Once again

I have a positive, upbeat post coming. Really, I do!! All New Yearsy and hatsy.  Actually, it is already written and waiting for me to push "publish."  But I need to purge before binging.

I wrote this this morning, from the waiting room:

I just left Andrew with an anesthesiologist and walked down the hall while I heard him screaming, "Mommy!  Mommy!! where are you Mommy!"  As if the rest of today wasn't hard enough. 

Now I am waiting.   A whole line of tests scheduled within three hours. MRI. Bone scan.  CT scan.  I always feel like I can handle things until I actually have to handle them. 

I just left the prep room.  The irony of the innocent toys seemed in stark contrast to the serious task at hand.  I listened to a toy Ernie sing "Rubber Ducky, you're the one" while contemplating the possibility that cancer could still exist in my baby.  I used to sit and watch "Sesame Street" on the comfort of my parents' orange shag carpet; not a care in my 3-year-old world.  And yet, here is Andrew, clinging to me while I once again lift his shirt, hold his hands, and brace him while the nurses access his port.  And then I had to hand him over to a stranger in a white coat. Torture.

Once again, I feel like someone is playing a sick perverted joke on me. I was planning to sit here and relax.  I was going to read my book and listen to music, but uh uh.  I can't concentrate.  Have to write.  Have to get this OUT.

My good friend's third husband died of cancer three days before Christmas.  Which is awful enough on it's own, but this is the second time for her.  Her second husband died of cancer as well.  She is only 41.  It just strikes me, once again, how powerless we all are.  It doesn't seem to matter how many prayers go out.  It doesn't matter how horrific the consequences or the means.  It doesn't matter how devastating it will be to those left behind.  Death happens. 

It feels very much like God has abandoned us in the physical realm.  And I suppose, in many ways, he has.  And that terrifies me.  Because I want to believe that God would use his power to heal Andrew.  I want to believe that my prayers will help.  I want to believe that the prayers of others will be heard.  But then I watch my friend suffer, once again.  Everyone prayed and prayed.  We all gasped, "Can this be happening to her again?"  We prayed to God for mercy.  And yet, death. 

We are so powerless, and I hate the feeling.  I know it has always been true, but I have never felt it so intensely.  We all live at the mercy of God.

It is hard to surrender to that.  It is hard to trust, when you know that you may not get the answer to prayer that you want.  Especially when you are surrounded by death, pain, tragedy, and unanswered prayers.

I am still putting on an outer coat of trusting God.  I am still trying to let it sink into my soul, so that I can feel it.  But right now, I can tell it is only on the surface.  It is only cognitive.  It is only a belief, and a faith, not a deep down, depth-of-my-soul feeling.  Inside I am still raging at the torture we humans are expected to endure. I am still raging about what has happened to Andrew.

God can move mountains.  He can calm storms.  He lets little children suffer from cancer.  And women lose their third husbands, despite fervent prayers.  It is hard to reconcile.

The part in the movie, "Superman" where he and Lois Lane are flying together comes to mind when I think about my relationship with God.  She starts out clinging to him, terrified that she will fall. She realizes she is completely dependent.  Later she grows comfortable, and holds on to just his hand, then to his fingertips, and then finally, she gets cocky and lets go, thinking she can fly on her own.  She falls headlong to the earth, and he dives down to retrieve her.

 I guess I have been in all of those positions.  I wish right now, that I could cling to Him, close my eyes, and let him do the flying.  But I am SO ANGRY, I cannot.  But I cannot let go either.  So I am hanging precariously to his fingertips, hoping that will be enough to keep me from falling.

Tomorrow we find out the results of the tests.

I come back, once again, to the only verse I find comforting:

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight."  Proverbs 3:5-6