August 22, 2016 - Wherever we will go

I’m still lying in wait. But I did it “Sally Style” by going to the Caribbean for a week. This trip was planned well in advance, but the timing could not have been more perfect as breast lumps seems almost non-existent while swimming along with seemingly weightless sea turtles in St. John’s. My world was weightless too as I bobbled up and down with the undulating waters around me. I purposely floated alone, away from others. The sea was mine, if only for a few quarters of time, but it was mine as my view held only the waters around me. (I will spare you the intricate details of snorting water up my nose almost sending me into a flopping display of panic, but know that moment was there along with also almost losing my swim bottoms as I dove off the boat). I’m a sucker for creation. And the creation in these incredibly blue waters provide nothing short of mental healing. One rolling tide can sweep away any angst that lie at your back doorstep over to be discarded out over the coral reef that protrudes up from below. It’s therapeutic. And it’s simply glorious to lose yourself in the vastness of magnificence under the water line. But now, well now, I’m back. Back to the ins and outs. Back to THIS side of the water line. Back to the timeline of the ticking clock our society spends so much time trying to tame. There is no clock in the ocean, or rather I found none in my weightless stroll, but now I am back. Back to waiting.

Habakkuk 2:2 has been ringing in my ears non-stop ever since stepping on the plane heading back to my reality. “I will wait to see what the LORD says and how he will answer” (NLT). The verse flooded my thoughts before leaving town and again flood my thoughts now that I’ve returned. Aren’t we particularly horrible at waiting? Do we not conjure up every known horribleness that could possibly be while we wait? Anxiety is real. Worry is real-ER. Fear is real-EST. Somehow, for I know not how by my own merit, I’ve been able to keep these predators at bay. They creep in (mainly in the middle of the night), but then they creep back out. Crystal blue water surely played some role, but I struggled more as the week went on. Flying home was more like flying back to this breast nodule and all it may hold. I’m adoring the statistic of 8 out of 10 (8 out of 10 breast nodules go on to be benign cysts), but I’m finding less comfort around my own statistics for I know not what they are. I did this prophylactic double mastectomy to keep breast cancer at bay. So what does it mean when my risks were so high pre-mastectomy to now find a lump post mastectomy? You can roll that around in your mind until worry is all you know. I’m not there. I am not worrying. But I worry I will START worrying while I wait. See, that is the vicious cycle of worry so easily portrayed by us Type A folks. We truly can worry about worrying. Worry serves no purpose here. Waiting serves all the purpose here.

I’m so gracious in knowing that even through this nodule, and its imposed waiting mode, I am being refined. Ron is being refined. Our “We” is being refined. And for that I give thanks as I lay in wait. In turmoil we get glimpses of our self that we don’t see in the ins and outs of everyday life. There is a camaraderie that can be found in struggle.  There is a depth that can come in turmoil. The lack of guarantee of tomorrow brings a filter which strains out the superficial and brings back a focused lens aligned on the irreplaceable moments of life. I don’t want even a single second of that surreal focus to be muddled with the spoilage of worry. Worry is a predator that lurks behind each corner ready to squeeze out any blessing that lies just underneath. It’s a thief of everything great.  So I very much want to choose to get ahead of that so my lens of perspective remains cleansed by the hope and clarity that comes during refinement.   I want more time in the irreplaceable moments and in the sifter of refinement, and less time flooded by the corrosive nature of fear.

I say all of this out loud on this page as an active process for myself, for if I fall prey to the passive alternate, all will be lost. Sadness may come, pending a specific outcome, but Christ has taken the sting of even that before it makes itself known, so I will choose to see the incredible instead of giving merit to the damning (over and over in my head will I say this until I start to see the fruit! I’m terrible at being purposeful. But I’m getting a lot of practice, and I have as much role in this as anything else does.) My joy will not rely on outcome. For such a time as this, as we lie in wait, his promises are just as true! 

I have the last appointment of the day on Wednesday. The odds lie in getting good news. This “peanut” has just as much right to benign as anything else and I’m claiming that. I’m quite sure the appointment itself will simply be a “touch and feel” session just to get the initial impressions from Lead Breast Surgeon. She is beyond delightful so there is a high probability I will actually show up for the appointment (smile). After that, we will find ourselves back in wait. Then from there, we will go wherever we will go.  




To access previous blog posts - click HERE.

No comments: