I am calling out to Him daily as I walk through this fire. I want to be broken. I want the dross burned away. But I don’t like the pain that comes with that burning. As I have turned in my brokenness to the cross, this is one of the songs He has used this week to convict, encourage and point me back to Himself.

I have listened to “Only Love Remains”, JJ Heller’s title-track from her CD over and over and over this week, because, well, I’m obsessive like that. I love her creativity with words. I love the pictures she paints. I love the imagery. Most of all I love the raw vulnerability she brings. I love the heart cry for Christ to come and break us, to kill our sin, to show us His love. And I love to imagine Him breathing into my veins… those veins that cause me so much physical pain now full of Him instead.

Life is full of struggle for all of us. JJ Heller brings the beauty of redemption to our struggle.

Won’t you join me today in crying out for Him to break us, mold us, cleanse us, and breathe into us until “only love remains”?

Scenes of you come rushing through
You are breaking me down
So break me into pieces
That will grow in the ground
I know that I deserve to die
For the murder in my heart
So be gentle with me Jesus
As you tear me apart

Please kill the liar
Kill the thief in me
You know that I am tired of their cruelty
Breathe into my spirit
Breathe into my veins
Until only love remains

You burn away the ropes that bind
And hold me to the earth
The fire only leaves behind whatever is of worth
I begin to see reality
For the first time in my life
I know that I’m a shadow
But I’m dancing in your light

Teach me to be humble
Call me from the grave
Show me how to walk with you upon the waves
Breathe into my spirit
Breathe into my veins
Until only love remains
(from “Only Love Remains”, released 2006)

He sat on the arm of her chemo chair, not bothering to pull a stool over for himself. He would rather bear his own discomfort in order to be close to her. At times he would lean forward and kiss her forehead and they would share a secret smile. Teary-eyed I watched them through my own port-a-cath battle. She would occasionally look over to me, our eyes would meet, and I saw her tenderness, her agony at my pain.

I left the treatment room at one point to meet with my doctor, and when I returned, the nurses were behind a curtain finishing up with her, flushing her port, removing her cuff. He sat outside the fabric wall on the edge of the plain blue chairs. His eyes never left her curtain, watching, waiting, knotted hands clutching his tweed hat. As the curtain open I heard the nurse say, “Congratulations on your last treatment!”

The man lept to his feet with a grace that belied his age and he was immediately at her side, helping her with her coat, whispering to her words only she could hear. They shared another smile. This one held relief. And they slowly walked towards the door of the treatment center, his hand never leaving her back. They nodded to the nurses and waved good-bye to an acquaintance across the room. Then she stopped. She turned, looked back at me, and smiled. “God bless you.” She moved to go, then stopped again. “I heard you talk of your family with the nurses.” she said, “May you have many years with them.”

Then they were gone. Holding hands out the door.

l thought about the many years they had obviously shared together, and I prayed they would have many more.

And I sat in my chair and cried, and I asked God again, as I have so many times, “Please, Lord, let me have many years with my Brian. Please let me grow old with this man.”

Add to that some complications from my appointment this afternoon with my oncologist and some problems with my port-a-cath. What should have been a 45-minute appointment turned into 3 hours, and I return tomorrow morning for them to work on my port some more.

Honestly, struggle seems like too simple of a word to describe how I am feeling tonight. I am emotionally and physically weary. And I just want to ask God why? Why the pain on top of the pain? Why does every aspect of this have to be so difficult?

So tonight I’m asking you to pray. I am admitting my weariness and struggle. And I’m asking you to help me see Him.

(from Sally Breedlove’s Choosing Rest)

Continuing to cling and believing He will do something beautiful.

“Mommy?” Bear’s whispers broke into my cries. He climbed onto the bed with me and pressed his face against mine. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, Bear.” I rested my hand against his cheek and took a deep breath. “Mommy was just praying and talking to God. I just need some perspective.”

“What’s perfective?”

