All is calm, all is bright

All is calm, all is bright... 
     I have a precious few minutes before the day begins, before doors creak open and our daughter makes her way into our room saying "it's day, Mommy", despite the darkness of our Canadian winter, before the routines of breakfast and getting dressed and the busyness of life sets in.  It's good to sit, here in the dark, in front of the tree and think.  Words of carols have been tossing through my brain a lot the last weeks.  As the Christmas season slowly moves forward, I've got a lot of thoughts about many things.  It's been a while since the last update and that for good reason - somehow, to afford the luxury of sitting down and letting your ideas and such spill out of you onto the virtual page, is a difficult thing to manage.  It seems strange, being that I'm not working, maybe, but with a two and a half month old baby (gaack, where does the time go?  How is she so old already?), a very busy active three year old and lots of visitors and helpers and things going on, there isn't much time left over in a day to be still, to meditate, to think about the season and the reason for it and to be still, to enjoy, to thrill in the idea of God coming to this earth in human forth, Emmanuel, God with us - that means a lot to me this year.
O Come, O come, Emmanuel, and ransom captive Israel... that mourns in lonely exile here, until the Son of God appear... Rejoice, rejoice, Emmanuel has come to thee, O Israel.  
Those words, they seem so much more real, so much more poignant, so much more comforting than ever before.
Silent night, holy night, all is calm, all is bright...
Joy to the world, the Lord is come
     Letting the idea that in spite of difficulties, in spite of our sorrowing hearts this past year, in spite of all the busyness of the season, that being still, being silent and thrilling at the wonder of our God, of His love,of His plan... maybe that's what's keeping me from dissolving into puddles of emotions each day.  Oh, there are many dark moments, to be sure, when I can't stop from sobbing out my grief at this life, at where we are, but yes, oh so many little bright spots, like Christmas lights, that twinkle through the darkness of murky grief and bring joy.  I love Christmas lights, I'll admit it, I'm a huge sucker for white lights - true child of my mother - and I love driving around looking at all the lights on houses and how they light up the darkness and I'm almost struck by a small element of spirituality that might come from them - the Light has come in the darkness... and yet so many don't know the joy, the true joy of this season.  And I pray that the words that are contained in this blog, in this little record of our journey through cancer, through the valley of the shadow of death, might bring some light and hope as we focus on the words, the Word made flesh, who made His dwelling among us, who knew our sorrows and infirmities and yes, I know that doesn't mean He had cancer, but He bore the weight of our sin and He paid the price for it and freed us from the fear of death.
     That doesn't mean either that I don't fear my own things, that the CT might not be clear, that my life will just be round after round of chemo, endlessly dealing with side effects and the uncertainties of living with cancer, but I will say, that through this journey, even the last few days, have brought me closer to my God and have given me more reason for hope, more reason to look for joy, more reason to rejoice in my Savior and the wonder of His birth and incarnation, that he does know our human lives, that He understands our emotions - frustrations at this diagnosis, joy at our friends and family and our extremely supportive community, sorrow at the chaos that sickness brings... but yet, He is our God, our Friend, our Emmanuel.  And I'm so glad I can focus on that truth, even when the tears are glinting in my eyes, wondering if I'll be here next Christmas, hoping dearly that that will be the truth, somehow not daring entirely to leave my nursing realities behind and trust that there is a plan, that what I want and what God has in store might be different, but then too, I have to look back, at those footprints, sometimes so faltering, sometimes so weak, sometimes so stumbling, that have brought us thus far on our journey, and I know that He has been there carrying us through this.  Like the old footprints poem puts it, that He carries us... even when we don't realize that.
   As it is Christmas Eve, I believe it somewhat ironic that I sit here, eating a cookie and drinking some milk... and gazing as I type, at my misshapen nails, my fingers that are just recovering from last week's chemo, happy that I don't seem to be coughing quite so much anymore - maybe we are seeing the tail end of the cough that never ends (?), not so happy that the cold seems to have settled into my sinuses.  The realities of life as we know it now.  Fighting against a body that seems bent on betraying me, not being as strong as I used to be, needing naps every day just to charge the battery enough to get through interrupted nights sleeps and busy family days.

    And I am thankful... where would I start to list people we are thankful for?  The list would be miles long... kinda like Santa's, maybe...  The meals, the house cleaning, the gifts which keep coming for us, for the girls, from all corners, unexpected, undeserved, much appreciated.  We love our families and are so thankful for all their support during the last seven months... yes, tomorrow will be seven months since diagnosis... hard to believe... hard to fathom.... yet, as in any trauma (i'm realizing more and more that a diagnosis like this truly is a trauma - I guess I always believed that was reserved for soldiers and firemen and others who deal with life's uncertainties but yes, I am doing that too... news out of the clear blue, devastating, life- changing, crippling, sorrowful, sad), there are flashbacks and moments of paralyzing grief... I can replay that whole day in my head.... where I was, where I sat, who we spoke with, how we moved through that time... the numbness, the weight of sadness, the anger, the unbelievability of this truth.  It's crippling sometimes, and I need ways to bring me back to reality - focusing on the here and now, bringing ground to the space that seems to be groundless.  Hard to remember and focus on when all you want to do is cry your eyes out and curl up in bed and stay there all day.  When you want to run away, drive aimlessly and far, to seek a place when you can hide from this monster, but you would just be taking it along, the unwanted passenger in the vehicle, the grim shadow that lurks in the edges of life and sometimes reaches out to blind, to keep me from seeing the joy.

     Yet, this week, we will celebrate.  We will rejoice.  We will sing our God's praises in church, in the car, in our hearts, around the table and those words will soak in our hearts, will find new meaning in the stark reality of sickness and death, will bring comfort and renewal.  We will feast together and share time together with family and feel enveloped by the warmth of love of everyone around us.  We will share of the bounty that has been given us for it is better to give, than to receive and we have been given so much.  We will teach our daughters to sing, to give them the words to sing in their hearts and minds (oh, how does Martha love to sing!) and we will cherish this time, these days, these precious, precious moments  in which to make memories, to share time, to laugh, yes, even to cry, but to find our hope in our God.

O come, O come, Emmanuel

And ransom captive Israel

That mourns in lonely exile here

Until the Son of God appear

Rejoice, rejoice, Emmanuel

Shall come to thee, O Israel

O come, Thou Rod of Jesse, free

Thine own from Satan’s tyranny

From depths of Hell Thy people save

And give them victory o’er the grave

Rejoice, rejoice, Emmanuel

Shall come to thee, o Israel

O come, Thou Day-Spring

Come and cheer

Our spirits by Thine advent here

Disperse the gloomy clouds of night

And death’s dark shadows put to flight

Rejoice, rejoice, Emmanuel

Shall come to thee, o Israel

O come, Thou Key of David, come

And open wide our heavenly home

Make safe the way that leads on high

And close the path to misery

Rejoice, rejoice, Emmanuel

Shall come to thee, o Israel

O come, O come, Thou Lord of might

Who to Thy tribes, on Sinai’s height

In ancient times did’st give the Law

In cloud, and majesty and awe

Rejoice, rejoice, Emmanuel

Shall come to thee, o Israel