No Fear...

August 9, 2010 @ 2:15 we were sitting in HSC waiting for Wes' MRI. We didn't have long to wait before they called him in to begin prepping him for the test. Trying to insert the IV with the dye is usually not a problem, but for whatever reason the nurse was having difficulty today. She poked both arms, leaving a solid bruise on the one side with her attempt. I know it's only a bruise, but I hate seeing those bruises especially when I feel it is unnecessary. The nurse told him that she had been working a double shift and that probably had something to do with her inability to find a vein. He was quiet, just hoping she would find it soon.

I was in the waiting room sitting beside a young woman who was there with her 13 month old son named Chase. What a little cutie pie! He had blond super curly hair and gorgeous blue eyes. The best part was he had no trouble reaching for me so that I could hold him for a bit. That is until he found something else that peaked his interest. But, he always came with a big grin.

His mom was very OK with me holding him or playing peek-a-boo or reading him a story and I took advantage of it because that is not the typical reaction of some parents particularly in the city. It also helped to pass the time away as I waited for Wes.

Chase was a very busy little boy, his curiosity with everything around him caused him to move up and down off my lap quite quickly and fairly often. He would waddle to the wall that was beside us, then hide and when a few seconds had passed I would see his blond curly head peak around the corner followed by a baby toothed grin.

"Peek-a-boo where are you?" I called out in a singsong voice.

He would screech and giggle, then hide again waiting for the game to continue. No fear. No fear whatsoever.

Oh to have that attitude again.

No fear.

I thought back to the morning when I was on my drive into the city to pick Wes up from Monarch on Burmac in Winnipeg to go to his appointment at HSC. It was a damp drive. The windshield a little foggy from my tears. I listened to my CD's on the way in and of course there's always a song thrown in here and there that is a real tear jerker. Thanks to Michael W. Smith! And God and I talked a lot on the way in, well, I talked and He listened.

I find it hard going through this process every three months and though there seems to be absolutely no cause for alarm, it's still always heart wrenching to go through this test wondering if this will be the time they see something, yet always hoping and praying that we will hear positive results again.

There will be those who don't understand and I don't blame them. I was one who didn't understand before either. They may think that my fears and tears are from a lack of trust or even a lack of faith. But, no matter what label I put on my own reactions to this part of our life I know that through this my faith has grown, I have learned so much about the brevity of life and the trust I placed in God many years ago when I first accepted Christ into my heart as grown and is still growing. I will continue to go through this part of our life as best I can, but that doesn't mean that it's going to always be pretty. And that is OK...for me...right now...

Every time we go through this testing time you can be guaranteed that I will cry and then I'll cry some more...that's a given... it's part of working through what's happening right now and I believe, it's also part of a mourning process. And I mean mourning in the most respectful way, a way of remembrance. Remembering what was before, working through the present and pondering the future.

Mourning doesn't mean that you trust God any less, it doesn't mean that you are always thinking doom and gloom, but it does allow you to be human. I know that God is OK with my fears and my tears because who else but our creator understands our emotional complexities the best.

Jesus mourned in the garden before His crucifixion, He begged God to take this cup from Him, but God didn't. It talks about His distress being so great that he sweat drops of blood...Yeah, I'm pretty sure He understands my little bit of mourning.

As I sorted through this week again, Wes and I talked at length. I don't have to tell him that I cry a lot, he knows that first hand, I don't have to explain that I'm not ready to lose him, he knows that too. But, he doesn't know what I'm feeling when I try to explain about being on the sidelines. But, he still listens and he knows it's hard.

For every person battling cancer there is someone somewhere walking beside that person. While that person is physically fighting the cancer, concentrating on survival and focusing completely on what their body, their doctor and God there is another someone watching the person they love battle their own humanness. That someone doesn't know exactly what the other person is feeling, physically, emotionally or even spiritually. Not really, not completely. And that leads to a feeling of helplessness. You become protective of each other whether that's through sharing or holding back from sharing. You go to bed at the end of the day feeling an exhaustion that is overwhelming and cannot be explained. Yet that exhaustion does not dissipate through sleep. Whether you sleep through the night, which happens rarely, or whether you toss and turn, the exhaustion never leaves you. You're on guard, always watching, never taking anything for granted. You are happy and content in fragmented moments, little bubbles of time that pop up here and there, snippets of time when you can forget.

It's a different life.

And this life is no longer normal, according to the world's standards. But, God is walking through this new life with you.

I don't know how people can do it without Him.

So, if you know of someone who is that someone who is walking beside that person who is battling cancer, don't worry if you don't have all the answers, we're not looking for answers, don't criticize them if they cry when you might think they should have no reason to cry, they may need to mourn. Listen if they need to talk and understand when they don't want to talk because it may be that they are in that bubble of time where they want to forget. Cry with them if their tears are falling and recognize that you can't fix what's broken, you can't change what's happening to them, you don't have the answers for them, but you can offer your calming presence as a gift in the turmoil of their world.

No fear? Not if we're being completely honest, there is fear, but there is peace and there is hope and there is love and there but by the Grace of God I am what I am (1 Corinthians 15:10)