Cancer Wins

Today, for a moment, cancer won.

It was a beautiful sunny day after a blizzard. I dawdled getting up and getting going. I slathered my gluten free waffle with creamy peanut butter and the last of the strawberry rhubarb jam. I read my Bible and scrolled through facebook.

Then I got the text.

The text that told me that a friend – a mentor and teacher, a coheir with Christ, a fellow cancer survivor – died this morning.

And, for a moment, cancer won.

Not because he died.

But because I gave up.

It wasn’t unexpected. His cancer had spread and his body was weak from the battle. And it wasn’t entirely unwanted – he goes to a place I long to be. He received his reward and he’s placing it at the feet of our Abba. Perhaps he’s even caught a glimpse of Grammy in the garden with Grampa.

His last breath here brought him into a wonder that I can’t even imagine.

But for a moment, I didn’t see any of that.

For a moment, all I saw was CANCER.

The pain it causes. The loved ones and body parts it steals away. The scars it leaves in its wake – seen and unseen. The way it strips away any shred of peace and hope and beats you down in fear until you’re curled in a ball sobbing.

As I sobbed, I hated cancer with every cell in my body.

And while I sat there sobbing, hating, broken, and despairing, cancer won.

Praise God for the calm that comes after the storm. For the still, small voice that can speak louder than the winds howling around me. For His faithfulness, even when I lose faith.

This world is broken. My sins helped break it.

But God is on the move.

I’m not sure how this blog entry is going to end. This may be one of the ones that doesn’t get wrapped up with a witty clincher sentence and a moral for a bow.

Sometimes we don’t figure out the lesson. My son texted this morning that there’s a purpose, but “it’s not for us to know.”

It’s not for us to know. Job got that text, too. 

Some answers we may never find…

My heart is at peace now. The tears are dry. The fear is replaced by Hope. The hatred squelched down to a desire to change the world and make a difference.

And I’m reassured.

Cancer may have won a minor skirmish today, but not the battle. My Abba has already won the war.

Snow Day

What a wonderful day.

The snow day announcement came over the loudspeaker in school yesterday, so I didn’t have to set my alarm when I crawled into bed last night.

When I woke up this morning, I ventured out from under the covers only long enough to grab my phone, then dove back into bed. After tending my island, reading my mail, and stalking friends on facebook, I began to ponder what to do with this brand new, no-strings-attached day. And I decided to take a walk.

 I bundled up in multiple layers, squished my toes into my pink boots, pulled my mom’s old knit hat down over my ears, wrapped my favorite green scarf around my face and headed out to the dam.

And here’s where my fingers begin to stumble and backspace. Because I don’t have the words to describe that walk. It was cold, but not uncomfortably so. And it was snowing – but soft, tiny, sparse snowflakes. There was a white layer over the ground, but not enough for me to leave footprints behind. Just enough to muffle all the ordinary sounds of a busy life.

I took the path through the woods instead of over the dam. When I came to the little board bridge, I stepped on one board at a time, dedicating each board to whoever God brought to mind and I prayed for them. As I stepped off the last board, I saw the next Frisbee golf post, with its black number 8. And I began praying for all of my little ones who were having their day off from Room 8, math, and homework.

 

My official job is to teach reading, writing, and arithmetic to the children in Room 8. But my Real job, is to give those little hearts hope that there is so much more to life.

But lately, it’s been so hard to do that.

Because lately, that hope has so often felt just out of my own reach.

And at that collective gasp from the audience, I feel an immediate need to backtrack a bit and try to explain. I have not lost my Hope of eternal security. I have not lost my sure knowledge of the One Who gave His Son to redeem me. I have not turned my back on the Great Creator Who will never turn His back on any of us.

I’ve just grown tired. Weary. Empty.

It’s been a hard year… And it’s so hard to give when you feel like you’ve got nothing…

But I kept walking, and I kept whispering these thoughts to my Abba. At one spot, the path led down onto the frozen lake, so I followed it. I took a couple of steps when suddenly, my foot slipped on the ice. Instead of going down, I found myself twirling in a tight circle – dancing on frozen water with my Abba. 

a snow covered heart...

And that was the point in the walk where I stopped talking to Abba, and He started talking to me.

He is the Almighty. He loves me with all that Love can be. He freezes water so that we can dance on top of it with Him. He brings Purpose into Pain and turns Loss into the greatest Gift…He meets our every need in such surprising ways.

I kept walking. The snow began falling more thickly, my toes began to sting with cold. But I didn’t want to go home. I didn’t want to climb back down from this mountaintop experience. I didn’t want to fall back into ordinary existence, slipping back into the rut of my life.

But He’s asked us to be in the world.

 We can’t live up on the mountaintop.

Not yet, at least…

So now, I’m at home. Curled up on the couch with the electric fireplace cranked up to 82 and the hot chocolate water coming to a boil, trying to remember that feeling just enough to share it with you.

And so grateful that, once again, He knew exactly what I needed.

Him.