Sunday evening...it's nearly August

 

  On another hot sweltery late July evening, here I sit.  I hear my dear husband's chair creaking downstairs as he sets his mind to creating images on a canvas, filling in lines and shapes with colours and creativity.  I hear the neighbour's occasional loud noises, the garage filled with young adults who enjoy making a lot of noise and hullabaloo with their noisy tuned mufflers (how is that called tuned?  Seems like the mufflers all have huge holes in them, but hey, what do I know about cars?).  I feel the breezes blowing over me, not quite like zephyrs (sweet gentle breezes) but more maybe like a windy day at the beach, from my chair side fan which is keeping me in relative temperature control.  I know that down the hall, there's a very tired and fast asleep little 3 year old.  And I feel joy and contentment when I think about the world surrounding me at this moment.  Yet, how is it that tomorrow will bring so much to think about?  To worry about?  To prepare for somehow, mentally, physically, emotionally?
    For tomorrow is Monday already... start of a new week which should bring joy but makes me feel that the weeks fly by.  That time flies, not when fun things are going on but when we are waiting for bigger, more serious things.  How is it that this coming weekend is already the two month anniversary of having surgery?  Or the one month anniversary of starting chemo?  How is it that this is the new normal?  So many questions, so few good answers.  Tomorrow morning early brings a visit to MUMC and an ultrasound of our little Ava.  My dear youngest sister is coming with for moral support and a chance to see her newest niece up close. And my dear husband will meet me tomorrow afternoon as we meet with the oncologist.  And my dear mother will sit by my side through chemo number 3.   I'm so thankful for friends and family who have never left our sides and never left us alone in the midst of our great trial, our deep valley.  They have dared to walk alongside us, to help bear the burdens, to share the load and make things a little easier to bear.  And yet, we know that above all, there is a Saviour who walks beside, who carries us when the steps seem too heavy to take, when there is no clear path forward, when there seems to be no way to hope...Then there come words of comfort and love, of hope and joy in the midst of sorrow.  "In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness.  We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express." Romans 8:26.
     God knows my sorrows, my griefs, my pleadings in the dark and the tears that soak my pillow in quiet moments of desperation and sobs of sadness and yes, even in moments of self-pity and longing for circumstances to change, knowing that this is the path that we are set to walk on at this time and in this place.  I hear now and again that saying that God doesn't give us more than we can handle... but I was always not willing to believe this since this situation does seem more than I can handle... but I think we need to remember that God gives us the strength and comes alongside us in our griefs to help us bear the burdens.  We cannot do things on our own.  Over the years, I've watched as people go through exceedingly difficult circumstances and diagnoses and I've wondered how those people tackle these situations without a faith, without that true comfort.
   And yet, there have still been times i the last few months that it's been hard to profess even the words that I write, the texts I share.  I have to be honest and say that though my faith has been strengthened, it has also been tested and still been found wanting, still been found wandering in the dark when the comfort of God is within reach, when it has been so hard to believe some of the truths contained in God's Word.  And yet, that is why week after week, year after year, we are called to listen, to read the Word, to gather with His people and to confess that weakness before Him, to ask for help for another week and to go forth receiving that blessing of the Lord.  That blessing which speaks of the Lord blessing and keeping us, lifting His face towards us and giving us peace was what I needed to hear today.  As we sang "great is thy faithfulness" and "strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow" with tears running down my cheeks, I was encouraged nonetheless to step forward into this week, this cycle 3, this Monday of appointments with the obstetrician and the oncologist, with the strengthened knees and arms that the Lord has promised me.  It has forced me to look at myself, find myself needy and empty and knowing that to be filled by the Lord and his Spirit is oh so much grace, so much of my needs being fulfilled.

     And so, I can praise Him in the storm, albeit with a very weak and thready voice, with hands that tremble as they raise to offer praise, with knees that are oh so shaky and sometimes threatening to buckle and I pray that He will be my strength when I am weak.