Monthly Archives: November 2016

This Thursday is my 29th Birthday. I was just telling my mom in a conversation over the phone, that I can’t believe it. I can’t believe that I am that old… she agreed. You could tell though somewhere in the middle of our conversation we shared the same thought. Not only can we not believe that I am this old but we can’t believe that I get to be here for one more birthday.
That is one of those things that happens after cancer. You start to realize how much of a privilege it is to grow old. How special it is to celebrate your birthday.

For as long as I can remember I never imagined not growing old. From early childhood people began to ask, “Kristina What do you want to be when you grow up? What do you hope for?”. And let me tell you I had answers. I was going to get married. Have kids. At one point I think I wanted to be an astronaut. I wanted to be a sportscaster. The list goes on and on. And today if you ask me what I wanted to be when I grow up the answer is a little simpler….

I just want to be here. Be present for whatever comes my way. I want to follow my heart even if it gets me in trouble. I want to love others well.

So this year I could not think of a more special way to honor my birthday than by asking others to give back with me. As many of you know several years ago I lived in Honduras. In the little town that we lived was a home of all girls. The home named, The Eternal Family Project. This home exists to provide a forever family to orphaned children. By providing a safe, loving home, spiritual leadership, balanced nutrition, bilingual education and proper healthcare the EFP is breaking the cycle of poverty that hundreds of thousands of children in Honduras are born into.

A few months ago I reached out and asked how I could help. Through a few email exchanges they asked if I would like to sponsor Birthdays for 2017 for all of the girls. You see with 29 girls in the home it is far too costly and difficult to buy them a gift. So she asked if I would like to arrange for one special gift to be purchased unique for each girl and shipped down there. So without hesitation I agreed! Over the past few weeks I have over 30 people have jumped in to help make this happen. This Friday I am having a birthday party to gather, wrap and prepare the gifts. Then next year as each girl celebrates her birthday she will be given her gift.

You may be reading and ask can if there is any way you can help? The answer is yes. If you would like to contribute towards the shipping cost for this I would be so grateful. I have already received $25.00 but as you can imagine I am estimating close to $200.00 to get this to Central America. Any money that is collected beyond the shipping cost will then be donated directly to the orphanage. If you are interested please contact me at I also have venmo and payal!

The other way you can help is to simply do an act of kindness in your community. Maybe it is that person that has been on your heart for sometime? That person on the street corner every day? Your family member you forgot to call? Or that older woman or man that live down the street? Do me a favor and love others well. (I would love to hear what you do also).

Cheers to More Years and Turning 29!


I have two pictures that I took the day before my mastectomy. I hardly ever look at them. It is strange to look at them and it makes me cry. They stir up this emotion that I have often tried to avoid. But this morning I took a look (two years ago Friday I took the pictures)

I had never taken topless photos before (now I have taken hundreds, thank you cancer). But I realized rather in panic at the surgeons office that if I did not take a picture that day I would have nothing to look back at. So I did. The photo is pretty funny to see. I am making a goofy face, probably to hide the fact at how odd I felt taking a photo topless and I have purple pen marked all around my chest, indicating where the doctor would cut.

That is what makes me the most sad. A part of my body that became merely place of sorrow, a place I became afraid to look at. The lines indicated that cancer was there. A small x marked on my left breast (cancer side).

The morning of my surgery I won’t ever forget. I was in the shower. I looked down. Cried as the water rushed over me. I remember  looking up letting the water cover my eyes, trying to convince myself to pull it together. I think it was a plea. A plea to the God that I was certain was faithful and good but that this part of the story I just simply did not understand. I pleaded in fear. I was afraid. I didn’t know how I was going to do it, but things were going to be ok. I wasn’t sure how or what “OK” would look like but it was. It was going to be “OK”.

I only write these words today to say that it is ok if you are not understanding some part of your story. If your story you wish you could somehow change. If you are pleading that things would be different. Maybe it is that that certain someone is no longer around, if that job you felt called too did not come through, if you find yourself alone in the evenings wondering how to do another day, if you feel defeated. If that child you so depsperatley have longed for has yet to show their face.

I may not know your story but I know what it is like to plea asking why your story is the way that it is.

Give yourself some permission. Some grace. Its ok if you don’t understand.

Some things we just are not meant to understand.

“The depths are what make the heights so beautiful”

-Kara Tippets