Will she treat him gently?

I zip up my little boy's pajamas. His trusting hazel eyes look into my brown ones. His innocent lips speak my favorite name, "Mommy." As I caress his beautiful face between my two hands, all the tenderness of this little man-boy, this precious treasure, overwhelms me and tears I can't control begin to flow. My mind flashes ahead to the woman he will one day give his heart to, unite his life with, and I wonder, "Will she treat him gently?"

Will she see beneath the strong exterior that men wear to the loving little boy inside, who just wants to be loved? When the world demands he be strong despite what comes, will she treat him gently?

When he comes home from work grouchy, having had a tough day, will she count to ten, take a deep breath, kiss his cheek and tell him that she's glad that he's home? Will she allow him to have a bad day? Will she treat him gently?

When he leaves his clothes all over the floor, or right next to the laundry hamper, will she gripe at him or will she consider that he doesn't mean to be inconsiderate? His mind was already focusing on his work day. Will she treat him gently?

Will she stop to consider all he does for her and his children, to provide, to maintain the vehicles and house, to give them as much as he can of what they ask for? Will she realize that he gives himself for his family? When he falls asleep from exhaustion while she's talking to him, will she turn off the light and let him sleep, knowing they can talk in the morning? Will she treat him gently?

Will she ever look at him and realize that one day he was a precious little boy, and all he wanted was his mommy's love and his daddy's approval? Will she be able to imagine that one day he was laying on his mommy's bed while his mommy cupped her hands around his tiny, vulnerable and pure face, and prayed with all her heart that he would choose someone who would treat him gently?

Right then my husband walks out of the closet after getting dressed for the work day, handsome and strong. His tender blue-eyed gaze warms me to my very soul, and makes me feel contented and happy. I thought, do I treat him gently? 

When he's grouchy, do I forgive him or react in kind? Do I allow him to have a bad day? Do I treat him gently? 

When he wants to work all day outside on the day I've been hoping he'd help me accomplish some tasks inside the house, do I appreciate what he does, realizing that he is doing his best to maintain our home even if we have different ideas about what to do first? Do I treat him gently?

When he wants to talk and talk about work, do I listen with all my heart or do I tell him what to do? Do I treat him gently?

When we disagree about how to approach a situation with the children, do I become angry or realize that he has a valid point as their father? Do I treat him gently?

When he's telling me again that we need to curtail our spending and stick to the budget, do I bristle up thinking that he's mad at me or controlling me? Or do I realize that he works diligently to provide for us and our future, and I can show that I appreciate and respect that by doing to my best to eliminate unnecessary spending? Do I treat him gently?

Do I look at those loving blue eyes and imagine that he was once a little boy laying on his mommy's bed while she zipped his pjs, looking up into her blue eyes with complete trust and love? And that maybe, just maybe, she prayed that whomever he chose to marry would treat him gently?

Weeping in broken-hearted remorse, I pray, "Oh God, please give me the grace to treat my husband and sons and daughter gently, so they may learn to treat others gently, too."

Honestly Speaking

A friend sent me some homemade split pea soup (one of my favorites) with this written on the package: "Disappointments are His appointments! Change the D for an H!" 

November 25 will mark three and half years since I was diagnosed with Stage IV breast cancer. Until August, I have remained positive in general, hoping all things, believing all things are possible.

Since then I have struggled. Chemo always makes me feel depressed, so I expected that. This particular chemo seems to magnify that feeling. Worse than chemo are the head symptoms. They overwhelm me sometimes, and they have been increasing. We want so many things.

1. To make it through Thanksgiving and Christmas without the symptoms increasing dramatically, so that we don't need to begin a new treatment during this time. From this position, that is looking unlikely unless God intervenes.

2. I want to be a "present" mother and wife, not distracted by my symptoms. This is a continuous daily struggle.

3. And as you know, with every ounce of me, I want to be the mother to my children until they are grown, and longer, if God gives it to us.

I plead with God: 

"There are so many motherless children. Why should there be more?" 

"Who will praise you from the grave?"

"Lord save me, I perish!"

"Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!"

"Father in heaven, it hurts terribly to have my beautiful husband and children deal with chronic worry because of me." 

"I know You are able to heal me. You gave everything to heal me. I don't deserve what so many others haven't received, and I can do nothing but ask. Please heal me. My only hope is You." 

"Dear God, please show me what to do next. I need guidance. I'm not wise enough to know for myself, and no one on earth can "cure" this disease. Please lead us."

"Father in heaven, Creator of heaven and earth, the sea, and all that is in therm, why has it been so long? Three and a half years is not long to you, but it is to us. Lord, I'm so weary. Please give me strength. Please heal my brain. Enable me to remember my children."

