Most of the following words were written last spring in a post on Caringbridge. Earlier this year, my 39 year old (seemingly healthy) husband was diagnosed with stage 4 colon cancer. We are now on a journey with cancer that we never would have chosen. But God has made His presence known to us and we are being held. The process of finding honest words to describe our experiences with cancer and what we are learning through those experiences has been life-giving. Here are a few of them:
The Waiting Place
“…for people just waiting. Waiting for a train to go or a bus to come, or a plane to go or the mail to come, or the rain to go or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow, or waiting around for a Yes or No or waiting for their hair to grow. Everyone is just waiting. Waiting for the fish to bite or waiting for wind to fly a kite or waiting around for Friday night or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake or a pot to boil, or a Better Break or a string of pearls, or a pair of pants or a wig with curls, or Another Chance. Everyone is just waiting. NO! That’s not for you!”
–Oh, The Places You’ll Go! by Dr. Seuss
I probably should have included only half of that Dr. Seuss quote (out of respect for your time) but I love each example too much. Waiting is a big part of life for everyone, and certainly for those dealing with serious medical issues. We wait for blood to be drawn and results to be read, scans to be taken and numbers to be explained. There are rooms specifically designed for our waiting. They are filled with comfortable seating and everything is decorated in peaceful shades of blue, green and beige. The artwork is abstract and calmingly coastal.
We wait on the Lord to show us His Hand at work. We wait to be shepherded, one step at a time, into our small but holy part in His work.
I want Dr. Seuss to take it easier on us. We all have to wait! But maybe it’s the word “just” that makes the difference (Everyone is just waiting). Part of me wants to skip the next couple weeks of the Chemo Rollercoaster and get straight to the scan, or rather the results of the scan. I want to know if these dangerously powerful drugs are doing the job we hope they are doing. I want to know when or if Rob will be undergoing another major surgery. I want to make some solid-seeming summer plans. But we have to wait.
And while we wait, a lot of life is happening around us. Springtime plants are thriving. Kids are learning, changing, growing. Our friends are dealing with their own losses and triumphs. I don’t want to miss any of it. There are new recipes to try, trails to walk, mugs of coffee to savor, soccer games to attend and good books to read. Again, I don’t want to miss any of it.
And when we dive fully into these happenings and activities, we forget that we are waiting. And forgetting, if even for a time, is a blessing. Because then, we are no longer just waiting. Life is too wonderful and fragile to spend our time fixated solely on the things for which we wait. Maybe that is the point that Dr. Seuss is making, and I agree with him.
Waiting on Jesus though, is a little different. At its best, it is both about the future and the present. We wait upon the Lord. He will come again. He will wipe away tears and reestablish perfect order. And also, He is here now; blessing tears, lifting chins, establishing some semblance of order in the most chaotic of places and shining light on the darkest of corners.
Miraculously, returning the focus of our hopeful waiting to Him and His return, opens our eyes to the ways in which He is already here now. In the soil, in the face of the person in front of me, in that piece of music on the radio and the growth and blossoming of every good thing. We wait watchfully and He shows us the beauty in the deserts, the winters and the cancer wings of hospitals.
And this type of waiting is for us!
Featured image by vecstock
- Waiting - March 11, 2024
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