A Spring of Joy

As you wait upon the Lord, you learn to see things from His perspective, move at His pace, and function under His directives. Waiting times are growing times and learning times. As you quiet your heart, you enter His peace; as you sense your weakness you receive His strength; as you lay down your will, you hear His calling. When you mount up, you are being lifted by the wind of His Spirit; when you move ahead, you are sensitive to His timing; when you act, you give yourself only to the thing He has asked you to do.
–Roy Lessin

These days of waiting are hard. I want to know what’s coming down the pipeline. I want to know when my surgery will be. I want to know if I have cancer again and if so, if it has spread. I want to know what scans and treatments await. I want to know what the next months will look like for my family and me. I want to know… I want to know… I want to know… and I grow impatient. Impatient with the pain and the fear and the struggle.

“If you want rest come to Christ in Gethsemane, to Christ on Calvary, to Christ risen, to Christ ascended. If you want rest, O weary souls, ye can find it nowhere until ye come and lay your burdens down at His dear pierced feet, and find life in looking alone to Him.”
- Charles Spurgeon

Friday afternoon in the mountainous coal mining region of Pennsylvania, we buried my grandmother. She was ninety-four.

It had been more than fifteen years since I had been to my father’s hometown, and I was awash with a multitude of memories and emotions. A very ethnic Italian and Polish community, it was like walking back into time 50 years. The mountains were beautiful. The bloodlines were interesting.

Today my world came crashing down yet again.

The ultrasound of my neck showed a 1 cm nodule in my left thyroid bed. My endocrinologist is moving quickly to contact the surgeon to schedule surgery and biopsy. I don’t know much other than that right now.

This I do know. God hasn’t changed.

As I drove to pick up my boys from their Art and Music classes this afternoon, the song that immediately came on the iPod was Matt Redman’s “You Never Let Go” from his Beautiful News album. God knew I needed to hear it, that I needed to be reminded that He is holding me and will never let me go. I have a lot of fear right now. A lot of questions and a lot of unknowns again.

… more reminders of God’s gifts.

222. While rocking Bella to bed on the last night of open windows, she heard the crickets outside and whispered, “Mommy, dat music outside is singing for me.”

223. While helping my Buddy get ready for school, “Oh, I hope Bear wakes up soon. I don’t want to miss telling him good-bye.”

224. While off-roading, the exuberance of Bear kept us rolling as he talked non-stop, “Ooooooh, look. Oh, the trees are gorgeous, and the leaves are so fancy. Oh that makes me so happy. And oh, look, there’s a river down there with water in it. But what happens if we fall off the side of the mountain? The trees will catch us won’t they? Oh, I just love off-roading. Daddy, did you notice there’s a freckle on my finger?”

Hold her. Just hold her when she needs it.

Don’t worry about the dust or the clothes piling up or the untidy state of your home.

Just love her. You’re holding a piece of forever in your arms.

Yesterday I began the barrage of tests, scans, ultrasounds, injections, questions and waiting. And I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry, so I just did both.

After a lengthy drive filled with me singing at the top of my lungs to songs on my iPod, I arrived at the hospital (not the one I normally go to) for my appointment. I was having an ultrasound of my neck in order for them to see if they could locate any remaining thyroid tissue from my thyroidectomy 10 years ago. They took me back quickly into the dungeon radiology, and it all went downhill from there.