I chuckled. How to explain that to his four-year-old mind? “Well, baby, it’s needing to see things through God’s eyes rather than mine.”

He was quiet. “Oh.” Silence permeated the room. His little arms reached over and he hugged me. “I don’t know what that means. But I love you.” Then he was gone, jumping out the room, turning at the door, eyes sparkling, dimples flashing.

I heard his laughter hang in the air as he disappeared down the stairs.

Oh, my Bear. How I love you, too!

Perspective. It can show itself in many ways. I saw it today in the green eyes of this sweet gift of a child.

(Quick update: They have moved my biopsy to Monday morning. I will find out the results next Friday. I continue to wait. I continue to cling. God is with me. Of that I am certain.)

I am clinging to the promise of His solid rock this morning. I am weary. I am broken. I am worn. But I will not be moved.

I have been a wayward child,
I have acted out,
I have questioned sovereignty,
and had my share of doubts,

And though sometimes,
my prayers feel like the mountain of the sky,
the hand that holds won’t let me go,
and is the reason why

I will stumble, I will fall down
But I will not be moved
I will make mistakes, I will face heartache,
But I will not be moved

On Christ the solid rock I stand,
All other ground is sinking sand,
I will not be moved

Bitterness has plagued my heart,
many times before,
My life has been a broken glass,
that I have kept restored,
of all my shattered dreams,
and though it seemed,
that I was far too gone,
my brokenness helped me to see,
it’s grace I’m standing on.

I will stumble, I will fall down
But I will not be moved
I will make mistakes, I will face heartache,
But I will not be moved

On Christ the solid rock I stand,
All other ground is sinking sand,
I will not be moved

And chaos in my life,
has been a badge of war,
and though I have been torn,
I will not be moved

I will make mistakes, I will face heartache,
But i will not be moved

On Christ the solid rock I stand,
all other ground is sinking sand,
I will not be moved
((c) 2008, Natalie Grant, from her cd Relentless)

Have a box of tissues handy, then please join Ann and me in bowing a moment to say, “Thank you.” For we are allowed two… then Heaven.

More to come on my trip to St. Louis this past weekend, but right now I’m going to go peek at these sweet faces one more time.

There is bad news. We don’t know if the lymph node is cancer or not, so I will be having an ultrasound-guided needle biopsy in order to determine if the node needs to come out.

Even worse news. I have to wait 2 weeks for the biopsy, then five days for the results.

While I am at peace with where this is headed, it is hard to know there is something in my neck that may or may not be cancer again. And to have to wait for so long to find out is also very difficult.

Honestly, I am not sure how to feel right now. Relieved because it looks like this is just a lymph node and not a tumor of some sort. Fearful because of the pain associated with the biopsy. Terrified because I’m possibly facing cancer again. Numb because I am protecting myself emotionally. Desperate because I cannot do this on my own. Tired because I am fighting daily battles. Broken because as I see more of Him, I see more of my sin. Submissive because I will walk where He leads.

Peaceful because I know He is with me.

The pathway is broken
And The signs are unclear
And I don’t know the reason why You brought me here
But just because You love me the way that You do
I’m gonna walk through the valley
If You want me to

Chorus:
Cause I’m not who I was
When I took my first step
And I’m clinging to the promise You’re not through with me yet
so if all of these trials bring me closer to you
Then I will walk through the fire
If You want me to

It may not be the way I would have chosen
When you lead me through a world that’s not my home
But You never said it would be easy
You only said I’d never go alone

So When the whole world turns against me
And I’m all by myself
And I can’t hear You answer my cries for help
I’ll remember the suffering that Your love put You through
And I walk through the darkness If You want me to

cause When I cross over Jordan, I’m gonna sing, gonna shout
Gonna look into your eyes and see you never let me down
So take me on the pathway that leads me home to you
And I will walk through the valley if you want me to

Yes, I will walk through the valley if you want me to

(Ginny Owens, from her CD If You Want Me To: The Best Of Ginny Owens