not yet spoken that tarry beneath and within the shade of God’s holiness are words that will eventually carry the strength and witness of eternity. Those are the kinds of words worth waiting for, friends. They change the landscape of the world around us and bring the kingdom of God within reach.

 

Wait for them, right words and right timing. The world has never needed them more. As always . . .

 

Peace for the journey,

What is your tendency . . . to jump into the fray with right words too soon or to wait on right timing? What benefit might there be to waiting?

“Beyond Cancer’s Scars” Part Three (disappointments along the way)

Six years is a long time to hold on to a dream. Really, I’ve been dreaming the dream much longer than that. Some dreams initiate in childhood when minds are less cluttered, less bothered, and more willing to believe that it could easily and actually happen—the fruition of one’s dreams. At the age of three, maybe four I stood on Beulah Riddle’s front porch in Hartsville, IN, dreaming some dreams and forming some words.

“Beulah, I wrote a song. Want to hear it? It goes like this . . .”

I don’t remember the song or the words. I don’t even remember it being a dream at that point. I just remember the memory, singing some phrases and feeling Beulah’s pleasure. Perhaps this was my first foray into the publishing world . . . stringing words together to sing a song, to tell a story, to entreat an audience. It would be a while before I could spell those words and scribble them on paper, but maybe the dream started there, on her front porch.

It hasn’t left me—my desire to tell my story. But that dream has morphed over the years, been shaped by the harsh realities of the publishing industry. Not everyone appreciates my songs like Beulah did. Not everyone is willing to take a chance on my words. I’ve spent the last six years actively trying to get someone’s attention, trying to make it past the front porch of traditional publishing.

It hasn’t worked, at least according to the large folder of rejection letters I’ve collected over the years. I’ve made it to the porch a time or two, even gone so far as to sing a few lines of my song to some well-known publishers. But no one ever sticks around for the benediction. They have their reasons. I’ve heard them all. But none of them feels reasonable to me. Reasons (whether valid or not), don’t change the fact that when rejection arrives, rejection cuts into the dream . . . whittles away at passion and pulse.

I know this one. Past rejections regarding my written words have scarred me, not silenced me but wounded me enough to strengthen my resolve and my decisions for how I want to handle my stories going forward. I carried both my writing scars and my cancer’s scars with me when I attended a writer’s conference last summer, just days after completing my latest manuscript. I also carried this resolution: a publisher’s reluctance to take a risk on me won’t wound me as deeply this go around. If they didn’t want my story, then I would find a way to get my story to readers. Holding this confidence in my heart freed me to be me, to say what I needed to say during the five publisher appointments I snagged during the conference.

My pitches (a.k.a. making your book irresistible to publishers) weren’t perfect; far from it. I blubbered my way through each fifteen minute time slot. In the end, four of the five publishers took my proposal back to their publishing houses. A year later, I’ve yet to hear back from two of them; I almost made it past the front porch with the other two, but in the end, my words received a “thanks, but no thanks”—some kind of mumbling about how cancer doesn’t sell. And I felt the cut, once again. And then I heard these words from my son one October afternoon when my sorrow spilled over on to him (turn up the volume; Jadon used his inside voice on this one):

I did get back up from my wounding, brushed myself off, and found the one idea that worked for me. With the willing and prayerful consent of my husband, we forged ahead to publish the book ourselves, not unlike what I did with my first book. It’s been no small thing; it’s been a huge undertaking. There have been obstacles, frustrations, and a more than few reasons to find my knees along the way. But as we round the corner toward home, I’m thinking that the end result will be worth the struggle to get there. I’ve paid a high price to write this story, both with my flesh and with my bank account. I’ll never get a full return on this investment (at least when measured by industry standards), but I’m counting on something greater . . .

A lasting legacy. A living witness. A personal investment into the lives of those Beulahs who are willing to sit on the front porch with me and listen to my song. If I can give them the words that God has graciously given to me . . . if I can give them to you, then my story, as well as my faith, move forward. In the end, what else matters?

The world doesn’t get the final word on our dreams, friends. God does, and word has it, his front porch is big enough and sturdy enough to cradle them all.

