The waiting place

“All worry is caused by calculation without God.”  Oswald Chambers

We’ve all experienced those moments in which we know we’ll never be the same. In just one instant, our life changes. Some of these moments have filled us with indescribable joy – a salvation experience, a marriage proposal, the moment you first held your child or completion of a long-term goal. Many memories flood my mind as I think back on the “high” lights of my time on earth – and I am filled with that giddy “I-don’t-want-this-moment-to-end” delight once again.

And then there are those moments filled with the same life-changing power – but it’s weightier. Joy isn’t the immediate response – rather pause, reflection, and a realization this is bigger than yourself. In these moments, you ask yourself, “Is this really happening?” And you know - deep down - it really is. And you know all too well, these moments will change your life too. Unfortunately, I have memories in this category as well – watching a loved one pass from this life to the next, the gut-wretching news they can’t find your baby’s heartbeat, news of chronic-illness, receiving a phone call a friend had taken her own life. And, in these moments, the question is always, how will you respond?

I received some news this week that, although the Lord had prepared me to hear, still caused an internal gasp as the reality sunk in. I might have cancer. The doc basically told me I have a tumor in my arm and it’s either benign or malignant. He said he didn’t want to scare me and cancer is uncommon in that part of the body – but he has to tell me it’s a possibility. I believe I can honestly say the “c” word ranks up there with most people’s biggest fears. No one wants to hear that word associated with their name.

And, so now, I find myself in the waiting room. I jokingly call it “purgatory” as it’s that in-between stage of knowing enough that you can’t be oblivious anymore and yet not knowing enough to have the answers. Indeed, the waiting can be more excruciating than the knowing. When they couldn’t find our 3rd baby’s heartbeat, I can remember “waiting” through a weekend to see if an ultrasound would detect life. It was one of the longest weekends of my life, and the reality brought even more heartache.

As humans (or maybe I should just say for myself), I believe we always go “worst case” first. I totally wish I didn’t, but I seem to. And, so that’s what I’ve been fighting since the news I received on Wednesday. I am playing that spiritual tug-of-war between the Enemy’s lies & the Father’s Truth. Between worrying & trusting. Between wanting control & letting go. Between fretting & praying. Because I am always talking about choices to Alexa, I keep going back to that for myself. I have the choice, every second of every minute, to decide whether I will take my thoughts captive (2 Cor. 10:5) or let them run rampant. Do I choose to marinate in Truth or wallow in lies?

It’s been quite an exhausting mental exercise. One moment crying as my imagination runs wild and the next moment crying because I am surrendering to the One who is lovingly in control of all things. (Alexa will ask me why I am “drippy” & I wish I could just be strong and hide that from her). Because ultimately, I know this mass in my arm was not a hiccup in His plan. He isn’t scrambling around trying to figure out how to fix this. This was His plan – benign or malignant. This is His personalized way of showing me His faithfulness, His goodness, His sovereignty, and His promise He will never leave me. He’s got this (I don’t). And . . . as a wise friend told me long ago, “The Lord doesn’t give us grace for our imaginations. He gives us grace for what we He has called us to walk through.” So, I can’t expect His grace to cover something that hasn’t even happened yet.

Another friend’s wisdom came to me this week while bathing Alexa (and mentally bathing myself in fear), “Kels, God is not the author of fear.” So, if I am experiencing fear, it is from the Enemy. And goodness, the Enemy has been busy shooting fear darts my way – and sometimes – I believe them (sigh). The Enemy has no place for victory in my life.

I can say, at this moment, I am doing better. I truly sense the prayers of so many dear friends & family who are lifting up me, my family, the docs, these tests & the surgery. They are praying for healing, for peace, for strength, for His glory. I go in Monday morning for the results of my 2nd MRI & CT scan. We know surgery is required to remove the mass but I don’t believe we’ll know what kind of tumor it is until they biopsy it . . . more waiting.

If you can tell, I don’t like waiting. And yet, this is something the Lord has ordained (often) in my life. Waiting for a spouse. Waiting for a child (and waiting once again for another). It seems He knows I’m weak when it comes to being still and letting Him be God. So perhaps, this is another exercise for me to “choose” to believe, “You are God. You know what you’re doing. You are enough.”

He keeps bringing me back to Psalm 16:5,  “Lord, You have assigned my portion and my cup, and have made my lot secure.”  I am held securely by the One who loves me more than I can imagine. And, even in the waiting, that’s the very best place I could be.

If you’re still reading this, you know me well enough by now to know I love music. It ministers to my soul in a way few things can. The two songs/videos have been on repeat on my iPhone this past week. I also have a host of hymns that are very meaningful to me but “Leaning on the Everlasting Arms” has currently been the one running through my head, especially this verse.

What have I to dread, what have I to fear,
Leaning on the everlasting Arms?
I have blessed peace with my Lord so near,
Leaning on the everlasting Arms.
Leaning, Leaning,
Safe and secure from all alarms;
Leaning, Leaning,
Leaning on the everlasting arms.
** It’s good both of His arms are in tiptop shape!