The Waiting Room - A Year Later

I remember a few years back the doctor was doing a regular check-up on me and when she pulled out her stethoscope I kind of flinched. I hate the initial coldness it brings to my back. The doctor said, "deep breath," and everyone in the room, my little sister and mom included, took a breath with me.

She usually does that a few times, moves the stethoscope around and is done. But this time she kept asking me to take deep breaths. Then she asked me to lay down. Quietness filled the room between my sister, mom, the doc and I. I felt a lump in my throat. Something's wrong.

After a couple minutes and what seemed like hours, the doctor then explained that she'd heard a very faint murmur and "not to worry, but we will need to run further tests"... Later that evening, my mom came and held me and she cried. "When you were born I counted all your fingers and all your toes. You were perfect..." In true Heather fashion I convinced reminded her I wasn't perfect and that I still had all my fingers and toes... but I understood what she was saying and the Lord had a plan.

A mom wants nothing to be wrong with her child, that she can't fix. Mom's carry the burdens of others, but often times carry their children, burden and all. Well, my mom does.

***

Almost seven years later and we're sitting at my sister's softball game. My mom had been running in for tests because the doctors just "wanted to be safe." Make sure it was nothing else. She'd been recently diagnosed with Lyme's Disease and my mom joked that her health was on the downslope. When I saw her at the game, she didn't say anything but gave my sister and I a hug and said "I want to talk with you later."

*Now, if nothing was wrong she'll say, "no, no, I'm fine." Because my mom, though initially wanting some dramatic appeal, never sways my sisters or I to feel one way or another about something that means a lot to her. She presents something with concern and allows us to respond.*

Immediately, I said, "is everything OK?" She said, "well, kinda." I felt a little uneasy, almost anxious. Shake it off Heather. Shake it off. I was selfishly kind of hoping she wouldn't say anything. Maybe if she didn't say anything, nothing would happen. Nothing would be wrong. Time would stop. We'd all be fine. Deep inside I knew things weren't fine.

After the game she walked us out to our cars and said, "I want y'all to know first... The doctors found something..." lots of muffled words.... "breast cancer." Like an old wound, and recurring murmor, I felt that lump make it's way back into my throat.

In true Heather fashion, I assured my mom (and myself), "it's going to be alright. We're going to get through this. The Lord has a plan." And I believe He did. 

A child thinks his or her parents are invincible. There's nothing they can't do. Nothing they can't fix, even themselves...

***

I can't confidently stand here and say that "I knew everything would be alright," but I did know the Lord would be there through it all. I can't say that I wasn't stretched, stressed, concerned, paranoid or in denial, because about %50 of the time I was.

Thankfully, I had friends comfort me with laughter, gifts, hugs and a ready ear. A community surrounded my family and lifted us up in prayer. So many people brought food when my mom was too tired to lift her head. They brought food, when I was too stressed to cook. A wall in our house was decorated with bright cards declaring friendship and support.  Flower beds were planted one late evening by myself and three wonderful women who loved my mom, so she could come home from surgery to an array of color adorning her walkway. All my mom ever wanted.

My mom lost her hair, but gained a surreal confidence in the Lord and in her identity in Christ. We fought for her strength and fought for her joy. She often cried not out of the physical pain of chemo, but her heart's pain to help others... because the chemo had stolen her energy. 

I thought my mom was invincible. And in some sense I still do. I believe she is invincibly secured in the Love of Christ and with that love the Lord has driven out the fear of death. 

*** 

Exactly a year ago my mom lay on a hospital bed, with four concerned daughters and an anxious husband surrounding her... With streams of tears running down our faces my mom looked at us and said, "it'll be alright. The Lord has a plan."

Indeed He did. Within minutes of returning to the waiting room, my mom's niece (an ER nurse) returned. She said, "your mom wanted you to know that the doctor laid hands on her and prayed... I've never seen that before." All anxieties and concerns were stripped at the Lord grace in a surgeon's hands.

A year later, she's perfect in my eyes and sometimes even a little crazy. A year later she walks up to women wearing scarves on their heads and hopelessness in their eyes and she hugs them. She tells them, there's always hope. A year later she even goes on evening runs with me, something she'd never done with me my entire life. 

Though my doubts about why God does things the way He does them exists in the waiting room of life... I do not doubt His plans nor His goodness. He has overcome.

I consider that the sufferings of this present time 

are not worth comparing with the glory 

that is to be revealed to us...

 Romans 8:18

September 2012