I don't understand my life at all. I don't get the big picture, or even the micro one.
But I think I need to become like, in Jesus' words, a child.
And not just any child but a teeny tiny one floating in amniotic fluid.
A baby in the womb doesn't feel jostled because it is in a watery cushion. They don't feel every bump in the road.
I need to be like an unborn child and be content to be in the cocoon of my maker's belly. That way, it doesn't matter if I do not know how things will turn out. Trusting God means letting things unfold and develop as a fetus does unquestioningly.
I don't recognize my life.
It has only been a little over a month that we have known about my husband's cancer, so sudden and devestating. One.
Anaplastic cancer, the very worst! And the man has barely had a headache in the last 37 years. Nothing has prepared me for his new vulnerability, or the monkey wrench in my plans.
I've never done anything medical, and now I have to learn how to give shots in the belly, and clean the inside of trachs.
Maybe my idea of a good time isn't suctioning up snot by the bucketful, but I've been thinking about the Good Samaritan who bound up a stranger's wounds, and not just any stranger, but someone from a group of people he wasn't supposed to even like! This is our template for love.
I am doing my darnest to help my husband live. He deserves it. There is so much courage going on in room 851. Battling fever. Not being able to speak. Not being able to swallow; needing a feeding tube. Pain. Pokes from IVs and shots. Wracking coughs. So much is out of my hands, but I can be foursquare in his corner. 100 % hopeful he will make it. Praying everyday...