And It Was Beautiful!

After being diagnosed with breast cancer in 2013, Kara Tippetts, a young wife and mother of four, began a journey of learning how to cling to hope even while battling intense physical and emotional pain. She began a blog, Mundane Faithfulness, hoping to bring truth about suffering and faith to those who struggle. She touched thousands through her blog and three books, all offering wisdom for managing tough times in the power of faith. 

In March 2015, Kara went home to Jesus. In March 2019, on the fifth anniversary of her death, Kara's powerful story was shared in the documentary film THE LONG GOODBYE: The Kara Tippetts Story.  

These are some of Kara's reflections from her first book, And It Was Beautiful, on living and dying well, and relying on the strength only God can give each day. "I'm just trying to live well," Kara said. "I don't hate cancer either. Well sometimes I do. But before I make it sound as if cancer was my teacher, it wasn't. It was God and His good and perfect providence to number my days, to count the hairs on my head, to not only plan but join in my suffering."

In the reflections below, we pray you will be encouraged by Kara's words that in the midst of the mundane moments or dark days of suffering, Jesus is always there, life is surprisingly beautiful - and God is forever good.

LIFE WITHOUT A BUCKET LIST

I can confidently say that I don't live with a long list of things I want to do, see or complete before I'm done in this place. I carried a dream for years of having a farm. I could picture it, the life of routine created by the land and its rhythms. But beyond that I've never longed for having a list and checking things off. I'm happy with my old cars, my simple wardrobe, my lack of fancy things and vacations. Don't get me wrong, I do love a good concert, but I also love an organic dance party in my kitchen. I love great food, but I also love a hot dog over the fire pit in my backyard. I love a hike in the mountains, but I also love a walk around the block with my people. 

Last week, when I heard I may have another long road to travel on this journey, I turned to Jason and cried. I told him how day after day this place is losing its grip on me. Driving down the street this place sometimes feels so depraved, so wanting my money without a care for my heart. Billboards blare at me about what to buy, what to think, how to vote. But the tie that binds me here is relationships. Sickness makes those bonds more real, more important. It's people who grip my heart. 

Suffering has a way of exposing our theology, where what we believe about God collides with where we live. My heart always hurts a little when someone hears my story and begins to question God's goodness. I have found that suffering makes my faith more childlike, more simple. Our ideas of God are not necessarily made bigger or more grandiose through suffering, but they are simplified as we wade through the unknown of what comes next. Last week, in that unknown, I was smooching on my son, Lake, and the thought hit me that I won't be around to help him navigate his first heartbreak. I nearly lost my footing because of the fear that gripped me in that moment. I looked up and saw my growing girls and was almost suffocated by the though of who will help them during the awkward years of puberty. 

Shouldn't it be me? That's the way it's supposed to be, right? Can't I stay and be here for them when they need me? 

The truth is none of us know the length of our lives. So we pray for daily bread and say thank you when it comes. For today I have a little boy who will cross the room to give me a hug. I have a baby girl who gives me ten kisses when I ask for five. I have a preteen who still holds my hand in public, in front of her friends even. I have a second born who loves to tell me every tiny detail of her day. I have a guy who makes coffee just like I like it. A bucket list? No, I don't need one. I'm so rich. It's relationships that matter. And for me, paying attention to the precious gift of today is the only thing on my list.

GRACE DRESS

I was undone one day last week by an article that indicated my life expectancy. The article itself was sent in love, but all my simple mind could see was the statistical data for how long I would live. Up until that point, Jason and I had been broken and crying, but so full of peace. That evening I would not sleep, I was sick, and I continually added the number listed to each of my children, and I lost my peace.

Grace showed up the next day in a big, big way. When I woke up, I was in bad shape. I asked my neighbor if she could take my son, Lake, for the day, and then a friend called to see if she could bring me dinner. I asked her if she was willing to prepare it at my house and watch Story Jane. She said yes and came right over. I then called a woman I knew who had walked the road I was on. She came at 1 pm to take me for a walk. She offered joy in the midst of my pain, and hope for a beautiful story all my own. I felt my peace being restored throughout that time.

I came home exhausted and asked my dear I'm cooking-you-dinner-friend if she minded if I took a nap. She scooted me upstairs and off to bed. I woke up a little later and realized Jen Lintz was coming to take our last family pictures where I would have hair. I came downstairs bleary-eyed and wondered aloud what our gang was going to wear for pictures. My cooking-dinner-friend said, "You said you liked my dress, right?" She then walked out to her car to get some extra clothes, came back in, and literally took the dress off her back and gave it to me. That's right, I really have those kinds of friends, friends who will take my children, clean my house, cook my dinner, take our family's picture, take me on encouraging walks, and give me the shirt (or dress) right off their back.

I call that dress my "grace dress." I literally wore it for three days in a row after my dear friend gave it to me. I wear it to anything that feels hard. I will be wearing it to my first chemo treatment. Yesterday I cut off all my hair so it won't be as hard for the kids when I lose it. I wore my grace dress. After my haircut I decided to sleep in it. Cutting my hair was not really the hard part. I've had short hair many times in my life. It was why I had to cut it. After cutting it short, my next step will be cutting it bald. Grace will have to show up that day like a comfy gray cotton dress. And I believe it will.

I feel so very loved. Our family has been embraced, prayed for, and miraculous peace has shown up in very real ways. I know I am not facing cancer alone. I know it. 

STRENGTH IN WEAKNESS

When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you...Do not be afraid, for I am with you (Isaiah 43:2-3, 5).

Why is God-with-us such a hard concept to embrace? I would say it is strength that keeps God at a distance from us. And when that strength is taken, removed, or shaken, then we beg for God to be God-with-us. Until then, however, we keep Him at a safe distance because we simply don't want to be interrupted, questioned, or asked much of in our daily living. When the hard hits, we want Jesus to be right there But once things ease up a bit, we say, "Thank You Jesus. I've got it from here."

The sovereignty of God in suffering is kindness to keep us utterly dependent in a way our strength resists. Suffering often comes to the strong and is met with bitter anger. It isn't the suffering that causes the anger so much as the taking of strength. Honestly, in the hardest of my cancer treatment, I was not crying out for the suffering to stop, but more for the strength to return. If I'm totally honest, that is my prayer right now - not for fewer days of suffering but for more days of strength.

We love strength, we live for it, and when it is gone, we question the goodness of God. But as I have seen in my own story, the taking of strength is grace, huge grace to draw me to Jesus. And now, as I face a different treatment, a hope of improvement, and a small ability to go and go - how will I use that strength? And when the suffering comes again, will my heart be ready to receive it? I hope to be able to say "Thank You Jesus, for entrusting me with this new hard. Help me to be faithful in it. Help me to reflect Your goodness in letting me partner with You in suffering." 

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• Faith in Times of Suffering
• Stories of Faith
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