I have debated writing much the next few days. It seems like I am repeating myself often and maybe people are getting tired of hearing me share about how life was—before cancer attacked our family. Maybe telling how life was during cancer is too much for the faint of heart. Maybe sharing how grief is—after cancer, gets old as it swirls around and often returns for another blow. Maybe, just maybe, people think life should be moving on by now? Or maybe the truth is that my many struggles resonate with others and the things they walk through in their life?
By nature, I am a complainer. There you have it— a self-confessed complainer that often forgets to look for the good in life. My personality is very black and white. I see the bad and I see the good, but the grey is something I think I might be colorblind too. I have always said it “like it is”, often at the expense of other people’s feelings. On the Enneagram I come in as a solid # 1. My decisions and life direction seems to be rooted in wanting to do the ‘right thing’, whatever that may be. That is not to say that my right thing might look like others, just to acknowledge that if my heart felt it was right then I tried to pattern my life after it.
As a younger woman that led me to want to be perfect. You know unflawed…to be a dynamic and on fire Christian with an awesome prayer life and able to serve the Lord freely. I wanted to be a wife that was loving, supportive, and intuitive. I wanted to be a well-balanced mother; one who knew how to weigh out training our children to be respectable citizens but holding their hearts. A homeschool mom who focused on the most important subjects. A friend that had sound advice yet could point you to righteousness. The pressure was intense and needless to say, I failed—miserably! As a dear friend of mine pointed out, if I were perfect then I would have no need of Jesus. What could he save me from if I had it all together?
So back to the complaining, if you are trying to be perfect and it doesn’t work out… you will probably complain. If you expect your marriage to be perfect but your spouse is a sinner just like you, you will probably complain. When you have precious little blessings that act in the most unlikely ways, ones that often embarrass the snot out of a mama, you will likely complain. So… I complained! I fussed that we were too busy, the baby kept us up all night, the laundry pile was never ending. I griped that my hubby worked too many hours, my children were disobedient, and life was hard. If I had slowed down long enough to see the opposite side of that coin, the blessings would shine through.
We had lives filled with friends, fellowship, and fun. Our sweet baby loved to be rocked while cuddled close to mama late at night when the house was quiet, and mama was still. The laundry and dishes were evidence that our home was filled with people we loved. My hard-working hubby enjoys providing for his family and doing an excellent job while he does it. My children were needing more time with mom, their actions often a way to gain attention. Life was hard, not bad, but hard. Many times, in my life there have been hard times, however June 20, 2019, ranks as one of the top hardest dates to me. That was the day I heard, “I’m sorry it looks like Amelia (Millie) has cancer.” Life got HARDER!
A cancer diagnosis brings so much unknown. Questions about long term survival, prognosis, and treatments all rush your mind. Information on daily care, medicines, and side effects are constantly changing and updating. Emotions add a whole other layer to the confusion. As I walked through this new hard, all the previous hard things seemed so easy. Not to write them off, everyone has hard stuff they deal with, but rather to acknowledge that now I had to decide what I would do when faced with the really hard, life altering hard stuff. Would I choose JOY or a life of bitterness? If I chose JOY, how would I find it? What would be the deciding factor to direct my path? First, God’s word is always right, so if I am to choose Joy, then I have to follow scripture. Second, there is one key thing that brings us to a place of having joy in our hearts. That key is GRATITUDE. Without a thankful heart, I am simply a complainer.
Gratitude sparks JOY even in the hard. Joy will never come first. Until I was grateful for things, even the hard wretched things in life, I could not find true joy. Am I thankful that Millie died…is that what I am saying?!? NO WAY! Instead, I am saying that even in the horrible pain of her death, there has been great things coming out of it. New believers in Christ, marriages restored, mamas cherishing their children more, greater dependence on Jesus—so much good coming out of the ashes of her death.
Isaiah 61:3
3 and provide for those who grieve in Zion—
to bestow on them a crown of beauty
instead of ashes,
the oil of joy
instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise
instead of a spirit of despair.
They will be called oaks of righteousness,
a planting of the LORD
for the display of his splendor.
This verse is so full… the prayer so encompassing:
“God please take away the ashes of this loss and restore it with a crown of beauty. Fill me with the oil of JOY again, replacing my mourning. Dress me in a garment of praise for all to see, removing my despair. Call me a mighty oak of your righteousness. Plant me where you would have me grow. Let the display of splendor in my life be a direct refection of your grace. Help me to count it all JOY and give thanks in all things. AMEN”.
....by the way, the older I get the more I see grey as a valid color. I even like it enough to paint my bedroom in it last fall.
Blessings sweet friends…
｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆
I still believe in Millie’s Miracle
｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ Hebrews 11:1 ｡･:*:･ﾟ☆
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