I am in awe.
It's very hard to induce speechlessness in me, but after the fundraiser on August 20th, I couldn't even talk about it for a few days, I was so overwhelmed. (In the best way possible)
When I received the cancer diagnosis precisely two months ago, I never would have imagined the journey God was launching me on.
God is a mystery. I like it that way. I have questions that aren't answered, but I trust Him implicitly.
In moments of doubt or uncertainty, I can cling to the memories and pictures from the fundraiser.
Our family was overflowed with support and love from all circles of our life. People from work, church, theater, and our neighborhood came.
It was a privilege to be vulnerable and share my heart, my music, with our community. It was deeply encouraging to have people respond enthusiastically to my debut. All the CDs of the single sold out! The night ended in a standing ovation, which blew me away.
If only could have been God.
I woke up the morning of the fundraiser with no voice. Trying not to panic, I prayed, warmed up, and drank lots of lemon tea with honey. Considering how well the night went, I know God gave me a voice. His presence was all over how the event came together, down to the smallest details, like a full house. If any more people has come, if would have become too crowded.
God is so good at giving us what we need, even unspoken desires. I wanted to have pictures of the event, but I didn't have the time to contact anyone. Well, a family friend came, and photographed the whole night! I'm really excited to see how they turn out.
The underlying theme of the past few months has been that God is good! Sometimes it takes energy and a re configuring of our expectations, but His goodness is undeniable.
Here's the long awaited song: https://estherkoepnick.bandcamp.com/releases
Make my day by sharing and downloading it!
Love,
Esther
Wednesday, 27 August 2014
Tuesday, 29 July 2014
By the Pricking of My Thumbs. . . (something exciting this way comes!)
I have an insane life. It probably doesn't surprise you.
Bad crazy: Cancer sucks. Good crazy:
I am now a recording artist!
I am recording a single.
As in, a song that I wrote.
It will be available for download.
It has professionally done cover artwork.
I have lost the ability to write in complete paragraphs, because that is how ecstatic I am.
I have stood outside, looking up in the sky, with a silly grin on my face, and a laugh in my throat, in wonder and awe of God.
Sometimes life is crappy. Sometimes flowers grow out of it.
And sometimes, God asks for one dream, so He can give you a different one.
This new adventure started a few weeks ago, while I was sitting at a dining room table with two very dear friends. (L and S) We are planning a fundraiser, to help my family out with medical expenses.
I'm a singer songwriter, so the event is a coffee house debut of my music. Throughout the night, L kept fishing for what my favorite song is. That's a tough call, because each of my songs hold deep meaning for different reasons. I had about three in mind, when L dropped the bomb. (my mind is a bit hazy as to what she actually said, but it was along the lines of,)
"You're going to record a single."
My brain exploded. I think I screamed. I couldn't compute.
Me. My music. Professionally recorded and produced. My words and melodies, out there to be discovered!
I couldn't talk for a few minutes. My mind was spinning with the possibilities. All I could do was stammer thank yous, laugh, and try not to cry. Recording was something I saw myself doing in a few years, after I had more music experience, but God's timeline is not mine.
It took a week to decide which song to record. The groundwork has been done, the scratch track finished.
Next week I go back to do more vocals.
It's surreal. An incredible learning experience. A gift from God.
I cannot contain my excitement to share the finished product. (once it's done ;)
Here begins a journey of thanksgiving and gratitude:
L and S, for continually taking my breath away, leaving me speechless at how incredibly good God is.
Jeremy from Given Ideas Visual Productions for shooting the amazing cover art: http://www.givenideas.com/
Eles from Eles Thiessen Music Productions, for recording, mixing, and producing the track. http://www.elesthiessenmusic.com/ (Eles is also an amazing composer, you should definitely check out his music!)
The single is not ready yet, but trust me, you will know when it comes out!
May you be blessed!
Bad crazy: Cancer sucks. Good crazy:
I am now a recording artist!
I am recording a single.
As in, a song that I wrote.
It will be available for download.
It has professionally done cover artwork.
I have lost the ability to write in complete paragraphs, because that is how ecstatic I am.
I have stood outside, looking up in the sky, with a silly grin on my face, and a laugh in my throat, in wonder and awe of God.
