Aftermath

Tears On Your Face

Song by Bethany Barnard (You can listen here)

This is where no word fits

This is the broken heart in my chest

This is the wave building

This is the crashing on the shore again

This is where time slows down

This is when the world not slowing down feels wrong

This is a grieving town

Waiting for someone to make sense of it all

This is the aftermath

This is the free fall, how far down does it go?

This is the ripple effect

This is what they mean, the dark night of the soul

But You, Son of Man

Love incarnate

You don't see from far away

You come, sit with me

And grieve with me

And I see tears on Your face

I've gotta reconcile that

You don't fast forward me through this

And I've gotta reconcile that

You want to know me when I'm like this

And I've gotta reconcile that

You didn't change the diagnosis

And I've gotta reconcile that

You've reconciled it all in Your flesh

You, Son of Man

Love incarnate

You don't see from far away

You come, sit with me

And grieve with me

And I see tears on Your face

I discovered this song in the midst of some of the darker days of my cancer valley this past year. It gave words both to my grief and to my hope. Even just this morning, I cried listening to it again. You may ask, “Why the tears? Aren’t you celebrating being cancer-free?!” Yes, indeed! Anthony and I (and our whole family: kids, parents, siblings, extended family, etc.) are so grateful for this true gift from the Lord. I’m still alive! I don’t take that for granted. Some of my tears are tears of joy and thanksgiving for this gift of life! But as we enter this new season of joy, grief is just under the surface as I live in a body that doesn't yet feel like mine (I'm told it can take 18 months to 2 years for the mind to readjust to a new bodily normal), and as I sift through the realities and emotions of the last 9 months that I didn't have time to fully process in the midst of the storm. 

Looking at the news, today, I prayed for Florida as Hurricane Milton (currently a category 4 storm) is set to make landfall tonight, so closely on the heels of Hurricane Helene (only 2 weeks apart!), leaving residents no time to clean up the piles of debris from the last storm before the next one hits. My heart aches for them. And it gave me a picture of what it has felt like for Anthony and me this past year as the torrential winds of life tore through, and we found ourselves repeatedly caught in the storm surge. After the storms have passed and the flood waters are receding, you are certainly grateful for the calm (and that you’re alive), but you also look around and see that there is a lot of debris to sort through. Trees and wires are down, parts of life as you knew it are everywhere, the normal landscape and basic supports that were taken for granted either look different or are gone altogether. What made it through the deep waters, and what didn't? What needs to be discarded or kept? Cleanup is a long process. It takes intentionality and hard work to recover and rebuild. This is the phase we are entering into.

I just connected with a counselor this week to start meeting regularly. It will be helpful to have someone from the outside looking in to help me navigate these next steps. Someone who shares my faith in a loving God who lets hard things happen. Someone whose heart can resonate with mine both in the joys of God's faithfulness and the painful realities of life. I'm also signed up with a cancer support group to connect with other survivors. I hope to be involved in and give back to the cancer community that has given so much to me. 

Oh, and the one thing that hasn’t changed, that remained strong and immovable through the raging storms? Jesus, my solid rock: My Friend, Father, Savior, Rescuer, Healer, Comforter, Restorer. He has remained the same. And his words of truth and comfort are still my anchor. He specializes in bringing new, fresh life from the rubble. I can’t wait to see what he will do.

He has made everything beautiful in its time (Ecclesiastes 3:11).

He who was seated on the throne said, “Behold, I am making all things new” (Revelation 21:5).

Prayer:

• For my friends who are currently suffering. As I write this, I see faces in my mind of dear ones who are in the midst of the struggle, who are longing for their storms to pass or are grieving losses as they sort through the rubble. Pray for endurance, comfort, faith and hope. Lord, hold them fast.

• For patience as I continue to heal. Today marks exactly 4 weeks since my surgery! Healing always takes longer than you think it should. My range of motion is coming along slowly as I continue my exercises and go about regular movements in everyday life. I’m still not driving, but hopefully soon. I’m sleeping in bed, but not yet able to lay flat or roll over. My hair is coming in little by little. 

• I have an appointment to get my port removed on October 17. Please pray it is an easy, uneventful process (The procedure is done in the office with novocaine while I’m awake). My surgeon is expecting a baby due November 1, so please pray I get in before she goes into labor! :) 

• For my liver to return to normal. That my CT scan on my abdomen October 28 will come back clear, and my bloodwork on December 16 will show my liver numbers have returned to a normal range.

• That God will navigate and guide the counseling and support groups I’m a part of, giving emotional healing, wisdom, direction and open doors moving forward. 

• That I will be a blessing to other sufferers, and be able to comfort others with the comfort I have received from God (2 Corinthians 1:3-5).

Picture: A survivor walking through the rubble after Hurricane Helene. Photo image from aol.com.