Control... or the lack thereof

Today is Samuel's CT scan. I've been falling apart all week so I'm kind of glad that the day itself is here. In less than 12 hours I will know if all is as it has been or if the thing that still gives me nightmares has returned (cancer). I have no reason to think anything has changed. Samuel is doing well. Energy high. Happy. Full of life and joy and lots of smile and laughters.

It's the knowledge that things aren't in our favor. That the scale points in the bad direction (cancer returning). So there's this wrestling that happens. I know that God is big enough and powerful enough to  keep Samuel from cancer and to completely heal his body. But I also know that I don't control the will of God... and I do believe that God loves Samuel more than I do and has his best in mind... but that doesn't necessarily equal what I think it should.

I'm not sure if I'm coherent. I slept less than 3 hours last night and have this stabbing pain shooting through the base of my skull into my neck. It's not fun. My heart is fixed on Christ... my body just doesn't get the message.

I tell myself, "God is in control. His plans are greater than what I can know and understand."

But I also know, "His ways are not our ways."

How do you reconcile? When it comes down to it do I truly believe God is enough? Do I truly believe He is in control and also believe that He is good?

I wrestle.

Because let me tell you... all this is well and good when it's just thoughts and philosophy in your head... but when it comes to the life and death of your child it's another thing. I believe God is faithful. I know He has promised in His Word to never leave or forsake me. I know and believe that He has already met my deepest need. He has died in my place and rose again. I have His perfect record on my account. When I die I won't pay for my sins because Christ has already paid the price. I will be with God forever. Yet, here in this world where you must currently live by faith, trusting in what you can not see, it is a struggle.

I wish I could say my faith does not waiver... but it does. I feel I am holding on desperately. Sometimes hanging by the tips of my fingers but I have come to realize that my "holding" is an illusion. I am not the one holding... He is holding me. And His grip is firm. Constant. And He won't let go.

I remember as a small child holding my Dad's hand at the ocean. The waves would come crashing against us and I was excited and terrified by the pounding waves and surf. When I tried to hold onto my Dad I wasn't strong enough. I could easily be wrenched away by a wave from my feeble grasp. But when my Dad held onto me his grip was firm that even with the biggest waves I wouldn't be torn from his side.

And here I am in the water once again. I think I'm holding my Father's hand but in reality He is holding me. And I know that the waves are crashing and that they will hit me and wash over me. But I know He's there... never letting go.


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