It’s been two weeks and a day since I learned something very new and important about myself: I have cancer. It’s leukemia, and it’s treatable. It’s not a guarantee. Nothing is guaranteed.
Over those weeks, so much has happened, and so many feelings and realizations I have yet to document, even to myself. For now, I want to express something God gave me yesterday morning as I was trying to stay still in bed, lying next to my husband in the early morning. The night before, we read together from Job 40-42, where God at last answers Job’s laments with the only answer that really matters: I AM God.
It was a lot to take in as hubs read aloud, yet comforting and humbling. This now brings to mind one of my favourite lines in all of literature, from C.S. Lewis’s Til We Have Faces:
I know now, Lord, why you utter no answer. You are yourself the answer. What other answer would suffice?
Having slept on that truth from Scripture, particularly the very end,
Then Job answered the Lord and said, “I know that you can do all things, and that no purpose of yours can be thwarted. ‘Who is this that hides counsel without knowledge?’ Therefore I have uttered what I did not understand, things too wonderful for me, which I did not know. ‘Hear, and I will speak; I will question you, and you make it known to me.’ I had heard of you by the hearing of the ear, but now my eye sees you; therefore I despise myself, and repent in dust and ashes.”
I awoke with a jumble of contemplations, questions, and prayers. And the more I talked with God, the heavier I sensed His presence on me, like one laying a warm, steady hand on my back that was also a poultice for anxiety and despair.
And here is what came out of the depths of my heart:
who am i to deserve the beauty of the stars?
the adoring affection of my husband’s eyes.
the refuge of sleep.
the glory of colours.
the gift of words.
letters from friends.
the comfort of my mother.
the deep friendship of my sister.
the capacity of my legs.
the wonder of air plants.
of all plants.
the squishiness of puppy faces.
the smile of a favourite baby.
my whole family intact, and together right now in one house.
appliances that function.
the sweet chill of a popsicle.
feeling my husband’s feet when mine are cold.
the glimpses of my dad that show through sometimes.
a fire in the hearth every morning.
an afternoon of snow.
that nausea can end.
the freedom of my mind.
who am I to receive? i am free. i am undeserving of freedom, yet i am free. because the Lord is my hope, my soul will live forever and i have nothing to fear regarding separation from Him.
Then I wept, such profound sobs of acknowledgement of God’s greatness as I’ve not experienced in years. I have had a clear purpose for my daily life and longterm ideas before, but now, it’s focused even more narrowly. So all I could muster to speak after this visitation was, “I’m going to tell people how good You are.”
God is too much for me to handle.
And He is always enough.
More updates on specifics regarding my condition are available on caringbridge.org, if you search under my name. Here, I hope to simply do more of the same – to write about how God is our one true home. That’s all I care about and it’s all that matters.