A Spring of Joy

It has been a rough few nights. The pain from my biopsy is dissipating, but took longer than I expected. The waiting is hard. The wondering what this all means. What are our treatment options? Will I have surgery (or surgeries) again? Why did one scan show up normal and yet the biopsy show cancer?

So many questions. So much desperation.

Friday night Bella girl came down with a high fever. Yesterday Cooper Dooper got my glasses (the ones we just bought last month). Destroyed them. Cold weather (polar vortex hype anyone?) is coming and we just found out last week our chimney liner is cracked (apparently we had a chimney fire at the end of the season last year… ack!) and needs repaired before we can use it. Bella Boo has been begging me for school pants, because none of her uniform pants fit. Not to mention her need for winter clothes because she’s an April birthday so size sevens become too small, but eights are too big because she’s petite, so we always wait to see where she’ll be size-wise before we get her “winter wardrobe.”

How? When? What?

All of these things feel insurmountable these days.

But they’re really not.

Bri took the boys yesterday to friends’ house to cut wood, and they worked and chopped and brought home a truckload to get ready for winter. And he brought with him fresh organic chicken broth and the chicken it was cooked in so we could make soup. And a packet of popcorn from a dear lady who has prayed for and loved our family for countless years. And the boys unloaded the truck and our little woodshed is half full now (only another truckload to go…).

Our chimney expert (who is amazing, so local friends call me if you need someone!) has everything ready to go once we get approval from the adjuster, and insurance will cover chimney damage once we’ve met our deductible. We have auxiliary heat, so we won’t freeze or anything if the chimney doesn’t get repaired before the cold sets in.

Bella’s fever came down, and I took a quick shopping trip with her yesterday to Once Upon a Child and found pants and sweaters and a few winter dresses… not to mention a Christmas dress she fell in love with that is green and sparkly and will look absolutely gorgeous with her red hair.

The glasses? Well. I’ll have to get another pair unfortunately… but it’s doable. Just frustrating. I’ll wear them, all scratched and dented to drive, but other than that, I’ll be glasses-less for a few weeks, I imagine.

And Friday? Y’all, let me tell you about Friday… the anesthesiologist was a friend of ours. He found out about my biopsy and sedation and called and made it happen that he could be there with us. And the radiologist was amazing… checking and double checking my scans before he did anything (because there are two arteries and a vein surrounding the tissue) and showing an immense compassion that was moving and beautiful.

I struggle with desperation these days.

Desperation to see God in all of this. And I do. Oh friends, I do.

This morning as I was prepping pork for my crockpot, I wiped a shelf off in the fridge forgetting the shelves are movable. It moved with my cloth and smacked me in the lip. “Lord?” I said, “Really?”

Then I laughed at myself for getting upset with God over a shelf. A shelf.

By His grace, I haven’t gotten upset over any of this other stuff… over cancer and chimney fires and fevers and destroyed glasses that we’ll have to pay for again… none of it. “Oh, Lord,” I sighed, “I just want to see you.”

My Bella girl, curled up on the couch, called to me, “Mommy, are you crying?”

I went to her and we snuggled and cried, and she prayed for me. There is nothing so humbling as hearing your child pray for your heart. “Dear Lord,” that sweet, sweet voice whispered, “Please don’t let my mommy die. Please help her get through all that is coming for us. Please help her stop crying. And please help all of us to believe in you and your being good no matter what.”

Oh, my friends. Heart breaking and heart healing.

You see, all this time He is showing that He is here. That He is with us.

The chimney fire? Could have destroyed our home. The fever? Only lasted 24 hours. The glasses? I can see without them, and we can get another pair. The shopping and the food? He always provides a way. The biopsy? Surrounded by good doctors who care, who love, who pray.

The shelf? A fridge full of food.

And this morning, my dear friend, Nat, will walk in the doors of church. I haven’t seen her in three years. We will worship together. We will eat Sunday dinner together. We will talk and share and catch up, and I will meet her man.

As I wiped up the counter after prepping the pork (onions and wine and spices and deliciousness), I looked at my stove and saw this:

Oh, my friends. Flowers from my mom and daddy. Deliciousness in a crockpot. Spoons that were my nanny’s hanging over my stove. Wine. Water for green tea. Edges of a bag that came home with food for our family. Garlic in a crock made by my sweet Ash years ago…

Beauty is everywhere. Simple gifts.

He is showing that He is here.

He is giving me eyes to see.

“Believe God’s love and power more than you believe your own feelings and experiences. Your rock is Christ, and it is not the rock that ebbs and flows but the sea.” (~Samuel Rutherford)