September 11...

   

   Hard to believe it's already September 11... a day that lives on in most of our hearts... a day when you would ask someone "where were you that day?" and they know exactly what you mean.  I was at work that day, still remember the room number (3) and the patient that told me that there were strange things happening that morning.  I remember watching in numb silence in our sun room at work, on the old floor, while the second tower was hit and feeling so awful, so helpless, so terrified.  Already that was in 2001... but if I really think about it, I'm right back there - seeing so many people hurt, so much devastation.  And even today, this September 11, the world seems to be in tumult - so many many storms, so many wild fires, so many floods, so much loss of life.  And as a little life turns and bobbles around in my stomach, I think about the world that she is coming into... and sometimes, yes, I'm kinda terrified.  So much war, unrest, terror, disaster and yet we believe that God is in control, we're forced to that conclusion - it's hard to believe at times, it's hard to figure out why, it's hard to understand His ways...And as I read my devotions this morning, and I will share the text - I found it hard to believe that I had read these words before but never before had they been so applicable... I felt tears in my eyes and yet, an uplift in my spirit as I meditated on these words... I am going to include the whole thing because when I tried to just pick a section, it was too hard... so bear with me - it's gonna be a long post..

Psalm 77   For the director of music. For Jeduthun. Of Asaph. A psalm.

1 I cried out to God for help;
    I cried out to God to hear me.
2 When I was in distress, I sought the Lord;
    at night I stretched out untiring hands,
    and I would not be comforted.

3 I remembered you, God, and I groaned;
    I meditated, and my spirit grew faint.[b]
4 You kept my eyes from closing;
    I was too troubled to speak.
5 I thought about the former days,
    the years of long ago;
6 I remembered my songs in the night.
    My heart meditated and my spirit asked:

7 “Will the Lord reject forever?
    Will he never show his favor again?
8 Has his unfailing love vanished forever?
    Has his promise failed for all time?
9 Has God forgotten to be merciful?
    Has he in anger withheld his compassion?”

10 Then I thought, “To this I will appeal:
    the years when the Most High stretched out his right hand.
11 I will remember the deeds of the Lord;
    yes, I will remember your miracles of long ago.
12 I will consider all your works
    and meditate on all your mighty deeds.”

13 Your ways, God, are holy.
    What god is as great as our God?
14 You are the God who performs miracles;
    you display your power among the peoples.
15 With your mighty arm you redeemed your people,
    the descendants of Jacob and Joseph.

16 The waters saw you, God,
    the waters saw you and writhed;
    the very depths were convulsed.
17 The clouds poured down water,
    the heavens resounded with thunder;
    your arrows flashed back and forth.
18 Your thunder was heard in the whirlwind,
    your lightning lit up the world;
    the earth trembled and quaked.
19 Your path led through the sea,
    your way through the mighty waters,    though your footprints were not seen.

20 You led your people like a flock
    by the hand of Moses and Aaron.

(I apologize for the spacing and the formatting - my computer seems not to like cutting and pasting and has decided to screw up the rest of this post)  

    I love verse 19.. a new favourite... I think that we for sure don't always understand why God is doing what He is doing..I sure don't always understand why our family is having to go through so much this year... so much suffering, so much unknown, so much to be feared and worried about and yet so much to trust, so much to know that God works in little and big ways... He has blessed us, with such a community that there is always a prayer army surrounding us, in the most unexpected places, we have wonderful doctors and nurses, we had a successful surgery, Ava is growing well, we are waaaaay further than we ever believed or hoped we could be.  Today we are blessed to say we are at 33 weeks of pregnancy - 33 weeks of faithfulness, of carrying our little girl inside while storms roiled around her, while so many prayers have been said for her, so many hands have encouraged her parents as she has been slowly and steadily growing.  As per the OB this morning, she's weighing in around 4.5 pounds... amazing!  I think about images that I see of parents who post pictures of their dear little ones struggling in the NICU, born so early and so teeny tiny and I am so thankful that God has been faithful, allowing her to grow in the midst of craziness.  We now have an arrival date - seems so strange to me when we were SO overdue with Martha that we thought we'd be elephants.  October 10 is the date set for our induction - it's nice in a way to have a bit of a plan, though of course we know all things are subject to change.  The OB picked up the phone and made our formal booking arrangements and so now we know approximately our little ones birthday.  I will admit to being very happy to have something a little concrete ahead of us (in relativity).  We weren't able to get a good ultrasound picture today as Ava is getting bigger and is now hanging out in my stomach head down - we were thankful that last Friday when I met with the midwife, that she had changed positions, to assume a position more conducive to labour and delivery - not that things can't change but I could feel her hiccoughs lower and sure enough, there she was on the ultrasound.  As always, she's very busy, her movements are getting bigger and my stomach contorts in all kinds of odd ripples - but I love it!  She's reassuring me every day that she's a fighter, a mover and a shaker and that's what we like!  So much for a more docile, sedate second child!  

