Beautiful inside and out. Wise beyond her years. Ridiculously talented.
JANUARY SUN KIM.
At 22, this girl spoke with such truth and grace you couldn’t help but be drawn to her. I was not shocked in the least when she was asked to be a team leader. I admired her deep seeded love for her team and her ability to call them into greatness even if it meant saying the hard things. This girl mastered the art of rest while living amongst 40 crazy people. I tried to emulate her once but I failed, lacking the ninja like stealth and quietness she has even in the midst of chaos.
She has the nauseating ability to see something and recreate it. You give her a vision and she will make it happen. Her hands create masterpieces. Her illustrations are magnificent. Art is her calling.
(January making graduation caps for final debrief)
She celebrates people extremely well, making sure teammates had handmade banners for their birthdays or decorations for our parties. Her thoughtfulness was evidenced by cute tiny handwritten notes and sentimental gifts. Her quiet laugh is contagious. Her determination for adventure always made her fun to be with, because quite frankly you just didn’t know what was going to happen.
(She hid in her locker at a hostel and would pop out at people. Did I mention she is tiny AND funny?!)
Three months after getting home and endless visits to the ER, at the age of 23, on March 17th, January was diagnosed with cancer.
Adenocarcinoma.
Stage IV.
An intimidating word. An ugly diagnosis. Devastating news.
January is not just a squadmate. She is my friend. Part of the P Squad family.
While we are all figuring out our “new” lives in America,
she is fighting for her life.
Watching from afar as she was in excruciating pain, unable to eat for months, endured an extensive abdominal surgery, and now aggressive chemotherapy is tough.
That’s a huge understatement. Words cannot fully express what it is to watch a loved one suffer.
It’s a feeling of complete helplessness.
For a year our squad was beside each other for everything. It may have driven us nuts at times but we were always there to rally around each other when it mattered. Now when she needs us most we are scattered. Hundreds if not thousands of miles away.
From the moment we found out I (as well as the entire squad) have been fighting for her in prayer. Believing in a miracle. Interceding when we can’t physically be there to lay hands on her.
I know our God is good. I know He is and has always been faithful. I know without a shadow of a doubt that our prayers have the ability to change things. I have seen it in my own life and I have seen it in the lives of others. But I’d be lying if I wasn’t transparent in saying that I have doubted all those things recently. How quickly my heart forgets these unwavering truths in the midst of grave uncertainty.
I feel like every time I turn around these days someone has cancer. I am fed up. It makes me want to cry and cuss and punch it. It runs rampant destroying unsuspecting otherwise healthy lives without any hesitations. What once was a disease of the old is claiming the youngest amongst us. I can’t imagine watching your child fight for their life before it has essentially begun. I hate that we have to watch January go through this. We most certainly could not have anticipated this when we prayed over each other’s futures before parting ways back in December.
But as my roommates and I prostrate ourselves before the Lord on our living room floor, praying healing over our beloved friend, He reminds me that this was never His plan. He may use these things for His glory but ugly things like cancer are a result of the fall. He never intended for destruction, suffering, or death. And when it came into play He sent His only Son to take all those ugly things upon His back and pay the ultimate price for them; dying a painful death. But it didn’t end there. Jesus overcame death. And I believe when one of His precious sons or daughters suffers He is there. He weeps with us. He draws near and supernaturally comforts us. His presence is with us even when we don’t feel it. Because that is who He is. And when doubt creeps in I repeat…
He is good. He is faithful. He is a miracle worker.
Until my heart believes it.
I went home for Mother’s Day and when I realized I was two hours from January I called up Porky, who has been a rock star at representing P Squad at January’s bedside, and we made plans to surprise her.
For the first time in months she was able to keep down solid food. She was able to walk without extreme exhaustion. And I was able to put my hands on her much smaller body and pray blessing and healing over her.
January is a fierce woman of the Lord. Her battle is anything but easy. She is upfront about her struggle with the Lord as to “why?” She said something profound in passing when talking about how she had stopped praying and reading Scripture at one point. “Then I realized if I couldn’t turn to Him I had no where else to turn.” And so she turned back to Him. Not out of obligation but out of the realization that He is our only constant in this world.
The One who created her. The One who loves her. The One who knew while we were serving Him overseas that she had cancer. The One who promises to never leave her. That’s who she clings to.
I write this blog to ask for prayer for our sweet January. Please join with us in praying in agreement that she will be healed completely from this cancer. We’re praying our God does the miraculous and shocks the medical world with a healing that it can’t explain.
My other request, and she doesn’t know that I am doing this, is that you all would consider sending her a card. Don’t know what to say? That’s fine she loves drawings. Not an artist? She doesn’t care, they bring her so much joy, even my ridiculously bad stick figure pictures. When I asked her what we could do for her she told me of her love of mail. It gives her something to look forward to. Let’s flood her mailbox with love! If you’d like to send her something shoot me an email or message on Facebook and I will give you her address!