Sometimes life is crappy. Sometimes flowers grow out of it.
And sometimes, God asks for one dream, so He can give you a different one.
This new adventure started a few weeks ago, while I was sitting at a dining room table with two very dear friends. (L and S) We are planning a fundraiser, to help my family out with medical expenses.
I'm a singer songwriter, so the event is a coffee house debut of my music. Throughout the night, L kept fishing for what my favorite song is. That's a tough call, because each of my songs hold deep meaning for different reasons. I had about three in mind, when L dropped the bomb. (my mind is a bit hazy as to what she actually said, but it was along the lines of,)
"You're going to record a single."
My brain exploded. I think I screamed. I couldn't compute.
Me. My music. Professionally recorded and produced. My words and melodies, out there to be discovered!
I couldn't talk for a few minutes. My mind was spinning with the possibilities. All I could do was stammer thank yous, laugh, and try not to cry. Recording was something I saw myself doing in a few years, after I had more music experience, but God's timeline is not mine.
It took a week to decide which song to record. The groundwork has been done, the scratch track finished.
Next week I go back to do more vocals.
It's surreal. An incredible learning experience. A gift from God.
I cannot contain my excitement to share the finished product. (once it's done ;)
Here begins a journey of thanksgiving and gratitude:
L and S, for continually taking my breath away, leaving me speechless at how incredibly good God is.
Jeremy from Given Ideas Visual Productions for shooting the amazing cover art: http://www.givenideas.com/
Eles from Eles Thiessen Music Productions, for recording, mixing, and producing the track. http://www.elesthiessenmusic.com/ (Eles is also an amazing composer, you should definitely check out his music!)
The single is not ready yet, but trust me, you will know when it comes out!
May you be blessed!
The Faults with this Star (a hopeful rant)
I have plenty of faults. I consider cancer one of the biggest ones at present.
I'm sure you've all heard of/read/seen the book-turned-movie The Fault in Our Stars. I find it morbidly hilarious that my cancer diagnosis happened the same month the movie came out.
I'm probably not going to see the movie, or read the book, so I know my opinion is incomplete, but I have done my research on the plot and content.
I'm going to step on some toes.
Here's some truth for you:
Cancer in not romantic. Cancer is not fun, cool, or conducive to finding a boyfriend.
There is nothing glamorous about being on crutches for two months and counting.
Where is the romance in being 18, and the bulk of your summer plans consisting of doctor's appointments and daily radiation treatments?
Cancer is a curtain, a thick black blanket that affects and touches every part of your life.
It enfolds your dreams, and veils your future. You go from asking "How will I pay for college?" to
"How do I pay for treatments?"
Sometimes, cancer is a sheer scarf, barely noticeable, yet still influencing how the outfit looks. Other days it's a heavy cape, threatening and stifling.
It's always there.
You know who else is always there?
There's an interesting conversation between Moses and God in Exodus 3:14. God identified Himself as I AM.
Present tense.
They ask who sent you? I AM
The world is crashing down around you? I AM
Cancer has enshrouded you? I AM
Right now, right here. I AM.
In THIS moment.
May you be blessed
I'm sure you've all heard of/read/seen the book-turned-movie The Fault in Our Stars. I find it morbidly hilarious that my cancer diagnosis happened the same month the movie came out.
I'm probably not going to see the movie, or read the book, so I know my opinion is incomplete, but I have done my research on the plot and content.
I'm going to step on some toes.
Here's some truth for you:
Cancer in not romantic. Cancer is not fun, cool, or conducive to finding a boyfriend.
There is nothing glamorous about being on crutches for two months and counting.
Where is the romance in being 18, and the bulk of your summer plans consisting of doctor's appointments and daily radiation treatments?
Cancer is a curtain, a thick black blanket that affects and touches every part of your life.
It enfolds your dreams, and veils your future. You go from asking "How will I pay for college?" to
"How do I pay for treatments?"
Sometimes, cancer is a sheer scarf, barely noticeable, yet still influencing how the outfit looks. Other days it's a heavy cape, threatening and stifling.
It's always there.
You know who else is always there?
There's an interesting conversation between Moses and God in Exodus 3:14. God identified Himself as I AM.