"Father God in heaven, how will Jamie be both daddy and mommy to our two boys and one daughter while he also has to work?"

"God, I think I am the best option to be my children's mommy--You gave them to me! But You know more than I do. Please hold my children and Jamie close to Your heart."

"Lord, You know that so many people believe that You will heal me. So many are praying. May this be a testimony of Your power, whatever is best."

"God, please give me Your Holy Spirit, that if I must leave my children, I leave them with an example of faith, hope, and love. And if you give me more time on this earth, I can teach them to trust You more, with wisdom that You give me."

"Dear God, I surrender again, for the thousandth time, my need to be in control. I cannot control this. I'm so discouraged that anything will. I still know and believe that You can heal me if You are willing."

Then I think of how He has given me three and a half years, and Jamie and I are so grateful. Oncologists are moving towards treating this as a chronic disease, which is encouraging. I remember all you who pray for us, help us, and wish us so much good will and healing. I read of how Jesus lived just like you and me, and how He endured three and a half years of challenges and hardships--then He died. He died for your healing and for mine. "By His stripes we are healed" (Isaiah 53:5.) It cost Him everything to heal you and me, and He wants us to accept the gift of life from His hands. His will is abundantly clear. When He was on this earth, He healed entire villages until no one was left ill. Not one person! Why this doesn't happen as much now I cannot say. 

We are told that the prayer of faith will save the sick. Thank you so very much for praying for our family, for me, for my husband who gives me so much love, and our treasured children. Right now they are sitting with me at the fireplace, writing and drawing their own stories. Such precious time! I pray this moment remains in their minds and in mine, forever.

"And the prayer offered in faith will make the sick person well; the Lord will raise them up. If they have sinned , they will be forgiven." James 5:15. What hope! What promise!

The March of the Kingdom

This is a post that I wrote on 7/26/19 - over a month ago when things weren't looking so good.  I didn't post it then because I didn't want to discourage anybody with our situation.  However, now that Shallena is responding to her treatment,  I thought it may be encouraging to share.  Happy Sabbath everybody!

Original post: 

"Call me..."

It is one of those unnerving moments when you can't find the door fast enough.

"What is it sweetie?" 

"They said it has spread to my brain, that there is pressure and bleeding, and that I have to go to the ER now."

The news that came about a month ago was not entirely unexpected, but it was characteristically more dramatic than we had hoped.  Shallena had been feeling concerning symptoms for several weeks, and when they didn't  resolve we knew something was wrong.  First blurry vision, then a bad headache, and more recently she had been losing the ability to walk.  

There have been some uplifts in our three year cancer journey, but from a disease progression standpoint it has mostly been down.  Different chemotherapy treatments have staved off the tumors  for a few months, but when they stop working, the cancer seems to come back more ravenous than before, and with each worsening cycle comes the threat of disability and death.  We have tried countless "alternative" treatments as well with similar unsatisfactory results.  It is easy to think this is a losing battle when we look at what cancer is doing right now. 

But thankfully there is another reality.  I almost said something that sounded voluntary like another "perspective" or "paradigm", but this is so overpowering that it is not really even a choice to acknowledge it.  It is what I call the "march of the kingdom".  

While with blurry eyes I have watched my wife's physical health deteriorate over the last couple months, there has been a countercurrent.   I think it started about three months ago when one groggy night (which we have had a lot of recently), she said to me, "Jesus is my Savior".  Shallena has dedicated her life to Jesus from a young age, and together we have no higher joy and calling than to follow Him, but this was a new and deeper experience.  The Savior had come closer and touched her heart in a more personal sense than before, and it gave us both a heaven sent dose of much needed joy and peace. 

Then a few weeks later Shallena described how during a walk one day, God lifted off her shoulders pain and regrets that she had carried for decades.  She had pled for them to be taken before, but now they were.  Healing, forgiveness, and heaven-sent freedom!  

More recently while reading inspiration, God has spoken straight to her heart from John 14, the Psalms, and the blessings in Deuteronomy.  Actually, the faithfulness of God as documented in the Bible has become her lifeblood, and she is visibly animated by the account of His goodness.  Even though at times with severe headaches and blurry vision it has been hard to read, she consistently endures the struggle, because it feeds her soul.  

I think from the beginning of our unexpected cancer story, we have tried to find the blessings and silver linings.  But now, it's like Shallena isn't trying anymore.  She doesn't have to.  God has been moving on her spirit in such a gentle but persuasive way that her gratitude is reflexive and contagious.  

Even while she has endured brain surgery, piles of drugs, and the somewhat depressing options for further treatment, the love of God has overpowered her.  (See "He loves me" post from 7/11).

