Thursday 25 July 2019

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; perseverance, character; and character, hope. 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.

Thursday 11 July 2019

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