Thanksgiving Anyway
How do you have a thankful heart when you get bad news? I walked into church Sunday morning and sat beside my mother. I heard her tell someone that she was finding it hard to be thankful when she had bad news....and then I heard the word 'cancer'. I wondered who she was talking about and that's when she broke down and told me about the recent words from the doctor,"There's nothing we can do." I put my arm around her and we talked until the service started. I encouraged her as best I could, knowing that she has been dealing with intense nerve pain for years from something else. This seemed different, more final and more impossible. Then the service began and the music began to flow all around me.
As I sat there, my mind started to deal with the implications. I do not want to go down that road right now! I have enough to deal with in my own life with it's busyness and stresses. It was something I knew was inevitable, but why was this happening now? We had been down this road a few years back when Mom coped with breast cancer. God had been with her in a special way. She had been getting "cancer free" reports ever since. I just doesn't seem fair that she would have to deal with pulmonary fibrosis, a form of lung cancer.
That's when the songs of Thanksgiving began and as I looked at the words on the screen, I realized that I couldn't sing for the lump in my throat. With each song, different phrases seemed to jump out, just for me. I felt like it was just what I needed to think about, rather than the negative. Embedded in each hymn and song were references to God's faithfulness. The more we sang, the more I realized that I could always be thankful for God's presence in my life, no matter what would be swirling around me. With that realization, the tears began to flow. One song would end and I would pull myself together, until the next one began. It wasn't only with the congregational singing, but the during special music as well.
I was a mess in no time, with no Kleenex left to mop things up. Although I wanted to get up and leave, I knew the process of letting the music wash over me was cleansing. As I reflect on it now, I think of pouring hydrogen peroxide on a wound and seeing it fizz up. The tears kept pouring out and fizzing out the pain as reminders of God's presence flowed through the songs. I just couldn't keep up my walls so let myself be vulnerable.
Now I'm left with the realities, but that's okay too. God is bigger than even pulmonary fibrosis. He will be my mother's constant companion through whatever lies ahead. As I let go of control, I know He will strengthen and guide me as well.
As I sat there, my mind started to deal with the implications. I do not want to go down that road right now! I have enough to deal with in my own life with it's busyness and stresses. It was something I knew was inevitable, but why was this happening now? We had been down this road a few years back when Mom coped with breast cancer. God had been with her in a special way. She had been getting "cancer free" reports ever since. I just doesn't seem fair that she would have to deal with pulmonary fibrosis, a form of lung cancer.
That's when the songs of Thanksgiving began and as I looked at the words on the screen, I realized that I couldn't sing for the lump in my throat. With each song, different phrases seemed to jump out, just for me. I felt like it was just what I needed to think about, rather than the negative. Embedded in each hymn and song were references to God's faithfulness. The more we sang, the more I realized that I could always be thankful for God's presence in my life, no matter what would be swirling around me. With that realization, the tears began to flow. One song would end and I would pull myself together, until the next one began. It wasn't only with the congregational singing, but the during special music as well.
I was a mess in no time, with no Kleenex left to mop things up. Although I wanted to get up and leave, I knew the process of letting the music wash over me was cleansing. As I reflect on it now, I think of pouring hydrogen peroxide on a wound and seeing it fizz up. The tears kept pouring out and fizzing out the pain as reminders of God's presence flowed through the songs. I just couldn't keep up my walls so let myself be vulnerable.
Now I'm left with the realities, but that's okay too. God is bigger than even pulmonary fibrosis. He will be my mother's constant companion through whatever lies ahead. As I let go of control, I know He will strengthen and guide me as well.
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