A Spring of Joy

On Saturday morning I went to a baby shower. She is expecting her third–a girl after two boys (sound familiar?). On Sunday afternoon Bri and I went to the wedding of one of my Bible study girls. It was a gorgeous day at a breathtaking setting by a river with an even more breathtaking bride and a beautiful love (and lots of fun seeing some former college students and dancing the evening away).

On Friday afternoon as I shopped for some sweet baby girl clothes for my friend, I found myself stifling sobs in the middle of the aisle at Once Upon a Child. I want to go back. I want to go to when I knew nothing of cancer and was reveling in baby girl pink and knew nothing of such profound suffering.

On Saturday night as I watched the groom dance with his mother, I buried my head in Bri’s shoulder and stifled more sobs. I want to go forward. I want to dance with my boys at their wedding, and the fear that I may not can be overpowering at times.

Then Satan creeps in with his lies. “See,” he whispers, “You don’t really love Jesus. If you loved Him, you’d be okay with going home to Him and leaving earth behind.” And I fight against this false narrative, this condemning voice that roars in my ears.

These are days of constant wrestling–of manic roller coasters of emotions. I am face to face with my mortality once again, and it is never an easy road to walk. While talking with a friend yesterday, I said something about my doubts, and she asked, “Is it doubt? Or is it fear?” And she nailed it. Honestly, my friends, I am not doubting God. I have no doubt that He is in this. I have no doubt that this is for my good and the good of my husband and children and parents and friends.

What I struggle with is fear. Fear that I’ve failed too many times. Fear that this will be the “one”, the cancer that takes me. Fear that I’ll not get to finish those photo albums or write that letter or say “I love you” enough.

Then there’s the fear of the process. The fear of going through treatment again, of the ugliness and baldness and the scars and the fevers and the pain. So much pain.

And then the frenetic live for every moment temptation comes in. I must grasp each moment with my loves just. in. case. But, y’all,that’s not really living. I will never be able to grasp every moment, and if I try I will exhaust myself in the process.

As I’ve read through the book of Ruth these past days in preparation for a new sermon series our church is beginning this week, I’ve been struck by the emptying of Naomi. She was completely emptied of all. All but God. (Although she thought she was emptied of Him, too.)

I am struggling with this emptiness. This grief. This loneliness (not a loneliness of lack of support, but rather of walking in places that only I can walk). This desperate longing for a feeling to know that He is in this still. But that is where truth comes in, and why I am so grateful that truth doesn’t rely on experience or feeling.

The truth is God is in this. The truth is I am walking a scary road, but He is walking with me. The truth is I don’t know what tomorrow holds, but He holds it. The truth is He will take care of my husband, my children, my family, my friends far better than I ever will or ever can. The truth is He will never leave me alone. The truth is I am not empty… no I am full to overflowing with blessings and grace upon grace.

He is singing the tune of my life and the melody is His glory.

One of my favorite Christa Wells songs is called “How Emptiness Sings”. I’ve had it on repeat today… and I’ve linked it below so you can be blessed, too.

Oh, my friends, it is the longing of my heart–may my emptiness sing of the glory of God.

Glory to God, Glory to God!
In fullness of wisdom
He writes my story into his song,
My life for the glory of God.

(I would recommend listening without watching the video… I find the images rather distracting from the song. *grin*)