This post is a mishmash of many thoughts tumbling around inside my head sparked by you, my faithful readers chatters and prayer warriors. I am so thankful for all you have done for me. I have loved it all. The gifts, the many, many thoughtful gifts that you have put your time, energy and love into have overwhelmed me. From beautiful prints, prayer shawls, hand-painted crosses and hand-sewn pillows to jewelry, t-shirts and sunflowers and the sweetest and most encouraging cards, words don’t even begin to describe the outpouring of love and glad chatter I feel for you. Every.single.one. of you. Each gift has been wrapped in love and many have brought tears to my eyes when I opened them. I really want you all to know that.
This past week many of you have sent me music. Keep that up! I have so enjoyed listening to my waiting list and celebration music. Yesterday I was finally able to plug my iPod in and worship as I soaked up some sun in my window seat. Soaking in God’s sovereignty while waiting has been such a blessing. As you know, waiting this week means waiting on pathologists to run biopsies and thorough tests on my excised tumor. Friday I will know what type of cancer I have and how we can start treating my body to return to full health. (Still can't believe how exciting I am to find out what type of cancer I have, weird.) Songs in waiting have been a tremendous blessing. Thank you for your gifts of song.
Several of you send me the scriptures you are praying daily for me. It never ceases to amaze me that often times, God has me reading the exact same thing you are praying, sometimes at the exact same time! Isn’t He so good like that?
Today I spent some time reflecting on two of my favorite Psalms. Ever. Psalm 40 and Psalm 46. And then, when I made it to check my email, of course I had Psalm 40 and Psalm 46 sitting there waiting as a feast for my eyes and soul.
Listen to some of my favorite parts:
I waited and waited and waited for God. At last he looked; finally he listened.
He lifted me out of the ditch,
pulled me from deep mud.
He stood me up on a solid rock
to make sure I wouldn't slip.
He taught me how to sing the latest God-song,
a praise-song to our God.
More and more people are seeing this:
they enter the mystery,
abandoning themselves to God…
I've preached you to the whole congregation,
I've kept back nothing, God—you know that.
I didn't keep the news of your ways
a secret, didn't keep it to myself.
I told it all, how dependable you are, how thorough.
I didn't hold back pieces of love and truth
For myself alone. I told it all,
let the congregation know the whole story.
Now God, don't hold out on me,
don't hold back your passion.
Your love and truth
are all that keeps me together.
Soften up, God, and intervene;
hurry and get me some help,
So those who are trying to kidnap my soul
will be embarrassed and lose face,..
But all who are hunting for you—
oh, let them sing and be happy.
Let those who know what you're all about
tell the world you're great and not quitting.
And me? I'm a mess. I'm nothing and have nothing:
make something of me.
You can do it; you've got what it takes—
but God, don't put it off.
Psalm 40:1-3, 9-13 & 16-17
God is a safe place to hide, ready to help when we need him.
We stand fearless at the cliff-edge of doom,
courageous in seastorm and earthquake,
Before the rush and roar of oceans,
the tremors that shift mountains.
Jacob-wrestling God fights for us,
God-of-Angel-Armies protects us…
God lives here, the streets are safe,
God at your service from crack of dawn…
Attention, all! See the marvels of God!
"Step out of the traffic! Take a long,
loving look at me, your High God,
above politics, above everything."
Jacob-wrestling God fights for us,
God-of-Angel-Armies protects us.
Psalm 46:1-3, 5, 8, 10-11
One more short story for this morning.
Last night I was telling someone how I keep feeling like I’m working at a maze. There are hundreds of openings to try to make it to one ending, my healing. We have no choice but to choose one opening and continue down that path until we reach a dead end and then we choose another and start again.
Winding up at a dead end feels a lot like standing at the edge of a cliff. Because heights make me queasy, I rarely tiptoe to the edge and look to see how far down they go. But, each time I arrive at the cliff’s edge dead end, I look up at God and take a step off and I just keep praising Him that the fall down hasn’t been very far. It’s like standing on the edge of the front porch, closing my eyes and jumping expecting to free fall for quite some time before I harshly hit the ground. And instead, I close my eyes, jump and land quickly on my feet because the fall down is so short.
That’s why I can “stand fearless at the cliff-edge of doom.” With God and his daily miracles on my side, I know cancer will soon be running somewhere else!