Our Cancer Journey, Part Two: He will Hold Us Fast

Last time, I shared about the whirlwind that began with John's diagnosis, and I touched briefly on the faithfulness of God in those early days. I'd like to share more today about God's faithfulness to us, and how he used those 28 days of John's initial treatment in each of us, and in our marriage.

Separate but Together in the Lord
First, I have to say that John and I handled this crisis in very different ways. John is a rock solid, fearless man, at least in my eyes. He has always been a place of safety for me, and I have never worried that he would be unfaithful in any way, or that I would ever be in any danger with him. He is always the calm to my storm, and with few exceptions has never given in to fear or panic. Now, think of the opposite of that, and you have me. I have bounced back and forth between anxiety and depression for as long as I can remember. Led by my emotions, my life was a crazy coaster before salvation, and since I've been saved, it's more like a game of whack-a-mole: I gain victory over fear in one situation, and it pops back up in another one. Clearly these weren't victories, but cease-fires. More on that later.

Being wired so differently had an impact on how we handled this season. John simply put his head down, did what the doctors said, and kept silent. I didn't want to express my fears and sorrow to him, because he needed me to be positive and strong. This was a first for us. This role of the "strong one" was foreign to me and I had no idea how to fill it. Not only that, but my strong protector and place of safety was sick, weak, and unable to provide refuge for me. I began to see that I had been looking to my husband for things only God can give. I was grateful that the Lord allowed me to see this, and I wrote many lines in my journal confessing and repenting of it. We each got through it in our own way, sort of separate but together, as God held us both close to His heart. 

Deep Pain, Abundant Mercies
Those days were bittersweet. We spent more time together than we had in years, yet the reason for our togetherness was dark and heavy. The nurses wanted him to walk the halls several times a day, so we walked together, mostly quiet except for the squeaky wheels of the IV pole that always accompanied us. At the end of the day, we would do one last trip, ending at the door to the air locked unit, where we would kiss goodbye. He would walk alone back to his room, and I would walk alone out into the winding maze of the concrete parking structure, to find my car and drive home. There were few nights I didn't cry as I left. Nothing has ever been as heartbreaking to me as looking back at my poor sweet hubby standing in the hallway in a hospital gown, waving good bye. Most nights, I continued to cry, releasing all the tears I'd held back that day, as I made the 30-minute drive home. I know the Lord was protecting me, because there was no stopping the tears and I made the drive safely every night.

Looking back, I am so grateful for all that the Lord did in my heart and mind during that time. There were no lightning bolts or visions but all along the way, he did small but important things to soften the blow of this illness. John's employer (of just 3 months at the time) was very supportive, and there was never any concern that we would lose our insurance or that he wouldn't have a job when this was all over. There were many days that the Lord miraculously provided a parking space for me in the very crowded parking structure that was always under construction. The bathroom on the unit was off limits to family members, so there was a long walk to the nearest restroom. At first I was afraid this would be too much for my knee, but I never had a moment of pain in the walking, and it really turned out to be a blessing. There were many times I needed that walk to get control of my emotions so I wouldn't cry in front of John. God continually showed Himself faithful in these ways and many more.

When those first 28 days were over, John was declared "in remission" and we were sent home. But the journey was far from over. We had many days of testing and other treatments ahead of us, and also the continued search for a donor. Next time, I'll share with you how God shepherded us through those difficult and fearful steps. 

p.s. I'd like to share with you a book that we read at the time that was very helpful. If you're going through a long, difficult trial, I highly recommend Red Sea Rules.

Comparatively Speaking

So, at long last, Christmas is over. The presents have been opened and feasts and parties for 2016 are memories now. I hope you made some good memories with your family and friends. How did you do with the stress of shopping and choosing gifts? I hope you were able to set aside unrealistic expectations and truly enjoy the holiday. But even if you did manage to do that, the holidays are often difficult for another reason.

At Christmastime, we see many people that we don’t see at any other time of year. It can be fun to catch up on what’s happening in their lives, but if we’re not careful, that catching up can cause us to stumble. I found this to be true for me this year, and I thought I would share with you, partly as a way of confessing and partly to see if perhaps any of you have struggled in this way.

