Prayers For A Little Boy

My blog post today is not a happy one because my heart is sad. And I need to share why.

Today, when I was coming out of radiation, I walked past a room and saw a little boy lying on a stretcher. He looked to be about 7 or 8 years old. He was so pale and so tired. But what struck me the hardest was the look in his eyes as I caught his glance. It was the look that tugs at every mother's heart. It said "I hurt and I am sick. Please help me feel better". His mom and dad were by his side stroking his arm, trying to comfort him as he silently lay there. The father had turned off the lights for the little boy, perhaps to minimize a headache, while they waited for radiation.

Right there in the middle of the hallway, I wanted to cry and yell at the same time. I thought of Dylan and Jayda, two of my precious grandchildren, close to that age. They were probably at school right now, running and playing and laughing on the playground, like children that age are supposed to do. Later, they would go to football practice, or baseball practice or cheerleading. They would laugh, they would run, they would jump, they would get dirty. That's what children do. Not This!!

I tried to keep myself together long enough to see the radiation oncologist. As soon as I was finished and left for my car, I had a meltdown. I sobbed. My tears flowed for that sweet little boy and his pain. For his mommy and daddy and their helplessness.

I was angry. My anger, directed at this awful disease. My parents always taught us that "hate" is a strong word. Well, I HATE CANCER!! I HATE that it robs little children of the joy of life. I HATE that it breaks the hearts of loving parents.

As I drove home, my tears continued to flow. Tears for my dad, for my mom, for John, for Eddie, for Jenny. For so many I have loved and lost to this disease. And I did the only thing I know to do when sadness overwhelms me. I cried out to Jesus. I didn't ask for understanding. For I am not even capable, in my humanness, of understanding His divine plan. I simply asked Him to bring peace and comfort to that sweet little boy and his parents. To hold them securely in His arms. To pick them up and carry them when the journey road becomes to rough. And, in His time, to gently place them on the other side.

I don't know this little boy's name. But it was no accident that he touched my heart in such a powerful way, with just a short glance at each other. I wanted to ask of you who are reading this post, that before you close your eyes tonight, please, could you whisper a prayer for him and his mommy and daddy? I don't know exactly how, but I do know, that God will hear our prayers, for that sweet little boy, and answer them.

My Suitcase

Today was the first day of the radiation boosts. I completed the 28 treatments of radiation to all four quadrants, which was good timing, because the skin was sufficiently done. Well-done actually. I initially thought there would be 5 radiation boosts but was told today there would be seven. "He usually does 5" she said, "but he's added a couple of extra on yours." So a couple more days added to the end, but in the grand scheme of things, nothing at all. The boosts are really quick since they only radiate the tumor area, so I was in and out on no time.

I came upon a quick little quote, right before I went into radiation. (Nothing happens by accident) It said, "God planned and packed you on purpose for His purpose." Hmmm... That's interesting, I thought. But as soon as the cross overhead came into view, God flooded my mind with understanding of those words.

God has always had a plan for my life. He has been preparing me "on purpose" to accomplish "His purpose". He has used this walk through the desert of cancer to help accomplish His purpose. But he gave me a suitcase and packed it perfectly for the journey.

Along the road, He has placed people in my life who are fighting or preparing to fight the same disease. The type may be different, the stage may be different, the treatment may be different, but the fear and questions are all the same. The "why me?", "what ifs", where's God, what "happened to my faith"?

I believe, God has allowed me to go through this desert, so I could share my faith, my knowledge, "the things in my suitcase" with others who are not as far along on the journey. I don't say this to boast, for I can only do what God enables me to do and nothing more. "If I must boast, I will boast of the things that show my weakness." (2 Corinthians 11:30)
I can't place my things in the suitcase, for then it becomes too heavy and won't close. But, He has packed my suitcase with just the right items to tell others how He has worked in my life along the journey.

It is exciting to know that my suitcase was pre-packed by the Almighty God. And when opened and used according to His plan, I will be allowed to play a small part in accomplishing His purpose in someone else's life. What an awesome privelege!!

Thank You Father for allowing me to be used by you. Let me never forget that you alone have planned each and every step I take and will equip me with all that I need to make the journey. Amen

The Music of a Quiet Prayer

We had a good weekend. Dinner with my baby sister, Dylan's football game and then the Gator game with Katie and the family. Time to spend with baby Cooper. A birthday lunch for our friend Pat and a great visit with our friend Deloris. Just a time to enjoy the company of special people.

Yesterday during our worship service, as we do each Sunday, the pastor invites the congregation to share any praises or prayer requests. My favorite part is to listen to the praises and hear how God has answered prayer and worked in the lives of our church family.

I was quite surprised though, when Carl stood up to offer a praise, because that is generally out of his comfort zone. He shared how much I loved to play the harp and how the surgery to remove the tumor and lymph nodes left a question as to whether the muscles and nerves would be left intact enough to continue playing. How the surgeon wasn't sure she would be able to make that happen. He shared how, through prayer, God enabled me to go through the baby steps of strengthening the muscles, and over time, allowed me to be able to progress enough to play again.

As Carl continued to speak, my eyes filled with tears. For it never occurred to me to ask God that I would be able to play the harp again. I was consumed with the fighting of this disease. But Carl, in his wisdom and love for me, knew how important the gift of music was in my life. How one day I would miss it. And so he quietly prayed. He continued to pray. He offered up prayer on my behalf, without me even knowing, and God answered that prayer. I was able to play my big harp in worship last Sunday.

Oh, the incredible power of prayer when lifted up on behalf of someone else. God knows our needs and desires of our heart even when we can't see them for ourselves. How thankful I am that God knew that I would one day want to play the harp again. And grateful that He blessed me with a godly husband who lifted me before the Father to ask for that prayer to be answered.

And from this day on, each and every time I sit at my harp to play, I will pause to give God thanks for the music of a quiet prayer lifted on my behalf.