A Spring of Joy

Life stinks sometimes. That’s brutal honesty. I had been battling a low grade fever for a day and a half, and finally my body succumbed and the fever hit the point where it was above 100.5, so at 5:00 in the morning I was shaking Brian awake. We bundled ourselves up, slid through the ice and made our way to the emergency room. There I was assaulted by the ER nurse, a.k.a. Dracula, who took more blood out of my body than I even thought possible. My blood counts were off, so I was admitted and got to spend the day and night in my new cell, I mean home.

Being on the oncology floor of the hospital was a lot harder than I thought it would be. Not only are the rooms depressingly stark, but the atmosphere is not one of hope or recovery. I have a deep and abiding fear of needles, and trust me, there is more than one vampire at the hospital! I met 5 of them! Add to that the fact that my veins are burned from the chemo, and you can imagine the ache in my arm right now. I spent a sleepless night listening to two patients moan and wail with their pain, and I cried, a lot.

I thought a lot about my kids yesterday, wondering what it would be like for them to wake up and hear Mommy was in the hospital. My mom brought them by to see me, and the waves of emotion were overwhelming. Micah’s little fearful face and timid voice saying, “But I love my Mommy.” about broke my heart. Asher just snuggled in my bed with me, and Audrey, as always, brought delight by her antics, not to mention trying to eat all my supper.

Watching Micah has been the most difficult for me. He cries whenever I leave for a doctor’s appointment, and his fear is evident. As painful and as hard as it is for me to go through this, I at least have an understanding of what is happening and why. Micah only understands fear and insecurity. His world has been taken and shaken all around like a snow globe. Yet even though it’s shaken, and shaken hard, there is a foundation in a snow globe that remains secure. And we have that foundation. Micah has a God who loves him even more than Brian and I do. That’s a foundation that cannot be shaken.

I have struggled the past couple days with an overwhelming sense of fear and discouragement. I don’t understand God’s plan in this, and I fear the future. I struggle with the day to day living with chemo. My friend, Kristin, reminded me this morning to look at the “what is” and not the “what if”. What is true is that while I don’t always see His hand or feel it, I know God is in this. What is true is that I have today as a gift from Him, and as Elisabeth Eliot said so poignantly, “God still owns tomorrow.” What is true is that while Audrey may walk around pointing everywhere in the house and asking for Mommy, I am still here with my family. What is true is God and His Word which promises the Holy Spirit as my Comforter.

I haven’t felt much comfort the past couple days, and though I am home, my fever is rising. I spoke with my doctor and he isn’t concerned unless I get a high fever this time, because my counts were so good. However, I am fearful of another hospital visit. I wonder where they will find a vein to impale me if I have to go back in. I question how I will deal with the boredom and the bleakness. I don’t know that I can do this again. All I can do is cling to the truth, although today I am clinging with only my fingernails, and they feel as though they are going to fall out any minute.

I used to read about Peter and feel self-righteous. I would castigate him in my mind. He got to see Jesus walking on the water. Peter stepped out of his boat and walked on water himself. Then when he looked at the winds and the waves all around him, he started to sink. How could he do that? The God of the universe was right there in front of Him! I understand Peter in a whole new way now, and there is no self-righteousness left. Only a head bowed in shame to think I had any more faith than Peter. And like Peter all I can do is stretch out my hand and cry, “Lord, save me.” And that, my friends, is brutal honesty.

Peter’s Song

Battered by the waves, You call me out to reach You.
You told me to take courage and not to be afraid.
But when I saw those waves I couldn’t help it;
I lost my faith and I began to sink beneath the sea.

Then You stretched out Your own hand
And You showed me how to walk;
All this time I had not followed You.
How could You love me just the same
After all the things I’ve done?
This kind of love I have not known.

I told that I would not fall away,
But You told me that I would anyway.
When I heard that rooster crow the third time,
I remembered all the things that I had promised I would be.

Then You stretched out Your own hand
And You showed me how to walk;
All this time I had not followed You.
How could You love me just the same
After all the things I’ve done?
This kind of love I have not known.

I am only just a man.
I cannot do this on my own.
Fill my cup with grace and Your love.
Send Your mercy on me,
O Father up above.

Then You stretched out Your own hand
And You showed me how to walk;
All this time I had not followed You.
How could You love me just the same
After all the things I’ve done?
This kind of love I have not known.
This kind of love I have not known.
This kind of love I have not known.

(Mike Garcia)