Sing for the joy that's found in setting up the pins and knocking them down
Saturday, November 2, 2013
This file faces me as I sit at my computer and type. More ominously, this category hangs over and underlines the next several months of my life, actually the rest of my life. Even when this is a distant memory I will always have had cancer. Wife, mom, daughter, sister, friend, executive assistant, writer, photographer, Christian--all categories I'm happy to embrace and proudly promote. Cancer not so much.
When I took the call, I was sitting in a quiet unoccupied office. Oddly or fittingly I was in the exact same place where I was when I heard that my boss' wife had my exact same cancer several months ago. "Are you still at work and are you in a place where you can talk?" My heart sunk. "I'm so sorry to tell you..." The unlit room got even darker.
As I numbly drove home, the tears came and I think I pounded my fist on the steering wheel--all vain thrashings to try to get out of this box I had so cruelly been thrown into. I opened my mouth to pray, not knowing what would come out. Anger, fear, panic? What the overflow of my heart would be? My heart said, "Don't squander it. If I have to do this thing, God, don't squander it! Use every miserable inch of it to do something, something big."
So this is my sad post about moving in an instant from one type of life to another. People have these moments all the time, this was just mine that came on a dreary October afternoon. I now know lots of things about this category now and although I'd rather not, I know I can handle it. God made me strong for a time like this. I've seen the blessings and sweet things to be found in the bitterest of categories. And daily God is answering the pathetic, sad prayer that fell out of my mouth as I pounded my fists like a stubborn toddler. He is using this time to shape me, to show me that He is in control of my life, my health and my assigned categories.