We have friends and family scattered hither and yon (Hither, South Carolina and Yon, Kentucky) and we have about a dozen different ways that we stay connected with them all. Between the phone and the computer, we usually stay informed and keep everyone apprised of the latest. Since my dad’s surgery this past December, we’ve been so very grateful for CaringBridge, a website that helps us keep family and friends informed about the most recent news about my dad’s condition. I don’t talk about a lot of his medical stuff here because when I talk it about it, I do it there. But we have talked about it here and you have been so faithful to pray for my dad and my family. When I realized that some of my blog friends didn’t know the very latest news, I thought I’d give you a quick update here.
I communicate with several of you via several different avenues so some of you have already received this information at least twice today (some of you more). I apologize for repeating myself.
My dad had an MRI last Thursday and he received the results today. I was sure that everything would be fine. I’m generally an optimistic person, but I consider myself an optimistic realist. There’s a difference. I think some people who call themselves optimists are simply in denial. It’s easy to look on the bright side of things if you don’t even acknowledge there’s a dark side. It’s much more difficult to have all of the facts but to still choose to be hopeful about the outcome. (For more riveting semantics analysis, ask me why I feel that I possess dry wit but am NOT sarcastic. But don’t ask me today. I’m not going there with you today.) That said, I also tend to have spot-on intuition. My husband calls it my Spidey sense and he’s learned to trust it because I’m rarely wrong about my “hunches.” And going into today, I really truly felt like we were going to get a good report. I just knew it. I don’t know what will be happening six months from now, but I was sure that Dad’s MRI today would be good news.
The MRI showed growth in the spot where Dad had his resection. And new spots can be seen near the place of the old spot. Didn’t see that coming.
So how am I? I’m not doing well and overwhelmingly fine at the very same time. Numb and in shock? Probably. But also I know that I know that I know that I know that God DID see that report coming. It didn’t catch Him off guard for even a second. He’s not working on Plan B. He’s already finished the last chapter of this story. Will I read it here or in heaven? I don’t know and He’s not saying. God’s got my back. And my front. And my sides. He goes before me and behind me, so yeah, I’m okay.
But I’m not doing well. At prayer time tonight my baby boy told me that he was going to pray for Papa twice tonight so that God would doubly make Papa better. And that’s just what he prayed. And I felt like screaming, “God, how can you not do what my precious baby asks you to do?” Tonight they prayed earnestly for their Papa and I just had to say “Ditto” in my heart because my prayers are jumbled right now. Nights like tonight make me grateful for an Intercessor who can interpret what I’m trying to say to the only One who really needs to hear it. “What he just said, Lord. Please help Papa. Please help Papa. Just do what he said, please.”
K took the kids to swim lessons and I sat and listened to some songs that speak for my heart right now. That’s what I do when I’m just not ready to pray on my own yet. The words for my own prayers will come. I’m not worried about that. They’ll probably come when I put my head on the pillow tonight. Until then I’ll let the music do my talking and praying.
K’s having a sleep study done tonight so he’s not here. I’m hoping they find out what makes him sound like he’s being sucked into a gigantic vortex every night the minute his head hits the pillow. He’s pretty sure I have a sleep disorder. I’m pretty sure he’s my sleep disorder. But I’m okay being alone tonight. I know it seems weird, but I rather like the silence for now.
So tomorrow is a new day. With new mercies. Another chance. Like I just emailed a friend, “I’m just going to do the stuff I do on a daily basis and deal with what I’m feeling as I’m feeling it, I guess. Lately I’ve seen that God doesn’t usually let my feelings go places without His guidance and supervision, so I’m guessing I’m where I need to be now and I’ll go where I need to go when the time is right.” So tomorrow, I’ll get up and “do the next thing” and trust my God and the plan He has for me and my family.
That’s the plan, and I’m sticking to it.