A less arduous destiny

Over a sketch made idly to amuse a child, an artist may not take much trouble: he may be content to let it go even though it is not exactly as he meant it to be. But over the great picture of his life - the work which he loves, though in a different fashion, as intensely as a man loves a woman or a mother a child - he will take endless trouble - and would, doubtless, thereby give endless trouble to the picture if it were sentient. One can imagine a sentient picture, after being rubbed and scraped and re-commenced for the tenth time, wishing that it were only a thumb-nail sketch whose making was over in a minute. In the same way, it is natural for us to wish that God had designed for us a less glorious and less arduous destiny; but then we are wishing not for more, but for less." C.S. Lewis, The Problem of Pain

Today has been a day of wishing for a less arduous destiny. It has been a bittersweet day. My sweet baby boy loves the sound of my whisper, and coos and talks more now than he ever did when I could talk back. I think it perfectly suits his quiet personality, this hushed mama he suddenly has! My girls, however, are struggling to turn down their own volume so that they can hear me over the cacophony of toddler-hood. This morning, I taught them the Holmen family signature whistle - 2 tones strung together by my own mother as a means of playing "Marco Polo" of sorts in stores and crowds. We did several practice drills today so they would learn to come quickly to me when they hear that whistle. My dad recommended an English bobby whistle for crowds and busy streets! I may look into that...

Losing my voice has been a black spot on an otherwise encouraging treatment trajectory. I received the final pathology reports today, and all my lymph nodes are negative for cancer. The tumor penetrated the tumor capsule (membrane surrounding the growth) but did not appear to penetrate the thyroid membrane, which decreases the chance for metastasis. That gives me the best possible survival rates with a tumor of this size. I think the survival rates at 10 years post-operatively are around the 90% mark. Wonderful news - and to think we were perhaps just a few days from the tumor breaking through the thyroid membrane, which it was touching already! God was gracious in clearing the road before us as we approached surgery. I shudder to think what may have happened had I been a more passive patient - in which case, I would be going for my first biopsy tomorrow and wouldn't have the results for another two weeks after that!

You are the first
You go before/
You are the last/
Lord, You're the encore/
Your name's in lights for all to see/
The starry host declare Your glory.../

Apart from You/there is no god/
Light of the world/
The Bright and Morning Star/
Your name will shine for all to see/
You are the one/
You are my glory
Chris Tomlin, Glory in the Highest