I haven't been writing lately. I think I was kind of hoping that someone would ask if I died or something. But no. I guess I'll write anyway. I've been really tired and weary. I don't think I've had writers block as much as I don't want to share what's on my mind. It feels too controversial. Too honest. Too open. The "f" word has even popped into my head when I think about what I want to write about. See what I mean.
I want to be careful that my writing is in line with Philippians 4:8 "Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things."(emphasis mine)
My thoughts and my life hasn't lined up with that lately. It's been more of a struggle. I can't really explain why. I remember being told at my Mom's Helping Mom's support group (for those who have kids with cancer) that the end of treatment is just as hard as the beginning of treatment.
There's a sweet safety net that comes with being at the Clinic. I feel normal and hopeful when I go to the Hematology/Oncology Clinic. It's like I know what to expect and it makes me feel safe. It's there we "fight" the cancer. It's there that other Moms and Dad's sit with their baldheaded kids. It's there we all look normal.
And pretty soon (God-willing) in a month or so we will be done with chemo. We will have tests done. CT scans, MRI, bone scan, etc. and if all looks good his CVL will be surgically removed. And then we will return at regularly scheduled times to keep checking and evaluating. Making sure that there is no return of the tumor. No metastasizing.
And if I were to be honest with myself and honest with you... I'm depressed. When you see me you will most likely see a smile on my face. It's not fake. But at the same time I'm crying on the inside. I'm hurting in a way I can't explain. I'm tempted to be very afraid. Afraid of the return of cancer. Afraid of what would happen then. Afraid of the late effects of chemo and radiation. Afraid that my life will never be "normal". Afraid of the other shoe dropping.
I find myself constantly TRYING to surrender these fears to God. Some moments are more successful than others. I have a gratitude journal that I've been writing in and when I continue to recount the good things, the blessings, the things I'm thankful for and I appreciate I find my heart falls more in line with trusting God and being at peace. If He's been faithful before... He will be again.
When I fix my eyes on God. When I don't compare my mothering, my life & circumstances, my cooking, or homemaking with others I'm in a good place. When I compare, criticize, and condemn myself I am led off track. It doesn't help. It hinders. God has placed me where I am with the gifts I have and the struggles and circumstances that are for me. It's not a mistake. It's not a mistake that I'm the parent of Libby, Samuel, Ian, Michael, & Peter. It's part of God's plan.
So, Yep, I'm preaching at myself right now.
And even on these days that feel so dark I am reminded that I'm not alone. God walks with me. He has promised to never leave or forsake me.
So I press on. I move forward. Sometimes it's a purposeful stride. Sometimes it's merely stumbling on... but I keep going. Resting in the love of my Savior who will sustain me and enable me to persevere when I so desperately want to give up.