Rare, that is me!

Let’s get raw and real. Yesterday was one of those days that you’d just like to crawl back into bed, scream at God a little, try to figure out the meaning of all of this then crash. I have these every once in a while, thankfully, not to often. I’ve been beautifully covered with prayers and thoughts I will likely never comprehend, but I feel them. They lift me up.

I opened my email yesterday morning to this:

 

“RARE MALIGNANT CELLS.” You would think I’ve seen this over and over enough that it shouldn’t bring me down the way it did, but it did. I want them so badly to be gone. I want to be free of this disease as I know I’m not alone out there. I have so many friends battling the same battle, they understand. It’s a fight for your life, and there are just some days that inevitably knock you down when you least expect it.

It took me the entire day to bounce back. Again, thankful it was only one day. I have been blessed with the gift of positivity and finding ways to deal with problems and hardships with a smile. It’s just who I am. I can laugh at the scary stuff, and find and sometimes give encouragement during the scariest of storms, not yesterday. It was like a big flood of sadness.

The goals of the next few months sat on my heart and ripped it to pieces. I’ve almost made it to my daughter’s thirteenth birthday! Do you know how hard I cried back in September unbelieving that I would never see this day? That was another bad one. The only thing I remember was laying on the couch in oodles of tears with Skip yelling, “I just want to see my babies graduate high school!” Is that too much to ask? And then I remember, this is stupid, and we went out for one of the most beautiful bike rides. I’ve learned a lot of shake it off, stress makes it worse, pick yourself up, pull it together and get out there and do something that clears your mind. God hears your innermost thoughts and my words that day, like yesterday, though many silent, he was there, holding my hand, making it better.

Isaiah 55:8 says “your thoughts are not my thoughts neither your ways not my ways.” Someone sweet shared that last night, and I thought, huh, My thoughts all day have been so ugly, so scared. Those are for sure not God’s thoughts. I began to let go. I saw the hundreds of notes, comments, texts, and messages and realized, those are his ways. He has flooded my family with an army of angels and reminds me now, that my guardians are with us fighting together. It’s awesome and it’s the biggest sign of love there is.

This morning I awoke with my head splitting in half, my stomach once again completely unresponsive, and my back and leg hurting. Its just the way it is now and that is okay. Today I see one of the doctor’s and I pray that they can help figure the mystery out. I'm rare, so that is me.

I made my way downstairs and decieded it would be a good morning to start the circle maker 40 day challenge. We read the children’s version last night and read an excerpt out of the adult book. 7:14 is a crazy time to be circling circles in my living room with prayer, but whatever, I say three minutes of prayer time in a circle we refuse to leave until God shows up and makes his miracle will be plenty worth it.

Mark Batterson writes about Honi the Circle Maker and threw in this verse about 2 Colossians 7:14.  ^“if my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and I will forgive their sin and will heal their land.” I am ready, heal my body, my land. I circled myself on my living room carpet today, selfishly and boldly I prayed for myself. I want to see a miracle. I hear Alana pray all the time, “heal my mom like you did that guy who could not see, like all the people you healed. Make her better, you’re going to hear that over and over.” He can. He will.

Holding onto hope in a new way this week. It may be desperation. It may be watching people I know this month battle this disease and be called home. It may be that I want to be the one who people long from now talk about and say “I want to be healed like she was”, and in that miracle I want others to believe in God, because they saw him work.

Thanks for getting me out of another pit, and into my living room. Now it’s time to watch my 8 year old transform into Lucille Ball for her Wax Museum Project and that excited me to no end!