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.
NOTE: I’ve pulled a piece from the archives because I wanted you to know I’m still here. We are going through so many changes right now, and I’ve kind of lost time and words. But please stand by and stand with. I’ll be back with MUCH to share. Love you all big.
In the stillness,
Sandy
So encouraged by these words Sandra. Because the struggle is real. Bless you in this season and I pray you come through with the happiness that exceeds all understanding. Gladly staying with you.
Thanks so much, dear Kelly.
Sandra, missing the still Saturday blogs but praying for you right where you are and grateful for this post… it is in the workplace that I am conscious and aware that this is God’s plan and purpose for me…to shine the Light of Jesus through Him, with Him, in Him and for His glory. It is more of a struggle at home in the routine… being Mom and Mimi…choosing to be joyful in all things!
Today I choose Joy and after a sleepover with my grandson, an early morning playtime out in the rain…watching the geese overhead, the birds in the trees and the Joy of Jesus shining through us, all over us, a light in what otherwise is some gloomy weather…
All is well! God is Love…Peace…Joy.
Oh, what a delightful sounding night and morning, choosing joy right now, seeing the light even in the gloomy weather. Thanks so much for coming by and sharing this precious moment, Mary.
This is so true. Marriage, family, home, it’s stretching and sanctifying and the place of my biggest failures, but biggest successes too, I suppose.
Yes. And yes. Hugs to you, Elizabeth.
Sandra, thanks always for how you share your faith through your blog. Sending up a prayer for you and yours during this time. I feel a spiritual connection to you, whether or not you are blogging at the moment. In fact, this morning you came to mind and I realized there was something missing in my online reading (I rarely follow blogs but Yours is a must!) And then, there you were in my inbox! God bless you and keep you today!
Oh, Debbie. I’m in tears. Thank you for this. xo
It was a good one to “pull” from the archives. Prayers for you in the changes…they always happen don’t they? But they never come easily, even the good ones.
That’s true, Dea. I guess without change, we’re dead. 😉
But so many at once… it’s enough to make one want to take a nap.
Loved this honest post, Sandra! Thanks for opening this archived piece and sharing so much of your heart and spirit. Praying the Lord will bless and provide mightily in the season you are currently in. Blessings on your weekend. Pam
Thanks so much for the prayers and encouragement, Pam.
Sandra, your honesty here just bolstered my decision to share a prayer request concerning my son and his state of mind and heart right now. All families have their problems. Not some: ALL! Welcome to my neighborhood, and thank you for inviting me into yours. As Christians sisters, we can prevail and we will with God’s help.
Adding you to my list of prayers, my dear.
Love and blessings!
Yes. We can prevail when we hang together. Praying for your son right now. xo
This is beautiful. First and foremost, faith should be observed and practiced at home. It’s where it all starts.
And the hardest place to be a light… Thanks for coming by, Lux.
Standing by. And with.
Just travelin’ along, singin’ our song
Side by side….
Wonderful convicting and encouraging thoughts to ponder here…like my me-ness devouring those I love like cancer does. Hoping this stays in my head today. I pray that you are drawn by the Holy Spirit to move in love toward your current challenges.
Our me-ness can be a type of cancer, yes. Thank you so much for this, Amy.
This is powerful and strikes me in the center of my own life. Hard. Praying for Father to help me with this today. Blessings!