Just Show Up By Kara Tippetts

Scriptures: John 5:15, Ephesians 3:14-19, John 13:34-35

“Literally Showing Up”

Hi. My name is Kara Tippetts, and I may not be alive when you read this book. I hope so, but I don’t know. That decision is in the hands of the Author of my life—His name is Jesus. I trust Him with every ounce of who I am. The reality is I am dying, and some of that story is told in my book The Hardest Peace.

My good friend Jill and I dreamed and talked about writing a book together, one that would try to take the mystery out of walking with one another through suffering. That’s this book. We would have liked to write a book that took the uncomfortable or awkward out, but there’s no way we could do that and be honest. Because honestly, it’s hard. But it’s not difficult. You just have to show up. That’s not some kind of secret figurative language. We’re talking about literally showing up.

There is so much power in showing up, humble power in saying, “I’m here. I may not have the answers, but I’m here.” Most often it’s those who come without answers or agendas who are the most helpful. Jill has been one of those people.

It has been beautiful to watch God gently care for our needs so specifically through the care of our community. The care came in both unexpected and specific ways most days. Ways that I didn’t ask for or know I needed. But even more than my needs, God has cared for the tender hearts of my children and my husband. He has shepherded and protected them fiercely throughout my diagnosis, and now as we are moving toward my last breath, I see the gentle hand of protection ever upon my family, ready with present grace to walk them through the hard good-bye.

In my affliction, as I see more hard come, I know we will be kept. I often say my story is one that has been shattered into a million pieces but that each piece is known and loved. The shattered pieces of us all are known, intimately known. As I see our community surround us, I see the intimate knowing of God in our situation. Showing up for another says, “I see you. Your pain is known, and though I cannot make it better, I’m here and that’s what matters.” Showing up for another, extending yourself for another, is always costly. Always. So why do it? The most important reason is community. Another way to say that is “friends.”

Friends. Community. It is the only way to know and be known. It’s where we see our own humanity and frailty, our gifts and our weaknesses. When we show up for one another, we invade each other in love and become witnesses to the truth that trials and sickness and pain are not the whole story. There’s more, so much more. We can remind one another that our lives are not a mistake. And, most importantly, that we are loved with an everlasting love.

Scriptures: 2 Corinthians 5:14, Psalms 62:5-8

“The Dance of Showing Up”

JILL:

I’ve known Kara for about three years. She’s had cancer for two and a half of those. I’ve come a long way from when I first started showing up for her, but I still struggle with doubts of what to do. Kara’s wise friend Ruth calls it the tension. 

That visual beautifully describes what is felt as we walk through suffering with someone and make decisions regarding how to show up. We’re pulled in two directions, or six directions, and we don’t know which way is right.

How am I supposed to help? How do I show up? Does showing up mean staying away? Did that last sentence even make sense?

As Ruth has said: “It’s okay to tell God you don’t know where to go from here.”

It’s okay to not know how to show up for someone or how to take the first steps into walking through suffering with a friend.

Ask for guidance. He will meet you there.

You can tell Him how you feel and what your fears are, and He will open the path for you to take a first step. And then the step after that.

The tension of not knowing what to do will stay with you as you show up for each other. And it will create a dependence on God and the community around you instead of on yourself.

KARA:

I love to dance. But you know what I love even more than dancing? Watching my kids jump around like crazy to the beat of one of our favorite songs. Their bodies give way to the rhythm of the music and all I see is innocence and energy and passion. They don’t necessarily know what the steps are; they just feel the music and want to move. I love it! That’s why dance is such a great image to keep in mind as we practice showing up.

Our wanting to show up, even if we don’t know what to do or say or even feel, comes because something is nudging us, or rather Someone. It’s the love of Christ compelling us to not just sit there but to get up and move. To show up. And if we can keep that in mind—that Christ’s love is what’s tugging at our hearts—then it’s never just Jill moving toward me on her own. It’s always Jill and Jesus moving toward me. Or Jesus and me moving toward Jill. So when we say this book is about doing it better together, that word together means all of us, but at the very center is Jesus, Immanuel, God-with-us.

