Onward

     “Take note of the fortified walls, and tour all the citadels, that you may describe them to future generations. For that is what God is like. He is our God forever and ever, and He will guide us until we die.” (Psalm 48:13-14 NLT) 

Recent weeks have given me a lot of things to chew on mentally. Days filled with doctor’s appointments, driving, sitting, praying, waiting, listening, staring at people who practice medicine for a living, still praying, crying, praying, being angry, being sad, praying, waiting. Lots of praying because I have a lot of questions. Like “how do I do this God?” I feel incapable of processing “is something wrong with me?” My brain is furry. All of the sudden I’m forgetting things- like words, or names and sometimes sentences just come out all wrong.. I don’t even realize it until the person I’m talking to has this confused look on their face or there is silence on the other end of the phone. It’s as if all this new information is tossed in and jumbled with the old so nothing really makes sense. 

Even when life feels confusing, my faith in God calls me to action, to keep moving onward. “Onward Christian soldiers, marching as to war. With the cross of Jesus going on before.”  I didn’t know when I learned that refrain at the age of 7 what it meant. Yet as I’m reminded of it I begin to move onward and I begin to feel stronger.  I wonder if this is how everyone experiences hard things.  Do other sojourners feel like their in quicksand or like they can’t breathe?  Do they forget to go to grocery store or check the mail?  Gracious people are at every turn reminding me that it’s ok to feel. It’s ok to not have the answers and it’s ok to forget someone’s invitation when you’re in this life fog of cancer.  I now with new eyes am experiencing what others before me have gone through. My appreciation for the fighter spirit of survivors is ignited and I hope we can be that for someone else. 

Experience tells us  there are many different things to do or say when someone is processing circumstances but I’m realizing the most profound way to gain strength truly is from my relationship with God. As I read recently I came across these words in Psalm 48 and it comforted me greatly. (Pardon my paraphrasing)

So I “will take note of the fortified walls (God’s Word, family, friends, the church), and tour all the citadels” (the times God has been a fortress, protecting me from heavy attacks..what an incredible word picture!) The armor of God is like a citadel for my life. It is my pleasure and purpose to tell future generations about God’s power and protection. To tell them what God is like. That even when our life seems upside down and inside out, awkward and downright difficult or confusing - Our God is with us. He knows the way we are going. What a comfort that is. What strength I draw from that. He is my Guide.”

Whichever side of the battle I’m on I have a choice to make and so do you.  Jesus has you in His grasp. 

That day

 Walking up to the front desk I realized this could take lots of minutes. The room was full of masked faces. Is this really the world I live in now? As I move up one spot in line someone caught my attention and said “can I help you?” Anxious I walk up to the counter and ask if I can go to the room my husband is in. She inquires who I’m looking for.  I tell her the name and she leads me down a hallway to a room that holds my husband as well as the doctor, nurse and a med student. Dr Something-Something was mumbling about being proactive and that he believes blah, blah, blah, then yaddah, yadda, yadda and my vision narrows as he begins to explain what he thinks is the likely diagnosis of the enlarged lymph node on my best friends’ neck. He notices my expression and his dialogue becomes more upbeat and positive. (Does he recognize this look in my eyes?)

I look at the Preacher and he is listening and smiling with his eyes and nodding his head. Proclaiming that he is a fighter and understands when Dr So and So says “know that this will not be a sprint but a marathon.” To his credit the Preacher stays positive and shares that he has run marathons and understands what Dr Such and Such is telling us. 

I feel frozen in time. Tears burning the rims of my eyes I can’t even breath. He finished up his discourse regaling to us that he will be in Colorado with his kids and wife the next week or two so it’s likely his trusted nurse will call us with the “news”. What does that even mean? Does he realize how his comments make him sound like a pompous, affluent, out of touch jerk?  Okay so I’m a little testy at this point. When medically scary words get tossed around like confetti it’s like someone singing silly songs to someone who just lost their dog.

He shakes the Preacher’s hand, then mine and waltzes out the door. The nurse leads us to another room to make appointments. Ms. Doing-Stuff is tappity tapping away and asking the most mundane questions. It’s taking everything inside of me and the grace of God to not yell at the woman when she informs us that the Preacher has to be off blood thinners for 5 days prior to the biopsy... my brain exploded. I explain to her that no one has indicated anything like this in the 3 weeks leading up to this appointment. She looks pensive and the Preacher looks at me as of to say “It’s okay, I will be okay”. But I DON’T feel ok right now. The snails pace that they are handling this is frustrating me. I want to tell her if it was her family member she would understand. It’s like December and Covid all over again. Spinning wheels inside my head with so many questions. And no answers.

The timetable of the medical world and the insurance world is no respecter of men. She schedules the appointments and we rise and walk out. I try to stay calm. I want to warn all the masked faces peering at us, to get ready for a less than stellar visit with Dr Such and So. I don’t. I take the Preacher’s arm and keep walking. 

I swallow the tears and ask God to help me not fall apart on the one that needs me to be strong with him, for him. He smiles and tells me it’s going to be alright. He reminds me that all of us have numbered days and that he wants to enjoy all the ones God gives him. I know he’s right. I love him even more than I thought possible. I still want answers. We arrived in separate cars so we leave together, alone. 

Driving away I can hardly think. Right now I’m angry. For lots of reasons. Some of them understandable by anyone. Some of them known only to me. Time slows down. I go to Harp’s. Buy some things I don’t need. I can’t find the list I had. Madness, sadness, questions and overwhelming tiredness. 

It seems possible to surrender all of this to the Lord after some hours of quiet time and the prayers of family and friends. Decision made.’Not mine to carry. “His yoke is easy, His burden is light’.  Therein will I remain.