It’s starting to be a fact that I’m accepting: I am truly going to be done with chemotherapy this week!
And of course, despite how joyous of news that is, my anxious heart is realizing that I will have more time for transitioning, and its asking of itself: what will you fill that time with?
What will I fill that time with?
Ha! I should be self-aware by now that it’s never really my time, and my life has really never been my life. My time is His time; my life, His life.
Instead of reaching for more mason-jars of time to fill with my schedule, my time, I am learning to try to stop myself and ask what does He want me to do, day by day, instead of the hopes I try to preserve in jars so carefully that will only simply break on us, if we are both truthful here.
Today, my boyfriend Josh visits me at the hospital, and observes me with my nurses, the hospital staff, this hospital family of support. I am becoming more ever grateful for Josh’s patience, the way he helps bring me back to assuring Truth, how he picks on my idiosyncracies (oh, there are many!) and clearly enjoys me despite a heavy, heavy burden I carry called cancer inside my body that I have no choice but to hold onto. He is truly one of those unexpected blessings of this past chemo year that I had no knowledge of, except for Him who is the True Giver of all good things.
Today, I also receive orders for the end-of-treatment scans and tests. Today, a CT scan, another day a PET scan, and another an MRI. Oh, chemotherapy is already tiring and draining, but to add more time at the hospital through more scans decreasing my energy even more.
Oh, how I desperately try to cling to my own energy!
Oh, how I am called to only desperately cling on to His!
6 On my bed I remember you;
I think of you through the watches of the night.
7 Because you are my help,
I sing in the shadow of your wings.
8 I cling to you;
your right hand upholds me.
Help me to cling, to hold with a firm grip, to be steadfast to your Spirit instead of my own.