“Beulah, I wrote a song. Want to hear it? It goes like this . . .”

Peace for the journey,

What dreams do you hold in your heart? Who are your “Beulahs”–the ones who’ve championed your story, your dreams? I’d love to hear your witness from the front porch today.

“Beyond Cancer’s Scars” Part Two (writing the book)

“Out of your poverty, Elaine, surrender your pen.”

His words are as clear to me today as they were for me on that Friday night, June 10, 2011. The memory lingers fully . . . beautifully in my heart. Heavenly impressions are not easily forgotten. When God presses his fingerprints on to the pages of our stories—when God gives his directives with such clear and certain authority—there is a grace that comes alongside to solidify that moment and to grant us enough courage and trust to begin our obedience. It takes them both—courage and trust—for us to move forward, because God’s plans don’t always feel reasonable. Sometimes they feel impossible.

Such had been my week when I arrived to that Friday night a year ago, really my previous ten months. I’d stumbled my way through cancer treatments, emerging on the other side of them with more emotional scars than physical ones. Cancer not only strikes the flesh but also strikes the soul—the seat of human emotions. I didn’t notice my soul woundings until the other ones had subsided. It was then, when the silence came, that I began the process of untangling my pain. Some healings require more than stitches and band-aids. Some healings require the salve of time and a gentle Jesus.

On that Friday night, I recognized my profound need. I cried out to God for hope. I’d lost mine somewhere along the way. Oh, I masked it pretty well, even speaking to a group of cancer survivors earlier in the week, challenging them and charging them with hope’s rallying cry. But truth really does speak louder than words, and the truth was, I was losing ground. I wanted to give myself to something better, something higher, something more than the pain that was sucking me under, but I didn’t know how to fully get there. I only knew the first step to take—reading my Bible.

I opened up God’s Word to the bookmarked page and re-read the story I’d been chewing on for the better part of a week. A widow’s story from Luke 21. A story about her offering at the temple treasury—a gift not measured by human scales but a gift counted by God as “more than all the others.” I felt the hand of God squeeze tighter around my soul. It could not be ignored; only acknowledged, only received.

“Out of your poverty, Elaine, surrender your pen.”

And so I did. Right then. I gave God my heart, my insecurities, my words, and my promise that I would be faithful to write the witness of my cancer season, each day, until it was finished. Nothing about that obedience felt reasonable to me; instead, it felt like trust. In that moment, I knew that God wouldn’t fail me; he would help me—his power so effectively working in me would accomplish this, and in the end, it wouldn’t be about what I had done. It would be about everything he had done.

He did do it all. Each day for forty days during the hot, crowded season of summer, God showed up and pressed my thoughts into words and molded my cancer story into something that could be touched, held, and raised to the heavens as my Ebenezer, my “Thus far, the Lord has helped me” (see 1 Sam. 7:12). It was all a bit of a mess at the finish line. Forty days of intense writing leaves little time for editing and critique; that would come later. But on July 19, 2011, I knew it was a completed work and that it wasn’t meant just for me. Down to my last two coppers, I threw my “all” into the treasury of God’s temple, and the healing that took place in my heart can only be explained by the covenant Father who always makes good on his promises.

The writing was done; the hardest part was about to begin. On July 21, 2011, I packed up my suitcase, my messy manuscript, and my growing hope and headed out the door to see about a publisher—to see if anyone else might be willing to latch on to my story and bring it to the public. It didn’t take me long to figure out that writing a book is a whole lot easier than getting it published. But that’s another story for another day, another post—my next post.

Let me leave you with this final thought. If God has pressed his heart’s desire into your heart, if the Father has asked you for a hard obedience in this season (and you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that it’s him talking and not his competing counterfeit), then you can trust him with the outcome. Like the widow of Luke 21 and like me, you may be down to your last coppers. But when you do your banking with the King, you can be certain that he will make it count for all eternity. He who began a good work in you will be faithful to see it through to completion.

Count on it. Count on God. As always . . .

Peace for the journey,

What’s in your hand, your heart, your dreams? What is God calling you to surrender into his temple treasury today? I’d love to pray for you.

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