I shared a bit in my last blog about what a strange time this is for me. It is difficult to describe in words. It is not disturbing, just unsettling. Since finishing treatment and all the busyness that surrounds that, it has been a very quiet time. I know that it is a time to rest and heal from the journey through the desert. I know that it is not possible physically, right now, to go and do like I did before. But this uneasy feeling wasn't coming from that.
As I thought about it, I realized that for so long, my purpose has been spent trying to share what God was doing in me and through me on this journey. And now I am coming out of the desert and I ask myself, "What next?" I even wondered if God would still give me words to share on my blog.
It seems like I am wandering around in the dark with a blindfold on, being led by God to a place I don't know. I think my reliance upon Him, these last few days, has been every bit as strong, as any time during this journey.
"What is your purpose for me now, Lord? Will you have words for me to share? Will you still be able to use me?, I prayed.
Then, I began my morning devotions and read these words from Os Hilman,
Joshua was known for almost 40 years as "Joshua, servant of Moses." God's preparation for him required years of selfless service, training in the desert, and tests of faith. Those preparation years were booster rockets designed to move Joshua into each new stage of his development and his ultimate calling.
God allows each of us preparation times to lay a foundation that He plans to build on. Some of those foundation times appear to be laborious and meaningless, yet these experiences are what God is using to frame your life for the message He plans to speak through you. Without these experiences, the Jordan River can never be crossed and we cannot enter the Promised Land. Embrace these times of seeming inactivity from God. They, too, are a rocket booster to your next stage of your walk with God.
"Being confident of this, that He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus" (Philippians 1:6).
As I began to read this morning's devotional, tears filled my eyes. For, I knew after reading the first sentence, that God was speaking directly to me. By the time I finished, I was on my knees in humble gratitude for God Almighty hearing and answering my prayer.
Heavenly Father,
I look forward to what you will do in the "next stage" of my life. For I know you will complete the work you have begun in me. But for now, in this stage, I will "embrace" this time. I will surround, encircle and enclose myself in your loving arms. Thank you for holding me while I wait on you.
Amen
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Monday, September 28, 2009
Doing Something
It's Monday and there will be no going down to MD Anderson for anything. No radiation, no doctor visit, no labs. Nothing. It's a strange feeling. For the last 9 months, a part of nearly everyday, was spent "doing something" to get rid of the cancer. Somehow there was security in that. Today, I feel like I should be "doing something". Like if I go back down and have another treatment it will keep it from coming back.
I remember the feeling after I graduated from nursing school. Every day was spent reading textbooks, studying, writing papers, going to clinicals at the hospital. When I graduated, I felt "free" for a day or so. Glad to be finished. But, after a few days, I felt like I should be "doing something". Studying, reading, writing. Something that would make me a better nurse.
Today, I have the same feeling. Like I should be "doing something".
And, then the Holy Spirit speaks softly to me. Gentle, words of warning. "I" can be a dangerous word. "Doing something" is a phrase that could be trouble. My eyes fall on the card that Ann gave me on my last day of radiation. In it she wrote " Let not worries fill your heart or anxiety take over your soul. But trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding." There is no "I" in that scripture. God wants me to lean on Him and trust Him.
"Be still and know that I am God" (Psalms 46:10) There is no "doing something" in those words.
And so I will sit in the swing, taking in His Holy presence, listening to the sweet song of the birds, enjoying the aroma of the gardenia flowers on the fence, basking in the warmth of the morning sunshine. Trusting Him for all my tomorrows. That is exactly what He wants me to be doing.
I remember the feeling after I graduated from nursing school. Every day was spent reading textbooks, studying, writing papers, going to clinicals at the hospital. When I graduated, I felt "free" for a day or so. Glad to be finished. But, after a few days, I felt like I should be "doing something". Studying, reading, writing. Something that would make me a better nurse.
Today, I have the same feeling. Like I should be "doing something".
And, then the Holy Spirit speaks softly to me. Gentle, words of warning. "I" can be a dangerous word. "Doing something" is a phrase that could be trouble. My eyes fall on the card that Ann gave me on my last day of radiation. In it she wrote " Let not worries fill your heart or anxiety take over your soul. But trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding." There is no "I" in that scripture. God wants me to lean on Him and trust Him.
"Be still and know that I am God" (Psalms 46:10) There is no "doing something" in those words.
