today's post is something that has been heavy on my heart over the past week. i felt i needed to write it down. to remember it. so i can reflect back at a later day. hold myself accountable. share my heart in honest form.
if you are interested. if you struggle with this. if you want to know where my heart is today, join me.
lately, i've struggled with looking back.
in an earlier post i shared about the day of surgery and the surgeon saying, if only you had only... that post can be found here, but i'll warn you, grab a kleenex.{the surgery day}
anyway, there are many fronts of the big storm around me, smaller tornadoes, a little rain, waves with high swells, sometimes the only thing holding me still is the anchor. hebrews 6:19 says hope is our anchor.
an anchor keeps a boat from moving. hope keeps me in place. it keeps my eyes focused properly. without that anchor, i'd be tossed about. i'd drown.
it's all part of the big storm i'm going through in my life. cancer is only part of it.
i look in the fridge, i see the antibiotic matt has been taking for 28 days.
i look on the kitchen counter and i see his current meds. in the cupboard are the ones "just in case."
the hook near the door, where he used to hang baseball caps, now holds beanies.
my purse now contains pain meds and ear plugs.
watching matt ache, seeing his bald head, knowing his energy level isn't what it used to be burdens my heart. i know it's a direct result of the cancer.
today i put a new lotion on my hands and asked him to smell it. it was pretty strong, he shook his head.
nope. nothing.
the other night we had a spicy amazing mexican pork dinner made for us. he said he could taste the pepper.
grrrrr.
the kids and i often have to repeat ourselves. we tease that he has an excuse for the selective hearing. but really, it's not funny. it's just our way of coping.
i want him to smell. taste. hear.
daily we are reminded cancer is part of our home.
if we'd only... no i can't go there.
because we didn't.
we didn't discover it sooner.
we didn't opt for surgery before treatment as one medical center advised only after the fact.
we didn't know how to prepare.
rather than being pro-active, in a sense we are being reactive.
the kids are getting older. taylor is two and a half years from being 18. levi is two years behind her. i feel like cancer has robbed us of a precious season of their teenage years. i have been reflecting back on them as young kids. babies. toddlers. the elementary years. it causes my heart to ache. not the sentimental, my babies are growing up kind, but i am angry. because we'll never get this time back.
yes we learned a lot, don't get me wrong. and God has been faithful. He's taught us many things in this.
but i feel that we've been robbed. in my mind this isn't how we were to spend taylor's 15th year and levi's 13th year.
now even just looking at pictures "life of before" makes my heart ache. if i knew then what i know now, would i have done things differently when they were little?
i'd have slowed down.
i'd have focused more on reading to them instead of ...
we'd have played games.
gone on adventures.
if only...there are so many regrets.
but i'm reminded of what it says in the Word.
in genesis 19 we read that lot's wife was told don't look back.
she did and she died.
did she long for what she used to have? did she hesitate in her obedience? i'm not sure. but i know she did the very thing she was told not to do. she looked back.
proverbs 4:25 says, let your eyes look straight ahead. fix your gaze directly before you.
fix my gaze. to stare intently.
don't be distracted.
and philippians 3:13 tells us to forget that which is behind and strain for what is ahead.
strain.
of course we can learn from the past. but to focus on it may not be the best idea. have you ever tried to run a race while looking behind you? you can't win that way. you have to focus your eyes on the prize and strain to the finish line.
as i meditate on this, i have a lump in my throat. a heavy heart. a physical ache.
so many things i could have done differently. but by thinking about what i missed yesterday, i am missing out on today.
so this week my goal is to keep my eyes on the prize.
train my mind to think about heaven and the mansion He went to prepare for me.
stare and strain.
3 comments:
Melissa turned 13 the day after my surgery.
25 years ago.
I know. I love you more than you know.
And I did not get daily meals, I did not have FB, I did not have... 'Cause new babies were more important than my family.
I am so thankful that the body of Christ is supporting you. I know.
I am so angry that Matt is sick. SO ANGRY!!!
It is not supposed to be like this.
And I pray. That is all I can do.
I love you!
Sarah, cancer takes but it also gives. I'm thinking of your children most of all, and while yes, life is different, your faith and steadfastness have blessed them with tools they will use now and in the future. The example they have been shown of how to walk in faith and grace through the worst of life's trials is something they will NEVER forget. Your journey has also blessed each of us following you with the same. It's tougher to see this while in the midst of treatments and recovery, but you will continue to look back throughout your lives and see blessings despite. A new normal will come...and God continues to bless all of us though your journey.
Hey Friend. Look back with joy. You didn't need to do anything differently. I know. I was there. You were (are) a wonderful mom who raised her children with love, affection, laughter, and most importantly with a fierceness in your soul to teach them the Truth. KWAVE was your kids' lullaby "music." :) Today is a different day; a day in which that foundation you worked so diligently to build is being tested. . .and your kids are still standing-maybe even a little taller-because of it. Today you run your race alongside them instead of pushing them in the stroller. And they are keeping up as they see you and Matt find your strength and peace in our mighty God. Look back fondly, friend. I know I do. Love you guys!
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