Twice a day I pray for her.

Actually, I pray for her every time I think about her which is way more often than twice a day.

But I make it a point to stop and pray for her for every morning at 10:10 in the middle of  laundry, or the grocery store, or whatever busyness is taking place in my morning, and then I pray again at 10:10 at night, as I’m getting ready to call it quits for the day.

I set alarms on my phone to remind me to pray, but I usually end up turning them off just before they chime because my mind just seems to already know that it’s time.

I chose 10:10 because it reminds me of her verse.

John 10:10.

Last week I memorized The Message version because I was afraid maybe the one I’d always known had become too familiar. I needed to see it with fresh perspective so I could pray it for her and really understand what it was saying.

It says:

A thief is only there to steal and kill and destroy. I came so they can have real and eternal life, more and better life than they ever dreamed of.

I pray.

Please, God, please, give her more and better life. Not only the “when we all get to Heaven” kind, but real and more and better life here, too.

Please, God, please, don’t let the chemo make her sick.

Please, God, please, give her the energy to be the wife and mom and sister and daughter and friend  she wants to be. And if she can’t, please, God, please, just fill in the gaps where she can’t be. Fill them with more of Yourself and let her know it’s okay if she just can’t because You can and will. You will, won’t you? Please, God, please.

I thank Him that Dad’s doctor, the one who became like family to us, actually specializes in her kind of cancer. I guess God had this planned all along and I wonder at the way he arranged things just so. I thank Him that her cancer wasn’t the “really bad one,” and that it wasn’t in her lymph nodes and that she has the best possible chance of coming through this completely well on the other side.

But getting to the other side is so stinkin’ tough.

And none of this seems fair.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wonder why God let the thief use cancer to try to steal, kill, and destroy us….again.

I am so sick and tired of cancer.

I should be there with her and I’m not. I should be with her when she goes to her chemo treatments. I should be cooking supper for her family. I should be taking her kids to Happy Hour at Sonic so she can have a few minutes to herself.

I should be doing for her all the stuff she did for me when we were going through all the bad.

I had no idea what to wear to my dad’s funeral. What do you wear when they bury your daddy? They don’t give a lot of good guidance on that kind of thing in the magazines. But she knew what to do. She always does when it comes to stuff like that. She shopped for me and brought over the perfect sweater set.  I could sit here and cry just thinking about it because I know how much love went into the purchase of that ivory sweater with the sassy, black scarf. That shopping trip was her act of service to me. Every time I look into my closet and see it hanging there, I don’t think about that I wore it on one of the saddest days of my life, I think about her and how much she loves me. She’s a sister I chose for myself.

I really should be there.

But I’m not. I’m a couple of states away and I just can’t be there right now.

She sent me a picture of her cute, new haircut last night.

It’s super fun and stylish and trendy like she is, but it’s shorter than I’ve ever known hers to be.

She said she figured she might as well try something bold “since it’s gonna come out anyways….”

And my heart fell down to my toes.

The thief comes to steal, all right.

Some may say “it’s just hair,” but when it’s your hair, it  hurts. And losing it reminds you again that your life has been turned upside down.

Please, God, please, make her life so full of you that somehow all of this will seem worth it? Someday?

If we can’t understand, will you at least make Yourself known to her in a way she’s never experienced so this time will be redeemed for her good and Your glory?

Please, God, please.

It’s almost 10:10.

Time to pray again.



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8 responses to “Ten:Ten

  1. Gretchen

    It’s 10:27. I’m a little late. But, I’m saying a prayer. For both of you. I feel the ache in your heart, palpably. And hope you feel His love just as palpably.

  2. Jen

    Love this post. Glad we joined the FB family so that I could see this stuff. She amazes me and you do to!

  3. Betty Boop

    I am so jealous of you…..you know how to put words and thoughts together so perfectly. This is so sweet and I’m sure she feels your prayers and all those going up for her. It breaks my heart what cancer does to good people. We have several in our precious choir family traveling this hard road. Floyd & Fred, good godly men like your Daddy and we wonder why???? But God never wastes a hurt and His ways are not our ways so we just have to trust Him because He is sovereign God.

  4. It’s 9:57 on Saturday morning. I’m late, but I’m praying … and aching so much for you. You’ve had a really, really tough year and — Oh, how I ache!

    Oh, God, sometimes these burdens just seem too much! I want to pray. I want to trust. I want to be better at managing or at least facing all that continues to bombard our hearts and minds and emotions. I know You are bigger, and I beg you to strengthen my sweet friend and her dear friend and all the links within this chain of hearts you have so delicately knit together. Strengthen me as I feel so helpless to help. Be our encouragement each day. And remind us to pray. And pray. And pray. You are forever faithful.

    And I refuse to say ‘Amen’ because this is not over.

  5. Oh, Whimz. I’m praying for you and your friend.

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