from an article originally posted November 6, 2014…
“Therefore, having put away falsehood, let each one of you speak the truth with his neighbor, for we are members one of another.”
I have been reading through Ephesians. It’s stunning, overwhelming, full of great insight, and a lot of confronting—beautiful confronting of speech and living honestly... My mouth is often my weakness. My words can be sharp, my words can portray false strength, my words can simply hurt. Words, words, words are my struggle when I’m feeling badly. My words are a struggle when I’m feeling weak and sick. Ephesians shines such beautiful light on my struggle with speech. And this morning, this verse showed me my struggle to honestly share, in words, my struggle with cancer. I want to pretend my results are different. I want to fake at strength so everyone else can stop feeling anxious.
My dear Mickey is in town to help carry our family. She is a calming, safe presence in our home. My brother left and he was a joyful, fun visit. I cherish the time my brother and I shared. There is a special place in my heart reserved specifically for my brother, and I know there is a unique place in his heart that holds me. The kids played hard and enjoyed my brother. Mickey comes to nurture and care. It’s perfect timing as I will be moving back into treatment, and likely new treatment, which brings with it a lot of unknowns in how my body will react.
The results of my scan came in yesterday. I honestly want to live in falsehood, tell lies of the results, and pretend we aren’t meeting a new edge with cancer. Yesterday, in our small group, someone told me how well I looked. The saying looks are deceptive immediately came to mind. I’m a champ at faking that I’m not in pain, I’m gifted and faking strength. I look upon this Ephesians verse, and I’m corrected. So, I get to open wide my hands to my story, receive the hard, and look for the grace. But I’m not meant to do it alone. Living in community means living honestly. Sharing burdens. Not fixing one another, but walking with one another through pain.
The cancer has retreated in areas of my body and grown in others. Nothing was surprising to me, as I have felt pain increased in areas and decreased in other places. Mickey and I were sitting over coffee this morning delighting over the joys and grieving the sorrows. We talked over The Hardest Peace and began to wonder over what writing may come next.