Present tense.
They ask who sent you? I AM
The world is crashing down around you? I AM
Cancer has enshrouded you? I AM
Right now, right here. I AM.
In THIS moment.
May you be blessed
Thursday, 17 July 2014
Setbacks: Have You Seen My Evil Sidekick?
My evil sidekick (MES for short) decided to escape today. The tumor wasn't happy hanging out in my foot, it wanted to get out and see the world. Think of it like an iceberg; (except mine is red and bloody) a peanut sized portion of the tumor is above skin, while the avocado pit sized part stayed underground.
Doctors tend to be concerned that MES has been growing and bleeding for the past three days.
Today I was rushed in to see my surgeon, and in a whirlwind found myself in a hospital gown, awaiting the ending of the tumor's field-trip. An hour later, I woke up to the news that my evil sidekick's plans for foot domination have been thwarted, with the help of five stitches. Oh, and crutches are definitely still in the picture; they're not leaving my side anytime soon.
It's a setback. For some reason, God thinks I need to be off my feet this summer.
Rays of sunshine today:
A dear friend coming to get me from the hospital. Apparently, I'm hilarious when waking up from sedation
Watching superhero movies with my sis, because really, what else are you supposed to do when you're not allowed to walk?
Being fitted for a knee crutch! I look like a pirate. Seriously, all I need is a parrot and an eye patch.
Stay tuned for an extraordinarily exciting announcement!
Doctors tend to be concerned that MES has been growing and bleeding for the past three days.
Today I was rushed in to see my surgeon, and in a whirlwind found myself in a hospital gown, awaiting the ending of the tumor's field-trip. An hour later, I woke up to the news that my evil sidekick's plans for foot domination have been thwarted, with the help of five stitches. Oh, and crutches are definitely still in the picture; they're not leaving my side anytime soon.
It's a setback. For some reason, God thinks I need to be off my feet this summer.
Rays of sunshine today:
A dear friend coming to get me from the hospital. Apparently, I'm hilarious when waking up from sedation
Watching superhero movies with my sis, because really, what else are you supposed to do when you're not allowed to walk?
Being fitted for a knee crutch! I look like a pirate. Seriously, all I need is a parrot and an eye patch.
Stay tuned for an extraordinarily exciting announcement!
Wednesday, 9 July 2014
When Words Fail
Lately, words have been letting me down. They used to be my friends, then Synovial Sarcoma (a rare form of cancer; literally one in a million, you know the type-private school, trust fund, and sooo out of your league) and his gang started introducing themselves. On Monday I met Radiation, then today I met Reconstructive Surgery, Excision, and Skin Graft.
Still no word from CT scan, though. There was an MRI done last week, and today we received the results. The sarcoma is growing.
Radiation is eager to take over my life for the next five weeks; he wants to see me every day for about ten to fifteen minutes. But, we're a casual relationship, and I don't have to see him weekends.
I get to break up with him mid August, then I'm single for eight weeks.
If all goes well, at the end of September Surgery will sweep me off my feet, and it looks like one of those whirlwind "it's complicated" things. We'll spend six hours excising Cancer, removing tissue and muscle, then turning my foot into a patchwork of skin and nerve grafts taken from my thigh and back. Sounds like a blast, right?
Then I'll spend a week in the hospital, and meet my new, super supportive best friend, Wheelchair.
We'll be really close for three weeks or so, but eventually I'll have to explain that as much as I've appreciated our friendship, it was just for a season. I'm moving on to a new, also temporary friend: Crutches. Now, she and I have a love/hate relationship going on. At times I despise her, but then there are moments she's a gem, and we are SO close.
Guys, I know you always wonder why girls go to the bathroom in groups?
I actually can't go to the bathroom without her. I wouldn't have a leg to stand on. But boy, she is a practical joker! She loves falling over at the most inopportune times, and thwarting my attempts at opening doors or challenging stairs.
Thankfully, I can send her on her way after another three weeks, then start learning how to walk again.
Words fail when the doctor uses them to tell you that the muscles the cancer has spread to will affect the support of your arch, and I'll have to wear extra supportive shoes to compensate. We don't know much right now, but surgery might affect my ability to dance. I am praying so hard it won't.
