Some of you are looking for words. I have words - lots of words - but these last few months they have all been between my Father and me.
It was just a normal day back in April when I moved in and out of awareness, hearing Izzy's words to 911, but only being able to talk to God. And isn't He all we need? We talked about her little heart and how brave she sounded. The lack of fear and the assurance that all those that I love would be taken care of is too expansive to merely put into words on this screen.
Salvation brings many kinds of peace.
These last few months I have latched onto that peace and calmness and assurance even tighter as I have hung on to faith in His plans.
And I've mostly done it quietly.
So many have prayed. Words like mass and pre-cancerous cells seem to make us call upon Him more often and louder and more desperate?
I'm really not brave. Maybe that's why I have been silent on this little space of words?
So that you wouldn't see?
Thoughts of a beautiful heaven and home with Jesus struggling with the thoughts that I don't want to go there yet. I don't want to be sick and hurting. I don't want that struggle.
I don't think my work is done and those I love still need me but who am I to question the All-Knowing? The giver and taker of life.
And moments of struggles and desperate prayers and cries of fear and the unknown clashed with this steady peace that is hard to explain.
Clashing like cleansing waves on rough rocks for they don't belong to a child of the Almighty King.
But it is a child that I am. A child with moments of more fear than faith? But more peace than worry.
And can I tell you of a miracle?
Softball size and thickening of the lining and most assuredly pre-cancer are just words.
This is behind me now and they were just words.
I recoup from this surgery and find myself forgetting to remember to thank. Life is already in the way of my remembering His comfort and promise of peace and healing.
And His delivering.
So I stop and thank.