Scriptures: Hebrews 4:16, Romans 8:26, Proverbs 17:17

The Gift of Silence”

JILL:

When our loved ones are suffering, we so badly want to say the right thing. Preferably something wise, encouraging, and comforting at the same time. Perhaps a Bible verse we’ve memorized for moments such as this or something insightful to earn a bunch of likes on Facebook.

But our people are not expecting profound answers from us—they don’t want them. Hard is hard. And a perfectly phrased thought isn’t going to fix it.

One time, after receiving particularly bad news from Kara, I remember thinking, I have to say something more than my usual “I don’t know what to say.” 

I’d been praying for hope, asking God to show up in all of this hard and give us good news.

So, in my brilliance, I texted this: “I just keep praying for hope.” 

Kara replied, “We already have it. It just might not be in the way we want it.” 

See how far my attempt at saying the right thing got me? My suffering friend ended up encouraging me.

In text or real conversation with Kara, I have rarely come up with anything beyond “This stinks. I’m sorry. I’m praying. I love you.” In the hard we’ve walked through together as friends, I’ve never had the right words.

Our people aren’t expecting us to solve anything or have perfect words. That’s pressure we’re putting on ourselves. The list of stupid things I’ve said to Kara is long and probably extends beyond what I even realize. In fact, some of those things have become the perfect opportunity to laugh when we want to cry.

I once asked Kara if it was killing her not to know something. That was an awful choice of words.

One friend jokingly referred to her own brain as weak, saying she needed to keep things simple, then realized what she’d said and that Kara had just finished brain radiation because of cancer growth. Kara had grace for her, and they ended up laughing about it.

While taking photos, a friend of Kara’s mentioned she wanted to switch sides with her, that her hair was better on one side. A bald Kara turned to her and said, “You don’t need to apology-text me later about that comment. I know it’s going to hit you and you’ll feel bad.” Instead of being offended, Kara changed that into a moment they were able to laugh about.

We’ve done it all. We’ve said it all. Why am I sharing these stories? To show that you will say something you’ll wish you hadn’t. And you might even be able to laugh about it (after you bemoan what you said to a friend).

Through all this hardship, Kara has kept her sense of humor. One time when she wanted to know some news from me, she texted me saying she was dying to know. The next text from her came in quickly: “I’m actually dying, but I also want to know.” 

How does a person answer that text? I think I laughed and then wanted to cry. Her ability to still see humor in the midst of horrible hard has been a blessing to all of us.

She’s gone out of her way to make the rest of us comfortable, and she’s taught us it’s okay not to have perfect words. Kara reminds us that showing up matters, that community matters, even when we’re simply there to listen and love.

Scriptures: Romans 12:4-8, 1 Corinthians 12:14-26

“Your Unique Way of Showing Up”

“So many people offer to help. They say, let me know if you need anything, but that offer is easily dismissed because it’s too broad.”

JILL:

For many of us, the desire to help is strong. We feel that tug, the prompting from the Holy Spirit. We long to do something concrete that takes stress away, even if it’s a small something.

The beauty in offering a specific help instead of a broad one is that we get to help within our gifting.

This concept makes me a little giddy because taking people a meal stresses me out. Yet I’ve always struggled to do it anyway. The idea that I can listen to the Holy Spirit and then offer within the gifts He’s given me is freeing.

Sometimes a meal is the only way to help, and in those instances I’ve come up with a plan to take away my panic. I have a go-to meal. Something already planned out that I can do every time and that’s comfortable for me. It can even be premade. For me, it’s usually an entrée from the deli at Costco. Add a bag of salad, and that’s about as gourmet as it gets around here.

