But being you know, semi-filled with cancer still, you can't help but think about the what if's. What if the doctors can't get it all, what if it comes back, what if it spreads again; there's a plethora of what if's to choose from, it's like an endless buffet for the over thinkers like myself. Really, with an over thinker like that it's dangerous territory going there because it leads you to countless other questions you can't answer. One minute you're fine, sixty minutes later you've already mentally written letters to your kids to open after you're dead, planned your funeral, what clothes do you want to be in in the casket? That answer I do have, and it better be a bomb ass flannel, folks. Then you think about how long you're really willing to try treatment again before you succumb to just going onto Hospice. Do you want that hospital bed they give you to go in your bedroom or the living room so you can still be with people? Would you quit your job and just enjoy your time, knowing the financial hardship that might put those in that are left behind? Do you have a bucket list, do you even need one? Should you decide who gets what of your belongings ahead of time, or let them pick after you're gone? Do you get mad at God because you're going to die? Do you get mad at God that you're even having to think these things on any level?
I think natural instinct is to get mad at God. I'm too young to die, I'm too young to be this sick, and you know what, so are thousands of others. Why should I legitimately even have to ever think about any of this? How the fluff is that even fair? I've already lost my grandma, lost my mom, and now my family could one day have to go through all of that exact same pain? How is one darn bit of that fair or okay, how does that come from a loving God? What kind of God kills you? What kind of God puts you in a position to even have to face the thought of it?
This is where my losses plays a key role. This is where I wish I could go back, hold younger me's hand and tell her "One day you'll understand, one day this will make sense. One day, the puzzles pieces come together. You just have to hold on." And it's not because now I have any sort of better understanding of how you answer any of those questions. I don't. I can't plan my own funeral today any better than I could ten years ago. I can't tell you where I want my hospital bed, what room I want to die in, any better than I could then. I can't answer any of that. Which makes it even trickier, being an over thinker, to make a mad dash for that rabbit hole of endless questions you ultimately will never have the right answers to.
The only question I can answer, have any semblance of a grasp on, is do you get mad at God...and the answer to that, is no. God didn't give me cancer. But God did give me an awesome team of doctors. God won't kill me. The cancer might, one day, but God will be there to welcome me home if I do. God isn't there to make life fair for me, instead he gives me the tools I need to know what to do when life isn't fair. Because sometimes its not, sometimes it's anything but fair, or right, or deserved. Which is why he gives me the tools, to level the playing field and to remember what the true end game is. The end game isn't for me to beat cancer today or any day. The end game isn't to lengthen my time here for any duration.
This isn't my forever home. This is my temporary home, here on earth. My home, is with Him. My goal is to help lead as many people to Him as possible in the time I am given. The question is what do you do with the time you have been given? Am I working on my goals? How do I work on these goals? What of His work can I do while I am here? I know to some that might sound like I have it all figured out or that I'm wise on some level. Don't be fooled, I'm not. I'm doing my best to figure this out as I go just like everyone else, and screwing it all up on many occasions. Some days my game is on point, some nights all I can do at the end of the day is just tell Jesus that I'm sorry for the entire day. But I keep trying. Every day, every hour, every minute, is an opportunity to change, to try and get it right when I'm getting it all wrong.
So today, as I mentally celebrated being halfway through the first part of the journey my mind goes straight to all of the questions for the next phase. Worry knocks on the door, fear standing close behind in line. I'm a thinker, a planner, and face things head on with a solid, thought out plan kinda girl. That's how I roll. There's no question, I have to answer the door or the questions on the other side become so loud that I cannot hear anything else in my head. It'll consume me. The question, is how do I react when I open the door to worry, to fear. How do I plan to face it. Having gone through so much loss already, having grown in my faith, I know that as the worry of the next phase starts to flood in, as the fear that all of this won't work anyway and I'll still be faced with death - I know the answer won't be found in anger, it won't be found in more what if's. The answer is facing it knowing that God has already given me all of the tools I need. I already have my end game goal, and it has nothing to do with cancer. So is there really anything to worry about, be afraid of? No, not really. The only true fear or worry that I carry is that I miss an opportunity He puts in front of me to reach that goal, that I mess it up along the way. Today, as I'm tempted to think, tempted to delve into those ugly questions, I remind myself of my true goal....what do I do with the time that is given to me? One thing is for sure, I won't be wasting it by being angry at God, I'm going to make it count.
Comments
Post a Comment