And so I will sit in the swing, taking in His Holy presence, listening to the sweet song of the birds, enjoying the aroma of the gardenia flowers on the fence, basking in the warmth of the morning sunshine. Trusting Him for all my tomorrows. That is exactly what He wants me to be doing.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
GREAT IS THY FAITHFULNESS!!
Great is thy faithfulness. Day after day after day. Today, 276 days after discovering a lump that turned out to be cancer, God has brought me out of the desert.
Today was the last day of treatment. Three surgeries, 7 months of chemo. 7 weeks of radiation, and today was the last.
I came out of the changing room and walked down the hallway, as I have every day for the last 7 weeks, but this time, at the end of the hallway, there were many special people waiting to share my joy. Carl and our good friend Deloris. Ann, Nadine and Nancy came over from work, along with Bentley, our NICU chaplain.
My oldest son, Eric came with Katie and baby Cooper. My son Brent and his wife Sabrina had just arrived from North Carolina the night before and they were there along with my grandsons Lincoln and baby Ches.
In my excitement, I walked into the radiation room and started to get on the table, when Jared, the therapist said, "Wait! You forgot your blanket. We can't do this without your blanket." And he was right. My quilt has gone with me to every surgery, chemo, radiation and doctor's visit since the beginning. I couldn't do the last treatment without it. So, I went back out, got the quilt and they covered me with it one last time.
Little did I know that while I was on the table, my therapists Jared, Dennis and Therese were snapping pictures with my camera. They made radiation fun every day. And I will always be grateful to them for their kindness, smiles and good humor.
When I finished the treatment we went out to ring the bell. As my friends and loved ones gathered around I rung that bell just as hard as I could pull three times. We all came together and Bentley had a beautiful prayer.
Although, today's events are a bit out of sequence, I wanted to end today's post with the cross.
When the treatment began and that wonderful cross overhead came into view for the last time, tears began to flow. Every emotion that I felt was expressed in that little cross etched in the ceiling. Without the cross of Jesus, I would not have been made it through the desert. That cross has provided me with strength to go on when my strength was gone. That cross has given me wonderful husband, family and friends who have lifted me up in prayer. It has given me forgiveness, when I have doubted. That cross has carried my burdens, when the load was too heavy. It has been a reminder every single day of His love and great faithfulness to me.
At the close of this special day, I will be on my knees praising God for what He has done in me and through me on this journey.
And if I am given a new morning, I will place my hope in Him and enjoy His fresh new mercies once again.
Today was the last day of treatment. Three surgeries, 7 months of chemo. 7 weeks of radiation, and today was the last.
I came out of the changing room and walked down the hallway, as I have every day for the last 7 weeks, but this time, at the end of the hallway, there were many special people waiting to share my joy. Carl and our good friend Deloris. Ann, Nadine and Nancy came over from work, along with Bentley, our NICU chaplain.
My oldest son, Eric came with Katie and baby Cooper. My son Brent and his wife Sabrina had just arrived from North Carolina the night before and they were there along with my grandsons Lincoln and baby Ches.
In my excitement, I walked into the radiation room and started to get on the table, when Jared, the therapist said, "Wait! You forgot your blanket. We can't do this without your blanket." And he was right. My quilt has gone with me to every surgery, chemo, radiation and doctor's visit since the beginning. I couldn't do the last treatment without it. So, I went back out, got the quilt and they covered me with it one last time.
Little did I know that while I was on the table, my therapists Jared, Dennis and Therese were snapping pictures with my camera. They made radiation fun every day. And I will always be grateful to them for their kindness, smiles and good humor.
When I finished the treatment we went out to ring the bell. As my friends and loved ones gathered around I rung that bell just as hard as I could pull three times. We all came together and Bentley had a beautiful prayer.
Although, today's events are a bit out of sequence, I wanted to end today's post with the cross.
When the treatment began and that wonderful cross overhead came into view for the last time, tears began to flow. Every emotion that I felt was expressed in that little cross etched in the ceiling. Without the cross of Jesus, I would not have been made it through the desert. That cross has provided me with strength to go on when my strength was gone. That cross has given me wonderful husband, family and friends who have lifted me up in prayer. It has given me forgiveness, when I have doubted. That cross has carried my burdens, when the load was too heavy. It has been a reminder every single day of His love and great faithfulness to me.
At the close of this special day, I will be on my knees praising God for what He has done in me and through me on this journey.
And if I am given a new morning, I will place my hope in Him and enjoy His fresh new mercies once again.
Great is Thy Faithfulness!!
(Lamentations 3:21-24)
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