Maybe you don’t even have that in you. Perhaps a gift card is your go-to dinner. I wouldn’t complain if that were the case. Would you?

Sometimes we just have to accept our gifting. Or lack of gifting.

And there is freedom in knowing that God made us just the way we are for a reason. That maybe the thing we do well is exactly what our friend or loved one needs. We put so much pressure on ourselves to do everything right that many of us decide it’s too hard to even attempt entering into someone else’s suffering.

The beauty in showing up, in choosing to enter the dance even though you might not know the steps, is that God creates something beautiful from our attempts.

The more you do something, the easier it gets. Showing up is the same. And after you decide to attend the party, your moves will get better and your decisions will feel more natural.

Scriptures: Ecclesiastes 4:9-10, John 15:13

“The Sacrifice of Friendships”

>KARA:

Facebook has almost single-handedly turned the word friend into a verb. I get it, but I don’t really like it because friend is primarily a noun. In my life the word refers to a living, breathing person. Someone who has witnessed my body crumble under the weight of chemotherapy and cancer and stayed anyway. Someone who has hugged my children and provided meals for my family, who has listened to my heart and wept with me when we don’t have answers to this hard.

I have asked friends if my children are going to be okay when I’m gone, though I barely remember some of the conversations because medications steal my memory. I have told my friends I don’t know how to die well, though I long to do exactly that. And they have met me there. Not always with answers—and I’m not sure I’m even looking for answers.

But they’ve met me with friendship. I’ve chosen to make room in my life for them, just like they have for me. It’s always a two-way street. And when I say “make room,” I’m not using figurative language. I’m talking about literal room—in my house or at our dinner table or in my mind.

Nurturing friendships is hard enough when everyone is healthy. But when you show up and do the work of being a friend to someone who is suffering, it will cost you something. In other words, you’re going to have to sacrifice your comfort, your schedule, and maybe even aspects of your faith.

That last phrase may have caught you off guard. It is a little strange to think about sacrificing pieces of your faith. But consider it for a minute. If you’ve never really walked with someone through suffering, and if your view of God up to this point has resembled a math equation (prayer + God = healing), then I’m sorry to have to tell you, but you’re going to have to sacrifice pieces of that way of believing. If you can’t, then forget about nurturing a friendship. 

And while giving up those pieces may hurt, it’s not senseless pain. If you can stay soft and open to God during that time, you can begin to realize a bigger faith than you’ve had up to that point. I’m talking about growing up, becoming a woman or a man, and putting away the childish while keeping the childlike.

Scriptures: James 5:16, Philippians 4:6-7

“The Battle of Insecurity”

JILL:

Early on in Kara’s journey, a group of girlfriends planned a time to pray for Kara. I didn’t learn about it until the photos were posted on Facebook. Those pictures surprised me because what followed was a hurt I didn’t want to admit. And even though I knew better—I knew it was an oversight that I wasn’t invited—I had a hard time shaking that feeling.

At one point during my friendship with Kara, I went into a real tailspin of insecurity. (A separate time than the prayer meeting incident. Yes, I’ve done this more than once.) Whispers ate at me, telling me that my friend wasn’t really my friend, that I wasn’t important to her.

And I sank into those lies.

Insecurity had me doubting and thinking about myself and my issues for weeks on end. And then, because I was embarrassed to even be thinking what I was thinking while my friend was sick, I buried those feelings.

But they didn’t go away. They ate at me.

One day, I finally came up with a plan. Every time I doubted or felt left out or questioned my relationship with Kara, I prayed for her. I didn’t ask for the strange feelings to be removed from me anymore. I changed tactics and began to pray for her. For her family.

The insecurities, for me, were instantly gone. Snap your fingers, Superman-fast gone. Just like that.

When Kara and I spoke of my insecurities, she told me I wasn’t the only one feeling that way. Others had had the same experience. Our ages or what place we filled in her life didn’t matter—many of us struggled with insecurities.

