Wow - can't believe I haven't posted in a year.
Warning...this post may cause sadness and/or tears.
It's back. I hate It. A product of the evil one, that's for certain. I hate sickness, sadness, illness, pain, sin in general. And I really, really hate cancer.
When we first found out, I spent the week waiting for a treatment plan feeling as if every inch of my skin was cracking open, sort of like you see in pictures of the driest of deserts...deep gashes with pustules sprouting up and oozing dread. When the doctor gave us his prognosis, the me inside my head ran back and forth for days, tugging and pulling at my hair, screaming at the top of my lungs, wild-eyed and frantic.
More recently the me inside my head is that 5-year-old little girl with long brown hair who just wants to hide behind Mama, entwined around her legs and tugging at her dress.
When I get to heaven I know who I want to talk to, besides the obvious (Jesus). I want to sit down with Abraham and understand what he was feeling when God took him to the altar to sacrifice Isaac and did not stop him until the last minute. How could he go forward with such a command? What did he feel? Was he crying so hard he couldn't see? Can I be that in love with God?
I will not give an inch on my faith. I will stand firm and hold on, remembering that God did not lift his hand for Daddy until the last moment; that He did not halt Abraham until the final moment. He is a God of promises, and as much as I love my Mom, He loves her even more than I.
I will stand firm, though it is with constant nausea and the voice of a 5 year-old.
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