What has been given is not what we want, and it has been a bitter road to accept. Since the moment we heard it was cancer again, the cry of my heart has been to just see Jesus in this, to just know that He is here and with me, because I haven’t felt Him near.
What has been given is not what we want, but I also know that far and above what has been given us for this part of our journey, we have been given the gift of grace for every day to accept what comes before us.
Then Samuel took a stone and set it up between Mizpah and Shen. He named it Ebenezer, saying, “Thus far the LORD has helped us.” (I Samuel 7:12)
We received news today. Results of my blood work and pathology on the tissue biopsied.
My liver enzymes and tumor markers in my blood were normal.
My pathology showed that this is colon cancer NOT metastasized breast cancer.
My doctor’s words: “These signs together are encouraging and you have reason to be hopeful that the cancer is contained.”
“Here I raise my Ebenezer.”
“Sadness does not equal unbelief. There are things that can & should break our hearts & make us sad. It’s called lament &, throughout the pages of scripture, there seems to be an awful lot of it. When I see glimpses of God’s goodness amidst the sadness, I can stare directly into the sadness & yet worship. Lament is a kind of worship that says, ‘This is wrong, but I know You are good.’” (~Nancy Franson)
Sweet friends, they found a mass in my colon, and it is cancer.
Our cries of lament continue.
These summer night have found us unable to sleep. The moon’s rising at late hours keeps the children awake as long as there is light. But it is more than that. Fear for each of them. Different fears, but they all have them and they whisper them to me at bedtime as I pray with them.
“Will you pray that lightning doesn’t strike our house?”
“Will you pray we won’t be hit with a big wave?”
“Will you pray we won’t have a flood and our house get washed away?”
Those were the words I barely choked out yesterday morning on the phone with my Brian.
My cell phone rang earlier in the morning, and I saw the number for my endocrinologist. I stood there. Frozen. And immediately nauseous.
“If I pick that up and answer it, the waiting will be over.”
“If I pick that up and answer it, I will know if there’s a recurrence or not.”
“If I pick that up and answer it, my world could crumple again.”
The ringing seemed to take on an insistent tone.