from an article originally posted August 31, 2014…
I’m back to the face-down days I knew 2 years ago. It hurts to lose moments, memories, sweet tender times in the haze of drugs. My dear neighbor came over and reminded me of our conversation, which had vanished from my mind. Blaaaaaa
I quietly rested my head beside my guy last night and whispered my fears to him, What if all this hard isn’t working? His face mirrored my fears. This battle is so painful. We long, long, long to know all this hard is working.
These faces, these blessed faces, make it all worth it. All the tears, all the hard, all the weary worth the moments to pour love into their amazing lives. And when the perfect moment is appointed for me to fly away, I think we will all know. But now, this day, we fight. Fight for good moments in the blur of the bad.
I never miss church. Hardly ever. I love our Westside community. But today my white blood count is tanked, so I’m home, home fighting to feel better. I’m home trying to protect my family from having to take care of me more than they already do. I can’t help myself with hugs and loves. My little body just has no fight. So I’m quietly in my bed listening to worship songs and writing my favorite readers.
These pictures are the extent of what I could do yesterday. I came home and slept for 2 hours—that’s all the steam my body has after the killing poison. Jason and I were tucked into this beautiful arbor and I simply wept. I wept sorry to him. I wept sadness that it’s so hard for him. I wept for us, for the story we dreamed, and the story that is. I’m grateful for this life, but I grieve what I thought it would be. It’s not cancer that brings the bottom, it’s my hopes and dreams colliding with reality. And in that edge, grace. Gentle grace to receive the story. I woke from my sleep to see these beautiful images from Jen Lints Photography—they show me there is love. Abiding love. Love beyond each of us. Impossible, incomprehensible love. Love even when my family is asked to carry my impossibly heavy burden. There is love. Such tender love.
