This past week has swirled in and around me. Sheer fogginess consumed my brain more often than not. My body racked with fits of coughing, fever, chills- both physically and emotionally I am spent.
I've heard there comes a time in this metastatic cancer journey, when the difficult days start to outnumber the good days. When we start saying, no, more than we say yes. I can only wonder.
Rick arrived home and then left as promised with the boys for the State Hockey Tournament, and I had to say no, for the first time, I couldn't go.
The quiet has been both peaceful and stifling at times.
And yet my prayers remain fervent. My heart poured out.
"Oh Lord, my heart is open to you, come sit in my heart."
And in the sheer foggy times?
"Oh Lord, I'm open."
"Your way, not mine."
"Your will, not mine."
Every time I think I am surrendered, I discover you can surrender even more deeply.
Slowly, my cough has changed, loosening so it doesn't pain me as much.
The fever and chills diminished.
My goal for today was simply to get out of bed for a bit.
And as I looked around? All the moments of grace you sent my way were strung out before me. Everywhere I looked- day brighteners of flowers, cards, offers of help, texts and food. All these little bits of hope that glue themselves together and help build a bridge for me to climb right up out of the depths of where I have been.
But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me.
2 Corinthians 12:9