Dance and movement have always been a way for me to process, worship, and express my feelings.
I remember a sermon I heard last year, and the closing statement was this: God loves addition by subtraction. When things are darkest, that's when you start looking for a miracle.
I'm trying really hard to maintain hope, and process the doctors being realistic. I know God works miracles, but I also know they sometimes don't look like what we want or expect.
I'm in a hazy place.
Thank you for your continued support and prayers.
Still no word from CT scan, though. There was an MRI done last week, and today we received the results. The sarcoma is growing.
Radiation is eager to take over my life for the next five weeks; he wants to see me every day for about ten to fifteen minutes. But, we're a casual relationship, and I don't have to see him weekends.
I get to break up with him mid August, then I'm single for eight weeks.
If all goes well, at the end of September Surgery will sweep me off my feet, and it looks like one of those whirlwind "it's complicated" things. We'll spend six hours excising Cancer, removing tissue and muscle, then turning my foot into a patchwork of skin and nerve grafts taken from my thigh and back. Sounds like a blast, right?
Then I'll spend a week in the hospital, and meet my new, super supportive best friend, Wheelchair.
We'll be really close for three weeks or so, but eventually I'll have to explain that as much as I've appreciated our friendship, it was just for a season. I'm moving on to a new, also temporary friend: Crutches. Now, she and I have a love/hate relationship going on. At times I despise her, but then there are moments she's a gem, and we are SO close.
Guys, I know you always wonder why girls go to the bathroom in groups?
I actually can't go to the bathroom without her. I wouldn't have a leg to stand on. But boy, she is a practical joker! She loves falling over at the most inopportune times, and thwarting my attempts at opening doors or challenging stairs.
Thankfully, I can send her on her way after another three weeks, then start learning how to walk again.
Words fail when the doctor uses them to tell you that the muscles the cancer has spread to will affect the support of your arch, and I'll have to wear extra supportive shoes to compensate. We don't know much right now, but surgery might affect my ability to dance. I am praying so hard it won't.
Dance and movement have always been a way for me to process, worship, and express my feelings.
I remember a sermon I heard last year, and the closing statement was this: God loves addition by subtraction. When things are darkest, that's when you start looking for a miracle.
I'm trying really hard to maintain hope, and process the doctors being realistic. I know God works miracles, but I also know they sometimes don't look like what we want or expect.
I'm in a hazy place.
Thank you for your continued support and prayers.
Thursday, 26 June 2014
Holding Lightly: When the World Comes Crashing Down
*I am a verbal processor. Parts of this post may not make sense, since I still don't know how to understand what's happening*
My world came crashing down today. Those who know me know that I am very theatrical.
How I wish this was theater.
The scene: Sitting in the doctors office, with one of my best friends (we'll call her P), and my mom. We're chatting, and I complain of being cold. P is in the middle of a story when a soft knock sounds on the door, and the doctor walks in. Introductions are made, and we all sit down. That's the last clear memory I have. The rest is haze.
The facts are: I have synovial sarcoma. My first reaction is relief. Not cancer! Still serious, if I can judge by the look on the Dr's face, but better than what I was expecting. Her next sentence shatters my hope.
"It's cancer."
Two words; that's all it takes for my delicately crafted reality to shatter. I almost laugh. There's a hidden camera somewhere, right? Did I walk on the set of one of those fake reality shows?
Nope, because next there's talk of specialists, MRIs, CT scans, and surgery. Endless circles of questions, and unsatisfying answers.
"No, the pathology report hasn't come in. It should in the next two weeks, then we'll know what stage the cancer's at."
"We're sending you for another MRI to see if the tumor has grown since February." (now that was a memorable Valentines Day; getting an MRI on your foot!)
"We also need to do a CT on your chest, because this kind of cancer likes to metastasize in the lungs."
"Your surgery plan should be in place by the end of July, and the removal should happen early August."
I'll still trying to compute the fact that recovery is 6 weeks to 3 months. Off my feet. I've had enough trouble staying off my feet for 3 weeks.
What does this mean for the road to rosebud?
It's gonna be a heck of a lot harder than I ever dreamed. I was supposed to move in 9 weeks, but in the days and weeks to come it's a dream I've got to hold lightly.