Most of my family members are very fitness oriented. They are runners, cyclists, and exercise enthusiasts. Some are marathoners. I, too, have always enjoyed exercise, but my physical challenges limit me to the pool for the most part. I used to love to power walk, cycle, and do aerobics. I’ve had to give those up since my failed knee replacement and the encroachment of osteoarthritis in various joints. As I wrote about here, the loss of my mobility has been a real grieving process for me.

Enter Christmas, and the annual update of all my fitness enthusiast family members, most of whom are older than me. One shared about her continued progress in running; another eagerly told us about her new Cross Fit class and what a blast it is. The marathon runners chimed in too, with pictures of their finish lines and sense of accomplishment. Then, there’s me. I kept quiet in these conversations for the most part, other than offering the obligatory congratulations and encouraging words. In my heart, though, there was a desperate struggle going on between my flesh and my faith.

I have many Scripture verses and passages memorized for moments such as this. For some reason though, they were nowhere to be found. My flesh, which has a maddening tendency toward self-focus and self-pity, won out over the voice of faith, which was trying to tell me that their activities have nothing to do with me. But, alas, it could not outshout my fleshly response, which said, “Why do they get to do these things, while my body becomes more and more disabled with every passing Christmas? It’s not fair!” I am embarrassed to even type those words, but they are the honest truth. Sometimes, I just can’t get past the feelings of loss and grief.

So now, here we are a few days later, and I am back on track. How did I get there? By repenting, and focusing my mind and my heart on Christ instead of on other people or myself. This renewed focus shines a spotlight on what was wrong with my thinking. Here are just a couple of truths the Lord has shown my heart as I’ve thought about how I got to that place of sorrow:

1. Comparing ourselves to others will almost always cause us to sin.

Whether we think we are better off or worse off than someone else, comparison always leads to sin. If I think that I am in better shape than someone else, this will encourage me to be self-reliant, and I will forget my need of Christ. For example, if I see someone in a wheelchair and say to myself, “Well, at least I can walk,” then I will see myself as stronger than she is, and I will be less likely to lean on the Lord. Additionally, the fear of losing my ability to walk may creep into my mind as I look on her state as being worse than mine. After all, it could happen to me, too.

If I see myself as worse off than someone else, then I may become jealous of her, as I did on Christmas, and this can lead to bitterness. The other thing that jealousy does is take relationship and evangelism out of the picture. If I am jealous of someone’s physical ability, then my attitude toward her will be negative at best. How will I represent Christ to her, or even nurture a relationship with her, if my countenance reveals resentment and my motivation to approach her is squashed by envy?

2. There is a direct correlation between sorrow over loss and gratitude for blessings.

As I listened to these conversations on Christmas, I became more and more sorrowful about my losses. Accordingly, my grief got bigger and bigger, and my gratitude got proportionally smaller and smaller. I’d thought that I’d become pretty good at being grateful. I’d begun to thank God for the pool every time my toe hit the water, and I’d developed the good habit of sharing with others how grateful I am for the many ways He has sent comfort in my distresses. In retrospect, I am amazed at how quickly I went from gratitude to grumbling in a single conversation on Christmas day. Reflecting on it, I could almost hear the “whoosh” as gratitude left the building. This just shows me the truth that my will is weak, and my flesh is frail when it comes to combating sinful thoughts in this area.

3. When we are focused on self, we shut down our perception of others’ sorrow.

One of my fitness oriented relatives is estranged from her husband. He has chosen sin over his family, and she was alone on Christmas, without her children, who were with him. By being consumed with jealousy about her marathon, I completely disregarded the pain she must have been feeling as she looked around the room at the happy families sharing Christmas together there, one of which was mine. I had no sense of gratitude for my wonderful husband or my adult children in that moment; no compassion or care for her and her pain, though it is different from mine. When we become consumed with ourselves, my dear sisters, we miss many opportunities to express love and caring for those who may be hurting in a different way than we are.

I am very grateful to the Holy Spirit for His conviction of my sin in this area once again. I also thank the Lord for His forgiveness of me, which is ongoing. Part of my repentance has been prayer for my able-bodied relatives, none of whom know the Lord. I am so thankful that God saved me when He did. I hope that I would be willing to go through much more suffering if it would result in the salvation of my family members, through my testimony of gratitude for Him and love for them. I know that He is able to save them, just as He saved me. Hallelujah! What a Savior!