We are nearing the end of chemotherapy. It is unbelievable, it is exciting, it is happy. And yet both Marissa and I have found ourselves more emotional, more unsure, more scared. There have been more tears.
The reality of surgery and radiation and all the details–it can be overwhelming. There is a lot of road left to travel. The familiar hard is about to change into a new hard. The battle is shifting. New battlefield, new commanders, new weapons. New fears.
It’s a lot of letting go for a 25-year-old. Letting go of things you didn’t even know you were holding onto. Things you haven’t even held yet. Ideas and dreams and expectations of life. Sometimes the heart just hurts. There is so much letting go.
I awoke with my heart pounding in the middle of the night. A new symptom and a new fear and my mama’s heart could not be at peace. Would not be at peace.
Googled it before coffee and before reading God’s Words. Left it up on the screen while I walked outside for my run. Hardly looked at the stars while I pounded the pavement. Held on tight to my fear. Didn’t grab onto peace.
When I walked in the house, Marissa had her Bible open, tears in her eyes. She shared how she had awakened in the night and God had given her these verses. How He had given her a song in the night How she had wept with the truth of it, the comfort of it.
Though the fig tree should not blossom
And there be no fruit on the vines,
though the yield of the olive should fail
And the fields produce no food,
Though the flock should be cut off from the fold
And there be no cattle in the stalls,
Yet I will exult in the Lord,
I will rejoice in the God of my salvation.
The Lord God is my strength,
And He has made my feet like hinds’ feet,
And makes me walk on my high places. (Habakkuk:3:17-19)
Through it all, no matter what, there is God. His salvation, His strength, His enabling us to walk on high places.
And I remembered. She helped me remember the song in the night.
She helped me remember God.