Today I am kind of all over the place. I feel the nesting instincts I felt the night before I was induced with my children. I feel the excitement and nervous anticipation that mirror those days and hours. I like this feeling. I thought I would never feel it again if I didn’t have another baby. But today I feel that. And it’s weird.
I feel the extreme need to get everything in order. Beds made, dishes done, meals organized, carpool delegated, clothes folded and children held. Because I don’t know how long I’ll be able to do it or when the road to recovery will become a little bumpier.
The hardest part of these last two weeks has been the fact that I know nothing more about my diagnosis than I did the very first night I learned I had cancer. The hardest part is that there are no answers to my questions. Talk about trust.
In this exercise of blind trust, there have been many little reminders. Just little blessings, miracles, that even though I still don’t have a complete diagnosis and even though I don’t know when I’ll begin an effective treatment, I have not been forgotten by God. One day it was sunflowers. Another day it was something else. But every.single.time I need to know that I know that I know, there He is.
I had a friend ask me if I’d gained any weight. She said her entire family was full of stress eaters. I told her no that I’d lost about fifteen pounds but I sure had shopped a lot. My family is full of stress shoppers.
My mom and I have shopped for the children. They have new clothes, outfits to wear to the hospital, new tennis shoes, new school supplies and mementos to keep the company in my absence. I have new pajamas and a new robe. One needs to look presentable when recovering! I got soft sweats so that I can easily roll into the fetal position when I need a good cuddle and cry position. I’ve purchases gifts for those who’ve helped me and stocked every shelf in the kitchen. The children need to be nourished in my absence!
Last week Mom and I were at our favorite establishment, the local Steinmart. I found the cutest leopard hoodie accented with my favorite shade of red/orange/maroon. I tried it on and opened the dressing room door to show my mom. She exclaims, “That’s MY shirt! I’ve been waiting for that to be marked down for months.”
In my best honoring-your-parents daughter voice I said, “Okay you can have this one.” In my selfish loathing heart I thought, “But only since you’re the mother and you’re buying.”
In an effort to console me she added that she’d share it and found a pink shirt she thought I’d really like. The pink shirt was cute and I said I was sure I would enjoy it just as much, All the while knowing I probably wouldn’t but it would be fun to wear it on Valentine’s Day.
The shirt is made entirely of pink breast cancer ribbons.
What a blessing! I know God picked this shirt out for me and was totally using my mom. You see, I know that I have sarcoma in my breast because God wants me to identify with other women in a special and deep way. The enemy wants nothing more than to attack my femininity. The very place that God’s called me to minister, the enemy is trying to steal. He can’t. He won’t. And I know God won’t let him.
God showed me that in a beautiful pink shirt, one that I’ll be wearing Valentine’s Day and many other generic days of the year this cancer survivor will celebrate.
A thief is only there to steal and kill and destroy. I came so they can have real and eternal life, more and better life than they ever dreamed of. John 10:10 The Message