This afternoon I'll be walking into Dr. W's office to have my port flushed and for blood work, specifically my CA125 level. It has been exactly 2 months today since my last chemo appointment, and I have to say that I am finally, finally feeling better and I am not ready to give that up.
I randomly came across a blog yesterday (and I say randomly a little tongue-in-cheek because I don't believe it was random at all), and when I read her words, they knocked me over. It was as if God was whispering them to me with such clarity. Over the last few days, the idea behind the following paragraphs has been whirling around in my head, but I couldn't quite grab hold of it. Until I read her words. I tried to think of a way to rewrite them for myself, but in the end just decided to copy and paste and hope that you'll find some beauty in them for yourself.
It is now Saturday afternoon, and I am happy to report that, for now, all seems to be well, and that scary situation that took place on Friday morning has happened no more.
Am I “out of the woods”?
And not because I am necessarily still afraid I might be miscarrying, but because I became painfully (and yet happily) aware of a reality yesterday morning that I had failed to understand before: Friday was no different than any other day. Just because I was faced with the slight possibility of losing my baby did not change the fact that, if God wants me to have this baby, I’m going to have this baby. I might have been excruciatingly aware of the delicate balance between life and death, afraid to move or breathe for fear of upsetting it, but nothing had really changed from the hundreds of days before this one.
Such is the unseen truth that surrounds our comings and goings every day of our life. We are never “out of the woods” when it comes to possible sicknesses, losses, death…but then again, we are ever and always held fast in the palm of God’s hand. As the great missionary John Paton put it, “Looking up in unceasing prayer to our dear Lord Jesus, I left all in his hands, and felt immortal till my work was done.” If we really believe what the Bible says, we, too, must adopt the theology that we (and our children) are immortal until our work is done.
This brought me great comfort, and I realized that my fears that day were not based on whether or not God was in control, but on what He was going to ask of me, and although I was still discouraged by my erratically beating heart and my nerve-clenched stomach in the face of the unknown, I was so happy to note the spiritual growth that has taken place in my life since my last traumatic experience…
for it wasn’t too very long ago that I frequently displayed (by my fears and anxieties and my panicked speech) that I didn’t really believe God was in control at all. I am an extremely weak vessel, and so “tremulous” was still the state of my being as we sat in that exam room, but at the heart of me, the truth was ringing that God would be faithful to us, no matter what. I share these things as a memorial for my family and for my own forgetful heart. May we never forget how good He has been.
I'm afraid that I am still much too far on the side of fear and anxiety instead of trust (as clearly evidenced by the extreme anxiety I experienced after my last CT scan, not to mention my reaction to the cancer blogs recently and the despair I feel over my friend's call yesterday letting me know her cancer has returned), but I'm trying.