The Cancer Question
It's 3:40 a.m. when my body jolts awake. I thought I heard my phone ringing. It takes me a moment to remember I put in on silent. Is it any wonder though that I jump to when the phone rings? I've only gotten 8 calls yesterday from the Children's Hospital.
I find my thoughts vacillating and desperately trying to pin them down on one end of the spectrum. The side that says, "God is good. He's got this. No matter what happens I will get through this. Samuel belongs to the Lord, not me. He knows the number of breaths we will take. He knows the hairs on our head. I can trust Him even when it's scary."
And then I swing to the other side. That creeping doubt. That dear Jesus please don't let us walk through this again. That I don't know if I could handle another cancer treatment. And thoughts of didn't we just get back to some kind of normal?
Samuel's hearing is worsening. Even with his hearing aid. I keep thinking about learning sign language and get overwhelmed by another potential necessity. On top of all the other things...
I'm tired and weak. Haven't been sleeping at well. Mike is out of town.
I stop. I breathe. This could all be nothing. This lump in his upper right back could be nothing. Maybe some minor surgery?
But it's causing pain. Is it attached to a nerve?
I literally don't know what we will hear when we get the results Monday. What I want is a "hey Napiers, this is easy peasy." But what I fear is, "We need you to come in to the conference room."
And if that's the words I hear then the audiologist, opthamologist, endocrinologist, neurologist, neurosurgeron, PT, and orthotics/splint clinic all take a back seat. It means all the needs of the other 4 as real and pressing as they can be also come in 2nd. Because a life is at stake.
The past 4 months have had me digging in God's Word like finding a well in the desert. It's restoring my soul. I play worship music when I drive. When I clean the house. When I sit at Starbucks sipping my Strawberry Green tea.
And it's been in preparation for the emotional whiplash the last couple months have held.
"He leadeth me beside still waters. He restores my soul for His name sake. Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life."
This battle. Girding up. Putting on armor. Helmet. Shield. Sword. And I've been fighting a while. Sometimes I feel strong in the Lord. But other times I'm reminded so desperately of my weakness and realize He's the One fighting for me. He's over me and behind me and beside me. He's casting off the darkness. He's protecting me from the fiery darts of the enemy.
So today, there is the MRI. 4 p.m. but won't start til like 5:30. My God has got this.
Samuel is nervous. So I'm bring lavendar oil, audiobooks and promising Him the only thing I can, that God will NEVER leave or forsake him.
I find my thoughts vacillating and desperately trying to pin them down on one end of the spectrum. The side that says, "God is good. He's got this. No matter what happens I will get through this. Samuel belongs to the Lord, not me. He knows the number of breaths we will take. He knows the hairs on our head. I can trust Him even when it's scary."
And then I swing to the other side. That creeping doubt. That dear Jesus please don't let us walk through this again. That I don't know if I could handle another cancer treatment. And thoughts of didn't we just get back to some kind of normal?
Samuel's hearing is worsening. Even with his hearing aid. I keep thinking about learning sign language and get overwhelmed by another potential necessity. On top of all the other things...
I'm tired and weak. Haven't been sleeping at well. Mike is out of town.
I stop. I breathe. This could all be nothing. This lump in his upper right back could be nothing. Maybe some minor surgery?
But it's causing pain. Is it attached to a nerve?
I literally don't know what we will hear when we get the results Monday. What I want is a "hey Napiers, this is easy peasy." But what I fear is, "We need you to come in to the conference room."
And if that's the words I hear then the audiologist, opthamologist, endocrinologist, neurologist, neurosurgeron, PT, and orthotics/splint clinic all take a back seat. It means all the needs of the other 4 as real and pressing as they can be also come in 2nd. Because a life is at stake.
The past 4 months have had me digging in God's Word like finding a well in the desert. It's restoring my soul. I play worship music when I drive. When I clean the house. When I sit at Starbucks sipping my Strawberry Green tea.
And it's been in preparation for the emotional whiplash the last couple months have held.
"He leadeth me beside still waters. He restores my soul for His name sake. Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life."
This battle. Girding up. Putting on armor. Helmet. Shield. Sword. And I've been fighting a while. Sometimes I feel strong in the Lord. But other times I'm reminded so desperately of my weakness and realize He's the One fighting for me. He's over me and behind me and beside me. He's casting off the darkness. He's protecting me from the fiery darts of the enemy.
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| CHKD MRI & Radiology Picture by Dave Chance Photography |
So today, there is the MRI. 4 p.m. but won't start til like 5:30. My God has got this.
Samuel is nervous. So I'm bring lavendar oil, audiobooks and promising Him the only thing I can, that God will NEVER leave or forsake him.
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