This past Sunday, River Ridge Church started a series on Philippians, titled "More than Happy." As we were on our way to church, the kids and I were talking about being more than happy, about choosing joy and about how Katie epitomized that. Lots of people talk about Katie's infectious smile which was ever present and just beautiful. She appeared to be happy even in the midst of very unhappy circumstances. It was more than happy. That child chose joy. Late last fall, shortly after she was diagnosed, Katie and I worked through a bible study together called, "Fight Back with Joy," by Margaret Feinberg. It gave both of us a lot of support and encouragement, as well as opportunities to discuss the path we were walking. As I read through Katie's journals recently, I found something she wrote at that time. Katie wrote those words and they became her mantra. Despite the experiences she endured, she never complained. For a 13 year old girl, one of the worst aspects of having cancer was losing her hair. It was a huge, ginormous, big deal. As you may expect, there were lots and lots of tears shed. What you don't know is that she actually lost her hair three times over the course of that year. Just as those short brown hairs would start to grow back and she would be excited about the possibility of it, a new chemo or treatment would be initiated and it would all fall out again. It was terribly upsetting. Not happy at all. Yet she would find her favorite hat, take a few minutes to apply her makeup, and you never knew. It was different than pretending; it was a conscious choice in her response. The 3 months that she spent in the hospital in Cincinnati were so difficult in ways that only Chad and I know. The experiences she endured were so hard to watch, but one of the hardest was seeing her lose all joy and hope. She was so physically sick and so emotionally defeated that her smile vanished. For weeks and weeks, no one in Cincinnati knew our joyful child. As I sat with her primary oncologist one day, I showed her a video on my phone of Katie being silly and flashing her big smile. I told her doctor, "This is my kid. That child in that bed is not my Katie. I need my kid back, and I need to take her home. I want you to meet my Katie because that isn't her." Eventually, the smile returned, a little at a time. Thankfully, the joy followed. Katie's team of physicians fulfilled my one request: to take my joyful child home. She came back to WV at the end of June as if that nightmare had never happened. She planned a "come and see me" party right away. She pulled her bathing suit on as if the scars and pigment changes were invisible. She marched her frail little self up to the front row, closed her eyes and sang her heart out on Sunday. I didn't know if she could. I didn't know if I could. As it turns out, joy comes by choice. It isn't denying the hard parts of life, it is finding satisfaction in something greater. One of Katie's favorite songs is Old Church Choir by Zach Williams. I see her smile every time I hear it. Blessings, Sarah, Chad and Forever Cobb 7
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