Today the word was Peace. Peace that passes understanding, peace out, peace be with you, praying for peace….heard it all day. Then tonight I picked up a book that Mary bought me and first chapter is about peace. Okay God, I get it–peace.
Mom started new chemo yesterday-yuck. She’s having a pretty bad reaction at the injection site, red and swollen. And she’s also puking. Yuck. Peace…….
Bob and I went to see BMT doc today to sign all consent forms. I hate that we have to listen to then tell us all the things that “could” go wrong. Peace…….
Aimie took Blake to see ENT doc and they want to schedule tonsilectomy soon. Peace……..
This peace will have to be peace that passes understanding.
Church was awesome yesterday. I don’t even mind the homework that was assigned. Told mom about it too.
Listen to God. He speaks. Write down every day for a week what He’s saying to me.
yesterday – I’m bigger than this. (thanks God)
today – Who’s report are you going to believe? The doctor’s or mine? (I believe you God)
Mom said that she was just telling Mike, “The bible says not to worry about tomorrow…it has enough worries of its own, we’ll deal with today.” Then she said she opened her daily devotional book — said the same thing. God sometimes repeats himself. Good thing.
When Bob was first diagnosed with cancer, we went to the Mayo Clinic to get the definitive diagnoses and discuss treatment options. When we returned from Mayo and were waiting on insurance to approve the transplant here in Denver, we had about a month (so we thought) to wait. Bob was trying so hard to do something to keep his mind off of the impending transplant, that he decided that he was going to remodel our basement during that month. In my opinion — it was a horrible decision. He had the crazy idea that he would just ‘fix it up really quickly’ before the transplant. I, to this day, do not know what made him decide to take on such a project. And I, to this day, cannot go into that basement without horrible memories.
So 3 days ago, when I had a house full of family and Bob’s pool playing buddies (trying to get his last bit of visiting in before transplant this time)…and I walked into the basement and stepped onto soaking wet carpet, all of those horrible memories came FLOODING (pun intended) back.
Bob reacted very well. So did his pool-playing buddies. They sucked up all the dirty water they could with the wet-dry vac and continued their pool game. I asked Bob, “What are we going to do?!” He responded, pool stick in hand, “I’m playing pool, call a plumber.” Plumber came, snaked drain…all good on that front.
Aimie came over Saturday and shampooed the carpet for us. Sunday I shampooed again (still wet and stinky). Finally Sunday evening Bob went downstairs with a utility knife and tore the carpet up, pulled out the wet pad, threw it away. All good on that front now too.
In the middle of it all, I thought, “Not again! Not again! Not again! We will not be remodeling / re-carpeting this basement a week before tranplant again!!” No we won’t. I’m closing the door to the basement. I’m closing the door to fear. I’m closing the door to the past. It won’t be the same as last time. It won’t.
ok….mom’s bone marrow biopsy results are back. the doctor’s office called to tell her that the marrow still shows blast cells. so we’re going to see him monday to discuss a new type of chemo.
i don’t know details, i don’t know percentages of blast cells, i don’t know much more than this:
the doctor thinks it’s time to try a different chemo because the one we’re using isn’t doing a good job.
AND I KNOW this:
GOD SAYS WE CAN BELIEVE FOR HEALING. GOD SAYS WE CAN WALK BY FAITH AND NOT BY SIGHT. GOD SAYS TO HOPE FOR A FUTURE. GOD SAYS HE HEALS ALL DISEASES. GOD SAYS RUN TO HIM. GOD SAYS HE LOVES US. GOD SAYS IF WE LOVE HIM HE WILL RESCUE US. GOD SAYS IF WE CALL ON HIM HE WILL ANSWER US, HE WILL BE WITH US, HE WILL DELIVER US AND SATISFY US WITH LONG LIFE.
i know God is true.
It dawned on me as I was feeling sorry for myself — everyone has a story. Everyone has a struggle. Everyone has something that they are dealing with. Why should I feel sorry for myself? What sort of example am I setting? Do I trust God? yes. Do I KNOW that God is good? yes. Do I think that complaining or trying to validate my feelings is helpful? no.
So as I listen to other people’s story…as I see what other people are going through….as I watch how others react to their junk…I look back at myself. I don’t want to complain. I don’t want to be the person with the biggest problems, or the most stress, or the hardest life to deal with; because I have a big God. And what’s the point of trusting God, following God, loving God….if I don’t let him be the author of my story. He’s good. He’s loving. He’s watching out for me. He’s strong enough for me to lean on. He wants me to trust Him, and to walk with Him every day. So I’ll try to be the one with the story that points to Him.
Connor stayed with us last night. When he stays he sleeps in our bed. Bob, Connor and I all start out together in our bed; Bob usually winds up moving to another bedroom somewhere around the 3rd kick in the ribs.
This morning Connor repeated a habit that he’s grown accustomed to – about 4:00 am he rolls over and stretches and says in the sweetest voice, “Gram? Can we cuddle up?”
“Sure we can buddy, come on over” and he tucks that little body into mine. Back first, he cuddles into me. I wrap my arms around him and hold him while we fall back asleep. LOVE LOVE LOVE
This morning about 5:30 I tried to roll over away from him to get out of bed, “heee…ey!” He whines and turns one syllable into two. “That’s my back you’re pushing on!”
Hmmmm. Where did that sweet little “can we cuddle up?”– voice go so quickly?
As I laid there and waited for him to get comfortable enough to fall back asleep I thought about God. Does He love it when I want to ‘cuddle up’ to Him? Then get discouraged when I quickly change and whine to him, “Hey! Why are you pushing me?”
God I love you. And I want to stay close to you. I don’t want to push you away. I need to feel you close to me. I’m sorry for whining. I’m not promising I can stop. Please know that I will always want you close, even when I whine. Don’t leave us God.
Maybe I’m over-reacting here (evidently that’s a sign of STRESS) but where are all of those missing socks? seriously.
I’m an adult. I do my own laundry. (okay once in a while Bob does the laundry) But I don’t think Bob is stashing my missing socks anywhere. My dirty clothes hamper is empty. My washer and dryer are empty. Where are those missing socks?
This is one of the small, insignificant things that gets under my skin and really bothers me. I mean, come on! Where are they?
Aimie and Katie must have the same problem. Because I see them wearing miss-matched socks ALL THE TIME. It mustn’t bother them. They’ve adapted. Connor and Blake even wear miss-matched socks. They even prefer to wear one Batman and one Spiderman sock.
I must adapt too. There are things I’ll never understand, and will never be able to fix….so I must let it go. If you see me with miss-matched socks on – know that I’m adapting. I may not like it…but I think it’s a step in the right direction. Stress relief = wearing miss-matched socks.