I am not giving up, I am lying on the ground at my heavenly Father's feet, desperately clinging to the shattered pieces of my plans. I know I will come to the place where I will give them to Him, and He will make a beautiful mosaic out of the shards. Right now I'm still in the ugly cry phase.
I've taken Psalm 18 as my battle cry, brokenly singing Reason to Sing by All Sons and Daughters
"If there be a victory, will You sing it over me now?
Your peace is a melody, will You sing it over me now?
I need a reason to sing, I need to know that You're still holding the whole world in Your hands. and THAT is a reason to sing."
I know people are praying for me; thank you. I haven't done much praying, because I've mostly been numb. Please keep praying, because I'm too exhausted to fight right now.
What I need right now is community. You know that whole thing about being Jesus's hands a feet? Feet can be used to take you to someone's house, (that someone being me) plus hands and arms are excellent for giving hugs. Besides, it's a superb reason for us to catch up. Lets do stuff that makes us laugh, cause I'm going to need to balance out seeing straight faced specialists, and the barrage of tests that are coming up.
If there's anything I've learned about myself in the past year it's this: I am resilient and adaptable. Though I can spout positivity, right now I feel like crap, but the beauty of feelings is that they change. I know deep down in my gut that I won't always feel shell-shocked, dazed, and depressed, but that doesn't change how I feel at this moment. I'm holding to the promise I preached in church a few months ago (ask me about it sometime!) I tweaked one word to fit my circumstances:
I believe in the sun, even when it's not shining
I believe inlove healing, even when I don't feel it
I believe in God, even when He is silent
I believe.
My world came crashing down today. Those who know me know that I am very theatrical.
How I wish this was theater.
The scene: Sitting in the doctors office, with one of my best friends (we'll call her P), and my mom. We're chatting, and I complain of being cold. P is in the middle of a story when a soft knock sounds on the door, and the doctor walks in. Introductions are made, and we all sit down. That's the last clear memory I have. The rest is haze.
The facts are: I have synovial sarcoma. My first reaction is relief. Not cancer! Still serious, if I can judge by the look on the Dr's face, but better than what I was expecting. Her next sentence shatters my hope.
"It's cancer."
Two words; that's all it takes for my delicately crafted reality to shatter. I almost laugh. There's a hidden camera somewhere, right? Did I walk on the set of one of those fake reality shows?
Nope, because next there's talk of specialists, MRIs, CT scans, and surgery. Endless circles of questions, and unsatisfying answers.
"No, the pathology report hasn't come in. It should in the next two weeks, then we'll know what stage the cancer's at."
"We're sending you for another MRI to see if the tumor has grown since February." (now that was a memorable Valentines Day; getting an MRI on your foot!)
"We also need to do a CT on your chest, because this kind of cancer likes to metastasize in the lungs."
"Your surgery plan should be in place by the end of July, and the removal should happen early August."
I'll still trying to compute the fact that recovery is 6 weeks to 3 months. Off my feet. I've had enough trouble staying off my feet for 3 weeks.
What does this mean for the road to rosebud?
It's gonna be a heck of a lot harder than I ever dreamed. I was supposed to move in 9 weeks, but in the days and weeks to come it's a dream I've got to hold lightly.
I am not giving up, I am lying on the ground at my heavenly Father's feet, desperately clinging to the shattered pieces of my plans. I know I will come to the place where I will give them to Him, and He will make a beautiful mosaic out of the shards. Right now I'm still in the ugly cry phase.
I've taken Psalm 18 as my battle cry, brokenly singing Reason to Sing by All Sons and Daughters
"If there be a victory, will You sing it over me now?
Your peace is a melody, will You sing it over me now?
I need a reason to sing, I need to know that You're still holding the whole world in Your hands. and THAT is a reason to sing."
I know people are praying for me; thank you. I haven't done much praying, because I've mostly been numb. Please keep praying, because I'm too exhausted to fight right now.
What I need right now is community. You know that whole thing about being Jesus's hands a feet? Feet can be used to take you to someone's house, (that someone being me) plus hands and arms are excellent for giving hugs. Besides, it's a superb reason for us to catch up. Lets do stuff that makes us laugh, cause I'm going to need to balance out seeing straight faced specialists, and the barrage of tests that are coming up.
