The spot on my dad’s MRI that was supposed to be nothing is actually cancer. We’re waiting for his oncologist to talk to his neurosurgeon and radiologist so that he can present us with the best treatment options.
I updated my dad’s CaringBridge site yesterday with this news so I don’t really want to go into it all over again here.
I’ll probably be the only member of my family (besides K and the Little Snoodles, of course) at church tomorrow and frankly, I’m dreading it. Not the being at church part. I’m actually looking forward to the praise and worship. The jagged places inside me need the music to smooth them out a little. Music is like medicine for me.
What I’m dreading is the people. Please understand, I love the people at my church. They are more like family to me than many of the people to whom I’m actually related. My dad has been one of their pastors for twenty-four years and they love him and they love my family. But my emotions are held loosely together right now by the most fragile of strings. People with the very best intentions who love my dad will want to talk about this latest news tomorrow and I just can not do it. Talking about it with them will break all my strings. But if they completely ignore me I’ll probably take that personally because I’m hypersensitive right now. Welcome to “Derned if You Do, Derned if You Don’t.”
I know it’s okay to be emotional and I’m putting voice to my feelings in the places I feel safest when the time is right for me. But for my own sanity and for the well-being of my children, I don’t want to walk around in a big blob of tears and snot tomorrow. And I don’t have the energy to tell the same story over and over again to every person who asks. I’m not even talking about this in any detail with my very closest friends just now. It’s too new and raw for me to talk about it out loud right now.
I greatly appreciate your prayers for me. Sometimes I feel sorry for the friends I’ve made here at Snoodlings since my dad’s diagnosis. I used to be a lot of fun and hardly ever talked about cancer. In fact, I had planned to finish up a Family Secret yesterday but after we got back from the doctor, I just didn’t feel very lighthearted. Maybe I should change my name from Whimzie to Whimzie-Not-So-Much. No, I’m still Whimzie. I’m just a little more thinky these days than I usually am. But please know that I’m okay. I’m hurting, but I know Where to take those hurts. My family will be okay.
This morning I read the latest Stuff Christians Like post. It’s one of my absolute favorite blogs because Jon makes me laugh (a lot) but he often makes me think. Today he talked a little bit about wrestling with God. I’ve talked a little about some of my wrestling matches with God. I feel like I’ve spent the last few months engaged in some kind of weird pay-per-view cage fight with God. But in this particular cage fight one of the fighters has no fighting experience whatsoever except for slapping on her brother in the back seat of their mom’s Chevrolet Caprice Classic station wagaon when he crossed over the imaginary line. In fact, she was just minding her own business, reading a little bit of the Mitford series in bed before she turned out the light to catch some Zs, when she was jerked out of bed (wearing her pajamas) and thrown into a cage with the Great Almighty, World Champion for Infinity. Yeah, that seems fair.
I hate fighting of all kinds because I hate conflict. I especially loathe fighting sports and my most unfavorite fighting sport of all is wrestling. I think it’s gross. I hate the uniforms. I certainly have no desire to wrestle with God, of all opponents. Like I said in my comment on Jon’s post, “I think in my mind I’d confused wrestling with God with being in conflict with God. I don’t understand something He’s doing in my life so He challenges me to some big UFC match that He knows I can’t win and beats the truth into me. I find it especially distasteful because I’ve always hated the sport of wrestling and God knows that, so to me wrestling with Him seemed doubly cruel.”
But Jon was saying that a counselor once told him that God loves to wrestle with us “because you can’t wrestle with someone who is far away.” Jon went on to say, “I think He wants me near to His side, close enough to feel His breath and know His strength. And when I approach to wrestle over an issue with Him, like Jacob wrestling, I don’t think He is angry. I think He is happy, because I am close. Sure, I want to surrender and trust without question, but I no longer see wrestling as instant failure.”
I really needed to read that this morning. When I think about how much wrestling I’ve done over the past few months and realized that He was inviting me to yet another round, I thought offhandedly, “If He draws me any closer, I’ll be completely inside Him.”
Maybe that’s the point.
If we could just do something about the uniforms.