When life takes you by surprise

Art is the stored honey of the human soul,

gathered on wings of misery and travail.

~ Theodore Dreiser ~

I spent a day that might have been spent at the research conference traipsing through art museums with the girls instead. Life is what happens when your plans tank and you find yourself without even a plan B. Life is what gathers you up in a bear hug when you scramble to survive.

Small heads tilted to see big art. Minds free from adult constraints find new meaning in old pieces and old meaning in new ones. I am reminded of a hundred museum trips of my youth, and marvel at how I am mirroring my own childhood now as I shape that of my own children.

I know only one true North: Christ. I see it in the false compass of an artist, in the childish splatter of a museum's modern art collection. Amy tells me, "I could paint this. But I would put more yellow in." I watch life whisking by, and I think, "I could paint this. But I would use more yellow." I see friends die, and children suffer, and senseless tragedy occur. And I think about how I would do it - better.

And by my sin, by my pride, sin enters the world and refills the endless river of sin that has flowed from the hearts of men since time began.

More yellow? Less tragedy? In the world we live in, you are told your dreams will come true, you will live happily ever after, you won't lose your job if you work hard enough, you can pay back your mortgage if you invest in a home, you can do anything you set your mind to.

Really?

When I sob like I've never done before, I am tempted to rail at him, to beg for a little more yellow. But I am just a flawed creation, and who am I to question the Creator? (Isaiah 64) If anything good ever comes of me, I give it back to God, for it by His strength anything good is accomplished (Philippians 4:13). And when I am strong, let the weak see, and credit it to the God I serve (Joel 3).

*If my blog seems dark, let me explain: we lost a very dear friend to a motorcycle accident on Friday (he was 43). I dropped Aaron off at the E.R. last night for fluids again because he is still sick, and went home to hug my Grandpa for what turned out to be the last time. He went home to Jesus around 3 a.m. after a few days of battle with widespread malignant melanoma. I listened to some of the last few beats of his heart with my stethoscope. Today Aaron was admitted to the hospital with colitis, abdominal bleeding, and an infection of his stomach and intestines of unknown origin. He is on morphine and Dilaudid to control his pain, IV fluids, and antibiotics. He continues to shake uncontrollably and have uncontrolled bursts of 10 out of 10 pain and watery diarrhea. Please pray for his healing!

Loculation

I came across this word while writing a set of procedure guidelines for nurses today. It means "the formation of numerous small spaces or cavities within a larger cavity". It reflects something that has happened in my heart as the years go by. Around age 20, I started to notice that there were some pretty big abscesses in my character: infected, hard lumps that were getting more and more visible to the casual observer as time went on. Around age 25, I started the painful process of opening these flawed areas up for exploration, drainage, healing. It's not an enjoyable thing, to watch that smelly, icky stuff drain out for all the world to see, and to watch it heal, all scarred over. Now I'm finding that, if I don't let God probe deep enough in those tender spots deep within the wound, I am allowing loculation to occur. And years later, I have to open the whole thing back up again, because there were small areas within the large one that didn't get cleaned out well enough the first time around.

I was laying in bed a few moments ago, putting my sweet smelling baby to sleep. Thinking back over my morning. I am so tired, deep in my bones. I wake up tired, I go through my day tired, and I go back to bed just as tired. There is none of the usual ebb and flow of energy these days. And I am tired of being tired! As I audit my last few weeks, from a soul perspective, I really can give myself pretty good marks...for the most part, I've had a good attitude about this whole ordeal. But the last few days, I've been struggling to accept my situation and keep moving forward. Inertia is one of those physical laws of the universe that really applies to this situation: as the mud gets thicker on the tires, eventually they're going to stop spinning. Everything is going to freeze up. And that's where I finally am at. Physically, emotionally, and spiritually, I am getting to the end of my [human] rope. At this crossroads, I have to decide if I'm going to let God step in? Or if I'm going to struggle, and moan, and throw myself another good old pity-party? What did I learn last time, when I let God probe into this painful old wound called selfishness? For really, what I'm asking - begging! - God for, is for life to easy again, for life to go the way I expected. To somehow revert to pre-cancer. To just get my normal problems back.


Deep inside, I know that isn't the solution. Life wasn't that much easier before cancer. I would quickly forget how much worse it could be. Right now, I'm going to go lay down, say a little prayer that God's grace will cover my unfolded laundry and unplanned supper, and rest these tired bones awhile with that sweet smelling baby.