This last year has left me longing for good health again.
I can't wait for the day I get the call that my scans show no sign of cancer. And then on that same day getting to share the news with my loved ones. I can't wait for the happy tears, the hugs, the celebrating...
But this longing leaves me speechless and in tears for many reasons. One of the reasons being that I have come to the realization that my healing may not occur here on Earth. The realization that the call I previously talked about may be to inform my loved ones that I have gone to see Jesus.
When I look at that picture, I see all joy for me as I get to approach the gates of Heaven and give a run and jump hug into the arms of Jesus (at least that's how I picture it), but then I see a mixture of joy and sadness for those left behind.
While I continue to be more aware that cancer is what could easily take my life some day, I am also more aware that death is not the worst thing that can happen to me. It's actually quite the opposite. I mean, who wouldn't want to do a run and jump hug with Jesus?
Yet, the only thing that truly ties everything together right now is the simple statement, "I am thankful to be alive."
I woke up this morning, wiped the drool off my face, rolled over to an upright position and put my feet on the floor, and the first thing I did was thank God for another day. I thanked Him for sparing me from life-threatening hospital visits twice in the last 6 months. (#effpneumonia)
I can't help but continue to compare my experiences with Paul when he was in prison. He started longing for Jesus and the graduation to glory, yet God spared his life because it was better for the church's sake that he live and help them grow. (Philippians)
So instead of longing for Jesus, I have learned to embrace Him in the present. I have resolved that my work here is not done and I continue to face every day finding wisdom in the simple pleasures.
As I stood in the shower this morning with the hot water pressing into my bald head, I closed my eyes as the steam enveloped around me, and it made me think, "This is what it means to be alive."
I have those realizations often since having cancer. Sometimes when I am watching the rain, snow, or leaves fall outside or when I am curled up on the couch watching hours of Ellen Degeneres, I am struck by how lucky I am to be living through such moments. I am lucky that I get to feel the sun and rain on my skin and hear my friend's laughter every day.
And because of the things that God continues to press into my heart, even the moments of sitting in a chemo chair or fighting off infections in a hospital bed, are moments that I am proud to call myself a suffering servant.
