Looking in the mirror I almost look like nothing every happened. I revisited my friend, Kathy's, account of that Thursday morning seems almost ancient to me.
We've all heard the pep-tales of mighty over comers....called 'survivors' in the cancer tribe. I'm all for surviving, but it is clear to me I am here one year out from a catastrophic diagnosis not because of positive thought practice as my thoughts rarely run that stream. I am a few days out from another seizure and as I sit here in the pit of my stomach I am anxious at the prospect of another. I am tuned into every weird sensation in my head and limbs, each little vision tick and I will be for several days until each stacks up some normalcy.
I've been given many books and advice from those survivors and those who walked in the mud along side them, but often I wonder when I see no glimmer of bone and marrow, of "humanness" regarding such a horror as cancer. Often there is a shallowness in their words I cannot get a grip on. I just wonder how honest some of my surviving friends are being.
One book given to me written by an artist with cancer held up her own greatness (disguised as a sacrificial work ethic and super humanity) by writing pages of details of her chemo misery only to showcase her marathon of painting commissions despite the sickness. Or covering up disappointment and anger with humor. Nothing wrong with humor, but twenty pages in, I threw the book in the toilet. Honesty IS such a lonely word..... We are all broken, we all struggle. This is the world we live in.
I live because the Lord gives me life and when I am afraid I remember one sleepless night last summer.
"Lord, this cancer could kill me. I could die from this and soon."
Jesus said clearly, "No one, nothing takes your life. You belong to me. Nothing touches a hair on your head unless I give permission. and in it, you will find Me your ever present Help and I will teach you to surrender."
This is why I am alive. Because the Lord said 'live." It's the only reason you are, too.
I have learned to kiss the wave that throws me against the Rock of Ages. :Spurgeon
With Dad and Mom the day before surgery.