If there's anything I've learned about myself in the past year it's this: I am resilient and adaptable. Though I can spout positivity, right now I feel like crap, but the beauty of feelings is that they change. I know deep down in my gut that I won't always feel shell-shocked, dazed, and depressed, but that doesn't change how I feel at this moment. I'm holding to the promise I preached in church a few months ago (ask me about it sometime!) I tweaked one word to fit my circumstances:
I believe in the sun, even when it's not shining
I believe in
I believe in God, even when He is silent
I believe.
Monday, 16 June 2014
Bittersweet: Nothing ever goes as planned
I walked for the first time in two weeks today.
For the past six months, I've undergone a battery of tests for the egg sized tumor in my foot. X rays, ultrasound, MRI, and finally a biopsy. I spent five days on bedrest, and a week on crutches.
It's been one of the hardest weeks of my life, so far. I never understood what a privilege it is to go up and down stairs, open a door, or simply walk.
Bitter: I was supposed to receive the diagnosis today. The answer is, they don't know. It is or it isn't cancer. They sent the sample to the Mayo clinic in Minnesota, and it'll be another week before we get the results. My doc's advice is to bring someone for moral support, when the results do come in. If it is cancer, they'll probably have to reconstruct my foot.
Sweet: walking with no crutches all afternoon
Bitter: having to go back on crutches because my foot started bleeding.
Today has left me emotionally drained.
Best case scenario: the tumor is benign, it gets removed, and I start school in the fall, possibly still recovering a bit. This is the option I'm asking you to pray for.
If it's cancer, the procedure becomes exponentially more complicated. More of the foot tissue has to be removed, skin grafts have to be done, and tests performed, to see if the cancer has spread. My doctor has advised holding off my first payment for school, because I might not be healed enough to go.
To be absolutely clear, the only thing that is definite, is that there's going to be another surgery.
I'm not borrowing trouble, simply outlining the two possible outcomes, and trying to process it all.
I'm 18. I'm accepted into the only school I've ever dreamed of going: Rosebud School of the Arts. (hence the blog name) I dance. I run. I hop on one leg to study. I have dreams of being on Broadway.
What am I supposed to do? I have prayed, and been prayed over for healing so many times.
What do I prepare myself for? How hard do I fight to be optimistic? At what point do I let go?
I don't have the answers right now, but I would love your prayers.
Much love,
Star
For the past six months, I've undergone a battery of tests for the egg sized tumor in my foot. X rays, ultrasound, MRI, and finally a biopsy. I spent five days on bedrest, and a week on crutches.
It's been one of the hardest weeks of my life, so far. I never understood what a privilege it is to go up and down stairs, open a door, or simply walk.
Bitter: I was supposed to receive the diagnosis today. The answer is, they don't know. It is or it isn't cancer. They sent the sample to the Mayo clinic in Minnesota, and it'll be another week before we get the results. My doc's advice is to bring someone for moral support, when the results do come in. If it is cancer, they'll probably have to reconstruct my foot.
Sweet: walking with no crutches all afternoon
Bitter: having to go back on crutches because my foot started bleeding.
Today has left me emotionally drained.
Best case scenario: the tumor is benign, it gets removed, and I start school in the fall, possibly still recovering a bit. This is the option I'm asking you to pray for.
If it's cancer, the procedure becomes exponentially more complicated. More of the foot tissue has to be removed, skin grafts have to be done, and tests performed, to see if the cancer has spread. My doctor has advised holding off my first payment for school, because I might not be healed enough to go.
To be absolutely clear, the only thing that is definite, is that there's going to be another surgery.
I'm not borrowing trouble, simply outlining the two possible outcomes, and trying to process it all.
I'm 18. I'm accepted into the only school I've ever dreamed of going: Rosebud School of the Arts. (hence the blog name) I dance. I run. I hop on one leg to study. I have dreams of being on Broadway.
What am I supposed to do? I have prayed, and been prayed over for healing so many times.
What do I prepare myself for? How hard do I fight to be optimistic? At what point do I let go?
I don't have the answers right now, but I would love your prayers.
Much love,
Star
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