She told me something she’s told each person surrounding her: “You can trust me. You can trust in our friendship. There’s nothing wrong between us, and if there is, I’ll come to you about it.” 

KARA:

“His was a gentleness of necessity. Not what He should or ought to do. But what He must. He lived as a man might live only near the end of his life, in a way that militates against putting off what one has to do.” 

I have a friend who wrote those lines about Jesus. Even though I often fail, that’s how I’ve tried to live as a wife and mother and friend dying of cancer—with a gentleness of necessity. It’s kept the drama to a minimum. I’d love to tell you it’s done away with the drama entirely, but I’d be lying. There’s always a little drama. But the big dramas? I just don’t have time for them. I hope you smiled at that sentence, because I did.

A big part of showing up is admitting that we feel insecure about this or that. We may confess that to a friend, or it might be a conversation we have with ourselves. The main thing is that we don’t try to hide those feelings but instead shine a light on them. I’m convinced this is a daily practice.

We usually think about sins as the biggies—murder, theft, adultery, and so on. But if sin means “missing the mark,” then I’m pretty sure insecurity is fair game. Insecurity keeps you and me from living the kind of life God desires for us. We miss the mark. So confess to a friend or your spouse. You may find he or she is insecure too. Pray for each other, and then pay attention to the many ways God’s healing shows up in your lives.

Scriptures: Ecclesiastes 3:1-8, Romans 12:10-13, 1 Peter 1:3-9

“The Highs and Lows Together”

JILL:

While there have been many lows on this journey, there have also been many highs. Birthdays celebrated. Concerts, dinners, breakfasts, and coffee dates enjoyed. Friendships grew from seeds into beautiful flowers. A community formed and flourished.

There are many moments of laughter and friendship to be consumed together while walking through hard. Kara and Jason have kept their sense of humor, and it’s made many days bearable to be able to laugh.

This feels like a small normal.

There are times I question whether we should be laughing. Things feel so dire, Kara’s prognosis so heavy, that laughter feels misplaced. But we have to embrace the glimpses of joy—and laughter—when we can. Don’t let these slip away in the face of hard.

Tears will come easily, and they won’t ask for permission. But the pockets of friendship we still get to have with Kara are part of the beauty in suffering.

When good moments come, cherish them. When there’s something to celebrate, turn up the music and dance. Suffering gives us all the more reason to find the smallest good and expand on it.

And when the lows come, as they inevitably will, cry and weep and mourn. The sadness is just as important as the celebrating. Just as important.

KARA:

The long good-bye. Cancer has afforded me that, and I have tried to live faithfully in light of that dark gift. Never, at the age of thirty-eight, did I expect to be living under such fearsome blow after fearsome blow with each new diagnosis flattening us out. It is hard to recover to intentional living after each painful reminder of the limit on my days.

For my children, I have written blog posts, made videos, taped events, smiled and smiled into the camera to say, “I was here with you, and it was beautiful.” The kids will one day see it as the long good-bye that it is. But right now they are simply the receivers of all the big love I have to give.

Each day I fight the limitations this disease has placed upon me to love my children. It should not have taken cancer to cause me to abound in more and more love, but that is what Jesus chose to use to prompt my heart to extend the borders of me to love my people with more love than I could have otherwise known. I would have likely protected myself, lived safe, comfortable. But the long good-bye brings an amazing and seemingly senseless sharing of love.

But with the long good-bye also comes the fear that something will be forgotten. Perhaps something left unsaid, undone, unresolved, and you fight to live your next moments well, hoping that grace will be present to help us all through the coming hard steps. The steps ahead, like those behind, that leave us uncertain.

In all this long good-bye, there is endless imagination that is taking place about what is, what will become, what might be. The long good-bye leaves me with the ability to bless Jason with the freedom to love again. He doesn’t like that conversation. But it must happen. The long good-bye is filled with highs and lows, celebration and sadness. They are both equally important.