How do you find the words to describe this past week? To tell of the love of family, the despair of cancer, and the mercy of our God.
Of sitting in that little conference room, waiting on the surgeon’s report. Sweaty palms, heart pounding – hoping I wouldn’t pass out if the news was bad.
Of hearing the doctor say those wonderful words that everything looked okay, with only 10% chance it had spread.
How can one describe the feelings of sheer relief, gratefulness, and a heart that is full to overflowing?
Of tow-headed blondies in the strawberry patch, begging me to eat the one she had picked for me.
Or of the fourteen-year-old boy from San Francisco who sat beside me on the plane and was so eager and full of life. Until the engine sounded strange to him and he wanted to know if it was okay. To which I replied it sounded quite normal.
Midwest stormclouds. And sweet corn in the garden.
Baseballs in the green grass. And the sweet newborn smell of my sister’s baby.
How does one tell of the memories I tucked away for the rest of my life? Memories of this week I spent with my mother, even though she felt so weak and tired to do much. She has always been the one to lovingly serve our family; now it was time she was on the receiving end of love.
Of being able to serve my precious mother and just be near her. From walks through the garden to clipping toenails, from reading devotions over a cup of coffee together to putting on her socks.
Do I dare tell you of the soul-purging prayers I prayed as my plane flew 2,000 miles east and back again? Of how the bumpiest flight of my life made me realize the brevity of life and the weakness of my heart.
Then to arrive home where giant hugs awaited me from my honey, big squeezes from my children, smiles on every face and love in every heart. And two soft, little arms going round my neck once more with a sweet kiss on my cheek.
It it difficult to describe all the emotions and experiences that have went through our family for the past month.
But if there is one thing I will remember, it is the words of my father after hearing the surgeon’s report:
We were prepared to say, no matter the outcome, “God is still good.”
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