Journal of Cancer April 2011 Radiation–Round 13 of 26
I have come far. I have so much to be thankful for. There are many ups and downs. Today was a down, but I’ll get back up there.
I was late for radiation today.
It was a hard morning…I just could not pull myself together in time.
My radiation therapist, Mr. Brad, was so kind, reassuring me that they can be flexible, and that it was ok.
I told him a bit of my hard morning, he listened and said he would pray.
Then, I told him, with tears flooding,
“I am weary”
He looked straight into my brewing storm and without hesitation, said:
“but the Lord isn’t”
A nugget of truth that shot straight to my heart and immediately brought internal storm rest. I exhaled and went on to face my day.
Oh Truth, sweet truth
From the written Word and the words of His people!
What would I do without Truth?
Truth has been harder to feel lately.
I KNOW truth, I SEE it, but it FEELS far away.
Lots of “static” in the way.
Busyness of thought that creates distance from grasping the feeling of truth.
I know I create some of that static, and I know that giving up a medication and adjusting to that give up creates static. I also know some of it is just life right now.
It. Just. Is.
This said static got the best of me this morning–it was oh, so loud–it comes and I kick and fit and shake my fists. Eyes up, head down, at times– in hands. Tissue thrown in piles on floor.
I blurt my static…to Him. To husband. To my close girlfriend.
Words of “whys” and “no’s” and fears and questions and closed hands and fed ups..my words.
Vivid dreams have turned from normal into nightmares. Can I just have one day of my life before? I don’t want this unknown anymore. I want concrete, expected, easy. I want pretty, no scars.
Lord, do you see?
My Lottie-3 -year- old- Mae, the bravest fighter, her mother torn from baby sister to seek treatment far away. Leukemia in a child is enough, Lord, enough. But..bacteria infection and pneumonia, too? Families who love and yearn, torn from each others presence? It seems too much..
Lord, do you see?
The man after me, there for radiation therapy. The only color in his face are blood shot eyes that are hollow, but still smile at me.
My husband, who deals with enough by dealing with me. He is sitting at table, deep in thought, while shuffling the mounting bill piles, doing his best to make them all fit.
The statistics they scare me, why can’t I have a concrete answer? Please? Stage 3a or Stage 3b? Which one is it? It matters to me.. 70% or 39%? Why can’t I let go of the numbers? Hands grasped, closed tight. Digits grasping digits.
Women who have felt lumps, endured scans, had parts of themselves cut on and cut out, allowed chemical chemo to flow through veins and radiation to burn both good and bad cells, who felt razors and cold air on scalp, have to take pills that keep wombs empty and all the while are wives and some mothers and burden bearers for each other. Oh Lord, these women!
Lord, do you see?
So. Much. Static.
The above is enough there is so much more. Unnamed more.
Then.. my Lord…
My GOOD, good, God…
He whispers to me.
“Yes, Amy, I see.”
“I know you are weary, but I am not.”
“I SEE. I, too, wept.
I KNOW. I, too, have scars.
I can handle your cries to me, My child.
I’m so glad you’ve come to me…
For I am the Way. The Truth. The Light.
I will make sense of tragedy.
I will be your burden bearer.
Hand over the load. I was meant to bear it, not you.
You know on this earth there will be pain and trials.
It was not meant to be this way, but it is.
I will fulfill my promise to make it all right again, in my time.
This is what it is in an imperfect, sin- infested world.
This is why I sent my Son, for a way out of it all.
You’ve tasted the hand of bitterness, do not let hatred numb your sorrows.
Do not clinch your hand closed tight.
The wise hand opens slowly, to lilies of the valley and tomorrow…to Me!
I gave you the words to this song in your heart.
I gave you these words years ago, knowing you would need them in these fist shaking moments.”
“This is what it means to be held, how it feels..
When the sacred is torn from life and you survive
This is what it is, to be held, and to know that the promise was
Amy Bowman is a blogger, mother of three girls, wife, two-time cancer survivor, and lover of LIFE! She is the author of New Nostalgia, established five years ago, a place where she writes about living a simple but full life, with topics on health, organization, beauty, homemaking, parenting, slow living, loving God and more.
Her love of beauty is reflected in her boards on Pinterest, where she has over 70,000 followers. Social media is a passion of hers, as she believes in the deep connections one can make over the world wide web.
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