An Old Friend
For I the Lord your God hold your right hand; I am the Lord, Who says to you, Fear not; I will help you!
Isaiah 41: 13
Isaiah 41: 13
It hasn't happened in quite a while. I have been able to focus on other things, safe things. But tonight, for a fleeting instant, it was there. That old familiar, ice-grip of a handicap; fear. I was just cooking a pot pie, minding my own business, when I suddenly had the urge to Google my husband's type of brain tumor. I did that once before in my life, a very long time ago, and I promised myself I would never do it again.
But there is still something inside of me, some dark place, that wants to see life-expectancy rates and read stories from others who have endured this type of hardship, and have lost. I want to see pictures of survivors and see pictures of families who lost. I want to read all I can about what the tumor does and why it happened. And I think I know why.
I'm afraid of the unknown. Aren't you? There was a tumor in the middle of my husband's brain, and I didn't even really know what a tumor was until he had one. I heard a big word classifying it, and our neurosurgeon's words, "The best tumor to have, if you have one..." did not pacify my soul's hunger to know what I was up against. The same is for now. I want to know what I am up against.
But where does that leave room for faith...? I can look up all the statistics I very well please to, and see when she died or when he relapsed or when she had complications. I can look up statistics on Pylositic Astrocytoma, and read about reoccurring tendencies and what not. I can Google all of that till I'm a gray haired lady, which, I hope to God, isn't anytime soon.But what I have to remind myself, is that I love and serve a God who is above statistics. He is above chances and above death rates. He is bigger than all of that. I have to remind myself that God is big and all-powerful. Every day. It's a struggle when my old friend, Fear, likes to take up residence in my heart. It's such a struggle when his scar is right there, staring me straight in the soul, daring me to remember, beckoning me to surrender to the fear.
I want to know I have 70 more years with him. I want to know that every time he has a headache it isn't because his tumor has come back. I want to be able to promise my sons that they will have their Dada for many years to come. I want to know that he'll be here with me, and not leave me alone.
But that is where faith comes in...and faith is hard. I heard that song on the radio, where Thousand Foot Krutch sings, "Sometimes faith feels like doubt." It's true, ya know? It's so true. I have to trust that God is in control, and what He has planned for me is His perfect will. That even in the gut-wrenching painful moments where all I can do is weep heart-broken tears, I serve a God who is ever-present, and who is above statistics and rates.Fear may be my old friend, but God is my faithful Father, and He has me...and I am safe.