Karyn tells me I’ve been anxious lately…she sees this difference in me since my brain surgery this past summer:
Not quite as carefree, not laughing as much as I used to…she’s right.
And I tell her that, up until June 24, I assumed a life which, God willing, would be (and might still be…) a long and happy one.
But, as much as I would like to think otherwise, it’s hard to let myself go down that happy road full of warm fuzzies like I used to. While I’ve had a great outcome these first five months since surgery(cancer-free with no seizures…) as my next MRI approaches at the end of December, I can feel my anxiety(and my questions) snowball down across the new, dark space in my right frontal lobe.
Has the tumor grown back?
Is it more aggressive this time?
Will I have to do chemotherapy and radiation?
And will it lead to another surgery?
Will I lose cognitive and/or physical ability again?
And then, fully embracing the weight of gravity and the rush of my icy fear, I fearfully wonder–
Will this be my last Christmas?
And, again, I reminder myself that only Christ holds my future. That He is my Great Shepherd. That heaven will be better than anything this temporal life of mine has to offer. That yes, even though I don’t like it, life will indeed go on without me. My wife and kids will mourn my absence–and again, my great God and Father will fill in the gaps with his kindness, care and protection.
And, again, I will be with them all “soon and very soon” for all eternity.
This rich, fiery truth melts and calms my greatest fears.
I hope you’re not tiring of reading these posts about my recovery. It’s really good for me. It’s like very public therapy. So forgive me if I’m beating a dead horse over and over again.
But it’s this kind of battle every ordinary day inside my head. I am forced–EVERY DAY– to remember my non-negotiables. What I believe to be unalterably true about my God and my ordinary, terminal human life.
There’s Christmas music playing here in the church office today as I type this.
And, again, just like this time every year, we Christians celebrate the birth of our Savior, Jesus. We long for more and more people to take hold of the hope we find in Christ–to not be deceived by what the world so convincingly peddles for lasting hope…romantic love, meaningful family relationships, living vicariously through our children, happiness through wealth and possessions, fame, academic gravitas, protecting the earth’s environment…add your own items to this very long and ultimately wanting, barren and astringent list.
And, again, I’m inspired by the life-infused, eternal words of I John 5:11-12
And this is the testimony: God has given us eternal life, and this life is in his Son. He who has the Son has life; he who does not have the Son of God does not have life. (NIV)
And, again, in the midst of my sometimes snowballing fear, I’ll stand and live forever on this eternal, life-giving, lung-filling, thirst-quenching, non-negotiable truth.
So, if this is my last Christmas, Karyn tells me to live my days to the full, to be care-free, as if my core convictions really do burn bright and hot at the center of my God-breathed soul.
December 2, 2010 at 9:40 am
“We’re not necessarily doubting that God will do the best for us; we are wondering how painful the best will turn out to be”. CS Lewis
I have found this quote to sum up my thoughts during these times of unknown. Caring people can remind you to trust. And the thing is, you are. But you also know that God’s ways are higher than ours, and that His Good is sometimes confusing to us. You KNOW this.
So I think for me the trust and peace definitely comes from knowing I am not alone. That the Comforter, the all-powerful God, knows my every need and walks into every dark and hard place with me. And with my family. So I am not trusting God to do what I would like, but to be present–meeting each need in the moment needed.
It can be a moment to moment battle to fight the lies and the borrowed trouble with Truth.
And then, face each day leaving all that unknown in His hands, living out what is True for today. Today you have Life to live.
Thanks for your honest post. I rejoice in your amazing recovery, and pray for strength to fight the battle of fear.
December 2, 2010 at 3:12 pm
Amen. Thanks for tracking with me, Dawn. I really like that C.S. Lewis quote.