Misplaced hope

After three months of bad reports, she sat anxiously, even excitedly assured of a positive outcome. Her carpenter husband’s chronic cancer had given them a wake-up call and a constant dose of bitter mortality over the past 90 days. Recently having been told by their oncologist that in order “for him to survive the long term, Galen’s numbers had to be under .1”. It seemed shocking that little numbers made a big difference, but in his case every one hundredth of a number meant everything. That was a number in which he had never reached. The news prompted them to gather more opinions from experts that were no doubt a gift from God and to examine the possibility of different treatments. And now in the present, the treatment had been covered and the carpenter was responding so positively with the fewest of side effects.

Or so the couple thought.

The nurse kindly left the lab reports after having sharing some laughter and small talk about life. She shut the door on her way out and the wife of the carpenter, casually turned to page 3 quickly to look at her husband’s latest numbers. This was routine as she knew right where to look and the chart had the information so nicely organized that she could compare numbers from previous tests.

It was strange really that her heart didn’t drop and her eyes didn’t sting with pain, but instead her mouth uttered, “what?” loudly as a cloud of confusion began to descend upon her. Her husband, too, shared in the disbelief, the numbers must have been forged because how else could a person explain that his lab reports said his cancer had increased by at least 10x even after he had already started a new treatment?

The doctor soon came in and they began addressing the problem. He quickly stated how one test shouldn’t alarm the couple, or determine an immediate response, but he, too, was perplexed and insisted her husband get another test in 4 weeks instead of the regular 12. “We will go from there” he said assuredly. She looked at the doctor and thanked him for his care and begin to weep as the confusion gave way to fear. The doctor kindly looked at her and said, ‘it will be okay. He will be okay.’
But those words didn’t really stick with her or anchor her soul because what did he know? While he was a caring, attentive oncologist, he was only human and he didn’t know what only God could. She and the carpenter left feeling burdened, disheartened, confused and perplexed. This appointment, yet again, was not what they were expecting to hear. In her mind, she had to again be the bearer of bad news to those who cared to know. And she was tired. So weary and felt for the first time in nearly four years like she was finally too much. She was a burden.

Over the next week, the wife of the carpenter would struggle to do daily tasks, she would wrestle against a winter that she was so far from over and also the cancer in which her husband battled. The days were long and filled with gloomy clouds, the kind that hang so low, a person could feel their weight suppress his soul. She spent many days crying as she shared with those closest to her about the news feeling the weightiness of the what if’s. Her problem was what good did she have to share or good news to give anyone after this appointment?

The next day as she was driving her tribe home after picking up the oldest, strictly in the mind of going through the motions, the sun had broken through the gloomy skies and had brightened the day. The snow wasn’t gray, but white, and crisp and even sparkled. Shades of a bright blue were abundant. Father Winter mercifully relented if even for just a tiny while and the mother of these three candidly remarked, “you guys, what a beautiful day it is”. And back behind her seat, her littlest love, with pigtails and a winter boot that had fallen off, said without prompting, “thank you God!”

For some reason it was at that moment, the wife of the carpenter realized she had misplaced her hope. It was possible to find something to be thankful for in the midst of hardship. Her hope was never supposed to be in doctor’s appointments, or numbers and she is never actually supposed to be the source of hope for other people. In fact, as she reflected, she knew the appointment, while it may not have gone her way, was still a part of God’s sovereign plan.

And it wasn’t thwarted that day.

She made the mistake of thinking this walk with cancer was a destination and not a journey. That this appointment and good numbers would be the source of her hope when it wasn’t. It couldn’t be. If it were, it wouldn’t sustain her heart in the long term.

Just as the clouds parted that day, so her confusion and burden began to lift, she felt so deeply assured that God’s ways were truly higher than hers (Isaiah 55:9). She looked back on her lifeand trusted that even though this wasn’t news they didn’t want, God made good on His promises to her in the past and that He would continue to do that. She knew that He would take what was meant for evil and use it for His good and His glory (Genesis 50:20). She knew that she knew her God was capable of taking her tears, her trials, her ashes and exchanging them for a crown of beauty (Isaiah 61:3) and she wasn’t simply just trusting anymore, she had been a first-hand witness for the last 4 years. Tears drew themselves to the corner of her eyes, but she just knew that God would sustain her, no matter what the future looked like. And with that knowledge, peace flooded her soul like sunshine, and that was best news she could’ve gotten.
#raisingchickensandchildren
#cancersucks
#Godisgood
#todayisagift