This makes me think of what Paul says in 1 Cor 4:16: "That is why we never give up.  Though our bodies are dying, our spirits are being renewed every day." (NLT).  

And so, even while it could be easy to be discouraged with our situation (and at times we are), it is also difficult for me to not be taken with the patient protracted tsunami of grace that God is washing over our family during this time.  His kingdom is marching on, and we can't do anything other than join in the celebration with grateful tears.  Please don't understand me to say that we have given up hope that Shallena can be healed.  Not at all!  Paradoxically, our hope has never been more settled.  But the healing of the spirit - so evident over the last few months - is the signature of the Great Physician fast at work, steadily doing those miracles for which we have been praying.  I also expect she will be putting those bright pink running shoes back on soon!

Thank you to all those walking this road with us.  Thank you for standing with us, kneeling with us, weeping with us, breaking with us, and loving us.  I could write a whole other blog about the way God's grace has reached out and soothed our wounds through the kindness of family, friends, and strangers who have become some of our dearest traveling companions.  Lastly, thank you tonight for celebrating the march of the Kingdom of Heaven with us.  We pray that His kingdom is marching forward in you too.

"God's kingdom isn't something you can see...God's kingdom is here with you." Luke 17:20,21 CEV.

Reason

I’ve thought it, haven’t you? When you hear about someone with a terrible diagnosis, it’s natural to think, “Oh how sad! Unless they have a miracle, they’re dying.”

If the sick person is a friend or acquaintance, you may say something to them like, “I’m praying God’s will be done.” Or you talk to someone else about that person and say, “If it’s God’s will for them to get well….” If the person who is sick is a good friend, sometimes entirely by accident you might use an if-then statement, “If you get well, then… .” When the person is a family member, you may lay on the “if”, such as, “IF you get well, then… .”

Sometimes you think it’s your duty to make sure the person realizes they have a mortal illness.

But guess what? Most likely that person knows. They’ve had time to think about it even if they haven’t had much time. The positivity and hope you see in the person is not denial, it’s a hope born of strength beyond, and is a result of crawling through a very dark, claustrophobic tunnel and coming through the other side. Does that mean the diagnosis has changed? Not necessarily. The person has changed. 

Let’s get personal. Many people have told me that I’m strong. The strength any of you may attribute to me is not from within me naturally. I’ve spent my times in lamentation and desperation, in intense agony for my children and my husband. God gives me strength, knowing that people are praying for me gives me strength, and each of you who help carry our load and let me rest—that gives me strength.

The fact is that when I die, I no longer struggle, but my family will hurt living life without me. I’ve mourned a potential future for my family without their wife and mommy. I’ve mourned the carefree innocence my children have lost. Jamie and I have had to face the reality of our mortality at an age when most people are still focused on competing for success.  I have surrendered my life and my family to God. He does not change, His strength is given to me in my weakness, and I have confidence that He will take care of my family even if I don’t get to anymore. He IS love. Knowing that gives me strength to face the future. Even more, it helps me to not worry about the future, but to live today. Today I am alive! Today I’m so very grateful to be with my family! Today is a gift from God, and truly, that’s all you have, too.

So you see, I have to live. I can’t let my family go through that hurt. That’s not denial, that’s reason.

Romans 5:3 Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; 4 perseverance, character; and character, hope. 5 And hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.

He Loves Me

“Sweetheart, I need to tell you something.” 

Jamie’s voice was gentle as he knelt on the floor beside where I was lying on the bed.

“I saw the MRI report that was done after your surgery. The next largest tumor is 2.5 cm, and it’s in your cerebellum. It's inoperable...”

My heart dropped into my stomach.

“...I wish they told us that in the hospital.”

Two hot tears dropped onto my pillow.

Silence.

Sobbingly I said, “I didn’t know life would be like this.”

He tenderly rubbed my cheek.

“It’s so hard, Jamie. I’m glad I didn’t know in advance, though.”

He put his head down on the bed. There we bowed before God, too weak to think thoughts or pray.

Then something hurtled into my heart. Deeply I felt it penetrate.

God loves me.

A conviction I’ve never known before.

He loves me.

The tears fall freely now.

This road could get more difficult. We need your prayers and faith to carry us even now, as the symptoms daily increase. We need the wisdom God promises to know what to do next. We need peace and freedom from fear as we endure this fiery trial. But God loves me. And Jamie. And my precious children Jedidiah, Abigail, and Caleb. And you. He is with you and me always, to the very end. “Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.” Because He can’t. He can’t take us hurting. He can’t let us go through it alone.

“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me... .”Ps 23:4