It was one of those open-and-shut cases. The cancer sprawled through the belly. The surgeon had searched the cavity deep and wide and found no hope. He shook his head, took a few biopsies, and began the close.
I’d dabbed the patient’s tears from the corners of her eyes and held her hand as she drifted off to sleep. She already knew what they’d find. After I’d wheeled her into the recovery room and given my report, I returned to the surgery suite to help clean up. We went about our business, quiet, except for the banging of basins and rattling of instruments. But the mood soon lifted. We had to get ready for the next case. I don’t remember what– maybe a gallbladder, a tonsillectomy, or a broken hip. Whatever it was, it could be fixed. There was hope.
I poured some fluids down the hopper, deposited some clamps in the sink. (I’m sure decontamination methods have changed since then.)
I don’t remember what made the scrub tech ask as we scuffed back down the hall with masks dangling around our necks, “Why are you always so happy?”
And inside I thought, “What? Are you talking to me?”
“I – I don’t know,” I stammered. “I guess it must be Jesus.”
Since I’ve worked from home, I can’t remember one family member asking me why I’m so happy. They’re more likely to ask, “What’s wrong?” Or even more likely, “What’s wrong with you?”
Like when I slam dishes around in the sink, kick a chair into place, bang a cupboard door, or snap at whoever’s closest.
Like when I announce I just can’t take this mess any more, and can’t people just leave me alone so I can study my Bible or write–my voice raising several decibels a second.
Grandma’s grumpy again.
I know what kind of legacy I hope will remain when I’m gone, but I’m not sure I measure up so well to my memory-maker job description.
It’s harder to be a light within these walls of my daily work where my real is often not so happy than it is to point people to Jesus in a place of “real” work.
My “me-ness” can be a cancer that devours the ones I love most.
In fact, right now I’m dealing with a situation I don’t want to be happy about. One in which I don’t even want healing.
I don’t want to be Jesus in it.
Yet I know He’ll win in the end.
Maybe the way to share my faith in this place is to go ahead and be real. Who says I can’t have a temper tantrum sometimes–as long as I say “I’m sorry” and “I was wrong” when I need to? Isn’t tomorrow a new day?
Besides, who here is going to fire me for a bad attitude?
Anyway, today I’ll sew that button on my husband’s shirt–the one that’s been hanging on the bedroom doorknob for over a week.
I’ll decontaminate my kitchen counter, and I won’t complain.
I’ll wash the dogs and clean the toilet and do another load of laundry–and put it away.
And while I go about my business, I’ll pray for those I know who are dealing with spiritual and physical cancers.
Including myself.
Maybe I’ll even laugh and do a Snoopy spin and bake a batch of cookies.
Because there’s always hope.
In the stillness,
Sandy
Linking today with The High Calling’s call for stories related to the theme of How to Share Your Faith at Work.
Sandy, I think that as we go through our daily, ordinary rounds, hopefully with a heart filled with grace and joy, it’s one of the best ways to know and share the love of Jesus. But I like that you know that sometimes we don’t do it well. And even in that, we find Him, as we confess, ask forgiveness, and are flooded anew with His grace. Thank you for such a lovely post. I didn’t realize you are a nurse!
On another note, will you only be posting about our daily devo readings and writings on FB? Just wanted to be sure I know where to go (and of course if I can figure that out! 🙂 )
Blessings to you!
Lynn
Oh, Lynn. I so seldom measure up to my own expectations of what a grace-filled follower looks like. But I know I spill more of Him than I used to. I guess it’s all in the becoming. And in the knowing that in each “failure,” more dross surfaces that can be scraped away.
Yes, I trained as a nurse and worked in several specialties, including the operating room. I don’t work in the field now, but I still have a current license. 🙂
I plan to post a reminder each day in the FB group. But once you get the book, you’ll see it’s easy to follow–week one, week two–with meditations and exercises for each day of that week. On Thursday, I’ll do a wrap-up of the previous week and others can link up their own posts if they like.
I’m so glad you’re here.
Thank you for your kind response and explanation. Ok….so I will look for a Thurs. wrap-up, and am already doing the writing exercises.
I like that reminder that failure is a chance to let Him succeed, really, in ridding us of dross. Knowing that it the outcome, I think, makes me a bit more eager for the refining process. Thanks for everything, Sandy! Your’e the best.
Lynn
Hi, This is my first time visit here. And I enjoyed being in your space. Also enjoyed your posting. I could relate.
When you said that you were dealing with a situation you didn’t want to be happy about, one in which you don’t even want healing. Oh yes, I can relate. I went through a similar thing a couple of years ago. It took a while to work through the frustration and anger and the rest of it. But I did ask Him to be in it every day and kept apologizing for letting that spill out of my pores instead of His light. He was very gracious.
And thankfully, He waited with me as I worked through it to the place where I could find my happy in it, even though I still didn’t want to be in it.
So glad I found your link on Janet Martin’s site. I’ll come again soon.
In the meantime, here’s wishing you glimpses of heaven in unexpected places……
Brenda
Welcome, Brenda! Sometimes I just have to ask Him to make me want to want to spill His light. 🙂
behind our own closed doors
thank you for being real, again
and letting us see
and more, letting yourself see
but look through His eyes of love
and do-overs
those “sorrys”?
they work wonders
Those words clean up all kinds of messes, right? Of course, I may have to lean a little harder to keep from making those messes in the first place. 😉
a few days late on the book you all are working through. i will order the book and follow along on facebook page. looks really good.
Awesomeness, Carol! I’ll be watching for you.
Sandy, this spoke to me, tonight, on several levels. Begging your prayers for my MIL’s physical version #4 and for my ofttimes spiritual version.
I parent best outside my home. I’m less likely to yell outside my home because the endless tasks aren’t so much in front of my eyes and because I don’t want to embarrass myself 🙂
God bless and keep, Sandy. Keep fighting for that joy. You’re beautiful.
I read this a few days ago, Brandee, but didn’t have time to reply. Your words have stuck to me, though. I’ve prayed.
You know, don’t you, Sandy, what joy and beauty just glows off your very skin?
I hope you know. I look at you and I see Jesus.
It’s beautiful beyond words. Don’t forget, promise?
You have to say nice things to me, Sheila, cuz you’re my Frio sister. 😉
Just kidding. Thank you, sweet friend. Clinging to your words. Promise.
God lets glimmers of His light seep out for others to see. In those moments when I feel burdened by my own darkness, He often gives me an unexpected peek at how my life is affecting others, and my faith is encouraged. So take what Sheila has said as one of those glimmers. She’s right. You radiate Jesus, Sandy!
Those unexpected peeks of the positive… they’re a balm, aren’t they?
You’re a sweet fragrance, Carol. I’m so glad we’ve connected.
Oh, yeah. I get this one. WAY too well. Love the way you wove it all together, Sandy. Thank you.
I’m super glad He’s weaving all my mess (and yours) into something beautiful–and that we’ll see each other in our life tapestries.