     As always, Mondays are a mixed bag of a day.  We dropped Martha off at the daycare in the midst of screams of protest tearing at my mother heart strings and dredging up all the guilt and sadness of having to have our little girl in daycare full time - when my dream was always to be like my mom, to be at home with my kids, to spend that quality time with them, to do little and big things and just be at home... and now even our little girl is affected by this cancer, this monster and it forces her to grow up, to be out on her own, to spread her wings  a little bit but like a butterfly that takes a bit of time to dry off before it can fly, that's our Martha... taking some time to settle into new routines, new teachers, new kids, to be one of the number and the crowd and not to be quite so much in control - hard for a little girl with a very very determined personality and a stubbornness that astonishes us.  She told us a story on the way to church yesterday and said afterwards to us, "do you accept that?"  Hilarious the things that this kid comes up with.  And so we struggle, day after day, dealing with her strong emotions and her fears, trying to help her through this time as much as we're just trying to slog alongside her, to figure this out, to build her confidence, to help her fly in her new environment.  We're thankful for good and patient teachers who fill us with confidence and assure us daily that "it takes a few weeks".  So we hang in there - and our hearts are a little wrenched and bent out of shape as we go through this change with her. 

      Mondays also bring appointments at the oncologist in preparation for chemo.  And this week was no exception.  My dear friend picked me up (ever faithful pool of chauffeurs to help us through this time is wonderful!) and we headed up the hill.  Quite a contrast to go from the baby hospital to the cancer hospital.  The paradox never fails to strike me - to walk through the doors with a pregnant belly... I usually want to cry but instead we go forward.. go through the motions of bloodwork (my poor vein needs a tap...it's getting worn out!), picking up meds, waiting for the doctor for long periods... All was well with my bloodwork and my antibiotics are done.  The cough and cold which have been lingering are much improved and we got the go-ahead for chemo #6 tomorrow morning.  So I'll spend my 40th birthday in a very different way than I ever imagined...sitting in a group surrounded by many others with toxic chemicals dripping in and yet breathing a little sigh as we have about a month break from chemo after this in preparation for Ava's birth.  Part of me is nervous about the break - don't let this cancer monster get any sort of foothold or headway in the absence of chemo but part of me will be happy - maybe my poor fingers and toes might be able to tolerate the cold better, maybe my tongue and mouth will return to a normal state from it's current kinda numb state - it's like my tastebuds have been given lidocaine and are are feeling like they're knocked out... not so fun to eat like that, I'll tell you.  Not looking forward to inheriting sore calves and legs that seem to worsen with every cycle, causing me to stumble out of bed the first three mornings like a semi-drunk lady, groaning and moaning as I feel like I've climbed the CN Tower in a some sort of silly dare.  Not looking forward to avoiding cold food again for a week and a half.  Thankful that nausea is well under control and thankful for meds that help.  Looking forward to Thursday already when I'll be freed from the restrictions of my toxic friend whom I have to tote around for a couple days.  And praying, praying, praying that this chemo is doing what it's supposed to... to be killing those cancer cells, squashing them, annihilating them... and sometimes I lapse into sad and morbid thoughts.. what ifs, worries, fears that creep up in the night and read their ugly heads and make me feel paralysed... like a deer in the headlight, like I can't breathe, like the tears will never end.  And then, I try to come back to today, to now, to feel and see and breath and touch and remain in the present, knowing the future isn't in my hands at all.  I'd choose for it to be wiped away, for all this not to have happened, but somehow, I have to believe that there's a plan, a reason, a way in the desert, a path in the storm, that those unseen footsteps of God are always there, carrying us when it's too much, bringing comfort that we don't even always know is there...

     I'll leave you with some words from 11 Corinthians 4... our church's home visitation text for this year and which I was so impacted by on Sunday morning, sitting in our pew, celebrating the Lord's Supper, remembering that He died and rose for me, for you, for all who believe in Him.  And remembering that I am frail, weak, worthless without Him and that yet He places His treasure, His love, His faith in us and that we are bearers of that treasure which I always pray that I convey faithfully through the words that are given me to share.  

2 Corinthians 4:7-11  New International Version (NIV)

7 But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. 8 We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; 9 persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. 10 We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. 11 For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that his life may also be revealed in our mortal body.